by James Brush
Author: James Brush
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
This morning, I went outside to get the paper, which wasn’t there, but I noticed that something amazing had happened. It seems that last night free water fell from the sky. This is exciting since we haven’t had substantial rainfall in over a year. The lack of rain and our non-winter winter have conspired to create a dangerously dry situation here. It’s supposed to rain throughout the day today, but I don’t know if that will be enough to end the arson/burn ban that I mentioned last week. Speaking of that post, it was listed at Austinist as one of the Best of the Austin Blogs: Week of January 16, so thanks to them for that honor.
And since we’re on last week’s posts, I’ll mention the “winner” of my secret contest. I had used Talking Heads titles for my posts last week (This Must Be the Place, Burning Down the House, Don’t Worry About the Government, Drugs, Animals) and decided that I would do so until someone noticed. The honor goes to Austin blogger Kramer Wetzel of Astrofish/Xenon, whose blog is most definitely worth a read. I probably could have gone on for a few more weeks with the ‘Heads titles, but I’m glad I got to stop because I could tell that I was trying to find topics that would fit within the titles. I also think it was kind of a cop-out to use Fear of Music titles such as “Drugs” and “Animals” since they don’t really stand out as TH titles.
So on this rainy day Saturday, I think it’ll have to be a day of Outlaw Golf on the PS2.
Last night, we saw Kathy Griffin’s sold-out show at The Paramount. It’s been quite a while since I’ve gone to see a stand-up comedy show, and I’d forgotten how fun it is to spend an evening laughing.
I’ve caught bits and pieces of her routine on TV and seen part of My Life on the D-List, and I’ve always liked her. She has a wonderfully breathless I’ve-just-got-to-tell-you-this kind of delivery that draws the crowd into her show by creating the impression of a friend sharing wild secrets and gossip. Her act focuses on ripping certain celebrities whom she often then meets leading to situations in which she has to deal with having put her foot into her mouth. I don’t watch much TV so I sometimes didn’t know who she was talking about (Clay Aiken? Lindsay Lohan?) but the jokes still worked and her delivery – sometimes self-deprecating, sometimes ridiculously assertive – is great fun. It’s not all celeb-bashing, though. There’s plenty of good pissed-off liberal political commentary and family stories that are completely over-the-top.
My favorite aspect of the show was her willingness to share the kind of embarrasing moments that we’d all just as soon forget. Her stories are wild and – true or not doesn’t matter – had me laughing the next morning while making breakfast.
Overall a great show, probably one of the funniest I’ve seen.
Yesterday afternoon as I was coming up the hill at the end of my run, I noticed that Mrs. Next Door Neighbor and her daughter were walking away from my front door pulling a wagon. On Saturday I had seen them unloading boxes from a van outside their house and now these same boxes appeared to be in the back of the wagon. They noticed me approaching and stopped on the sidewalk by my house. I then realized that despite the calculations of the mood scientists, yesterday was not to be the worst day of the year. In fact, it was one of the best. It occurs on different days for each of us, making it something of a moveable feast, but yesterday – for me, anyway – was Girl Scout Cookie Day.
I’ll buy anything from a kid just to get the little urchins off the street and back to their XBoxes, but I usually only get a small something unless the kid goes beyond staring at the ground mumbling, “I’m…. selling… for sch…” at which point I just ask to see the catalog. If the kid actually pitches something and really tries to sell it… well, I’m a sucker, which is why I have a pantry full of wax-tasting candy, caramel popcorn, and excessively strong candles.
The exception is Girl Scouts. They need money. I need cookies. It’s perfect. The cookies sell themselves. I always splurge, and at three bones per box, that’s a lot of cookie. This year there are even two new flavors: Reduced Fat Cartwheels (“cinnamon oatmeal bites”) and Thanks-A-Lot (“crunchy fudge-coated treats that say thank you on them in five languages.”) Next Door Neighbor’s daughter proudly pitched the new items. How could I resist?
I haven’t tried the new ones yet since I had to immediately sample the Thin Mints. I’m happy to report that this year’s vintage is exceptionally good. They are suitable for aging a few days in the freezer and perfectly compliment a sparkling clementine Izze.
According to an article in today’s Austin American-Statesman (which requires a subscription so no link) entitled, “In mood science, today = bluest of 2006” today is supposed to be a gloomy day based on the calculations of one Cliff Arnall, a health psychologist at Cardiff University in Wales. He uses the following formula to calculate the year’s “emotional low point”:
1/8W + (D-d)3/8 x TQ/M x NA
The variables are weather (W), debt (D), monthly salary (d), time since Christmas (T), time since failure to quit a bad habit (Q), low motivation levels (M) and the need to take action (NA).
I’m not a mathematician, and I’m not sure how to assign the variables, but I tried to work it anyway.
It’s beautiful today in central Texas and even 1/8 of that is still a pretty fine day. I got lost on failure to quit a bad habit. Are we measuring minutes or years? If I just quit a bad habit or never failed to quit a bad habit, then does Q=0? If so that could throw the whole equation out of whack. We could wind up with gloominess essentially being 1/8W + 0. As stated earlier 1/8 of a beautiful day ain’t bad. I also realize you’d need to make a major adjustment for the southern hemisphere since large swaths of the planet could be enjoying a perfect summer day.
Basically then it seems that if you quit a bad habit on a reasonably nice day (or in the southern hemisphere), you’ll have no call to worry about your debts, income, motivation or the fact that Christmas was a month ago.
Fortunately for me, I had a non-melancholy Monday and was able to maintain all of my bad habits.
Since nobody did anything of note this week and after reading about the IM Needle Nose Crew, I felt that reintroductions might be in order. And as Morrison has pointed out, this blog can get a bit dog-o-centric and needs an occasional feline presence to be more politically correct.
Morrison, of course, is the king of the Brush beasts. Why an eighteen pound cat can lord it over 120 pounds of dog, I’ll never quite know, although a friend of my wife’s suggests that dogs will defer to any animal who can “shit in the house without getting in trouble.” Perhaps it’s that simple.
In many ways, the big guy is more dog than cat: outgoing, friendly, and very sociable. He’s often the first to greet visitors. He snores when he sleeps upside down and offers a squeeky meow when we wake him up so we can sleep.
Likes:
- Lounging on shoes and purses (especially when they belong to visitors)
- Frank Sinatra
- Green beans
- Newpapers, paper bags and boxes
Dislikes:
- Cars
- Chicken
The adventures of the hounds are better documented elsewhere in this blog, but they wanted to share their likes and dislikes.
Daphne is the blue-fawn brindle beauty on the right. She is a very small greyhound (53 pounds) with yellow wolfy eyes who has just discovered the art of begging. She’s probably five (no tattoos) and was found running through the woods of Lockhart by animal control. We met her three years ago at a GPA meet and greet where she was curled into a tight little ball, shivering, and hoping not to be noticed. We fell in love immediately. A person needs to visit our house several time before they see the ‘real’ Daphne, a very affectionate, playful, and goofy dog. There is very little brain in that pointy little head of hers, making her untrainable, but her heart is enormous.
Daphne likes:
- Peanut butter Kongs
- The word ‘greyhound’ (one of only a few that she knows)
- New clothes to sniff
- Nesting in the pillows on the bed
Daphne does not like:
- Car rides
- Walks
- Anything new and different
- Anyone new and different
- Anywhere new and different
Phoebe came to us in October and was thought to be a spook, but is far more outgoing than Daphne. She weighs around 65 pounds and is still getting used to living amongst the humans. Everything is new, exciting and fun. She adheres to Emerson’s advice to do something everyday that scares you, and is quickly overcoming her fears.
Phoebe likes:
- Squeeky toys
- Walks
- Car rides
- Soft couches
- People she’s never met
- Being outside
Phoebe does not like:
- Fireworks
- Being told ‘No.’
So there’s the pack. Or is it pride? I suppose that would be Morrison’s call.
[saveagrey]
Last weekend we spent a lot of time watching movies, and all of them turned out to be very good. There’s nothing like a long weekend catching up on Netflix and DVR recordings. It’s even better when you don’t regret the time spent watching what you watched.
On Friday, my wife came home with frozen White Castle hamburgers and onion rings, and we watched Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie this funny. It’s a good-natured stoner buddies on the road movie that was perfect for a Friday night. It didn’t seem appealing when I saw the trailer last year, but it had me laughing. And, man, those burgers are good, even frozen.
On Saturday we watched The Buena Vista Social Club, a documentary about Ry Cooder bringing a large ensemble of brilliant and largely forgotten cuban musicians back to the studio and then on tour. Ruben Gonzales hadn’t played a piano in over ten years and most of the musicians had faded into obscurity, but the music they created together is nothing short of magic. I’ll need to buy the CD.
Next came Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, a fascinating film about Chuck Barris, the creator of The Newlywed Game, The Dating Game, and The Gong Show, who according to his journals on which the movie was based also worked as a CIA assassin. After that came The Yes Men, a documentary about a group of guys who built a fake website satirizing the World Trade Organization. Occasionally, people would email thinking they were the real WTO and ask them to come speak. They oblige. The results are hysterical.
The most interesting film was Less than Zero. I’d read the book a few years back, but somehow missed the movie when it came out in the late ’80s. The movie, of course, is nowhere near as good as the book, but seeing it today just made me sad. Not because of the subject matter (rich kids gone bad) but because of the way Robert Downey Jr’s fine performance as the doomed Julian so perfectly foreshadowed the trajectory his life would take. He became that character – so hopeless and desperate to clean up his act, but never able to do so. Occasionally, while flipping through channels, I’ve seen bios that focus on his persistent drug problem, but I never paid much attention until seeing this particular example of life imitating art.
I received an unusual compliment the other day.
Since I’m now working in a correctional facility, I had to be fingerprinted. When the woman collecting my prints was finished, she looked over the paper and then stated that I have ‘beautiful fingerprints.’
“Really?” I asked, looking at the tips of my blackened fingers.
She nodded. “Yeah. You should never commit a crime. They’ll know you right off. ‘Hey, guys, it’s James.'”
So that’s me: “a forensic scientist’s dream.”