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The Air That I Breathe

So for the past week it has been nothing but The Virgin Suicides. The book, the movie and the fabulous soundtrack. I’m not even sure how it got started. Maybe I saw a picture. Nonetheless, the week has been full of VS stunts and dedication. Like how today I listened to both soundtracks, continuously, for what I think was 8 hours straight. And last week when I drove through one of Winona’s older subdivisions from the late 6os/early 70s, looking for that VS quality in the homes and thinking how I will do a photo series in that subdivision this summer when it’s warm and green.

The book and the movie followed each other faithfully. A few things were changed out of practicality. Nothing drastic. Of course the book offers a deeper look into the lives of the Lisbon girls while the movie is just deadly gorgeous. Once again, if you care to get the low down check out the wiki.

Currently streaming on Netflix for you viewing enjoyment.

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How to watch Spongebob Squarepants on a Sunday morning

Shortly after my eyes open in the early morning the phrase, “Wanna watch the sponge?” isn’t too far behind. In my neck of the woods SB is on channel 42. Nickelodeon being the carrier, host, etc… All hope of watching any sort of news (current affairs, Charlie Sheen, weather related, apocalypse) are quickly absorbed by The Sponge. It’s OK. Just get ready to sit and sit and sit. I mean, it’s not like you’re welded to the seat and have lost all free will. Well maybe.

Pro-tip: I’d have a distraction handy. Like a laptop or an iPod with Angry Birds loaded on it, or maybe, like, a book of quadratic equations. It’s not that SpongeBob is bad it’s just that there’s a lot of it. SpongeBob generally runs in 4 hour blocks. I do some of my best anything while SpongeBob prattles on (endlessly) in the background. There is a chance however you just might tune in and watch it.

Start out skeptical:

I mean, why wouldn’t you? It’s a show about a sponge. Be skeptical. No one will hold it against you. It’s natural. Go back to the real world. Get coffee. Take a bath. Inception is a distant probability at this point. SpongeBob isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. iCarly doesn’t start until 4pm.

Go and be free.

Next, anger. You’ve been duped. You thought you were above it, but you’re back and only because of one thing. Your kid loves it so damn much it would simply crush him not to have channel 42 permanently programmed into your remote. I took it one step further and wrote a program that automatically turns the television to 42 between the following time periods: M-F, 6a to 8a, 4:30p to 6:30p and  Sat-Sun, 7a to – 4p. Haha. Just kidding. But this is me being pissed off about the sponge.

Frightening right? Actually I never got to this stage. I’ve always liked SpongeBob. Truly and honestly.

Anyway, go back to being skeptical. (See first image, above). It’s best to just punt at this point.

At this point you’ll notice a sharp pain in your back. I notice that a lot of times I’ll hold the exact same position watching SB for hours on end. I don’t even notice until c_ asks me why I’m hunched over, grimacing in pain.

At this point, drugs, like a boss.

So really. Watch the Spongebob properly. With a loved one. It makes it completely and totally worth it. Without? You’re cracked. Inception has been achieved.

Aw yeah. VIVA LIFE!

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Favorite sk8 moment from last year

Other than the fantastic night I had with Chris L. at the Winona National was this little clip. (the moment being is when Chris said I did something cool is when I ollied over the concrete ledge off the staircase onto the sidewalk, it was small point of pride but not videoed). BS grind on the 1/4, nothing special but it was probably the one time I captured the speed of skating well and oddly enough it’s hard to capture that. Something to do with the angle I guess or the speed. Anyway. I called it “Wait for it”

I didn’t even set the white balance correctly and I never bothered to fix it. Pretty happy that sk8 season is just around the corner.

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My back, Napoleon Bonaparte

Happy Valentine’s Day to you, dear back. Once again, we quarrel. I just want to go go go and you’re all like, “Dood, couch.”

So, last Thursday I pulled/threw/murdered my back somehow. It came on slowly at work and by noon it was totally spazzing out. I iced it for 48 hours.  A hot shower on Saturday and I was on the mend.  Sunday  morning I woke up and could easily touch my toes (like a boss)! I’m the Grand Marshal! I’m the Colosseum! Can I get a woot woot?

Keep up the good work, young buck. You’ll be back in business in no time.

Stupidity springs eternal. Especially with me.

So yesterday it went like this – I think I’ll go downstairs and do just a little bit of skateboarding. I’m feeling good.

Jump the box for a 50/50 FS grind. POW.

It’s all shit again. I can barely move. My back spasms out of control and I’ve made an appointment with a doctor this morning. I mean, seriously. DOOD. Really? What was I thinking or were you not thinking at all? It doesn’t matter – if it wasn’t yesterday I would’ve done it today or the next. It was bound to happen.

To make matter worse, the other night I dreamt I scored an 83% on a history test at the U of M. Apparently that is an F- at the U of M. The instructor did say that my essays were well written and thought out carefully. I just scored poorly on the multiple choice. And then I couldn’t find my “Floor Care” class. I was in a dead panic. But that’s OK, it was just a dream. How do I know this? After watching Inception for the second time I now have a “totem”. My grandmother’s pen knife.  Only I know of it’s details and characteristics. Haha. Just kidding about that but it’s a neat thought.

Hour and a half until I see the good doctor. Hopefully she prescribes.

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Soliloquy for a thrown out back

Aha! You still exist my aching back! Oh how I hate you! You are the Joker to my Batman! You are my Hitler to my Europe! You are the Oprah to my Montel! I abhor you! You are cruel and unjust reminding me of this each time I lean forward or bend backwards, wrapping your coil and tightening until I curse.

Why do I deserve such indecent treatment? Have I not treated you well over the years? Have I not given you stretches, occasional yoga, exercise and reduced calories? I lift with my legs, sit up straight yet you still strike me down – randomly without impunity.

Such a grudge you hold! One time! Just one time I improperly moved a ladder in the stockroom and you smote me down with your vengeance! Happily you turned my industry into a derelict 80 year old man and ever since I’ve been paying dearly for that misstep.

48 hours of cold followed by heat is the remedy for you and whatever drugs I can lay my hands on. But this time, you are persistent and I question the standard treatment. What to do with you? Bad enough I am openly soliciting narcotics on Facebook (even though the manner is in a joking fashion). Now, the idea of going to actually see my doctor plays in my mind and I am not a fan of doctor appointments.

Please prepare my suite at the hospital, the chiropractor, and call the massage therapist. If there are no vacancies simply lay me down in a warm moonlit field of poppies and let me rest.

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Regarding Katy Perry and Teenage Dream

I suppose there isn’t a lot to say about either one but I do have a couple of thoughts I’d like to share. First off, Katy Perry is pretty undeniable as a superstar iconoclast which I don’t think is all that hard to be these days. And I’d imagine in another year we will never hear of her again. Just like all the others that came and went before her. Don’t forget one ill-fated teen pop sensation- It’s Britney bitch.

I suppose to older folks (like myself, 38) Katy is in the periphery of our everyday life, somewhere out there lurks this woman we have heard of, but we cannot force ourselves to listen to her because our iPod are full of blasts from the past (Pixies, Pet Shop Boys and perhaps, Jethro Tull..) It’s like my dad who will insist onto his dying day that the Beatles are forever the only rock band that matters and all others that came after are nothing more than shit on a treble clef. Each generation follows the same path in music and we are no different from the ones before us. Did Nirvana change the course of music? Yes. We’re they musical geniuses? No. Did the Beatles change the course of music? yes. We’re they musical geniuses? No. They wrote catchy songs like the hundred of performers that came before them. Anyways, I digress.

Katy Perry isn’t The Beatles and she surely isn’t Nirvana (maybe?) but her album Teenage Dream is surely undeniable as a danceapocalypse. Every bar, party or parade  is immediately hyped to the next level when a Katy Perry song comes blasting over the speakers. Young girls (ages 8 to  31) salute each other with hands in the air making immediate eye contact with each other as the sing along to the opening verse. Not a word missed.

I thought of all of this while watching my son at his friend’s birthday party in a local bowling alley. As Katy P belted out the song (she’s gets your attention by hitting you in the head with a hammer) I watched as the kids joyously scurried back and forth across the slippery bowling alley floors, hands in the air, screaming with delight. Teenage dream, indeed. The bass drum is deafening, thunderous. My own head bobbing with the rhythm and a stupid smile slapped on my face. To be any other way, stone cold and somber, would be to deny the very existence of your own beating heart.

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Who knows, really

So, I guess it would stand to reason that the companies that produce vaccines have much more to lose than one man. Who is telling the truth nowadays. It’s probably the closest I come to conspiracy theory

http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/01/06/autism.vaccines/index.html?hpt=T2

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Not much else to say

Winter sux.

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