So, my honey and I went to a full on, balls out, hardcore show last night. Doors opened at 6, the first performer went on at 7. It was at a coffee shop.
A coffee shop called Baxter's Cafe next to the Salt Lake Community College South Campus nee South High School.
A coffee shop which, despite the lack of smoke and booze, reminded me and Curt of lots of old punk clubs: cinder block walls, hard floors... You know the places.
When we walked in, paying our $5 for 6 bands, we were the oldest people in the place, old enough for me to have been a college graduate and still been the mother of at least half of the crowd. We must've looked like either parents or narcs.
My friends Nick and Mike were playing. They're in Dubbed a hard core, ska, fun as hell band who are good and I'm not just saying that because those Yankees fans are friends of mine - despite being Yankees fans. Of course they played last so we listened to everyone else, too. They were all pretty good, though the bands got better as the night progressed, let's just say you can tell which bands practice. It was the bands with older members who were tight and gave off more energy than the younger performers.
Turns out that my sweetie knew people in one of the bands as well, after all he's played guitar and occasionally bass in several bands since he was in his teens.
Anyway, it was loud, fast, young, hard and a lot of fun. I may not dance anymore, and I never danced much, but I didn't feel too old to throw an elbow when the pit got too close to where I was standing.
Oh yeah, Curt and I are still giggling like cartoon mice a little more than six months later and my friends can still make me blush. Oh the happiness.
31 December 2008
11 November 2008
Curt's brother
Curt's brother Brent died on Sunday from complications after a surgery. I'd only met him once, but he made quite an impression on me. He was one of those friendly, funny, boisterous people who you just take to or not immediately. I took to him. I'm glad I got to meet him.
I've been spending time with Curt, being there in case he needs me (and I'd go away if he wanted to be alone), reminding him that he is loved. Holding him until he falls asleep.
I've messaged Brad, Brent's now solo twin, a few times, letting him know that I care, offering kind words and cups of coffee.
Curt understands that I probably won't be able to go to the funeral because of my new job and school that evening. I will try to go, my boss is an old friend and kind, though it won't be the best time for me to meet the rest of his family.
Gentle reader or readers, if you are out there what else can I do to offer succor to the one I love?
I've been spending time with Curt, being there in case he needs me (and I'd go away if he wanted to be alone), reminding him that he is loved. Holding him until he falls asleep.
I've messaged Brad, Brent's now solo twin, a few times, letting him know that I care, offering kind words and cups of coffee.
Curt understands that I probably won't be able to go to the funeral because of my new job and school that evening. I will try to go, my boss is an old friend and kind, though it won't be the best time for me to meet the rest of his family.
Gentle reader or readers, if you are out there what else can I do to offer succor to the one I love?
29 July 2008
More about wishing on stars
I'm blissful. Full of bliss. Two wishes out of three, no hot job - yet.
The first semester of school went very well, 2 As, 1 A- and I feel good about the summer term that is just over, but I'll have to wait for grades to know for certain.
And I've met a fella, his name is Curt. He's younger, shorter and cute with his glasses on, almost handsome with them off. Dark hair, blue eyes, sigh...
Frankly after the debacle of the spring I had pretty much given up on anything more than the occasional casual hook-up with old friends. But I've been going out with a breath of fresh air for about 6 weeks now. We're both smiley and bouncing off the walls. We giggle like cartoon mice, and he actually said "boyfriend" before I did and volunteered to meet my family, chose to meet them. My friends and family like him and he holds my hand.
What's a girl to do?
We aren't much alike on the surface. He isn't educated, he's a server/busboy/host/dishwasher/prep cook - whatever the restaurant he works at needs. He is also a very talented piano and guitar player, and he plays for me. He spends like a sailor on leave and drinks like a fish. He's not a huge reader, and hasn't been to a movie in ages. He has gone to two baseball games with me, half again as many as he'd seen until this summer. He isn't a sports fan, except for a bit of baseball. I don't care, I like him more than I have anyone in a long time if ever.
We have a lot of little things in common, though. We both like stupid jokes and music. We were sitting on his balcony and both sitting exactly the same way, with one leg under and the other foot on the couch.
I was already starting to feel more positive and like my best self when we met, and he made me laugh, but he's helped accelerate the process.
I'm probably more playful than I've been since I was in my early teens. We sit and goof around on his keyboard until all hours, and invent back stories for songs on AM country radio and laugh. My how we laugh. My friends think we're cute and have taken great pleasure in making me blush. I've cooked for him twice and fixed a picnic once.
I am ready to tilt at windmills, climb mountains, flirt with deadlines.
I am the best me I've been in a very long time.
He tells me he's happy, too. He also tells me that I'm the most beautiful, smart, sexy, funny woman ever, and loves that I've traveled and am working on my Master's Degree.
I accidentally had beers with one of his friends, who is a roommate of a mutual friend, and the first words out of his mouth were "Are you still seeing Curt?" When I confirmed this truth he said "Good. We were talking about you and he was bouncing off the walls," or words along those lines. It was nice to hear that, unsolicited, from a man.
We're both being cautious, but I do like him more than baseball and it's starting to feel like something that could last. Each kiss feels like a first kiss, and the radio in my head is on overdrive.
Keep wishing on stars, gentle readers, keep wishing on stars...
The first semester of school went very well, 2 As, 1 A- and I feel good about the summer term that is just over, but I'll have to wait for grades to know for certain.
And I've met a fella, his name is Curt. He's younger, shorter and cute with his glasses on, almost handsome with them off. Dark hair, blue eyes, sigh...
Frankly after the debacle of the spring I had pretty much given up on anything more than the occasional casual hook-up with old friends. But I've been going out with a breath of fresh air for about 6 weeks now. We're both smiley and bouncing off the walls. We giggle like cartoon mice, and he actually said "boyfriend" before I did and volunteered to meet my family, chose to meet them. My friends and family like him and he holds my hand.
What's a girl to do?
We aren't much alike on the surface. He isn't educated, he's a server/busboy/host/dishwasher/prep cook - whatever the restaurant he works at needs. He is also a very talented piano and guitar player, and he plays for me. He spends like a sailor on leave and drinks like a fish. He's not a huge reader, and hasn't been to a movie in ages. He has gone to two baseball games with me, half again as many as he'd seen until this summer. He isn't a sports fan, except for a bit of baseball. I don't care, I like him more than I have anyone in a long time if ever.
We have a lot of little things in common, though. We both like stupid jokes and music. We were sitting on his balcony and both sitting exactly the same way, with one leg under and the other foot on the couch.
I was already starting to feel more positive and like my best self when we met, and he made me laugh, but he's helped accelerate the process.
I'm probably more playful than I've been since I was in my early teens. We sit and goof around on his keyboard until all hours, and invent back stories for songs on AM country radio and laugh. My how we laugh. My friends think we're cute and have taken great pleasure in making me blush. I've cooked for him twice and fixed a picnic once.
I am ready to tilt at windmills, climb mountains, flirt with deadlines.
I am the best me I've been in a very long time.
He tells me he's happy, too. He also tells me that I'm the most beautiful, smart, sexy, funny woman ever, and loves that I've traveled and am working on my Master's Degree.
I accidentally had beers with one of his friends, who is a roommate of a mutual friend, and the first words out of his mouth were "Are you still seeing Curt?" When I confirmed this truth he said "Good. We were talking about you and he was bouncing off the walls," or words along those lines. It was nice to hear that, unsolicited, from a man.
We're both being cautious, but I do like him more than baseball and it's starting to feel like something that could last. Each kiss feels like a first kiss, and the radio in my head is on overdrive.
Keep wishing on stars, gentle readers, keep wishing on stars...
06 June 2008
Ah, the sunset tonight
I wish I'd had a camera as I left class this evening. The alpine glow was amazing and then I turned west and it was pretty enough to make you cry. Too bad I didn't have a camera on me.
It did make me think of the late Matthew Haun. He sent me a letter from Saudi Arabia asking me to take photos of the sunset, it was what he missed most about dear old Salt Lake City. Dear Matthew, I think that one was for you, and I will probably always think of you when the sunset is particularly nice.
It still hurts that I can't apologize to you for everything that did and didn't happen.
So remember gentle readers, apologize when you can. You don't know when an accident can happen to make the apology impossible and something you have to live with. And take time to enjoy a sunset from time to time.
It did make me think of the late Matthew Haun. He sent me a letter from Saudi Arabia asking me to take photos of the sunset, it was what he missed most about dear old Salt Lake City. Dear Matthew, I think that one was for you, and I will probably always think of you when the sunset is particularly nice.
It still hurts that I can't apologize to you for everything that did and didn't happen.
So remember gentle readers, apologize when you can. You don't know when an accident can happen to make the apology impossible and something you have to live with. And take time to enjoy a sunset from time to time.
28 April 2008
Going to church
Cross posted with Beck's Balls where I go to ramble about sports without boring my friends.
Please do not read this if you are a serious church goer with no sense of humor. I mean no disrespect, just to say that my perfect Sunday involves a matinee baseball game, a movie and karaoke at Burt's Tiki Lounge. If that's a problem for you I'm sorry and can't do a thing about it.
First to explain. A former co-worker, now returned to Nebraska, walked over to me on a Friday and said "Will I see you in church on Sunday?" I was confused since I haven't actually been to a non-wedding or funeral church service since Easter 1989 in Frankfurt, (then West) Germany. He explained that he was talking about the Sunday matinee baseball game that weekend, the only day he could go to games since he worked the night shift.
Since then the Sunday games have been "going to church." I sit outside and revel in the glory of the sunshine and sky, watch well-tuned people glory in the use of their bodies, partake of a communion of hot dogs and beer and sing a hundred year old hymn in the middle of the 7th.
Hallelujah and pass the peanuts.
I've got a somewhat weak poem that I wrote during the first inning of last Sunday's 8-1 Bees win. I won't be bothered at all if you stop reading here. In fact, go to mlb.com and check how your team is doing, or how my poor Tigers and not so bad Brewers are today.
Let's make that 2 poems, though the Salt Lake Bees and Fresno Grizzlies wrote the first one:
R H E
Fresno 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 4 2
Bees 5 0 0 0 0 1 2 0 0 8 15 2
Pilgrimage
I passed three churches
on my way to the library,
the congregants didn't look happy
going in or coming out,
but I was listening to bluegrass
and not concerned
with their fear of damnation
only with renewing my book.
Then I drank some coffee
and chatted with the boys.
Here, at the ballpark,
the congregation is happy,
taking a communion
of hot dogs and beer.
A weird mix of Pentecostal noise
and Catholic ritual.
2 runs, 5 hits, 1 out in the first
with three men on.
What better church in April,
month of poetry and early season hope?
Please do not read this if you are a serious church goer with no sense of humor. I mean no disrespect, just to say that my perfect Sunday involves a matinee baseball game, a movie and karaoke at Burt's Tiki Lounge. If that's a problem for you I'm sorry and can't do a thing about it.
First to explain. A former co-worker, now returned to Nebraska, walked over to me on a Friday and said "Will I see you in church on Sunday?" I was confused since I haven't actually been to a non-wedding or funeral church service since Easter 1989 in Frankfurt, (then West) Germany. He explained that he was talking about the Sunday matinee baseball game that weekend, the only day he could go to games since he worked the night shift.
Since then the Sunday games have been "going to church." I sit outside and revel in the glory of the sunshine and sky, watch well-tuned people glory in the use of their bodies, partake of a communion of hot dogs and beer and sing a hundred year old hymn in the middle of the 7th.
Hallelujah and pass the peanuts.
I've got a somewhat weak poem that I wrote during the first inning of last Sunday's 8-1 Bees win. I won't be bothered at all if you stop reading here. In fact, go to mlb.com and check how your team is doing, or how my poor Tigers and not so bad Brewers are today.
Let's make that 2 poems, though the Salt Lake Bees and Fresno Grizzlies wrote the first one:
R H E
Fresno 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 4 2
Bees 5 0 0 0 0 1 2 0 0 8 15 2
Pilgrimage
I passed three churches
on my way to the library,
the congregants didn't look happy
going in or coming out,
but I was listening to bluegrass
and not concerned
with their fear of damnation
only with renewing my book.
Then I drank some coffee
and chatted with the boys.
Here, at the ballpark,
the congregation is happy,
taking a communion
of hot dogs and beer.
A weird mix of Pentecostal noise
and Catholic ritual.
2 runs, 5 hits, 1 out in the first
with three men on.
What better church in April,
month of poetry and early season hope?
15 April 2008
More on kissing
Funny that since I blogged about kissing in February I've given in to social kisses.
I've been a hugger since high school and learned about social kisses in Austria, but have rarely practiced social kisses here. Nothing that'll get my guy friends in trouble with their wives or girlfriends, just a kiss on the cheek or neck with a hug, an occasional peck on the lips.
Social kisses are a bit of an art, lips medium hard and no saliva exchange are my best tips. I don't know how to describe these kisses well, but it's slightly more than a brush against the cheek and doesn't last more than a second.
Of course I'm keeping it lips off with the one I really want to kiss, the one I kissed with intent about two months ago. It's all about damage control and friendship building, because I'd rather have his friendship than nothing.
Sorry I just looked outside and the rain is turning to snow. Glad I'm not going to baseball tonight.
I've been a hugger since high school and learned about social kisses in Austria, but have rarely practiced social kisses here. Nothing that'll get my guy friends in trouble with their wives or girlfriends, just a kiss on the cheek or neck with a hug, an occasional peck on the lips.
Social kisses are a bit of an art, lips medium hard and no saliva exchange are my best tips. I don't know how to describe these kisses well, but it's slightly more than a brush against the cheek and doesn't last more than a second.
Of course I'm keeping it lips off with the one I really want to kiss, the one I kissed with intent about two months ago. It's all about damage control and friendship building, because I'd rather have his friendship than nothing.
Sorry I just looked outside and the rain is turning to snow. Glad I'm not going to baseball tonight.
24 March 2008
Baseball on the second day of Spring
So I made it to the U of U Baseball game on Friday, the second day of spring, and they won 7-5.
There were only four problems with the game:
1: It was cold sitting there: nothing to be done, I should've brought a blanket or a warmer coat, I'm sure the weather was great for the Saturday day game but I was busy
2: The $2.75 coffee at Not-Derks (Franklin-Covey) Field was highway robbery, at least they were going through enough that it was fresh, at least they had coffee: but come on people, don't charge Starbucks prices for coffee that isn't as good as the 7-11 across the street
3: Only about 100 fans out: where are all those U fans? It's $5 well spent -- better and cheaper than most movies
4: Metal bats just don't sound right, though I do like the little "plink plonk" tune when a pitch skips across one back to the catcher.
Last year I went to the game on the equinox, I guess the day after is close enough for celebrating spring. At least I got my baseball fix and can probably hold out now until the Bees home opener on April 11.
I also found one more reason I'm going to hell: just keep in mind it was Good Friday - they played Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" on the PA, I couldn't stop laughing. I hope it was intentional, but since we are in Utah it probably wasn't.
(Altered version from my Beck's Balls blog)
There were only four problems with the game:
1: It was cold sitting there: nothing to be done, I should've brought a blanket or a warmer coat, I'm sure the weather was great for the Saturday day game but I was busy
2: The $2.75 coffee at Not-Derks (Franklin-Covey) Field was highway robbery, at least they were going through enough that it was fresh, at least they had coffee: but come on people, don't charge Starbucks prices for coffee that isn't as good as the 7-11 across the street
3: Only about 100 fans out: where are all those U fans? It's $5 well spent -- better and cheaper than most movies
4: Metal bats just don't sound right, though I do like the little "plink plonk" tune when a pitch skips across one back to the catcher.
Last year I went to the game on the equinox, I guess the day after is close enough for celebrating spring. At least I got my baseball fix and can probably hold out now until the Bees home opener on April 11.
I also found one more reason I'm going to hell: just keep in mind it was Good Friday - they played Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" on the PA, I couldn't stop laughing. I hope it was intentional, but since we are in Utah it probably wasn't.
(Altered version from my Beck's Balls blog)
17 March 2008
Needs, Wants, Desires
What do you say when you wish on a star? Come on, I know that you still do it, even as an adult, maybe not nightly but once in a while when the world weighs heavy on your shoulders. So what do you need, want and desire?
My wish of late has been to do well in grad school, find a hot job and find a good man who believes me when I say I'm thinking about baseball.
It's that simple and that complicated, so I've been working on all three, studying until my brain is full, sending out resumes and just being myself around new men who catch my eye.
Of course that self is a little shy, a little brash and a bit of a know it all. Is it so much to ask that people like who I am? I'm too old to play games of pretending to be someone I'm not.
So just who is that self? I'm smart and intelligent. I love baseball, hockey and U of U sports. I'd rather read than just about anything. I love movies and music. I laugh and cry easily. I don't usually dance, but if I find someone who can lead in a formal dance I can follow. I'm more likely to have polished nails than to be wearing any other makeup. I have a good ear for accents, which I can't recreate, and music, though I sing poorly and don't play any instruments anymore. I'm a loyal friend and try to be indifferent, yet polite, toward people I don't like. The song "Lady is a Tramp" (listen to what it's saying) fits me well. Though I don't like phones, I eventually do call back when I get messages. I'm not really comfortable with this "I... I... I..." but need it here. I like coffee and tea and social beers.
It hurts when the brash comes out and I put my cards on the table and have them returned in a gentle and gentlemanly manner by someone I thought had a mutual interest. The worst thing is it's been a long time since I've been really interested in a specific man. He's sweet though and still a friend whom I chat with and get hugs from, so at least I didn't break what was already there.
I guess I'm lonely more often than usual lately. I have lots of friends who give me love and affection, but no one to curl up with when I'm tired or sore or having a bad day. I want someone to be quiet with, and even the couple of guy friends who offered me that have taken off for points north west, and that's the kind of friendship that takes years to develop, even when you feel it the moment you meet.
So back to the title of this post. I need to do well in school, want a hot job and desire someone who loves me back.
Doesn't sound so bad when I put it that way.
My wish of late has been to do well in grad school, find a hot job and find a good man who believes me when I say I'm thinking about baseball.
It's that simple and that complicated, so I've been working on all three, studying until my brain is full, sending out resumes and just being myself around new men who catch my eye.
Of course that self is a little shy, a little brash and a bit of a know it all. Is it so much to ask that people like who I am? I'm too old to play games of pretending to be someone I'm not.
So just who is that self? I'm smart and intelligent. I love baseball, hockey and U of U sports. I'd rather read than just about anything. I love movies and music. I laugh and cry easily. I don't usually dance, but if I find someone who can lead in a formal dance I can follow. I'm more likely to have polished nails than to be wearing any other makeup. I have a good ear for accents, which I can't recreate, and music, though I sing poorly and don't play any instruments anymore. I'm a loyal friend and try to be indifferent, yet polite, toward people I don't like. The song "Lady is a Tramp" (listen to what it's saying) fits me well. Though I don't like phones, I eventually do call back when I get messages. I'm not really comfortable with this "I... I... I..." but need it here. I like coffee and tea and social beers.
It hurts when the brash comes out and I put my cards on the table and have them returned in a gentle and gentlemanly manner by someone I thought had a mutual interest. The worst thing is it's been a long time since I've been really interested in a specific man. He's sweet though and still a friend whom I chat with and get hugs from, so at least I didn't break what was already there.
I guess I'm lonely more often than usual lately. I have lots of friends who give me love and affection, but no one to curl up with when I'm tired or sore or having a bad day. I want someone to be quiet with, and even the couple of guy friends who offered me that have taken off for points north west, and that's the kind of friendship that takes years to develop, even when you feel it the moment you meet.
So back to the title of this post. I need to do well in school, want a hot job and desire someone who loves me back.
Doesn't sound so bad when I put it that way.
Spring in the air
Today feels like spring and I'm jonesing for baseball. I haven't been to a movie in weeks because grad school is filling so much of my time, and I am missing movies, but it's spring and I want baseball. Here. Now.
I'm sure it's the changes in the weather. There's a bit of a breeze today that's making the weather chilly, but it smells like spring, and there are crocuses and daffodils in bloom if you look in the right places.
I turn on Sports Center and see highlights from the spring training games and long to hop in the car and drive down to Arizona for a Cactus League game or 10. I'm antsy and baseball seems to be the answer to my discontent. Well, one of my discontents, the one I'm thinking about now.
It's St. Patrick's Day, less than a week from Easter and I took the new Flogging Molly disc (Float), which has been rocking my world for over a week, out of the car CD player and put on some bluegrass because it feels right for the weather.
I'm just done with this long cold early spring we've been suffering in Salt Lake City and want some summer, right now. Baseball ≈ summer, or maybe I've got that backward.
Anyway, I may hit the U of U v San Diego State games at Franklin Covey Field this weekend, even though metal bats don't sound right.
I'm sure it's the changes in the weather. There's a bit of a breeze today that's making the weather chilly, but it smells like spring, and there are crocuses and daffodils in bloom if you look in the right places.
I turn on Sports Center and see highlights from the spring training games and long to hop in the car and drive down to Arizona for a Cactus League game or 10. I'm antsy and baseball seems to be the answer to my discontent. Well, one of my discontents, the one I'm thinking about now.
It's St. Patrick's Day, less than a week from Easter and I took the new Flogging Molly disc (Float), which has been rocking my world for over a week, out of the car CD player and put on some bluegrass because it feels right for the weather.
I'm just done with this long cold early spring we've been suffering in Salt Lake City and want some summer, right now. Baseball ≈ summer, or maybe I've got that backward.
Anyway, I may hit the U of U v San Diego State games at Franklin Covey Field this weekend, even though metal bats don't sound right.
24 February 2008
Poem I've had in my head
"I'm really very fond"
I'm really very fond of you,
he said.
I don't like fond.
It sounds like something
you would tell a dog.
Give me love,
or nothing.
Throw your fond in a pond,
I said.
But what I felt for him
was also warm, frisky,
moist-mouthed,
eager,
and could swim away.
if forced to do so.
- Alice Walker
I'm really very fond of you,
he said.
I don't like fond.
It sounds like something
you would tell a dog.
Give me love,
or nothing.
Throw your fond in a pond,
I said.
But what I felt for him
was also warm, frisky,
moist-mouthed,
eager,
and could swim away.
if forced to do so.
- Alice Walker
Possible ultimate pick-up line
Thought of this one the other day: "I feel like kissing the wrong man tonight. Could you be him?"
Karaoke at Burt's or Why I Sing on Sunday
The reason I love Burt's Tiki Lounge (http://www.myspace.com/burtstikilounge or just head to 726 South State Street S.L.C. UT) is that it's a grungy punk dive still, but most of the patrons, depending on the band of course, are like us, older but still fun, the average age on any given night is probably in their mid-30s, and I'm not the oldest person there at 41 most nights. As one dear friend said when we caught bands a few weeks ago, "I love this place because all of the pretense washes away at the door."
On Sunday for karaoke there are a few people with wonderful voices who are there most weeks and they are the ones leading the applause for people who give it their best shot. I don't sing well, I have about a 5 note range most days and do well with songs by weak tenors.
It also digresses (or perhaps progresses) to sing-along on a regular basis, which I adore. I think that communal singing is important and makes us better people, whether it's "Dirty Old Town" in a dive, "Take me out to the ball game" or a congregation singing a hymn.
On first glance, the scariest looking guy in the bar is a tattoo artist who is one of the biggest sweethearts I've ever met. There's a woman working on her PhD in I believe developmental psychology or something like that. One of the bartenders, who is usually a Sunday patron, is studying elementary ed, his volunteer work in a 2nd grade class is breaking his heart "7-year-olds shoudn't be that sad." One of the most talented visual artists I've ever met shows up at least once a month - though he won't sing. My friend's roommate whom she describes as "like having a 13-year-old daughter again, but a girly one this time," gets up there and sings songs like "Man After Midnight" badly and even the straight guys sing along.
It's good community.
You need to be in Salt Lake City on a Sunday night and come to Burt's.
On Sunday for karaoke there are a few people with wonderful voices who are there most weeks and they are the ones leading the applause for people who give it their best shot. I don't sing well, I have about a 5 note range most days and do well with songs by weak tenors.
It also digresses (or perhaps progresses) to sing-along on a regular basis, which I adore. I think that communal singing is important and makes us better people, whether it's "Dirty Old Town" in a dive, "Take me out to the ball game" or a congregation singing a hymn.
On first glance, the scariest looking guy in the bar is a tattoo artist who is one of the biggest sweethearts I've ever met. There's a woman working on her PhD in I believe developmental psychology or something like that. One of the bartenders, who is usually a Sunday patron, is studying elementary ed, his volunteer work in a 2nd grade class is breaking his heart "7-year-olds shoudn't be that sad." One of the most talented visual artists I've ever met shows up at least once a month - though he won't sing. My friend's roommate whom she describes as "like having a 13-year-old daughter again, but a girly one this time," gets up there and sings songs like "Man After Midnight" badly and even the straight guys sing along.
It's good community.
You need to be in Salt Lake City on a Sunday night and come to Burt's.
14 February 2008
Another Valentine's Day thought
Sex is sex and that's what it is, but kissing...
I'm a sucker for kisses - on screen, as a voyeur in public places (though eventually I always want to say "get a room"), in books, but especially the kisses I've given and received. I don't give those kisses as lightly as I used to - I've come to realize that every kiss has meaning at least at the moment it's given.
First kisses are generally the best ones. I may not remember a few of the names, but I do remember every first kiss I've had, from sloppy tongue down the throat to the nearly chaste. My very first first kiss was pretty bad, I even knew it at the time. If you know yourself you know instinctively what you like, I did not like that kiss even though I liked the boy.
I've learned to trust the instinct, there are just some men I will not kiss again.
I can tell you how my guy and some girl friends have kissed me on New Year's Eves. It's nice to give the kisses like that to friends. Those hard lipped, no saliva tokens of friendship and love. When I lived in Austria I really enjoyed the kisses on the cheeks in greeting and farewell.
The other day The Salt Lake Tribune had an article that said the average woman kisses 79 men before she marries. I guess I'm just more picky and/or date less than the average woman. Time to get smooching.
Until two weekends ago I thought I'd given up on kissing boys in bars. I only get in trouble that way, and this one may be trouble, too. I want to find out. It's a nice first kiss when the one you kiss smiles and lights up the room.
I'm a sucker for kisses - on screen, as a voyeur in public places (though eventually I always want to say "get a room"), in books, but especially the kisses I've given and received. I don't give those kisses as lightly as I used to - I've come to realize that every kiss has meaning at least at the moment it's given.
First kisses are generally the best ones. I may not remember a few of the names, but I do remember every first kiss I've had, from sloppy tongue down the throat to the nearly chaste. My very first first kiss was pretty bad, I even knew it at the time. If you know yourself you know instinctively what you like, I did not like that kiss even though I liked the boy.
I've learned to trust the instinct, there are just some men I will not kiss again.
I can tell you how my guy and some girl friends have kissed me on New Year's Eves. It's nice to give the kisses like that to friends. Those hard lipped, no saliva tokens of friendship and love. When I lived in Austria I really enjoyed the kisses on the cheeks in greeting and farewell.
The other day The Salt Lake Tribune had an article that said the average woman kisses 79 men before she marries. I guess I'm just more picky and/or date less than the average woman. Time to get smooching.
Until two weekends ago I thought I'd given up on kissing boys in bars. I only get in trouble that way, and this one may be trouble, too. I want to find out. It's a nice first kiss when the one you kiss smiles and lights up the room.
Valentine's Day crosspost slightly altered
Valentine's Day. Schmalentine's Day. I don't remember the last time I had a Valentine's Day date (so if anyone can tell a story of a good Valentine's Day date, I'd love to hear it) and even more than usual this year it doesn't matter.
This year, today, February 14, 2008, pitchers and catchers start reporting for Spring Training!
Despite about 8 inches of snow yesterday afternoon and last night (you wouldn't have know this morning that I shoveled at midnight) spring is in the air.
As always, I don't predict but hope for a Tigers/Brewers 7 game World Series.
I promise to get back to the other few Sundance Films I managed to see this year, but for now it seems to be all grad school all the time.
This year, today, February 14, 2008, pitchers and catchers start reporting for Spring Training!
Despite about 8 inches of snow yesterday afternoon and last night (you wouldn't have know this morning that I shoveled at midnight) spring is in the air.
As always, I don't predict but hope for a Tigers/Brewers 7 game World Series.
I promise to get back to the other few Sundance Films I managed to see this year, but for now it seems to be all grad school all the time.
24 January 2008
Sundance 2008 - Sugar
What a weird Sundance, yesterday, Wednesday, I finally made it to my first movie.
Well, I wasn't able to get a locals pass or ticket package for the first time in years and I just started my grad school classes last weekend and would've missed Friday, Saturday and part of Sunday - about 8 films.
Anyway, my first movie for this year was "Sugar" brought to us by Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, the fine folks who have brought us the short "Gowanus, Brooklyn" and it's feature length follow up "Half Nelson."
"Sugar" is, in the words of Ryan Fleck at the Q&A, "just a baseball movie."
(Baseball, movie -- two words that rock my world)
It is, of course, more than "just" that. "Sugar" is the story of Miguel "Sugar" Santos (Algenis Perez Soto), a young Dominican pitcher who has been signed from a development camp in the Dominican Republic by the fictive Kansas City Knights. With minimal English skills he and some of his compatriots are sent to Phoenix for Spring Training. He does well enough that he skips Rookie League ball and is sent straight to 1A in Iowa, where he starts strong. After he is injured and has a hard time coming back Sugar runs away to New York, to find his friend who was cut from the team a few weeks earlier.
I enjoyed this movie, but after sleeping on it I saw so many threads that could've been stronger: the contrast between the bargain basement Dominican Sugar and the million dollar baby second baseman who graduated from Stanford; language and cultural barriers in Iowa while he lives with an older couple who speak almost no Spanish; what to do when the dream (whatever dream it is) falls apart...
It is also nice to be reminded that just because a movie doesn't have the best of all possible endings, it doesn't mean it doesn't have a happy ending.
It's not the best baseball movie ever (in my opinion that would have to be "Bull Durham") and it isn't the best immigrant story ever but "Sugar" is fairly good at being both.
Well, I wasn't able to get a locals pass or ticket package for the first time in years and I just started my grad school classes last weekend and would've missed Friday, Saturday and part of Sunday - about 8 films.
Anyway, my first movie for this year was "Sugar" brought to us by Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, the fine folks who have brought us the short "Gowanus, Brooklyn" and it's feature length follow up "Half Nelson."
"Sugar" is, in the words of Ryan Fleck at the Q&A, "just a baseball movie."
(Baseball, movie -- two words that rock my world)
It is, of course, more than "just" that. "Sugar" is the story of Miguel "Sugar" Santos (Algenis Perez Soto), a young Dominican pitcher who has been signed from a development camp in the Dominican Republic by the fictive Kansas City Knights. With minimal English skills he and some of his compatriots are sent to Phoenix for Spring Training. He does well enough that he skips Rookie League ball and is sent straight to 1A in Iowa, where he starts strong. After he is injured and has a hard time coming back Sugar runs away to New York, to find his friend who was cut from the team a few weeks earlier.
I enjoyed this movie, but after sleeping on it I saw so many threads that could've been stronger: the contrast between the bargain basement Dominican Sugar and the million dollar baby second baseman who graduated from Stanford; language and cultural barriers in Iowa while he lives with an older couple who speak almost no Spanish; what to do when the dream (whatever dream it is) falls apart...
It is also nice to be reminded that just because a movie doesn't have the best of all possible endings, it doesn't mean it doesn't have a happy ending.
It's not the best baseball movie ever (in my opinion that would have to be "Bull Durham") and it isn't the best immigrant story ever but "Sugar" is fairly good at being both.
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