Not So Keen on the 'Ween

The thought of Halloween always leaves me hollow. I'm not a grinch--or its contemporary, the "hater"--it's just that the idea/visual of drunken, costumed people stumbling through the streets just doesn't do it for me. The children are, more often than not, a joy to behold in their store-bought and homespun little outfits. Even the adults can be a feast o'fun for the eyes with their inventive takes on childhood icons, pun play, and pop culture. And yet...if the day were eradicated, I'd never have to roll my eyes or cringe again (except for the other things I have issues with).

When I was a kid, Halloween involved the joys of costume shopping, ghoul-themed parties featuring (of course) "the Monster Mash," and trick-or-treating (pimping yourself out for candy), which I did until I was twelve. All of that changed, however, with adolescence, which came with changes of its own. The worst--and yet most intriguing--of these enshrouded itself in the guise of villainy.

Dodging flying objects had always been a part of every Halloween; part of the fun was getting from door-to-door/door-to-the-car without getting hit with a spitball, a wet toilet tissue bomb (often covered with hearty gobs of shaving cream), or an egg. But my generation of urban tricksters upped the ante at least a few notches; getting home, period, without being hit with a rock, a razor-blade-riddled apple, human/animal excrement, or a coconut (yep--an actual coconut) was quite a feat--one to be bragged about, even. (Let's not even go into the tainted candy epidemic of the '80s.)

On the good end, Halloween became the only day my parents allowed me to take off from school; on the bad end, well...was the reason I'd been granted the day off in the first place.

I guess that, to me, the day just seemed to grant people license for the untoward behaviors they usually kept in check--that it was easier to hide behind a mask/costume and run amok. The opinion was not challenged by my trip to a Halloween street party in San Francisco's Castro district, where many of the other attendees literally let it all hang out--hips, crotches, and all.

To be fair, I should mention that I have a thing with people in costume--something about a concealed face, the lack of identity, and the inherent lack of culpability unnerves me. (My mom has a picture of me in the Easter Bunny's lap, bawling my eyes out; I was less than a year old.) When the Spider-Man segment of the Electric Company came on, I ran out of the room like child being chased by the devil and would not come back until it was over; the combination of his masked face, hackneyed pantomime, and inability/refusal to speak just didn't sit right with me. (Yes, yes--issues at an early age; I know.) Consequently, I'm not keen on the 'Ween.

Humans need a release for the pent-up frustrations of work, life, relationships, and other forms of commitment--I completely understand that; makes absolute sense. And yet...its toxicity--and proximity to me--freaks me out. So I do my tolerant best and avoid the streets and crazed revelers. Every now and then, I even go to a party or five. The rest of the time, I just lay low and wait for the whole thing to blow over, just like I did the year my buddy Harrison went out and got clocked with...a broken alarm clock. (Trick or treat? You be the judge.)

But for those of you who do indeed dig the holiday, I all too happily wish you a Happy Halloween...from the safety of my secured (and undisclosed) location.

Boo!

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending October 28, 2006

1. “It's Over,” Milosh (from Meme)
2. “Day in Day Out,” Denzal Sinclaire (from Denzal Sinclaire)
3. “April Fools,” Rufus Wainwright (from Rufus Wainwright)
5. “Moonchild,” Cibo Matto (from Stereo Type A)
6. “Try Again,” Aaliyah (from Romeo Must Die: The Album)
7. “New Shoes,” Paolo Nutini (MP3 Single)
8. “Didn't Treat Me Right,” Ebba Forsberg (from Been There)

Stepping up to the Plate

As part of my postnovel community outreach, I decided to join the softball league at work. Being relatively new to the media conglomerate I work for (which shall, for now, remain nameless; probationary period), it seemed like a great way to meet the people in my cubicled neighborhood. I also took the idea--as well as the stymied staring of various friends--as a challenge and a chance to step outside of my comfort zone and try something new.

It should be noted that I am not, nor have I ever been, a jock. With the exception of The Jeff’s youth soccer games, I have never been a sports enthusiast. In fact, I've never liked contact sports (keep the entendre-based mockery to yourselves) for the same reason I never got into play-fighting: being struck--even accidentally--is not the stuff that the games I play are made of. A friend once asked why I didn't play basketball, given my height (6'4"); my response: "If I have the ball, and I'm trying to make it to the hoop, why do the others have to be in my face?" The closest I ever came to jockdom was fencing--but that was only because it was the only socially acceptable way I knew to stab someone and get away with it.

Yes--quite the adolescent, I was.

The last time I played softball was in the spring of 1985, and that was with the kids in the neighborhood (one of their teammates had been near-literally dragged out of the schoolyard by his mother, who had happened upon his substandard report card.)

Needless to say, my on-field performance has involved generous doses of hilarity; my attempts at catching have been shameful and somewhat humiliating. I'd like to blame it on the glove that I'm still breaking in, but...I'm big on personal responsibility (damn!), so...let's just say I suck. On the good end, I've only been hit twice (and no, not in the head/face), I have a pretty decent pitching arm, and the gang seems to be keen on my batting potential.

Consequently, I spend a lot of time on the bench. It isn't quite as far outside of my comfort zone as I'd planned on venturing, but the metal bench in the dugout does ensure that I don't rest on my "laurels" for too long.

Sometimes the dugout feels like a cage, and I get pouty about not being on the field, striking out, and/or feeling completely out of step with my peers, who seem to have a far better grasp on the game than I do. Depending on the severity, these are the times I want to either quit the team and run back to my comfort zone (what/wherever that is)--or the times I'm ready to practice, practice, practice until my game is perfected enough to rock the goddamned diamond. Most of the time, though, I'm too busy pouring my energy into cheering my teammates on and doing my part for morale.

Last week was a pretty good one, though. My catching seems to be improving; I'd like to say it was all me, but my glove feels like it may finally be broken in. I whacked a ball pretty far into the outfield, which resulted in a few good plays for the team--some of which were even runs. We came out of a two-game losing streak the week before last, and seem to finally be coming together as a team.

I'm still slugging it out with my nonjock/overeachiever insecurities, my nonconformist tendencies, and am still averse to the idea of balls coming at me (gay stereotypes be damned), but like the good athlete I have yet to be, I'm soldiering on, despite my limitations. (It doesn't hurt that we're also on a winning streak; current record: 4-2.)

Notes from Insomnia: October 23, 2006--12:18 AM (PST)

I recently updated the Top 8 Songs list with links to the iTunes store; this way you can, at the very least, hear samples of the songs-in-question. (Whether you'll end up buying them is another story altogether.) Unfortunately, the iTunes Store has yet to secure the selling rights to every song in existence, so you will notice that a few songs lack the requisite linkage.

Either way, I figured I'd get "jiggy" with the technology and share my newfound hipness with those most deserving: my fellow bourgeois dorks. That having been thought, typed, and disseminated...enjoy.

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending October 21, 2006

1. “Game for Fools,” Jamie Lidell (from Multiply)
2. “Day in Day Out,” Denzal Sinclaire (from Denzal Sinclaire)
3. “Honestly,” Annie Lennox (from Bare)
5. “Come in from the Cold,” Joni Mitchell (from Night Ride Home)
6. “Atoms for Peace,” Thom Yorke (from The Eraser)
7. “Strength, Courage & Wisdom,” India.Arie (from Acoustic Soul)
8. “It's Over,” Milosh (from Meme)

Notes from Insomnia: October 20, 2006--12:08 AM (PST)

I know a lot of critics were quick to pan Thom Yorke's The Eraser, but I thought it extremely unfair that the work was written off as a collection of Radiohead (Kid A) scraps. Personally, I found it to be an intimate, well-crafted, and thoroughly engaging disc. Much like the brilliant pastiche of schizoid musical styles that inform "Black Swan" (the one song the critics did give its props), The Eraser defies categorization (not quite rock, not quite electronica, not quite trip-hop). And perhaps this was why he was penalized.

Either way, I think it's a sturdy solo outing and am still enjoying it, 14 weeks after first hearing it.

Notes from Insomnia: October 18, 2006--1:06 AM

So, a friend of mine (a fine young lady named Shannon Keller) and I are working on a Bourgeois Dork logo. So far, so interesting. For those of you with "Ooh--I wanna see" tendencies, I've posted one of the early drafts. That having been thought and typed, here it is:




Should be fun to see how it evolves. Continue to stay tuned.

Notes from Insomnia: October 17, 2006--1:51 AM (PST)

It is amazing how the shape and texture of a thing, like a daydream, can define a moment in time. The animation of lazy snapshots, playing in sync with the soundtrack of a sunny afternoon, a rainy day, or the night that felt like it lasted a year. The secretive joys, solitary sorrows, moments of transcendent equanimity, and damned good reasons to remember the balm that is laughter; the smile that sneaks its way from ear to ear, spurred by memories of mischief, triumph, or nothing in particular; the pressure that sometimes wells up in the tear ducts of an eye looking through the window, back to the time known as When.

I hope that when I look back on all of this, I'll see that I was closer to breaking though than I ever could have imagined.

Feedback: The Story Thus Far (Pitch: Perfect[ing])

In the time that has passed since my last (non-Top-8) entry, I received an extremely helpful rejection letter from Luke Jankow (of Janklow & Nesbit Associates). I say helpful, because he offered what I’d like to consider constructive feedback on my description of the novel, which he felt failed to “inspire the proper amount of enthusiasm” in him. Rather than let my slightly bruised ego leap into a bevy of defensive (read: protective) postures, I brushed my pride off and took a long, hard look at the summary I’d written. The result: a retooled and, hopefully, more compelling query.

Between drafts, I also received a form rejection letter (or rather, postcard) from Daniel Mandel (of Sanford J. Greenburger & Associates)--which, while far less than ideal, felt like a confirmation of Mr. Janklow’s critique. (At least that’s what my gut said.)

Form rejection letters can be a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, they sting less because, at the end of the day, it isn’t personal--literally; he’s obviously a busy man, and his office probably receives more queries than I have blood cells. On the other hand, the lack of personalized response can rend quite the blow for a project that so much time, passion, and credit card debt has been invested in. The good days find me inspired, the lame ones find me befuddled, and the ugly ones find me vulnerable and pouty.

Fortunately, I have a few things going for me: an unshakable belief in the project, the fact that it, not I, has only been rejected twice, and my possession of what I believe is a sturdier query letter. Having never been through this process before, I also have the luxury of being fascinated by each of the experiences I encounter as the story behind the story unfolds, be they good and/or bad. You only get a first time once, and as you get older, the amount of first times there are to be had begin to decrease. (Which means I can look forward to an old age full of inventive ways to keep myself amused.) So I take in as much as I can stand/learn from and save the rest when I need an interesting anecdote or five.

Regardless of how this entire endeavor turns out--whether I find an agent who finds a publisher who’s all too eager to throw ridiculous sums of money at me (insert laugh track here) for the privilege of whoring Urban Renewal out (insert knee-slapping cackles here), or whether I end up rolling indie-style and publishing it myself (insert “you go, boy”-esque applause here)--the highs, lows, and what-the-hells that have been the making of this novel will have been what they are now: an adventure.

So, stay tuned; I certainly will.

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending October 14, 2006

1. “The Moon Is Made of Gold,” Rob Wasserman (from Trilogy)
2. “Black Swan,” Thom Yorke (from The Eraser)
3. “Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See,” Busta Rhymes (from When Disaster Strikes...)
5. “Don't Be Sad 'Cause Your Sun Is Down,” James Taylor (from In the Pocket)
6. “Your Secret's Safe with Me,” Michael Franks (from Skin Dive)
7. “Stupid Girls,” P!nk (from I'm Not Dead)
8. “Strength, Courage & Wisdom,” India.Arie (from Acoustic Soul)

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending October 7, 2006

1. “Theme from Valley of the Dolls,” Dionne Warwick (from The Valley of the Dolls)
2. “Poison Apples (Hallelujah),” Joan Osborne (from Righteous Love)
3. “The Moon Is Made of Gold,” Rob Wasserman (from Trilogy)
4. “Dance with Me,” Orleans (from Let There Be Magic)
5. “Cycles,” Rickie Lee Jones (from It's Like This)
6. “Places in My Past,” James Taylor (from Mud Slide Slim & The Blue Horizon)
7. “Crossroads,” Don McLean (from American Pie)
8. “Let It Rain,” Tracy Chapman (from Let It Rain)