Thank you, Mark Twain

Colorado recently enacted a law prohibiting texting and driving. The only thing more dangerous than me texting and driving is me driving while listening to Lady Gaga.

There are a lot of red Honda Accords on the road. How will you know it's me driving(besides the White Sox license plate frame)? Just look to see if the fella is nodding his head and bouncing his shoulders. Maybe his right hand is pointing out the flow of the lyrics. Pull up beside him and you'll see he's singing his precious little heart out.

That's me in the car when music is playing - a singing and dancing fool. (When I'm listening to NPR, not so much singing and dancing) I'm a big believer of singing and dancing in the car. Come to think of it, I'm a big believer in singing and dancing in general. I can do neither very well, but can do both just well enough. I think far too many people are afraid of singing and dancing in public and I don't get it.

I'm sure you've all heard the quote

"Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth."

Mark Twain was a fucking genius. Forget Tom and Huck and those damn jumping frogs - the first two ideas expressed in that quote may be the most beautiful he ever had. I don't know if he was a song and dance man, but his heart was definitely in the right place.

To me, the weirdest thing about people not singing and dancing is I think they really want to, but for some reason are afraid. Look at the popularity of the Electric Slide, the Cupid Shuffle, and the lamest of them all, the Cha Cha Slide. When people are surrounded by others doing the same moves, they feel safe. These are people I think really want to dance. If they didn't want to dance at all, not even these dances would bring them to the floor. Why they're afraid to stake a claim to a spot on the floor and at least sway from side to side is beyond me.

Same thing with karaoke. People will go up if they're singing something in a group, but if it's solo, no way. I'll admit karaoke is much more daunting than getting out on the dance floor, but it's also much more rewarding. The best karaoke for me is bad karaoke. People who are practically or completely tone deaf up there doing their thing is priceless. Those are the people I want to party with. And you don't need to go to karaoke to sing. One of the very best ways to break the ice and develop a rapport with someone is by singing with them. I think we've all found ourselves in the following situation:

You're in the car with an individual or a group of people you don't know very well and conversation is sparse. Then, the song everybody knows comes on and boom - everybody is singing, everybody is sharing a moment, and a connection is made.

Honestly, I'm not exactly sure what I am trying to say with this post. I just found myself singing and dancing my way home from work today and I guess it caused me to reflect a little. So, if you're one of these people who is afraid to cut a little rug or flex the golden pipes, just pretend no one is watching or listening and let it go.

Thai Lunch

There is no lunch.

There's breakfast. There may be dinner.

There is no lunch.

By the time you reach what you consider lunchtime in Thailand, you've already eaten three times - maybe four - maybe more.

You eat breakfast. There is breakfast. There is a first meal of the day. What you eat for breakfast isn't like anything you've eaten for breakfast in the past. Well, maybe. You've eaten fried chicken in the morning before, but you have never eaten fried chicken that tasted like the chicken was killed an hour before it was fried and presented to you with a sweet chili sauce and rice. Not in Chang Rai at 7 o'clock in the morning you haven't.

You eat again in a couple hours. This time it's on the streets of Bangkok. You can feel the city as you spear freshly cubed pineapple out of a plastic bag with a toothpick. No, really. You feel the city. It is stuck on your face. You run the napkin presented with the pineapple across your brow and when you look at it, it's grey. Strangely, this makes the pineapple taste better. The cool sweetness of the fruit combats the sticky heat of the city street.

The pineapple takes you no time at all to eat. It's that good. Sadly, it's not all that filling, so when you turn the corner and see a vendor selling grilled pork on a stick, you have to have it. And when you finish that, you need the iced coffee next door to wash it down. The coffee is also served in a plastic bag, suspended by a rubber band with a straw to access the sweet nectar.

It's lunchtime.

At least you think it is. It's the middle of the day and it's time to eat. Then again, you are going to eat again in a couple hours, so maybe that's lunchtime. Or maybe lunch is an hour after that, when you find yourself at a house tucked along one of the alleys that make up the vast labyrinth that is Thailand's capital city, your hands completely purple from tearing open the regally ripe Mongkut (mangosteen) fruit. In Thailand it is the queen of fruits, and you eat about fifteen of them.

In Pattaya, you know it's dinner because you travel by car to a restaurant. It is perhaps the most frightening car ride of your life, weaving in and out of traffic with hard starts and stops. But once parked, the journey to the restaurant doesn't get any easier. Avoiding getting yanked into a bar by steering clear of eager prostitutes in Thailand's sex capital is just as difficult as negotiating the city streets by automobile.

Those who say it is not the destination, but rather the journey that is important, have never been to the Flying Vegetable restaurant. While the treacherous journey along Pattaya's streets is memorable, you find the destination to be far more rewarding. While sitting in the outdoor restaurant, you wonder what the cook is preparing outside the store, and why there appears to be a couple of the servers across the street holding plates. Well, when the cook hurls the vegetables over traffic to the servers across the street, and they in turn dodge traffic to present the plate to your table, you realize there is nothing ironic about the restaurant's name.(see the flying vegetable video)

This was your last meal of the day. We'll call it dinner because it was destination dining and the fare presented resembled that of a full, proper meal. There may be five or six mongkuts later, but for now, you're done.

And so you go to bed knowing there will be breakfast tomorrow. And you're pretty sure there will be dinner. But which of the seven meals between them is lunch?


There is no lunch

Fiction #2 -- "Silly rabbit, kicks are for chicks"

There is no rabbit.

Well, maybe there is. The woman in the shop has big feet. Rabbits have big feet. But literally, there is no rabbit.

You can't see her feet right now. Neither can I. Now, on with the scene.

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"Footloose" has started playing overhead. Seems an odd choice for a shoe store. Then again, seeing as it's only Wednesday, maybe not.

"What do you think?" she asks.
"Hmm?" he answers.

"What do you think?"

"I like the blue ones."

"The blue ones? I put those back."

"Why?"

"Because they were blue."

"Then why did you pick them up in the first place?"

"Because they were blue."

Bewilderment.

Fiction #1 -- "Bring me a dream"

I am leaving on a jet plane tomorrow morning for Memphis, so that has taken up most of my free time lately. This is just a little something I wrote earlier this year after asking for some first lines from my friends. The first line of this composition was provided by my old friend Michelle. It's not much, just a quick beginning, or, maybe it's done. Anyway, here it is.

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-Sho nuff, whispers the Sandman, as the dust settles onto Jerome's gratefully sleeping eyes.
Two beats.
-Well, what do you think?
-About what
-About what I said.
-I’m sorry, what did you say?
-Sho nuff, whispers the Sandman, as the dust settles onto Jerome’s gratefully sleeping eyes.
A beat.
-That doesn’t mean anything.
-What do you mean?
-What do you mean what do you mean? That statement doesn’t mean anything.
-Of course it doesn’t.
-?
-I mean of course it doesn’t now.
-Of course. So when does it?
-When you know what comes before it.
Two beats. Eyebrows raised.
-It’s the ending.
-Mm hmm ---------------Well it sounds like an ending. Dust settling on gratefully sleeping eyes – that’s an ending if I’ve ever heard one. Very final.
-Thank you.
-I’m not so sure about the Sandman using a phrase like sho nuff.
-Really?
-Really. I get the feeling he’d stay away from colloquialisms – be a bit more formal.
-So…sure enough?
-That’s what I’m thinking – but I don’t know. The Sandman - whether that’s his name, or title, or both - is a pretty sweet moniker. So sho nuff could very well be a part of his lexicon.
-You’re right. The Sandman, that’s a baaad name.
-I’m not sure it’s three a’s bad, but I agree with the sentiment. What’s it ending?

Let's hug it out

One-armed hugs are bullshit.


There are few things on Earth that puzzle me more than the one-armed hug. Either you want to hug me or you don't. I come from a long line of huggers. My Grandpa Graham was perhaps the greatest hugger in the history of man. He would hug you before he knew your name. And while I am not at his level, when I hug someone, I like to bring it in for the real thing. I don't care if you're a man or a woman, or if your ass is in or sticking out, if you want to hug me, be prepared for the big bear to get his paws on you.

I think the main reason people go with the single arm special is they feel pressure to have to hug. As such, they throw that weak arm around you, or do one of those to-the-side jobs. Those two moves are totally useless. They're useless because they're insincere. A hug is a sign of affection, and if it's done only halfway, the person is telling you they're probably only doing it because they feel they have to. This is particularly true of goodbye hugs. I'd rather someone just smile and wave. The only time a one-armed hug is acceptable is if the person only has one arm.

From this day forward, I will no longer accommodate one-armed hugs by reciprocating in kind. I have made this proclamation before, and for the most part stayed true to it. But now, 100% of the time, whether you bring it in with one arm or two, both of mine are going around you, and you can be the silly looking one with their one arm dangling to the side. And guys, if you want to shake my hand, shake my hand, but realize if you curl in to put your free arm around me, I will break grip.

I think most would agree two arms around you are better than one, so get ready America.

Consider Anthony Edwards

For younger readers, Anthony Edwards may only be known from ER reruns, and maybe as one of the detectives in the film Zodiac. But for those around my age and older, we know him as one of the iconic sidemen of the 80's. He played second fiddle in two of the defining movies of the decade, and Hollywood history is better for it.

I'd like to start with his role as Nick Bradshaw in Top Gun. Don't remember a Nick Bradshaw? Perhaps not, but I know you remember Goose. There is no movie, nay, no story without Goose. Maverick would have been kicked out of the Navy long before being offered Top Gun were it not for Goose keeping him in check. Yes, Goose participated in the antics, but he never let them get out of control. Whether taking Polaroids of MiG pilots or demonstrating "the finger," Goose knew how to straddle the line without crossing it. Goose was a family man who loved life and son, and always considered them when making decisions. Goose died tragically. He died a death that seemed avoidable had it not been for what appeared to be faulty American military equipment. Maverick was never the same after his death, and neither were we. After all, he was the man who reminded us all Goose is spelled with two o's.

Two years earlier, Edwards' star began its ascent with his role as Gilbert Lowell in Revenge of the Nerds. Up till then, his career was bit parts in movies and some television work. Though Louis Skolnick was the natural leader of the group, Gilbert was a man who stayed true to himself. After all, it was Gilbert who marched down to the homecoming pep rally and demanded his voice be heard. The football team tried to silence Gilbert by tossing him in a fountain, but he would not be denied his right to defend himself and the rest of the Tri-Lambs.

Gilbert's a nerd, and he's pretty proud of it.

A nerd though he may have been, let's remember Gilbert was the first in the house to score a girlfriend, and through Judy and her connection to the Omega Mu's, Lambda Lambda Lambda was able to pull off a stellar party and cement their charter. Gilbert's importance was reinforced when he was nominated by the Tri-Lambs to be president of the Greek Council, and in Revenge of the Nerds II when he appeared to Louis in a vision Jedi-style.

Anthony Edwards played giants among men in two of the most iconic roles in 1980's cinema. We sang with Goose at the piano in Top Gun, and we stood with Gilbert when he challenged the Alpha Beta's in Revenge of the Nerds. It is my hope the younger readers of the blog will take a moment to consider Anthony Edwards. And the older ones, to reconsider him.

Cookie Logic

I honestly cannot think of a cookie I don't like. And if there is one, I haven't come across it yet. There are definitely some I enjoy less than others, but if you put some cookies in front of me, chances are I'll partake. Big or small, soft or hard, chewy or crunchy, me likes cookies.

One of the curious things about cookies is they are difficult to qualify, they cannot be put in a box (actually they can be, but more and more I find they are packaged in bags. Girl Scout cookies - they come in boxes). Are they a dessert, or are they a snack? I think most of us would agree they are a combination of both. They're versatile. What sets cookies apart from other desserts and really elevates them to the summit of Olympus is their portability. Given you're not trekking around with a giant Mrs. Fields cookie, they can easily be placed in a bag(!) and toted around town, around the world, around the solar system. Seriously, who is going to shove a piece of cake or a slice of pie in their pocket? Maybe someone looking for a good time, but probably not too many.

Cookies build bridges and encourage goodwill. How? Simple, people can share cookies. Think about it: you're sitting on the bus and the person next to you whips out that slice of strawberry rhubarb pie he's had crammed in his pocket. Chances are, you're going to politely decline the piece he tears off for you. Now consider this, dude sits down with a bag of Milanos and notices you eyeing them. Understanding the divine nature of sharing food, he offers you one. Tell me you don't get down. Of course you do. Boom, your life just got a little better. Maybe you now have a story to tell about how grandma and grandpa met. Or maybe your bus ride just became a bit more bearable.

Cookies are magical.

Not in a Merlin or Harry Potter way, but in a there's a goddamn Muppet named for them sort of way. Jim Henson was on to something when he dreamed up Monsieur Cookie. Think of the charmed life Cookie Monster leads. His only existential crisis centers around when and where he is going to score his next sweet morsel of baked goodness.

We can all learn something from Cookie.

Prologue

I call it The Hokey Pokey because it's what it's all about.

I would also like to encourage you to put your whole self in and shake it all about.

The fact I have even written this much is a huge step forward for me, and I am happy you are here to participate - not in the writing of course, I did that earlier, but in the stepping. I apologize if the prose is clunky, but I am a bit out of practice. That is the main reason for embarking on this endeavor - I need to write.

Many of you have probably never read anything I have written, and that saddens me. Please don't feel bad, I blame myself. I really haven't written anything of any substance since I graduated college. I cannot promise everything I write in this forum will be substantive, but I hope this proves to be a gateway.

I am going to publish a new post no later than Monday of every week. There are no rules that are going to govern my posts. I'm sure a lot of them will simply be my thoughts and observances on various subjects, but I know there will also be fiction. Probably not entire stories every time, but plenty beginnings, middles, and endings.

This initial post is to welcome you on this magic carpet ride, and to encourage you to participate by posting comments. And once it gets going, I encourage you to share this with people you think will enjoy it. Thanks for coming and remember, this is what it's all about.

PG