Round Four

It's that time of year again - final exams. I suppose the stress quotient, on the whole, is somewhat less than in the past. Each passing endurance makes it a little easier to bear. But that doesn't quite diminish the fact that finals, empirically, suck.

The inevitable worst part of finals isn't necessarily the exams, but rather the isolation. Studying for exams tends to be such an isolated activity, and I think it just gets tiresome spending so much time alone. After all, the Fourth Amendment can only get one so excited.

However, I'm happy to say that I'm off to a good start. I won the pop quiz at the admiralty party this morning, and am now the proud owner of a Toblerone bar roughly the size of a small ocean liner. I always knew my knowledge of "Hook" would come in handy one day...

In any event, I'm sure it will all be a riot.

Jazzy Weekends, etc.

Folks, I think it not inaccurate to say that however much jazz you currently have in your life, it is not enough. Everyone needs more jazz. After all, it is America's music.

In pursuit of this goal, I journeyed to Stillwater on Friday evening to hear the Luther Jazz Orchestra, a fine ensemble which I had the distinct pleasure of playing in for a time. And let me tell you, it was quite pleasant. Always nice to see a certain Tony Guzman, although I was incredibly distressed to not hear the Lutheran "Tony Guzmansson" joke. Damn thing cracks me up every time...

Of course, I also got to see some old friends, both in the group and not. Once again, that was very nice. A relief, even. It's always nice to know, as I've alluded to before, that you're remembered. So be it for music played some time ago, or experiences shared even closer in time, it's always nice to know that you matter. That was fun; I'm still fairly certain that the second alto believes I put a man in the hospital in England. Inside jokes, gotta love 'em.

The band sounded great, just great. I was very impressed, and very proud. In some respects, it's humbling. We freeze those moments in time, those four years, and in their cryogenic state, they become part of a contained system. And they are contained, because experiences, everything; it's all unique to us and our circle. But once that seal has been put down, sometimes you tend to forget that you are only part of a continuum, and that your time is only one of thousands, maybe even millions of times. So as special as it was to be (assuredly), the greatest third trombonist to ever grace the Jazz Orchestra, it's so nice to know that new folks are filling in quite capably, and bringing more prestige. Not going to lie though, definitely made me want to get my Limbo Jazz on.

One other disappointment - they did not play Limbo Jazz. No!

Bottom line, it was a lot of fun. For those Luther jazz alums and fans who were not fortunate enough to hear them this year, you can be assured that we're all being done proud. It was a nice night - yes, even that part (cryptic!).

In the interests of photographic fun, here are some trombontastic clips from the 2008 Jazz Orchestra tour to Brazil. Caipirinhas, anyone? The correct answer is sim, obrigado!

Labyrinthine Things

Hello readers. I apologize for the lack of substantive content lately; there is this thing called law school, that effectively ruins lives. Consequently, ruined lives leave very little time for hilarious blogging, and far too much time for contract theory and the inevitable discovery exception to the exclusionary rule. So right, whoops.

I spent much of my afternoon attempting to comprehend a case with the feds that is positively byzantine in its clarity and ease of understanding. Once home, I decided the weather was too nice to let it go to waste by sitting around inside. That, and I was still mildly concerned about the caloric intake I unwisely consumed courtesy of a lunchtime burrito. So, I pumped up the tires on my bike, packed up my bag, and biked off to Como Park.

Often times, I go back to thinking about what excited me about going to school in an urban environment. I had all these grand ambitions of living a life of culture, of taking advantage of the symphony, of the jazz clubs - so many things. A life that would render regular use of a car unnecessary - after all, cool kids in the city bike, right?

Needless to say, the cruel demands of school, budgetary constraints, and apathy have rendered those grand ambitions somewhat null. That's to be expected though, I think, but that doesn't necessarily make it more palatable from a theoretical standpoint.

Anyways, it was pleasant to bike around the lake, even marginally pleasant (as pleasant as this gets) to read about the Exxon Valdez whilst basking in the Minnesota sun. And, as is my wont, after I finished my tasks, I biked up to the labyrinth they have, and I walked it. I don't know why, but I'm quite fascinated by labyrinths, I find them extremely calming, relaxing. And of course, they get you thinking. I always try to not think about anything at all, to just focus on my breathing and my footsteps as I make my way along - but that never works. I inevitably just start thinking.

Prosaic as it is, life has a funny way of taking those sorts of labyrinthine turns. I've had a few of those in my day, actually my recent days. You get to thinking, what the hell is the point of this apparently pointless situation? And I really have yet to answer that, both for myself and others. It's so inane to say that it inevitably leads to a conclusion (like a labyrinth), or that something comes out of it. From my own attempts to justify these things, that is a bullshit answer, which doesn't solve much of anything.

It's not worth living in self-pity, and I think I do a fairly good job of avoiding that. It's also not worth thinking too hard about these unanswerable things. But it is worth thinking about the hard decisions that arise out of them, to a certain extent. It's very difficult to come to grips with current realities that you don't want to face, but I suppose it's just the way the cookie crumbles in some situations. I suppose we can just only hope that eventually, we make our way to the center.

Blah, there's my greeting-card-esque philosophizing for the week. Since we're on the subject though, I don't think it makes much sense to have a labyrinth devoted to world peace right off of busy Lexington Parkway. All that traffic does not inspire me to world peace. It doesn't inspire me to local peace. In fact, I don't think it inspires me to much of anything.

Except that I should ride my bike more often...

Opening Day 2010

One last post. I was there!



Harmon Killebrew, still swinging for the fences



Can't get enough of this pedestrian plaza/green space (Target Plaza). Really cool place to check out, even when the Twins aren't playing.



Center field gate (appropriately named). Also, can't get enough of this Piece of Public Art that covers the ugly-ass parking garage.



View approaching the first baseline entrance



First regular season Kramarczuk's polish outside - ever.



Somewhere, a Perkins is wondering where their flag went.



Highway to the danger zone, anyone? Maverick? Iceman?



Doesn't even seem real. Is this Minneapolis?



Organist sitting in a bar. Great idea, or a terrible idea...



If you look real close, you can see my new glasses. Damn sun; wait, what's the sun?

The Times, They Are a Changin'

Some things change, some things stay the same.

I know a lot of my readers are not baseball fans, and certainly don't have quite as developed attachments with particular teams. But I think we can all resonate with the newness that is presented on Opening Day, especially when your entire baseball life has been spent under a Teflon sky. Let's go see the sky for real, shall we?

I know that there's a danger of roving polar bears eating the opposing outfielders, and yetis and other snowbeasts prowling along the concourses. Minnesota is, after all, a frozen tundra. But, that's okay. I have a coat for the snow, and an umbrella for the rain. I say, for what it's worth, it's going to be just fine.

The National Game March, or how I learned to throw all self-dignity away and make an ass out of myself

I've gotten a few unexpected facebook messages the past few days, from unexpected sources. Apparently, the fine folks down in the Luther College Concert Band have been playing a certain John Philip Sousa march by the name of "The National Game." And apparently, I seem to be inextricably and forever more attached to that march.

I suppose the story is well known by the, oh, 3 people who loyally read this blog. Through some strange turn of events (namely me blabbing off a bunch of shit that I had no expectation would ever be taken seriously), I ended up ditching my trombone for a baseball bat and running around the CFL while masquerading as a ballplayer who just hit a game-winning home run. I really wish there was video evidence that it actually happened, because I think I did my best Kirby Puckett/Game 6 impression, and most people who I tell this story to don't believe that I did it. Let their heads remain buried in the sand.

I maintain that the most hilarious part was when I had to explain to the Luther baseball coach why I needed to borrow the uniform...

But anyways folks, let me tell you from experience, if you're ever looking for a great way to spend your evening, try wearing 3 or 4 layers of polyester and then sitting down under a blazing spotlight for an hour. It is absolutely fantastic - easiest way in the world to look classy while simultaneously shedding 30 pounds.

I don't mean to wallow in self-glory, if that is even applicable to this ridiculous event. It was just nice to know people remembered it, and it brought back a lot of good memories. Truth be told, given the relatively low profile I tend to keep, and kept at Luther, I remain very surprised when people continue to mention it. But it's always pleasant to be remembered, even if its for a dumbass stunt that pretty much sapped an otherwise respectable concert of any musical integrity whatsoever.

Everyone has memories of college, of the "good old days." I suppose I'm becoming of that age where they do start to become "old days." But there's a perfectly good reason why such memories stick around, and why friends remain. Sure, we can't go back to how things were, but it's so nice to laugh and remember, and then go out and make something new.




P.S. - Benjamin, I still can't get over how good we look in that low brass photo... hard bodies

Justice

Well folks, there is justice in the world. It just turns out you have to go to Maplewood and talk with Pete to get it.

Yes, in what I suppose is my first adversarial experience with the City of St. Paul, I traveled to the Ramsey County District Court to contest a parking ticket. After much table pounding, rhetorical flourish, and exclamations of "Justice Demands!," I now stand before you an unblemished man, wholly innocent under the eyes of the law. I feel as if my whole life is now ahead of me.

Simple Pleasures

Folks, I've had very few things to say lately. It's just been a black hole of a week, or two weeks, for blogging and otherwise intelligent writing. Spring break will do that to you - destroy any ounce of motivation to do anything.

My lack of blogging shouldn't indicate that I haven't been thinking about interesting things. I have - all manner of interesting things, actually. Just, for the life of me, I haven't quite been able to put them down into words. I had a very eye-opening bike ride into suburban blight, aka my boyhood neighborhood, the other day. The whole time, I just kept thinking about what a great blog entry it would make, but alas, the aforementioned black hole.

I've even had a new album of the week fermenting about in my brain - multiple ones, in fact. But again, it's like someone uncorked something in the back of my head, and all those brilliant ideas came gushing out, never to be read again.

Dead before even getting a chance to realize their potential - that's always the saddest sort of end. It's always a lot better to tolerate failure, to tolerate disappointment, if there's an explicit basis for said failure. You can point to something and say, "Look, that didn't work!" But alas, when there is nothing to point to, 'tis a bitter pill to swallow.

In any event, why the sad mood? Well, of course you know the reason. Some things just seem to take a lot of time.

However, such things shouldn't stand in the way of all that is good. I witnessed with my own eyes last night, the first professional outdoor ballgame I've ever seen here in the great state of Minnesota. Sure, the Twins lost, but who the hell cares? It was just so pleasant to be outside, to be in a real ballpark. I can't believe it's for us. Everything seems so superlative as to almost be a mirage.

It's pleasant to be able to wear shorts and moccasins again; it's pleasant to roll down the windows and pop the sunroof. I've been on a Phoenix rampage the past month or so, and it's nice to play "Liztomania" at a high volume whilst speeding down the freeway. It's nice to have it be Easter, and to be able to eat chocolate rabbits without concern for one's well-being. It's pleasant to listen to the intelligentsia at Minnesota Public Radio, in their attempt to connect with the common folk through their coverage of Target Field's opening, try and pronounce "Cuddyer." Yes folks, simple pleasures are the greatest pleasures.



Like I said, simple pleasures.