Prelude to a Basketball

Evening folks, welcome back. Or should I say, after a week spent in a small glass room editing arbitration memos, welcome myself back?



I'm going to a Timberwolves game tomorrow. One could rightfully ask, "why would any rational being go to a Timberwolves game?" I really have no good response, other than the fact my arbitration teammate has been pestering, and it costs but $5. The last Wolves game I went to, the highlight of the evening was the blooper reel. I'm going to be hopeful though. It's what President Obama would want me to do.

I think there are two reasons why I'm confident of a more than pleasant evening though.

First, I need to come direct from work, which means I have to wear a suit. Last time I wore a suit to a sporting event...



we won.

Second, I have excellent company. Excellent company makes even terrible NBA basketball tolerable, nay, palatable, nay, intriguing.

In any event, I am more than ready to howl at opposing players' free throws, watch the stripper/"Timberwolves Dance Team" halftime show, and otherwise pay far too much for beer in a venue with the word "Target" in it. It'll be like a nice little run through for April... minus the strippers. Maybe the howling too... but actually, howling seems like a brilliant idea.

Speeches

Friends, I spent tonight watching the President's address from Tucson. It's about a half hour long, but I would highly recommend it to you. I thought it was a beautiful speech. It's shameful that such a beautiful speech had to be borne out of such a senseless act.

I teared up. Real men tear up.



I certainly can't claim, and won't claim, to be nonpartisan. But I thought this was the kind of speech a leader makes, when he/she is called upon to be a leader. When I heard about this shooting on Saturday, I was absolutely horrified, and I don't really know why.

Maybe it's because it hit an elemental cord. Sure, I'm just a student, and often times I value the paycheck over more altruistic concerns, but I know exactly what it's like to go to work, hoping that today you can make the community a little bit better. I play a tiny role, an absolutely tiny role, and while I myself sometimes question the wisdom or humanism of the things I write, I like to tell myself that what I did today made some victim of a crime feel a bit better, or made a neighbor feel a bit safer. To think someone would shoot me for doing that, that's absolutely terrible.

In any event, the speech made me think, which I am wont to do. In fact, for all the blather that I spray out each day, I'd venture to say that I think at least two to three times as much. I think that's okay though; I think I'm happy to deal with some awkward silences in order to think things through a bit more.

Anyways, what really struck me about President Obama's speech was the gratitude he expressed for the folks in Tucson on Saturday. The people who wrestled the shooter to the ground, the doctors, the guy who took care of the representative who was shot. It made me think about the things I was grateful for - the real things, not the coffee grinders.

I wish I had something more insightful to say, I really do. Often times, I wish I could come up with all these fantastic ideas I hear about, but maybe, it's times like this where we all need to be grateful for who we are. More importantly, like the President said, we need to be grateful for, and think about, the opportunity to make someone's life a little better, as well as the folks who do the same for us. It would be futile to make a list, because there are so many, but that's what I'm going to do tonight.

In any event, it's late, and I'm tired. Again. But I'm grateful tonight for the place I'm in, because I think it's someplace good. I'm grateful for my job, and I'm grateful for the "A" I got in negotiation. I'm grateful for the bagels someone brought into work on Monday, and I'm grateful for the person who opened the door for me at the bookstore tonight. Most of all, I think I'm grateful for friendships, when even though some are far away, they have become stronger and more nuanced. I'm grateful for something else too, but I don't want to be premature or embarrass anybody.

I'm also grateful for flossing, which I will do now.

Album of the Week: OK Computer

Yes, yes I know. "Album of the Week" has been on extended hiatus, but because of that, I'm sure the Internet's collective appetite is wholly whetted for this, the first installment of 2011. Think of it as the McRib of this blog - it doesn't show up that often, but when it does. . .

A good friend of mine has told me, from time to time, that Thom Yorke is a genius. I would characterize my reaction that statement as, well, "cool." And by "cool," I of course mean ignorant. Fortunately, thanks to a post-finals music sharing rampage, I came into quite the little trove of Radiohead, and am now happy to report that my reaction to the "Thom Yorke is a genius" claim has been upgraded to guarded agreement.

Thus, today's Album of the Week is OK Computer by Radiohead, first released in 1997. This is obviously consistent with my policy of being at least 2-3 years back of any pop culture trend.

As a disclaimer, I've always been a bit hesitant towards anthemic, stadium style rock. You know, U2 and the like. I often find myself questioning what the real purpose of the music is - is to sell out a ton of concerts, thereby earning bazillions, or is it genuine musical expression? The answer, most likely, is somewhere in the middle, but that doesn't stop me from pondering. I can safely say though, that I will henceforth make an exception. For Radiohead.

Folks, I love this album, and I can't quite put my finger on why. Honestly, I don't know what the hell he's singing half the time. I must say though, Mr. Yorke has one of the more distinctive voices you'll ever come across. I've been trying hard to come up with a sufficient adjective to describe it, but my vocabulary is eluding me. It's quite liquid, but yet retains a certain sharpness to it, which really illuminates some pretty incredible emotion.

To illustrate this, I'd highly recommend three tracks - "Karma Police," "Lucky," and "The Tourist." It is truth - I listened to "Lucky" probably 12 times in a row one night last week. I find it to be an absolutely intoxicating song, and have actually forced more than a few unwitting occupants of my car to listen to it too.

Perhaps that's the intangible that is drawing me to this album. Maybe it's the epic nature of the songwriting, maybe it's the aforementioned voice, I have no idea. But near every track on this album finds its way not only into your aural cavity, but your brain and heart as well. This is what leads me to conclude that the stadium-esque nature of this songwriting isn't a ploy to make gazillions on ticket sales, but a means through which to achieve transcendence. I could just as easily ponder life's mysteries to this album than scream with 100,000 other fans.

I think the pacing of the tracks, and the album as a whole, are quite incredible. I've always been a sucker for melodramatic art-rock (see Sigur Rós), and I'm sure Radiohead is going to quickly find its way onto that list. I love the laziness through which the music expands and contracts. It's a broad canvas of an album, and the musicians take the care of a master painter while filing up that space. To use the term from a later recording, you really get the sense that everything is in its right place, that the music is as it it was, is, and should be. Extraordinarily deliberate.

Deliberate - deliberate is a good place to be. This blog has well established my propensity for thinking, and this, I feel, is thinking music. It's music whose purpose is not immediately apparent. I can appreciate that, because the best things in life involve self-reflection.

So there you go.

Gadgetry

Folks, I have to be honest, aside from the TSA screening and the vinyl waiting lounge chairs, one of my absolute favourite parts about air travel has to be the Sky Mall catalog.

You know, I spend a lot of time thinking about what it means to be persuasive, and thinking about how best to persuade certain people to think certain things. But truly, the Sky Mall catalog is a work of utter genius. I've been reading that thing cover to cover on every flight I've taken since I was a kid, and I never fail to leave the plane convinced that hidden camera spy sunglasses are absolutely necessary to my next trip. Or maybe that inflatable wedge that you put on your tray table to sleep on. Perhaps The Original Turkish Bathrobe from Hammacher Schlemmer?

I'm convinced that any item the modern cosmopolitan could ever desire is contained within the pages of Sky Mall. Honestly, just give me every damn thing in the catalog.

It's always so shocking to me, to realize that I am somehow surviving without having all these wondrous gadgets and devices, since it truly is a wonder that mankind survived so long without a joint hot dog cooker/bun toaster. Somehow, somehow though I eke by, scratching out a meager existence on the Mr. Coffeemaker I won at my high school class party (and when company is afoot, my French press and/or moka pot). I even lasted many many years grinding my coffee in the Procter-Silex grinder generously donated from my good friend's grandpa for my 22nd birthday.

However, even those who have survived without a Jimmy Buffet Margaritaville iced beverage machine can only endure so much. Which is why I used my trusty Christmas Kohl's card, and purchased this...



Readers, don't be misled. People who attempt to say that the wheel is the greatest human invention are lying to you. Rather, the above pictured Cuisanart Supreme Grind Automatic Coffee Mill is, in fact, the greatest thing ever produced. 16 customizable grind settings - can you believe that! It even turns off by itself!

There are a couple reasons for this modest claim.

1. You use this device to make coffee. Coffee is the lifeblood of America, the greatest country in the world, and the lifeblood any decent person. Coffee also helps stave off Alzheimer's. Coffee is possibly the most delicious thing ever discovered. Need I elaborate further?

2. More importantly, you use this device to make good coffee. Good coffee makes people feel better about themselves, which in turn makes them feel better about others, which in turn contributes to the Salvation Army meeting its Christmas fundraising goal. Ergo, this device helps homeless folks.

In all seriousness folks, this is a great machine, and I take much joy and satisfaction in customizing my grind to my mode of coffee preparation. If I could express my excitement in dumping a coarsely grinded mass of Starbucks Café Verona into my French press, you would be leaping with happiness right along with me (yes manboys, you may start your anticipation).

Now, if only I had a porch to enjoy this coffee on, along with friendly neighbors and a quaint city street. Unfortunately, Kohl's doesn't sell porches (or quaint city streets for that matter), so I might have to hold up a bit.

But I bet Sky Mall has both.

Defining Moments, or Why "CLOSED-ARRET" Signs Don't Matter

Friends, hello again from Colorado. Amazingly, my woefully out of practice legs have brought me through yet another full day of skiing, relatively unscathed. Just like riding a bike. A really cold bike. That's a lie, I'm lying - I'm from Minnesota. Just a bike.

We skied Snowmass today, and at the very top of the mountain, right at the crest where the ski area ends and the wild takes over, were the most shocking views of mountain backcountry I've seen in quite a few years. Actually, I know exactly when the last time I saw such a scene - coincidentally, the last time I went alpine skiing...

(flashback)

It was December of 2006, and the very first day that the lifs at Les Grands Montets were open. I remember it being somewhat cold, but nothing that a good Minnesota boy couldn't handle with some self-assurance and a pair of mittens his mom had so graciously sent "par avion." I had left my friends from Notts in the condo we had rented, and had taken a bus through the Chamonix valley, up to the ski resorts. While they munched baguettes and lazed about the quaint village, I, I had resolved to ski the Alps, just like my dad had done years earlier.

The bus was full of those sort of stereotypical "Europeans-on-a-ski-vacation" type, replete with tight, neon, Descente jackets and jambon beurre sandwiches. I, of course, looked like who I was - a bright eyed college student truly out on his own for the first time. Of course, I told myself it was all fine, but in reality, I was scared shitless.

So I rented my skis, and some English punk ski-bum fitted my boots. The gondola ride, if I recall correctly, was quiet - for me. I couldn't say the same for the Italian trio that shared the cabin with me.

Of course, the skiing was amazing - indescribable views, great powder, and the like. I did as the Europeans sans jambon beurre would do, and paid entirely too much for a brie and turkey baguette. Quietly eating, drinking a cup of coffee, I remembered that at the top of the lift to the top, I had noticed a few skiers cross a "CLOSED - ARRET" sign, and disappear across a ridge. Maybe it was a moment of self-realization, maybe it was divine intervention, most likely it was sheer stupidity; but I resolved to go under that rope too. I wanted to see what they were doing, because let's face it, I so desperately wanted to be like them.

So I did. I drank my coffee, took the lift to the summit, and while perplexed vacationers gave me that "look at the asshole American" look, I crossed under the rope and skied into the unknown.

You know, I'm almost glad I forgot my camera that day, because not only would I be living my life through a lens, but I think I would have missed the transcendental nature of that run. Taking a picture would have missed the point, it's better I can just look back and remember what I want to remember. Suffice to say, I came out on a huge bowl, not a single human being within eyesight, the faint wisps of just a few tracks through the fresh snow, and across the valley, the most stunning panorama of the Alps spread out before me. And although it was steep, and there were rocks and trees jutting out from the snow, I remember thinking to myself, "well, I can do this."

And I could - I did. I skied down that mountain by myself in an incredibly foreign place, and looking back on it after these years, it was probably one of the most existential things I've ever done. Foolish as it sounds today, I think I grew up a lot on that closed mountain in France. I didn't need to be like the people that crossed the rope before me, because I could be myself, and do whatever that needed to be doing just as well.

Which brings me to my point. A very lame movie (of course, one that I would like) once had a line, that life is about defining moments - either you define the moment, or it defines you. That afternoon in France was a defining moment, and I'm sure there have been many since then, and before then. I wondered a bit last week about what 2011 would bring, and already, I think there are some moments waiting to be defined.

As I expressed in my New Year's recap, I think everything we do is a matter of choice; of how we, as people living in relation to another, decide to do certain things. It's hard for me to believe that a moment can truly "define" someone. It's probably more accurate to say that people allow themselves to be defined by moments either via action or inaction. I chose to go down that closed trail, and I could have just as easily chosen not to. Maybe it's a distinction without a difference, but I prefer to think of such things as matters of volition.

But, in any event, here's to skiing, both in Colorado and in France. Here's to defining moments. And here's to all 2011 will bring.

Here also, is to the chicken pad thai at Taipei Tokyo in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Easily the best pad thai I've ever had.

The Mountains

Friends, hello from Colorado - home to many fine craft beers, many medical marijuana dispensaries, and of course, many ski resorts! I've indulged in two of the three above listed activities thus far in my travels - I'll let you guess which two. Needless to say, I'm tired right now.

I always forget, how utterly Terrifying mountain terrain is, and I mean "Terrifying" in the classical sense. I'm absolutely amazed that human being survived in this type of environment 150 years ago or whenever. I'm absolutely amazed one can build a double decker freeway through a twisting canyon. Maybe I'm easily amazed, but it's still impressive.

You know what else is impressive? Skiing in Terrifying mountains. Last time I went skiing for realsies, in the mountains, was 2006 in Chamonix. Needless to say, it took a little getting used to today. Of course, given that fact, I had planned to take it a bit easier today. Funny how plans change, especially when you find yourself on the lip of black/double black diamond bowl with 30 mph wind gusts whipping snow at your face. Well, I suppose the best plans are doomed to fail anyways...

I'm sure I'll regret it tomorrow when my legs give way and I fall out of bed.

Anyways, Copper Mountain has been duly conquered; now the challenge is Aspen. Hopefully, in between sipping Dom Perignon and munching organic foie gras (does that exist?), I'll find time to do some skiing. It is Aspen, after all...