Rivers Are Damp

Mid-Week Reading?

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 23:46:58 -0400

As promised, it's time for some mid-week links:

In honor of tonight's All-Star Game, as well as all the recent hoopla about San Francisco Giant Tim Lincecum (including a Sports Illustrated cover story that called him"The Freak"), you can check out video of his trés efficient pitching style right here. (Link via Kottke)
I'm still getting myself ready for the Beijing Olympics (sadly, as a spectator and not as a team handball player), and part of my preparation involves reading about the tricky politics of being an athlete from Taiwan. Oh, sorry, that's Chinese Taipei.
Atheist and journalist Jeffrey W. Haws runs a very cool blog called The Atheocracy. In this provocative post, he discusses what it would mean if science somehow proved that God existed. Among the possibilities: God is uncaring, or incompetent, or even sadistic. Whether you agree or not, it's interesting reading.
According to a BBC News headline that, er, grabbed my attention: M&S [that's department store Marks & Spencer, of course] "defends 'tax on bigger bras.'" Really. When I visited the site, it listed several "related" stories, too, including one about Shakira's bra and another about a woman who tried to hide an iguana in one. One has to keep informed, you know?
Stop, You're Killing Me! is an exhaustive website for lovers (like me) of mystery novels. The site lists over 2,500 authors with—and this is absolutely crucial when you're starting a new series—chronological lists of their books. Here, for instance, is the page for one of my favorites, comic mystery writer Joan Hess. (Link via Citizen Geek)

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Weekend Reading

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 16:31:58 -0400

Do you have Olympic fever yet? I do, and I'm feeling all nostalgic about Olympic baseball and softball, since it looks like this is the last time they'll be official Olympic sports. In those sports, and others, the host nation gets an automatic berth in the Olympic tournament. This NYT article on China's baseball team suggests, well, that the Chinese aren't taking their chances too seriously. Oh, and American baseball-isms don't translate into Chinese all that well.
If you're wondering whether a website is down, or if the problem is with your own set-up, Down for Everyone or Just Me? may be the answer. Warning, though: The site always tells me that Amazon is down. (Link via NYT)
It looks like the Discovery Channel is going to devote a little attention to beer. Isn't it about time the Food Channel offered up an entire series on beer? I'm available for hosting duties....
Planet Earth is running out of indium. And several other elements, including gallium, hafnium, and even zinc. There's not much copper left, either. If you like TV screens, solar panels, and computer chips, this is bad news. (Link via Kottke)
Do you like your murder mysteries to have, er, a spiritual bent? Then check out Clerical Detectives. I'm going to check out the Rabbi Small mysteries. (Link via Thousand Voices)

I have a backlog of cites, so look for a very special midweek-edition of Weekend Reading soon. If I get my act together....

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Arizona Diamondbacks 10, Philadelphia Phillies 4

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 14:33:45 -0400

Yes, I was there for the debacle, and this is how I survived:

The game starts at 3:55 p.m., the hottest time of the day during the hottest time of the year, because Fox Sports has made this its Game of the Week. During a steamy walk from the subway (no air conditioning on my subway car!) to the ballpark, I curse Fox. I arrive just as an Italian-American man—it's Italian Heritage "Night," according to several signs and the scoreboard—is butchering the national anthem.
Since I know Adam Eaton is pitching, I head right to Brewerytown. I have a feeling I'm going to need help cutting down down the heat- and Eaton-induced crankiness.
My friend is already in our seats, puzzled by my arrival just at game time. That's so unlike me, he says. A sweaty 300-pound man is in the seat next to me. Oh my. I plot our escape to empty seats.
The D'backs score two in the top of the first. Our seats our still in the shade, but the sun is moving toward us fast. I think about asking the usher about the policy for fans who can't fit in their own seats.
Shane Victorino hits a two-run homer in the bottom of the third, tying the game. To celebrate, my friend and I move over a couple of seats. In just a few more minutes, our row will be in the sun, though.
Eaton collapses in the fourth, giving up a two-out double to D'backs pitcher Randy Johnson(!), a career .126 hitter. I boo, puzzling my friend again. That's unlike you, too, he says. By the end of the long, long inning, the D'backs are ahead 10-2, Eaton is in the dugout, R.J. Swindle is our pitcher, and my seat is fully in the sun.
We score two more runs in the bottom of the fifth. Victorino likes the heat, apparently, hitting another homer. It's too hot, and we're too far behind, though, for me to take much pleasure in Victorino's efforts.
In the sixth inning, my friend says he's never seen me sweat so much. He goes for bottled water. I try to imagine cold-stream waterfalls.
The Dasani helps, but the SPF-70 sunscreen on my arms and legs is glistening. I touch up the sunscreen on my face. Our seats suddenly smell like a nuclear piña colada explosion.
I snag a Minute Maid frozen lemonade from a vendor. This is the first time during the season that a vendor has graced our section with frozen lemonade. What's up with that, Phillies? That frozen lemonade is one of my favorite things. On the planet. The first couple of bites are close to a religious experience.
The frozen lemonade has saved me. The next few innings slide by, scoreless.
A co-worker visits us in the ninth inning. She thinks we're taking the heat well. I try to act cool, literally, but I know it's all the Minute Maid's doing.
The game ends, and I'm disgusting. I'm wet, from sweat and sunscreen. No one sits anywhere near me on the subway or train rides home. I'm an outcast.
I eventually arrive home, just as darkness is falling. I need to take a shower, obviously, but I have to sit down. Very, very tired. I fall asleep. I have a dream involving frozen lemonade. The next thing I know, it's 9 a.m. on Sunday morning. Wow.

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St. Louis Cardinals 2, Philadelphia Phillies 0 (Psst, this post is actually about mead.)

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 22:58:33 -0400

I don't really have much to report from my attendance at last night's game. The Phillies were offensively in-offensive. Or something. My pre-game roast pork sandwich was good but not life-altering. Worst of all, I didn't meet the Handsome Stranger™ of my dreams.

I did have some delicious post-game mead at Tria Cafe. I guess that's something.

The mead was Makana's ¡Qhilika African Herbal Blossom Mead, which I blogged about last year. It's a South African mead flavored with—among other things—rosehips, cinnamon, apple, and licorice. It's spicy enough to sort of counteract the sweetness of the honey, and it's sweet enough that you don't feel like your swigging something from your spice rack. In other words, it's well balanced. It's mighty tasty, and I highly recommend it.

I paired the mead with a delicious banana, goat's milk caramel, and mascarpone panini. Zowie! The sweetness of the dessert helped to sharpen the spiciness of the mead. When I visit Tria, I usually pair my dessert with a good beer, but the Makana mead was a nice change of pace.

(By the way, it looks to me like Makana may have changed the name of its African Herbal Blossom Mead to Honey Sun African Mead. Does anyone know for sure?)

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Holiday-Weekend Reading

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 00:11:37 -0400

Since I'm on a long holiday weekend, you're getting the week's reading a little early.

In my opinion, Mary Carillo is the best tennis announcer on television. This weekend, of course, she's covering the Wimbledon finals for NBC. She's too artful to say anything negative about grass-court tennis during this fortnight, and all that serve-and-volley tennis is definitely fun. But grass-court tennis can be a little too much about power and quick points for me. And apparently for Carillo, too. A few years ago, she explained—in a piece called "Living Life on Clay"—why she wanted her children to live like clay-courters. Here's a taste:

[M]y wish for them is to dream in different languages, to build a character that translates well everywhere in the world. I want them to live their lives as though they were playing them out on clay.

. . . .

There is great comfort in consistency-always having someone, or something you can trust.

Life demands great discipline and deep daring.

And a fatigued mind makes bad decisions.

Don't get easily depressed. It's amazing what a stout heart and a nimble mind can do if you're resilient enough to stay the course.

The reward is the journey.

Read the whole thing. It's one of the most literate, moving pieces I've seen a TV sports journalist produce.
ChaliceChick of The Chaliceblog has actually printed up an FAQ sheet to hand people who ask about her new SmartCar. Really. As I said in CC's comments, it's brilliant.
Would you like to see how the Humpdome was transformed over a few hours from a baseball to a football stadium? Of course you would. And when you're impressed with photographer John Loomis's work, you'll want to check out his portfolio. Loomis blogs, too.
Everywhere, I suppose, men can't be trusted on the internet to give their correct ages, heights, and—euphemism alert—"intimate details." We now have confirmation from Pakistan, anyway. (NSFW?)
Tell me I don't need this wallet, or this one, or this one. But, er, if I was going to buy one of these wallets I don't need, which one should it be? Advice, please. Oh, wait. What about this one? (Link via Josh Spear)

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It's Independence Day!

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 07:56:20 -0400

Stars

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One Hundred Things About Me

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 22:08:16 -0400

I like blackberry cobbler.
I'm proud to be from Oklahoma.
When I was a kid, my favorite color was purple. Now yellow is.
I've never been to Europe.
I collect pottery.
New Orleans is still my favorite city.
My all-time favorite album is Jimmie Dale Gilmore's Braver Newer World.
Jody and George were my imaginary childhood friends.
I saw Tina Turner at my first "grown-up" concert.
I know more about the Eleventh Amendment than you think I do.
My grandfathers outlived my grandmothers.
My father wrecked my first car, a Dodge Aspen, before I ever even got to drive it. (When he told me, I thought he was joking.)
I vividly recall a childhood nightmare about a giant spider in the living room. I rarely remember dreams now.
A Merchant-Ivory film, A Room with a View, changed my life.
At 21, I was diagnosed with an ulcer.
As a kid, I approved of the designated hitter rule; now that I've lived in a National League city for awhile, I'm not so sure.
I stretch every day. If I don't, my body punishes me.
I think Babbitt is the most underrated American novel of the 20th century. (Kids should be reading it in high school.)
I wish that I'd met Allen Ginsberg.
I wish I understood e.e. cummings's poetry better.
I'd much rather be hot than cold. (In other words, I'll take Florida over Michigan any day.)
I'm in love with being in love.
My lucky number is 23.
I've never been to an opera.
If I were an artist, my work would be influenced by Donald Judd and Morris Louis.
Nothing turns me off like too much ego.
I financed most of my undergraduate education by winning a scholarship exam about Oklahoma history. (Thanks, Oklahoma Heritage Association.)
I like magnolia trees.
If I weren't in my current profession, I think I'd like to be either an actor or a social studies teacher. (Is that an odd either/or combo or what?)
Tulips are my favorite flowers.
For my money, The Mary Tyler Moore Show is the best television show ever.
I like game shows more than just about any other television genre. (Match Game is my all-time fave.)
Asparagus is my favorite vegetable.
I'm passionate about lemons.
I'd be a captain more like Picard than Kirk. I like Janeway, too.
I'm awful about returning email and telephone calls in a timely fashion. Sorry!
My dream vacation is to visit Paris for the French Open and then London for Wimbledon. (Maybe I could spend the two weeks between the tournaments in Madrid or Belgium?)
At the right university, I might've majored in Canadian Studies.
The worst thing that ever happened to me is having my heart broken.
I'd make a great judge, but I'll probably never have the chance to prove it.
I'm obsessed with the Olympic Games.
I was the editor of my high school's newspaper. While in high school, I was a stringer for the local daily, too.
After high school, I decided I wasn't outgoing enough to be a good journalist.
I get bored easily. (That probably means I'm boring.)
If it's not A Room with a View (see #14), Short Cuts is my favorite movie of all time.
Even after years of living here, I don't feel like I "belong" in Pennsylvania. And I doubt I ever will.
When I was a kid, I was sure I'd find a way to live in Washington, D.C.
I like Japanese restaurants.
Nothing makes me feel cleaner than having a new, short haircut and freshly trimmed fingernails.
I'm afraid of dentists and car salesmen.
I've only been in love three times, and I'm not entirely sure one of those should "count."
I sort of wish I'd been the punter on my high school's football team.
I've never been sexually attracted—even in the least bit—to a woman. (Women are great, of course. I just don't want to sleep with them.)
I still have a picture of my ex ~~on my desk~~ at work. (After I wrote this, I put the photo in a drawer.)
I don't own a car.
One of the first men I had a crush on was tennis superstar Björn Borg. (Later tennis crushes: Boris Becker, Pete Sampras, Albert Costa.)
If you're a man with a build like a linebacker, I've probably got a crush on you right now.
I'm a Unitarian Universalist (with Humanist, Buddhist, and non-theistic tendencies).
I don't have a favorite TV show right now. (Do you?)
My 80GB iPod is currently over three-quarters full.
Loneliness is something I've struggled with, off and on, since childhood.
When I was a kid, I got Sparky Lyle's autograph. (And Crazy Ray's, too.)
Two of my best vacations were road trips to Yellowstone National Park.
I wonder if you really got the Dorothy Parker reference.
When I finally got the Tennis Channel, I did a little dance right there in my apartment.
I think I'd like presiding at weddings.
If it were track or field instead of track and field, I'd choose field every time. (Hammer throwers are sexy!)
I really like diner food. Who wants to split the corned beef hash?
I'm attracted to hairy men.
In my opinion, Talking Heads was the best rock band ever.
The last three plays to win the Pulitzer Prize for drama were Doubt, Rabbit Hole, and August: Osage County, and I saw each one of them on Broadway.
As a kid, I read everything I could find about the Faroe Islands.
I'm shy around strangers. Sometimes, I even wonder whether I have social anxiety disorder.
On the SAT, I scored much better on the math than the verbal section. (So, naturally, I write and edit for a living now.)
I wrote a master's thesis on sports sociology. (And I later went back to school for more Sports Studies. Why, oh, why don't I work for the Phillies?)
I'd give just about anything for a good massage.
I procrastinate.
I got the worst sunburn of my life when I was parasailing in Acapulco Harbor.
I'm not at all interested in having children.
I'm an enormous fan of my mom's pies, especially her coconut cream and lemon meringue pies.
I'm concerned you'll think this list is pretty darn self-indulgent.
Are you surprised I've made it to No. 82 without mentioning beer? I am.
Belgian and Belgian-style beers, particularly Lambic beers, are my favorites.
I've never been to New England.
I subscribe to more magazines than a person with a full-time job could possibly read.
My favorite Iron Chef is Michael Symon.
Ice cream usually upsets my stomach. (Sexy, huh?)
I enjoy rodeo, particularly steer wrestling.
I see Independence Hall nearly every day.
I'm interested in vexillology.
As a child, I was very, very good at checkers.
After 10-plus years of commuting, I still smile when a train—wow, a passenger train!—pulls up to my station each morning.
The worst neighbors I ever had (a) exposed me to bedbugs, (b) refused to cooperate with the exterminator, and (c) never said they were sorry. Hmph.
According to the Myers-Briggs instrument, I'm an INTP.
I'm not wild about peaches.
Hot, not merely warm, water is essential for my morning shower.
I haven't been camping since I was a child.
Jason Bateman could play me in the movie.
I once was offered a job in Palau. I said no.
It has literally taken me months and months to think of these 100 things.

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Presence in the Wild

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 00:04:16 -0400

Flaming Chalice

I'm a Unitarian Universalist, but I'm more interested in religion as a subject matter than I'm actually religious—or, at least, what most people would describe as religious. I'm certainly not "spiritual." I'm a non-theist, influenced strongly by Humanism and secular Buddhism. I look for the transcendent (I do!), but I look for it in people and relationships.

But, as I said, I'm fascinated by religion—from what others believe to how cultures shape, and are shaped by, religions. Unsurprisingly, I suppose, one of my favorite radio programs is public radio's Peabody Award-winning Speaking of Faith. Each week, SOF host Krista Tippett interviews a compelling figure about some interesting topic in religion. In my opinion, it's usually Tippett who makes the show. She knows her subject matter, and the hour-long radio format gives her the time to explore in depth what her well-chosen guests have to say. Tippett really listens to what her guests say.

This week, I was startled and pleased to ~~see~~ hear that my own little faith, UUism, was getting some of Tippett's attention. The guest was the Rev. Kate Braestrup, a chaplain for the Maine Game Warden Service. Braestrup's memoir, Here If You Need Me, was one of my favorite books of 2007. It tells some of the stories of love, life, and death that Braestrup has experienced on (and off) the job. (If you've made it this far into this post, you really should read Here If You Need Me. The audio version, read by Braestrup herself, is exquisite, too.) This episode of SOF, "Presence in the Wild," is one of the best I've ever heard, and that's absolutely saying something. If you're at all interested in UUism, chaplaincy, practical theology, or, hey, even game wardens, give it a try.

I'm smitten with Krista Tippett, but Kate Braestrup is my intellectual crush of this week.

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Weekend Reading

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 22:31:25 -0400

Well, I'm writing it at the end of this weekend, but here's what captured my attention this week:

Fittingly, since we're in the middle of the Wimbledon fortnight, a NYT article looked at all those strange on-the-court habits of the top tennis players. Novak Djokovic bounces the ball up to 25 times before the ball toss, and Maria Sharapova tucks hair behind each of her ears. But my favorite? The way Rafael Nadal obsessively towels off between each point. And, then, of course, there's the way he's always digging his clam diggers out of his, er, butt crack.
When I was a kid, I resisted—fiercely—the afternoon nap. I didn't understand why grown-ups wanted to waste any part of the day. Now, I'm downright grateful for this advice from the Boston Globe on the art of napping. (Link via SteveP)
Before Bloomsday gets too far away from us, this accurate, but oh-so-brief summary of the plot of Ulysses sure made me smile. (Link via Prettier than Napoleon, who wonders why Joyce captivates some of us so)
Speaking of little obsessions, this NYT article on casino chip collecting was sort of fun. But I don't really need one more excuse to love Las Vegas. That place has gotten under my skin.
Dustin Fenstermacher is a talented photographer. Be sure to check out his gallery of images from the cat show. Highly recommended! (And I'm allergic to cats.)

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Music QotW: Favorite Soundtrack

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 21:04:17 -0400

What's your favorite soundtrack?

The Grifters (1990 Film)

Elmer Bernstein

My favorite soundtrack is Elmer Bernstein's for The Grifters. The Grifters came out in 1990, and it starred Anjelica Huston, John Cusack, and Annette Bening as three small-time con artists—a mother, son, and paramour—who couldn't quite tell anymore where their relationships ended and where their scams began. A modern-day film noir, The Grifters was directed by the awesome (awesome, I tell you!) Stephen Frears and based on a pulp novel by the great, er, pulp novelist Jim Thompson.

Bernstein's music was nervous and unsettling, with just enough whimsy to keep the dramatic tension from being suffocating. Even after all this time, I listen to the soundtrack three or four times a year, and it always brings the film right back to me. The music stands on its own, too.

At the time, many people complained when Bernstein didn't get an Academy Award nomination for the soundtrack. All these years later, it's actually downright outrageous that John Williams earned a nomination for Home Alone(!) when Bernstein's work was so much more nuanced and interesting.

If you get a chance, anyway, check out both the film and Bernstein's elegant score.

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