Dr. Bakersfield on BarnesandNoble.com

Greetings

I recently traveled back to the great city of Knoxville, where the weather is oddly spring-like (IT WAS 74 DEGREES TODAY). With all the weather and free time, I have begun a quest to get back into shape. So far, so good. But I must confess some activities like running have never been so hard.

I'll blame it on the hills.

Anyway, my story The Secret Life of Dr. Bakersfield has finally made it onto BarnesandNoble.com along with my other short story The Haunted Corn Maze. Hopefully this works out well and people are interested in the coming of age tale. Anyway, to celebrate I have included a segment of the novel I am still working on: Last Dance for Me.

By the way, the link to the book is http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-secret-life-of-dr-bakersfield-eric-carlson/1108817961?ean=2940033018758&itm=1&usri=the+secret+life+of+dr.+bakersfield

So without further ado.

The tunnel leads deeper and deeper into the ground. So deep it doesn't make sense that anyone would build a garage so far underground. Also unerring is the incessant darkness, fought only by a weak light bulb every 20 feet. Fisher thinks about going back, but doesn't want to risk being hit by an oncoming cab in the narrow tunnel. Why didn't he just ask the office lady if Dennis was in at the moment? Why did he always have to be so sneaky? Fisher shakes his head and continues into the near-darkness.

Behind him, Fisher hears a low rumble and feels a vibration in his feet; hopefully just a big truck crossing the street above. This consoling thought it is proven false when the rumbling comes closer, echoed louder in the narghile driveway. Fisher begins to walk a little bit faster as he looks back with wide eyes. Just then, his worst fears come true as he spots a slight flicker from headlights on the wall. He breaks into an all-out sprint as the car begins to illuminate the stone corner directly behind him.

"Where is the end of this thing!?" Fisher yells out loud through desperate gasps of air. It had been a long time since he'd ran.

Meanwhile, everything around him illuminates as the car roars around the corner. It doesn't slow down a bit as it barrels through the curve, moving closer and closer to the running Fisher. His face lights up in two different ways as he looks back at the oncoming enemy. The driver of the cab must have seen him by now, but it doesn't seem to be slowing down in the least. In fact, if the cab was doing anything it was speeding up.

Fisher tries to move his feet faster, stumbling slightly as his left foot catches a big crack in the concrete. Somehow he manages to regain his footing and move back into full stride. The full stride comes with consequences, though. Fisher clutches at his side, feeling a bad stitch developing from the exhausting effort. He would usually quit at this time in a normal situation, but at the current moment that would mean turning into a pancake. Fisher wonders if he would taste good with maple syrup as he runs on.

Closer. Louder. Faster. The cab is almost on Fisher's heels. He feels like he can almost feel the heat from the headlights, and he knows that the vehicle isn't going to stop for anyone; especially him. Exposed by the light from the car, Fisher sees a ladder just above and to the side in the oncoming tunnel that seems to lead up to another level. Fisher knows this is his only shot at escape. Instead of preparing for impact he takes two powerful strides and leaps towards the ladder. His hands grasp the lowest rung, the momentum swinging his lower body forward and up, hopefully out of the way of the speeding cab. Luckily, the cab sign on top misses him by inches as it whizzes by. Panting, Fisher speedily works his way up the ladder and out of the tunnel.

***

It's almost halfway done.

Song of the day is Raining Buttons by Dovekins.

Have a lovely day.

The Secret Life of Dr. Bakersfield

Hey Guys.

I'm back.

First of all, glad you're actually reading this.

And second, I promise to be more consistent with updating this blog. This is mostly a promise to myself, so here's to not letting myself down.

Anyway, I recently published an ebook on Smashwords.com. It's called The Secret Life of Dr. Bakersfield. I'm proud of it and you should definitely check it out at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/127026. And if you buy a copy I will be super happy and you'll feel happy because you made someone else happy. Then we can PAY IT FORWARD.

If you're still skeptical, here's a little sample of the story:

After our handshake, he started moving around me, inspecting me up and down, side to side, all without a word. After he tussled my hair around a bit and peered in my left ear for an unusually long time, he stood back in front me.

“You’ll do.”

“Um, what?” I responded, confused at the most recent events.

“You know, don’t worry about it. You’ll be happier that way. What kind of stuff are you into?” He said as he lay back down on his bed.

I sat back on my bed in response. “Well, pretty normal stuff. Football, basketball, fishing, and I used to be into pranks but I guess that’s got to stop here.”

“Pranks! Stop? No way, you just arrived at prank city.” He screamed as a he launched himself into the air. He then moved closer to me. “You know, I’ve been looking for a partner for a long time….”

I tried to steer clear of his wild body movements. “No way I can do pranks here,” I responded. “That’s WHY I’m here. No way I’m getting into that kind of trouble again.”

“James, James, James. I’m not going to force you into it. But sooner or later, in THIS place, you’ll be forced to do them. They will be conscientious acts of nonviolence that you will be obligated to partake in. TRUST ME.”

And at that word Jon raced out the door. I could hear crowing growing fainter in the hallway as I stood there flabbergasted and alone.

The first day of class ended up being a memorable experience without even trying to misbehave. Although I had been trying to learn the rules since my arrival, I had apparently forgotten some of the finer details, such as remembering to always address the teachers as sir or madam. I seemed to forget this many, many times, which resulted in me writing sir and madam one hundred times each on the blackboard after Ms. Jenkins English class. I mean Madam Jenkins, of course. When I told Jon about this later before Geography, he just scoffed at me.

“That’s nothing, James. If I could do that in every class, I’d consider it a good day. No, there is much worse out there.”

“Like what?” I responded.

“Like the time they made poor Jeffrey Adams clean every toilet in the school…with his tongue!”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Yeah? Well, have you heard about Dr. Bakersfield yet?”

“Sounds familiar.”

“He’s the dean, and he’s the worst of them all. I hear that all the other teachers use mean punishments just because they’re scared of him. Here’s my advice: Steer clear of him at ALL costs.”

“Oh, he can’t be that bad.” I said, but I didn’t mean it. I had just remembered where I’d heard the name. It was from all the horror stories I had heard about Coopersmith, and I was starting to tremble at the thought of ever meeting the man.

Suddenly, the class started and the teacher’s eyes beckoned us to pay attention, lest we desired retribution.

“Steer clear,” Jon whispered out of the side of his mouth as he turned towards the front.

Well there it is. Hope you enjoyed it.

Now here's a song.

Perspectives on "Occupy Wall Street"

Lately I've had the opportunity of experiencing the "Occupy Wall Street" movement and its spread to the Ft. Collins area. On Thursday, I participated in a university walkout at CSU, which gathered almost a hundred students together to protest and then walked over to the main protest at the intersection of College and Maple in the downtown area. The demonstration inspired cheers and jeers from onlookers and passing cars while we all chanted "This is what democracy looks like!" It was great to see a group of Americans demonstrating their voice despite the many that may disagree with them. I plan on doing a blog post filling in more of the information on the protest later on.

Meanwhile, this is an essay I wrote concerning an article on the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. It compares the "Wall Street" movement with an new opposition movement, and also its affect on the "American Dream".

Essay on “Occupy Wall Street”

Recently I read an article on BBC website that was titled “Is Occupy Wall Street Bad for the American Dream?” The piece attempted to understand what the effects of the protest movement could be on the “American Dream”; an underlying concept holding that if one works hard enough, one can make a better, more successful life for oneself. In many ways the “We are the 99%” movement is against this concept, saying that the system has allowed the über-successful to take advantage of the rest of the working population – controlling the government with money and hoarding all the wealth for themselves. On the other side, the article spotlights a new movement called “We are the 53%”. This group claims that the "Occupy Wall Street" movement is a bunch of lazy people looking for government handouts and that hard work is all they need to get ahead. They also claim that the economic system is fundamentally fair.

The article attempts to take the two arguments and show how they are more similar than they think; that they both want to work hard and be productive members of society, and that they both believe in the American dream. I totally agree with the article on this point, and I believe that the “53%” is falsely accusing the “99%” of being lazy and wanting handouts. All the “99%” want is a fairer system where more people can be successful and fulfilled in life, which includes a better distribution of wealth and more corporate accountability. A great example being used in many articles is that since 1980, executives make five times the salary, while the average worker makes about the same. The “53%” movement is wrong because they have not taken the time to truly understand the “99%” movement, and because they believe in a system where some make it while many others are left behind.

Song of the Day: David Benoit - One Dream at a Time

Remembering What You Said

"It's you," he said. "It's you I've been waiting for all these years . Is that why I've been so miserable? So this moment could feel that much better? If that's the truth, then I wholeheartedly agree."

Sweet just ain't as sweet > Bitter

Today will feature another excerpt from the novel/novella, Last Dance. This distinct section will be one of the most inspired parts of the book, where the main character lashes out in a tirade of seemingly endless good intentions. But what is he looking for/escaping?

Before Fisher steps out of the cab, an idea strikes him. He acts.

“Hey, you want to come eat with me inside? I’ll need some advice on the best items, you know.”

The cabbie, who for just a bit will remain nameless, is shocked. No one ever asks him to do stuff after cab rides, not even in his wildest dreams. But it just so happens that this is the end of his shift and part of the reason he mentioned the bakery was that it was close to the cab station and his home. Though tired from a day of driving, he isn’t the kind of man to turn down an interesting opportunity like this. He parks the cab and gets out.

“The BEST… is what I’m sworn to deliver.”

Fisher chuckles and smiles. The cabbie chuckles and smiles. They head inside.

Fisher hangs back while the cabbie orders them each a vegetable roll stuffed with an assortment of, well, vegetables. During this, he notices a tattoo on the back of the cabbie’s left arm. It is the ocean, featuring a sinking ship with Japanese and American flags intertwined in a design on the hull. The colors are beautiful and vibrant. They seem to invoke the image of a sunrise: the end of the night and the new beginnings that follow. Soon enough, the cabbie finishes the order and leads Fisher to a table while carrying the food. They sit down at a booth.

Dennis. Good ol’ Dennis. That is the cabbie’s name, and now that Fisher gets a clear look at his face, he can tell that he is in fact half-asian, half-european. He’s not too old either, probably mid-thirties, wearing a v-neck complete with a pocket and a notebook sticking out of it. Not exactly someone you’d expect to be a cabbie. The two unlikely dining partners don’t talk for a while, busying themselves with bites from the vegetable roll and drinks from glasses of Cheerwine. Occasionally they make eye contact but quickly glance elsewhere. Finally, the silence is broken by Fisher.

“Your tattoo. What does it mean?”

“Oh… yeah. But don’t you want to know my name first? It’s Dennis.”

“Uh. Yeah, guess that’s important. I’m Fisher.” They shake hands.

Enchante. The tattoo represents my two grandfathers who fought in World War II against each other - One on the American side, and the other on the Japanese. They both died in the same battle, sinking into the ocean with their comrades and never knowing their families would be one day united in love. This tattoo is a testament to human’s ability to forgive, forgetting the sins of the past and uniting as a race. That is beautiful to me.

The novel is almost at 7,000 pages and still rambling along. I have some short stories ideas I would like to start working on soon, too. Rest assured, there will be some writing.

Adieu, mon ami.

The Day of Magical Thinking

Once upon a time, Peter Pan thought "happy thoughts" and learned to fly. But is it just that easy, Peter? Can we all just do the same thing and fly to wherever we want to be, to some life or career we desire, or some kind of fulfillment found in everyday existence? It sounds great, though I worry by focusing too much on happiness people can become blind to the injustice and pain in the world. We can not be ignorant, but we also can not live in sadness and pain.

Perception is the key. There are positives and negatives in every life - even ones that seem perfect to an outsider. We can't choose that, it seems. What we can choose is to focus on joy and what we can bring to other people. Be careful, though, not everything that feels good ends well. Think outside the box of peer pressure and know that only something filled with love is worthwhile. You can make the best or the worst of it, they say, so make the best of it.

I have a simple challenge: Pick a day, and choose to not listen to yourself. Don't listen to the doubts, the fears, or the laziness inside. Listen for the part of you that says "Go for it." No, this is not like "Yes Man" or anything, I just want to test who've we become over the years and what we are blocking out of our lives. Talk to people, believe in what you say, and become Passionate for something, even if that means having the courage to say "no, that's not right." Try it, and maybe for a second, anything will seem possible in this muddled world of ours.

Girls - Lust for Life

An Excerpt: Last Dance

Lately, I have been trying to work on a novel/novella in my spare time. I started it around May but didn't get much of a chance to write over the summer. Lately, though, I have gotten some good opportunities to put some thought and ideas into the story line. Right now I am at about 5,000 words, with a goal of getting to at least 30,000.

The novel follows the life of 25 year old Marine Biology student Fisher living with his artist girlfriend in a New York City apartment. Life is good, that is, until vivid, unnerving dreams and random blackouts swirl his life into chaos. And that would be alright if he didn't have a mysterious local songwriter following him around, appearing in unusual spots and giving him ominous warnings. Will Fisher put the puzzle pieces together and figure it all out?

Here is an excerpt from the novel:

The night rolls on, the night rolls off. Fisher lies in bed and stares at the stars, sparkling down from above. What stars? You may ask. Because, of course, the fact that he is lying in bed INSIDE a building. And you would be right in that assumption, because the stars are not real stars, but glow-in-the-dark plastic ones that handily stick to any ceiling, furniture, or wall. Most people would probably consider these stars to be tacky and childish, but Fisher and Caroline like them. So stop judging,

Fisher seems troubled by the events at the concert. It felt so real to him, so sense-filling and tangible that fakeness seems a foreign concept. Despite this, he quickly drifts off to sleep under the sparkling star ways above. But this is only the beginning of Fisher’s adventure that night; for dreams may come that take his breath away.

The dream begins. But of course, Fisher’s mind doesn’t realize this, and believes it is still living real life. The day is soft and beautiful, and he finds himself somewhere in the European countryside, but he’s not sure what country or place to be exact. He is too distracted by the wind whipping his face as he rides in a pristine Ford Model T through a bright green field dotted with daisies and purples. It is a hot day, and the breeze feels absolutely wonderful. Framed by the vanilla sky, the car streaks like a mad bull across the landscape, while his friend John screams with delight as he pilots the car around bushes and other annoying obstacles.

“Slow down!” Fisher yells, keeping his fedora down with his right hand.

“I refuse! I know how bad you want to see her! Aha!” John responds with a unabashed fury.

As if cued by John’s words, a beautiful landscape appeared to them as they crested the last hill. But the landscape wasn’t the only beautiful thing. There she was, sitting in front of a large white tent, reading with a feather in her hair. Meadows, flowers, mountains, nothing compared to her. Fisher’s eyes lit up as he stood tall in the barreling vehicle, losing his hat and his inhibitions all at once. At first just one side of his mouth raised up, but the other side soon followed, forming a large smile on his face. And that wasn’t it, either. His eyes lit up, hands tense with anticipation as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. The sun seemed to shine brighter in the distance as he raised his arms in joy and love, fighting the wind as the car whipped across the field. Strangely, the light didn’t come to a stop. It kept getting brighter and brighter. Brighter and brighter. Fisher didn’t get one more second to think as the light enveloped him and his consciousness.

Anyway, that's the excerpt. If you have any criticisms/ideas/praise for the novel, please let me know. It would be much appreciated.

David Benoit - Sailing Through the City

T. Summerlin: A new, EXCITING author

Bonjour. Today I happened to stumble upon a writer that has evaded my reading scope for a long time, T. Summerlin. And now that I have read some of his stuff, I am hooked like a bass in fishing season. Apparently, this guy has been on the writing scene for years now, but no one has really picked up on his stuff. Hopefully he'll get recognized soon, because he deserves it.

To go along with his writing life, he also seems to be quite the adventurer, globe-trotting and involving himself in some interesting stories. Here's an example: I found some odd news reports from Thailand about an incident involving a writer named Summerlin (must be him, right?). Anyway, he supposedly fell asleep in a tube out in the ocean and got netted by a group of fisherman at night. When they discovered their prey, a scuffle broke out and the boat ended up crashing onto the shore. No one seems to know what happened on board, and Summerlin refused to comment on the incident. Nothing else ever came out about the strange event. ? ?

Who is this guy? And why can't I find many of his so-called books? I am determined to find out more.

Here is an excerpt from one of his first novels: The Outlier Vision

Slowly the light shifted; white to cream, cream to beige. The evanescense of his surroundings caused the automatic lights to flick on, bathing the room in an unnatural light, soft and alien to the man's face. He was starting to cry, realizing he was losing the miraculous sunset before his eyes, never to be seen again. This is how it was every night, though, sitting before the gigantic window and trying to hold on, knowing it never lasts. He would try to dry his tears but his arms were binded by the straightjacket confining his body. But, as the doctor said, it was for his own safety. His own DAMNED safety...

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. See you next week!

Back, But I'm Not Bringing Sexy With Me

Oh hi.

Yes, I'm back after a long hiatus and I've decided to get back into the whole blog scene and stuff. It had been so long that I forgot I ever did a post called "Sonic You Snowboarding Champ". I definitely laughed when I saw that. Hope you did.

Anyway, I just got done working as a Ridge Leader at good 'ole Sanborn Western Camps for the Summer and now I'm back in Tennessee for a wedding. Yah. Today I got a smoothie from McDonald's (Who knew?), went to goodwill and bought a vintage golf polo and George Benson CD, and attempted to thwart evil and all that while I played some video game from the deepest darkest recesses of my youth. Am I weird?

And by the way, I have a moustache now. It's black... thanks genetics.

I am trying to learn French now to go along nicely with my 'stache, so I will hopefully make an attempt to do a blog post in French one day. Oui. Tres bien.

Song of the Day: George Benson - Weekend in L.A.

The New Post

Sonic you Snowboarding Champ

Hi

Ha

Song of the Day: Alvin Band - Vanilla Dome

Been a while. A long while. I have just returned to Knoxville from a place called Aspen, CO where I spent the last 3 and a half months. Heard of it? Quite a trip. Snow. Boards. Hot Tubs. Mountains. These were all included, and somewhat enjoyed. But that's another story. The one I have to tell today is a novella I have been working on starting approximately 11 hours ago. Though it may have never have the joy of being finished or subsequently reviewed, here at least is an excerpt from what I have so far:

You are floating. I am floating. He is floating. Floating in some undefined cosmic space, some result of an expanding universe or black holes and event horizons or whatever the top thinkers of our age enjoy talking about nowadays. No light. All he knows is infinite darkness, and no theory can describe to you what that’s like. No hope. No point. No fluffy animals. Just floating.

Fisher wakes up. No longer floating in the traditional sense, now floating in covers and blankets and unusual stuffed animals possessing a strange resemblance to Ewoks. He hugs one cause he feels lonely, but the Ewok doesn’t hug back. He hopes one day it will. That would be nice. Ewok hug.

Deep in the cavernous blanket cavern he hears a vibration. Have the Ewoks come alive? No. it’s a cell phone, the ring tone a fanciful MIDI interpretation of some Burt Bacharach song from 2,000 years ago or something like that. With no rush in mind, he dives under the covers in a desperate attempt to locate the phone, fumbling his hand around in little nooks and crannies only cell phones have the ability to find. Quicker than usual, his fingers grasp the metal receptor. He quickly hit’s the talk button and raises it to his ear. Trained Dog.

“Hello”

“Fisher, hey…”

Images and ideas flash through his brain. Caroline. Green eyes. Stars. Penguins… Girlfriend.

“Hey Caroline.”

There she is. She’s pretty, isn’t she? Dark hair, curly. No, wavy. You could get lost in it. Fisher hopes there are no poor Ewoks lost in her hair. What else? Pretty smile, full set of teeth. Caroline.

“Are you at home Fisher? I left some paint I needed there, bring it to me?” She might as well have batted her eyelashes over the phone. Nice eyelashes too, if you’re into that.

“Uh..” For a second, he has the strangest sense that he’s out of place, a foreign man in a foreign land. Gypsy. Traveling Salesman. Buy this stranger!… Composure. “Of course, but only if the Ewoks aren’t using it.”

“Ewoks?”

“Uh, never mind.”

“I’m assuming that’s a yes.”

“Yes.”

“See you soon then.”

“See you in 31.8 minutes, you know, the approximate time it takes to deliver explosive paint.”

“Its not explosive.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

“In that case, be careful, and hurry.”

Click. What a strange conversation. Fisher wonders if they have always had strange conversations. Oh well. Then he thinks about the paint. Caroline, artist, creator extraordinaire. Canvases fill the bedroom, explode out the closet, fall on the cat, etc… Some people think the Mona Lisa is a fine work of art. Fisher thinks Caroline is a fine work of art.

And End.

A Blogging Holiday

It's been over a month since I've done a post, so I thought it was about time I brushed the dust off the laptop and racked the contents of my brain for my blogger password and did something productive for once. Now the only problem is that I need to find something to blog about. I mean, when it's been this long, you just get out of the groove, and it's about time I got back into it.

Here's what I've accomplished since the last blog:

Graduated from college

Moved out of my apartment

Wrote a couple songs

Bowled terribly

Established dominance at chess

And now it's 2011. A New Year.

What will the tide bring in?

By the way: Check out Jeremy Fisher and his songs Kiss the Moon and Scar that Never Heals

and Magnetic Fields

That is all.

Songs For the Lonely Road

The following contains a list of songs for the solo drive, when it's just you, the open road, and the thoughts inside your own head. There has always been a big difference between listening to music alone and with other people. When no one else is around, all that exists is the music you love, whether you prefer singing along or just getting lost in the melody. Here is a list of some songs I have been experiencing recently....

Phoenix - Love for Granted


Of Montreal - 1st Time High (acoustic version of "An Eluardian Instance".


Billy Joel - You're My Home


Vampire Weekend - I Think UR a Contra


Boz Scaggs - Georgia


Eric Clapton - Reptile - also check out "Modern Girl"


Kings of Convenience - Misread


Phoenix - Alphabetical


Thin Lizzy - Fight or Fall


Bruce Springsteen - New York City Serenade


Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now


All of these songs are some of my favorites. I recommend not only feeling the mood of the music, but also paying attention to the beautiful lyrics that weave in and out of the melodies. Just today I listened to both "alphabetical" and "love for granted" by Phoenix on the way to school and will surely listen to a couple more by the end of the day.

At least these songs will come in handy until you go somewhere where "we don't need roads."

Anyway, hope you enjoy and see you next post. Maybe.

Andy Irons: 1978 - 2010

Two days ago, I heard the sad news that Andy Irons, legendary surfer and father-to-be, had been found dead in his hotel room. Irons was a three-time world champion surfer and only 32 years old. A very sad day for the surfing community.

Andy grew up on the fabled North Shore, Hawaii's famous surfing mecca. Him and his brother Bruce grew up in the water, learning the excitement of danger of ocean's reef while competing with each other.





This zeal for competition would shape the boys into two of the world's finest surfers. Andy would go on to win three surfing world titles, forging a stiff rivalry with Kelly Slater, the famous nine-time world champion. Bruce also competes on the tour and is a rising star, despite flirting with quitting and becoming solely a free surfer.

The loss of Andy Irons is heartbreaking news for everyone. Though he may have started surfing because it was the "party", he continued his passion not for the fame, but because he had to. Andy once said that surfing was the only thing that kept him from going over the edge; that kept him sane. Maybe he lost his love somewhere and finally toppled over. I'd like to think that he was on his way back to another spectacular world title, but it was not meant to be. My love goes out to his widowed bride and his unborn child. I wish them the best in this tough time.

Surfing has lost a pioneer and a champion.

Andy, you will be missed.

Aloha

Don't be square, mon cher! Movies is magic!

Since the advent of the talking picture, movies and music have been synonymous. From happy-go-lucky musicals to soaring epics backed by massive orchestras, music has been a crucial influence on the power of motion pictures. Just think about it, would that decisive final battle or that perfect kiss be the same without the right music in the background? I don't think so.

So in remembrance of all those great movie moments, here is a list of some of the best pairings of music and film in history. Enjoy, and don't be afraid to cry. It's okay.

Best Movie Theme:

Star Wars (Main Theme) - John Williams



Well, I went with the obvious choice. But let's be real, this is probably one of the most memorable and classic movie theme of all time. When those horns hit for the first time as you stare into the vacuum of space on your TV screen, you know you are in for an epic adventure. And what a strange and wonderful trip it really was.

Runner Up: Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story - Randy Edelman

Decent movie, great soundtrack.





Best musical:

Little Shop of Horrors



Runner up: Singin' In the Rain

The Golden Age of Cinema. Just singin' and laughin'... try to get that one out of your head.



Best Compilation Soundtrack:

The Blues Brothers



Fun, fast, and of course, Bluesy. Everybody needs somebody who listens to this soundtrack.

Runner Up: The Graduate

Oh Mrs. Robinson.




Best Movie + Music moment:

The Elevator Scene - Vanilla Sky



The whole sequence in the movie leading up to the roof scene is absolutely genius. It begins with "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys as David realizes he's living in a dream. As he yells for tech support, an elevator opens. The scene in the elevator was mesmerizing to me. As David hears the heartbreaking truth about his life, we here "Doot Doot" by Freur and then "Ladies and Gentleman We Are Floating in Space" by Spiritualized. I'll never forget hearing the lyrics of the "Floating in Space" as I learned of David's actual death: "All I want in life's a little bit of love to take the pain away." It is then that Edmund says: "Consequences, David. It's the little things." All in all a heart-wrenching scene.

Runner Up: Squints kisses Wendy - The Sandlot



Nothing makes me miss those carefree days as a kid more than The Sandlot. The movie captures the essence of those days filled with baseball, fun, and adventure perfectly. And there's no moment better than when Squints kisses the bombshell Wendy Peffercorn, the lifeguard while "This Magic Moment" plays in the background. Ahhh... Wendy, how I loved you.

Well, that wraps up the review of the magic union of movies and music.

Til' next week!

Eric

Lowe, Legends, and Kings

Last night while doing homework I was randomly inspired to research the wily and wild life of the late Alex Lowe, a climber and mountaineer I had heard about over the years. He was brought to my recent attention during a lecture by Conrad Anker, his long-time friend and fellow climber. Anker, who is now married to Lowe's widow, did not mention his fallen friend while he was painting the pictures of his mountain adventures to the packed audience. Lowe is definitely a man worth mentioning. As fascinating as he is spirited, he propelled himself up dangerous peaks and memorable climbs, never losing his desire for the inhospitable climate of the mountains.

Alex Lowe lost his life in October, 1999, on the mountain of Shishapangma in Tibet. He was buried under an avalanche along with high-altitude cameraman David Bridges. The other member of the trio, the aforementioned Conrad Anker, miraculously survived the barrage, but was unable to locate the bodies of his friends buried underneath the snow. Interestingly, Anker would go on to marry Lowe's widow. My initial reaction is that the situation is very strange and uneasy. How could Anker marry his friend's widow? But maybe Lowe would have wanted it that way.



Due to the events on Shishapangma and dozens of other tragedies, many people are of the opinion that climbers and mountaineers are reckless and stupid, attempting feats that are better left undone. "Why be a miserable on a mountain when you are comfortable in your own bed?" They might say. But that is the essence of the human spirit, I would argue. To achieve the impossible, to push farther and higher than ever before, to discover the unknown and discover the meaning that lies beneath it all. The human race climbs because there will always be a man who sees a mountain, steps forward and says: "I can do that." Is that the only reason? Maybe.



Lowe was the epitomy of this ideal, striving not to be the "world's best climber" but to climb because he couldn't stay away. "The best climber is the one having the most fun!" He would say. His life was filled with colorful adventure, from a famous rescue on Denali to an ice-climbing accident in Montana that left him looking like "a mangled victim in a Wes Craven movie." His philosophy may have been best shown by his favorite quote from Helen Keller:

"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."

Alex Lowe 1958-1999


A quick word about music.

One of my favorites, Kings of Convenience, with some beautiful songs.






Next Post:

Music is back! The much-awaited next entry will be of the most awesome nature and will concern itself with the wild world of movie music!

A Weekend Outdoors

This past weekend, I had the chance to travel to North Carolina with some friends and camp. There wasn't much of a plan, but we wanted it that way. Whatever caught our fancy we would pursue, whether it was hiking, climbing, swimming or eating.

We ended up doing a little bit of everything. Our main destination ended up being the beautiful Linville Gorge, a wilderness area not a far cry from the little town of Marion, NC. After a quick stop for grub in Asheville and getting lost many times, we finally found a campsite deep in the woods at around midnight and went to sleep.

The next day was epic. We explored the climbing areas around Table Rock and Linville Gorge, mostly composed of gigantic multi-pitch climbs, not exactly my forte. We met some crazy people from around the Southeast, and I was quite surprised to find Santa Claus roping up on some of the bigger climbs that day. I hope he thought I was nice.



The rest of the day included a gorgeous ridge hike in the gorge and some meager rations for dinner. Basically we ate ramen, soup, and beans. The planning for the trip was sub-par. The night ended with a humongous fire that burnt some holes in my pants and some great stories.

On Sunday we finished the trip with a vigorous hike up Mt. Mitchell (even though you can drive to the top) and a quest to find an asian buffet where we could stuff our faces. We found it in Asian Grand Buffet, emphasis on the "grand". I filled up on ridiculous amounts of sushi, lo-mein, and soft-serve. I'm not the biggest buffet fan, but on that day I was happy. And very, very full.

And if I haven't bored you to death, here's some music...

Pigeon John: Before We're Gone



Sondre Lerche: Heartbeat Radio

Climbing to the Stars

This past weekend I went on a climbing trip with some friends. We traveled on friday to the crags of Obed located in Wartburg, Tenn., about an hour and a half away from Knoxville. After climbing all day Friday and Saturday, I was exhausted. To be honest, I have a love/hate relationship with climbing. Sometimes it feels great to be on the rock, even on the sharp end. Other times, though, I hate it. At that point all I want below my feet is solid ground, often trying to climb a route while suffering from "elvis leg" (uncontrollable shaking). At least I got some practice on my dance moves.

Climbing is something that fascinates me, though. The inner desire of people to climb up rocks, sometimes thousands of feet tall and ridiculously dangerous, is extremely interesting. What kind of passion inspires these kinds of people to put themselves through hell and back just to accomplish the seemingly impossible, defying logic and gravity? Why do they climb? John Long, a prolific climber and author, offers up some of the best explanations I have read. He explains that climbing can fill you with the most intimate feelings of fear and exhilaration, giving you moments that you will never forget. And times where you find out the person you really are. Nothing is fake on the side of sheer rock. It's just you.



Here's some music:

Great remix of the Bee Gees. It's okay, you can admit that you like them.

A Heart Full of Holes

That picture reminds me of something that I started back in my sophomore year of college. It was called "Mark Knopfler Mondays", and consisted of dressing like Mark Knopfler on every monday, no matter where you went. This usually consisted of wearing something 80's like a tank top and jeans. The key item, though, was the sweatband that he consistently rocked during his concerts. I got some friends into this, and we definitely got some weird looks while we were wearing our head bands around campus.

I recently acquired one of Knopfler's solo albums, Kill to Get Crimson.
My favorites are:
True Love Will Never Fade
Heart Full of Holes
Secondary Waltz



Another classic song from Bobby Womack:
Across 110th Street





Also check out the new band Highlife and album Best Bless (album cover above)

Next post will focus on some outdoor adventures, with a guest appearance by Mitch

Yikes!

The Smiths and the People that Might Be Giants

Hey,
As of late, I've been delving into some different music that I wouldn't normally listen to. My natural inclination is to stick to my favorites when it comes to music. I will always love Earth, Wind, and Fire, Billy Joel, Thin Lizzy, and Eric Clapton. Sometimes it's good to mix it up.

Just yesterday I was at the radio station and was given the tedious task of entering e-mail addresses into the system. For no apparent reason, The Smiths popped into my head, which is strange because I'd never really given the band a thought in the past. My only knowledge of them is that the main character in "500 Days of Summer" is quite obsessed with them. Maybe that's where the thought came from. Who knows.

So I put on some of the band's songs while I was working. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I actually quite liked it. The guitars in the songs had a sweet sound to them and added depth to the moody and introspective lyrics. I especially liked the song "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now", a depressing song with dark lyrics that contrast the uplifting beat and guitar riffs. So naturally when I got home, I downloaded their "best of" collection. Quite good.

Check out classic song "There is a Light That Never Goes Out".

Another band I've gotten back into is the strange group They Might be Giants. I've known about them for years, but I'm not really sure how. They definitely are interesting to say the least.

Check out "Birdhouse in Your Soul" and "Dr. Worm"

Joe, you have a brain cloud.

I've been busy, so it's been a while since I've blogged. Good thing I have a computer in boring editing classes or I'd never get anything done. Anyway, I wanted to start off this post with a picture of our hero, Joe. Former firefighter and advertising slave on his way to jump into a Volcano. Why, you ask? Because he has a brain cloud and will die in 6 months whether he does or not. Taking the offer from a crazed Lloyd Bridges, Joe takes the stylish route and sets off on a spectacular journey towards his imminent death. Watch the movie to find out the rest.



The movie does bring up one of life's classic questions. What would you do if you had 6 months to live? I feel like there's a typical answer to this question; let every inhibition go and live to the fullest. But really dig down deep and you wonder, what would I really do?

Buy an Xbox and live off pepperoni pizza and red bull of course. Duh.

On a lighter note, the soundtrack features some good music:

Sixteen Tons, written by Merle Travis. Here's the version by Tennessee Ernie Ford - http://sonnyvenice.phpnet.org/musique/sonny_venice/04_2009/Sixteen%20Tons.mp3

Blue Moon, the classic version by Elvis Presley - http://checkthedryer.com/bluemoon/Elvis%20Presley%20-%20Blue%20Moon.mp3

And here's some classic Billy Joel to send you off. Listen for the melody from "Allentown" at the end.

Waves and Injuries to Eric: A Love Story

That picture basically sums up my weekend.

My pal Luke and I made a spontaneous trip down to Charleston, South Carolina on Friday to ride some of the big swells Igor was causing on the East Coast. Long story short, I hobbled back into my apartment on Sunday with a cracked board, 6 cuts on my leg (1 fairly deep), a swollen ankle, a skin pigment resembling a cranberry, and zero pride. At least I found some band-aids in my car.

Luke didn't fair much better, both of us getting trashed in the worst way over the weekend. I learned a lot about the different ways a human body can crumple and contort after being thrown by a wave. All equally painful. It wouldn't have been that bad if I hadn't nailed the board with my legs twice, the second one ending my day in the water. Believe it or not, the waves at Folly Beach were around 8 feet on Sunday. They were also fast and broke quick, equaling disaster for our doomed duo.

It wasn't all bad, though. We ended up staying in a hostel for two nights, which consisted of about 20 native Brits and us. We were known as the "Americans" for a change. These Brits were hard drinkers, stumbling into their rooms at about four AM every morning. Luke and I were painfully aware of this because we were forced to endure a shitty band being cranked at full volume from the hours of 4-6:30 from the next room. This is despite the fact that we did everything short of knocking down their door to get them to stop. Thank God I had a collection of smooth jazz on my laptop that we used to drown out the screeching sounds torturing us and finally get back to sleep. Believe me, I was so ready to fight them.

Once I get a longer (and not cracked) board, I will be back to brave the waves once more.

Anyway, music time.

New stuff: Kings of Convenience, chilly folk heroes, soothe the woes of mankind with their song "Toxic Girl".

kings of convenience - toxic girl from françois nemeta on Vimeo.

Old Stuff: I love this song by Burt Bacharach. Most people today have never heard of him, but in the 60's he was a hit machine. His music has a special magic to it, with hints of an era that was lost somehow. Play on, Burt.



Ciao.