To me, what makes for a great concert has more to do with anticipation than any other factor. I’ve seen great concerts that are high on the spectacle (U2 and Aerosmith come to mind) and I’ve seen some great concerts with almost no spectacle (well, almost all the concerts I go to fit this category). A great opener is important, but it can’t carry the rest of the show. This is probably why opening acts with one or two hit songs will generally save those songs until the end of their set.
Back in 2003 I saw a DMB show in San Diego that just started off with some amazing performances and shocking resurrections of songs that hadn’t been heard in years. I was enthralled … and then … it just sort of … Well, I barely remember the second half of the show and as a result I remember that show not as a great concert but as the show where Spoon came back. That’s about it, which is a shame because the first hour or so was astonishing.
Contrast that with the two shows (DMB again) at Alpine a few weeks ago. These shows started strong, really strong … and then just kept getting better. It was uncanny.
Night one started with #41. And – really – after #41 you can forgive me for wondering if there was anywhere to go but down. The early part of the set featured strong performances of new songs like Louisiana Bayou and Dreamgirl, the stunning and chill-enducing American baby Intro segue into Say Goodbye and an all-out fun cover of Time of the Season. Just the first half of the first show was worth the trip, I had decided. And then we were treated later to Lover Lay Down, Bartender, a Rapunzel to close the set, and a Lie In Our Graves that was so good Josh told me, “If only Tony and Diana could have been here, how could they not get it after that song?” Add a sweet Best of What’s Around and powerful What You Are encore and I was concerned that there was no way Sunday’s show could measure up. Except that, by the end of Sunday, I could barely even remember what had seemed to make Saturday so great.
Everyday is a perfect opener at a place so big and full of crazy, hardcore fans. The first half of the set had a 2 old songs, 2 new songs pattern going. Things really took off with a roaring Dancing Nancies that, just like in the old days, went smoothly right into Warehouse. #34, which was not on the setlist but was thrown in for fun, broke the pattern and really turned a strong but not spectacular show into something breathless. Jimi Thing was great, as always. Then You Never Know, which was probably as good as any single performance of a song I have seen them play. Crush was beautiful. There was the oh so cruel tease of #40, only to be followed by a stirring Out of My Hands and What Would You Say, which pretty much everyone expected would close the set. But no. By this point, things felt tense. That sounds ridiculous but the crowd felt that way. What would they play next? They didn’t leave the stage yet! People were high fiving and smiling at strangers. And still they had so many options left – Ants Marching, Watchtower, Tripping Billies, Two Step. I know I wasn’t expecting it, though, when Dave stepped up and started (not just teasing) to play #40 again. An entire verse, a chorus, even some backing help from the band. I was stunned, speechless. Nothing else mattered for that song was so beautiful. Then they roared into Too Much and left the stage. Josh was dying to hear two Step close the show and his hope infected me and those around us, as well. That he got his wish made for the perfect way to finish. Walking out, all we could think of was how good Two Step was – it barely even registered how amazing the entire weekend had been.
This is what I loved about last year’s tour, as well. When a band is playhing really well and having a great time, you just can’t wait to know what will happen next – and when they are consistently better than you can believe, it’s really special. So it was in San Francisco last year (though I would argue the Everyday – Too much encore was a lost cause after what had come before). So it was at Alpine. All of which is to say, I really can’t wait for Red Rocks.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
I Love KidLit
I just finished re-reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in anticipation of the time I’ll be spending this weekend with the sixth book, and so am again struck by just how much I enjoy these books.
It’s funny because in the two-plus years since book 5 was released (and of course I read it all that very day) I have tended to rate it at the bottom of my favorites list – maybe just ahead of the second. But it’s good to be reminded that even if it is one of the weaker plotlines, it’s still just so good.
Among the many things that stood out to me upon reading it a second time was something I had noticed from the first reading, but I had forgotten – the way Harry suddenly has become insufferably obnoxious. This is a compliment. Rowling paints him as an actual teenager – he’s smart but acts stupidly out of rash certainty, he flies off the handle without reason, and he’s entirely self-absorbed. It’s tough to read at times, but how I admire how well crafted he is as a character. Can’t wait for Friday night.
But much as I love Harry Potter, I’ve recently seen a couple previews for a movie based on some “children’s literature” that I think I like even more. Well, maybe not. In fact it’s been years since I’ve read CS Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, but those books are incredibly special to me. I think my mom read them to me, first. And I know I read them again in fourth grade and at least the first few again in high school, when I was working on a longer CS Lewis project.
It’s more than that they were just great stories, more than that they have meaning far beyond the grasp of any of the kids who mainly read the books. It’s because Narnia started me off as a writer.
In fourth grade we had an assignment to make books. Now, it was probably as much about the actual making and binding of the book as it was what we chose to write or draw inside, but I was quite enchanted with the idea. I decided to write a sequel to the existing books of Narnia. But I had too much I wanted to write. I was not to be deterred. I found three other people in the class and delegated to them basic ideas I had for stories. I didn’t write the stories for them, but I told them what needed to happen. (See, I’ve always been an editor.) And then I wrote the final installment.
(Turns out this story is slightly embarrassing.)
Anyway, that was the first time I have a specific memory of plotting and writing a story. Probably I wrote some kinds of stories before that. But the Narnia sequels are what I always remember as my first foray into fiction, and almost certainly the first of which a copy still remains.
Anyway, the preview looks pretty good for the first movie. (Are they really going to make a movie of each book?!?) I really hope they don’t screw these up. It would be much harder for me to make movies of my own than it was to make those books in fourth grade.
It’s funny because in the two-plus years since book 5 was released (and of course I read it all that very day) I have tended to rate it at the bottom of my favorites list – maybe just ahead of the second. But it’s good to be reminded that even if it is one of the weaker plotlines, it’s still just so good.
Among the many things that stood out to me upon reading it a second time was something I had noticed from the first reading, but I had forgotten – the way Harry suddenly has become insufferably obnoxious. This is a compliment. Rowling paints him as an actual teenager – he’s smart but acts stupidly out of rash certainty, he flies off the handle without reason, and he’s entirely self-absorbed. It’s tough to read at times, but how I admire how well crafted he is as a character. Can’t wait for Friday night.
But much as I love Harry Potter, I’ve recently seen a couple previews for a movie based on some “children’s literature” that I think I like even more. Well, maybe not. In fact it’s been years since I’ve read CS Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, but those books are incredibly special to me. I think my mom read them to me, first. And I know I read them again in fourth grade and at least the first few again in high school, when I was working on a longer CS Lewis project.
It’s more than that they were just great stories, more than that they have meaning far beyond the grasp of any of the kids who mainly read the books. It’s because Narnia started me off as a writer.
In fourth grade we had an assignment to make books. Now, it was probably as much about the actual making and binding of the book as it was what we chose to write or draw inside, but I was quite enchanted with the idea. I decided to write a sequel to the existing books of Narnia. But I had too much I wanted to write. I was not to be deterred. I found three other people in the class and delegated to them basic ideas I had for stories. I didn’t write the stories for them, but I told them what needed to happen. (See, I’ve always been an editor.) And then I wrote the final installment.
(Turns out this story is slightly embarrassing.)
Anyway, that was the first time I have a specific memory of plotting and writing a story. Probably I wrote some kinds of stories before that. But the Narnia sequels are what I always remember as my first foray into fiction, and almost certainly the first of which a copy still remains.
Anyway, the preview looks pretty good for the first movie. (Are they really going to make a movie of each book?!?) I really hope they don’t screw these up. It would be much harder for me to make movies of my own than it was to make those books in fourth grade.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
War of the Worlds
Among many other highly enjoyable activities on what was really an excellent 4th of July weekend, on Sunday afternoon Jen, Robert, and I took in a matinee of War of the Worlds. I liked it quite a lot actually, just as I suspected I would and in precisely the same way. It was a quintessential Spielberg summer popcorn flick. The man can really make a good summer thrill experience. And, as with this one, sometimes the ending is a bit of a letdown, but in a lot of ways that just speaks to how good what came before it was. The ending here wasn’t that bad, indeed it could have been vastly and very easily improved if things were just even slightly less perfect.
As much as my eyes have begun to get sore this summer from constantly rolling at Tom Cruise’s growing insanity and his “relationship” with Katie Holmes, I find that I like him more and more as an actor. Collateral had a lot of problems, but Tom was convincing. And he’s still the best thing about Magnolia. In this movie, I’ll admit, it was more than a little amusing to see him working at the docks, but after that he inhabited his character quite well. Maybe it’s not such a stretch for him to play a wholly self-involved adult, and maybe his recent shenanigans (love that word!) make it easier to see him as unstable and not as Ethan Hunt. Whatever. He was good for me. Dakota Fanning, though I find her vaguely creepy in interviews, actually seemed like a kid. So that was good.
I actually don’t generally think or talk much about the political background of movies, but there were a number of scenes in WotW that seemed designed to remind the audience of September 11. And there were a few explicit references as well, as various characters wondered if we were being attacked by terrorists. The one that stands out most in my mind is the aftermath of the first alien tripod thing rising from the ground in front of Tom. The crowd is running away terrified and fully aware that their lives are in jeopardy, and yet cannot resist the urge to look behind them as they run, to see this unimaginable sight. I saw many pictures and videos of people doing the exact same thing – running through the ash and haze, but looking over their shoulders – on 9/11. There were also several scenes with bulletin boards of missing people and their photos, which were very reminiscent for me. None of this seemed exploitative to me, though. In fact, this movie acknowledged more than just about any other that I’ve seen since 9/11 the collective anxiety we mostly all still carry. Spielberg exploits that lingering fear to great effect in setting up this movie. In a lot of action thriller type movies, I spend a great deal of time actually thinking about the craft or the CGI, something outside of the story. That wasn’t true in watching WotW. Only in reflection does it occur to me that the CGI was among the best I’ve seen – and part of why I know that is because I hardly ever noticed it as CGI. So, instead of thinking, “Huh, those tripod things look really good,” I was thinking, “Jesus, this is terrifying.” Which pretty much made it worth my $6.50.
As much as my eyes have begun to get sore this summer from constantly rolling at Tom Cruise’s growing insanity and his “relationship” with Katie Holmes, I find that I like him more and more as an actor. Collateral had a lot of problems, but Tom was convincing. And he’s still the best thing about Magnolia. In this movie, I’ll admit, it was more than a little amusing to see him working at the docks, but after that he inhabited his character quite well. Maybe it’s not such a stretch for him to play a wholly self-involved adult, and maybe his recent shenanigans (love that word!) make it easier to see him as unstable and not as Ethan Hunt. Whatever. He was good for me. Dakota Fanning, though I find her vaguely creepy in interviews, actually seemed like a kid. So that was good.
I actually don’t generally think or talk much about the political background of movies, but there were a number of scenes in WotW that seemed designed to remind the audience of September 11. And there were a few explicit references as well, as various characters wondered if we were being attacked by terrorists. The one that stands out most in my mind is the aftermath of the first alien tripod thing rising from the ground in front of Tom. The crowd is running away terrified and fully aware that their lives are in jeopardy, and yet cannot resist the urge to look behind them as they run, to see this unimaginable sight. I saw many pictures and videos of people doing the exact same thing – running through the ash and haze, but looking over their shoulders – on 9/11. There were also several scenes with bulletin boards of missing people and their photos, which were very reminiscent for me. None of this seemed exploitative to me, though. In fact, this movie acknowledged more than just about any other that I’ve seen since 9/11 the collective anxiety we mostly all still carry. Spielberg exploits that lingering fear to great effect in setting up this movie. In a lot of action thriller type movies, I spend a great deal of time actually thinking about the craft or the CGI, something outside of the story. That wasn’t true in watching WotW. Only in reflection does it occur to me that the CGI was among the best I’ve seen – and part of why I know that is because I hardly ever noticed it as CGI. So, instead of thinking, “Huh, those tripod things look really good,” I was thinking, “Jesus, this is terrifying.” Which pretty much made it worth my $6.50.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Made Up Stuff
Hm, never did edit this yet. Kinda rough but it did come in at just under 500 words.
I believe in fiction.
More specifically, I believe in stories. I believe that stories have a power to teach us without even feeling like learning. When I was younger, I never questioned my ability to learn something from stories my parents told me about their lives. But I didn’t then feel the same way about fiction.
Made-up stories. Entertainment. Diversions. Fiction was something to escape into, I felt, with very little bearing on the real world.
It wasn’t reading any one book that changed my mind about fiction. It wasn’t reading that changed my mind at all. It was when I started to write fiction.
Suddenly I learned something that would seem blindingly obvious but was not, at least to me: Someone had to write these stories, no matter how fantastic. The author writing about monsters had never actually confronted a monster, and so he wasn’t just inventing the monster but also each character’s reaction to it. I started to ask myself then that fundamental writer’s question: Why write that scene this way?
As a writer I was beginning to ask myself the same question. The lessons I was taking away from fiction were not the sort of what, when, why that as a student I was most familiar with. They were lessons about me, the things I believed, the way I would expect people to react, how I think the world works.
I never had much trouble finding something to learn from a book like Dickens’ “Great Expectations.” But to read Dickens for the sake of entertainment and take away no greater learning than some historical facts is a sin indeed, I soon learned. Moreover, it is not just classics or even serious literature where I learn. Those monster stories, I started to notice, were also full of questions: Fight or flight? To trust the unknown or mistrust? And beyond that a good thriller can teach some practical lessons for the real world, too. For example, should a serial killer have you cornered in your home, don’t run upstairs. You’re only making their job easier.
I am more likely to be moved to great extremes of emotion by fiction than by a biography, or any other work of non-fiction. I am more likely to think back on a novel twenty years from now and know I took something from that novel that has mattered to me. Most of what I take from non-fiction reading has little value unless I should be playing Trivial Pursuit.
Humans have told stories throughout all our time. It is one of those things that makes us human. But even a honeybee comes back to the hive and dances to tell the story of where it found the best pollen. It is my imagination that separates me from a honeybee. My imagination that can recognize fiction but also benefit from it, my imagination that can create a convincing and hopefully valuable fiction. My imagination that I cannot fathom ever being without.
I believe in fiction.
More specifically, I believe in stories. I believe that stories have a power to teach us without even feeling like learning. When I was younger, I never questioned my ability to learn something from stories my parents told me about their lives. But I didn’t then feel the same way about fiction.
Made-up stories. Entertainment. Diversions. Fiction was something to escape into, I felt, with very little bearing on the real world.
It wasn’t reading any one book that changed my mind about fiction. It wasn’t reading that changed my mind at all. It was when I started to write fiction.
Suddenly I learned something that would seem blindingly obvious but was not, at least to me: Someone had to write these stories, no matter how fantastic. The author writing about monsters had never actually confronted a monster, and so he wasn’t just inventing the monster but also each character’s reaction to it. I started to ask myself then that fundamental writer’s question: Why write that scene this way?
As a writer I was beginning to ask myself the same question. The lessons I was taking away from fiction were not the sort of what, when, why that as a student I was most familiar with. They were lessons about me, the things I believed, the way I would expect people to react, how I think the world works.
I never had much trouble finding something to learn from a book like Dickens’ “Great Expectations.” But to read Dickens for the sake of entertainment and take away no greater learning than some historical facts is a sin indeed, I soon learned. Moreover, it is not just classics or even serious literature where I learn. Those monster stories, I started to notice, were also full of questions: Fight or flight? To trust the unknown or mistrust? And beyond that a good thriller can teach some practical lessons for the real world, too. For example, should a serial killer have you cornered in your home, don’t run upstairs. You’re only making their job easier.
I am more likely to be moved to great extremes of emotion by fiction than by a biography, or any other work of non-fiction. I am more likely to think back on a novel twenty years from now and know I took something from that novel that has mattered to me. Most of what I take from non-fiction reading has little value unless I should be playing Trivial Pursuit.
Humans have told stories throughout all our time. It is one of those things that makes us human. But even a honeybee comes back to the hive and dances to tell the story of where it found the best pollen. It is my imagination that separates me from a honeybee. My imagination that can recognize fiction but also benefit from it, my imagination that can create a convincing and hopefully valuable fiction. My imagination that I cannot fathom ever being without.
This I Believe
This is an interesting place to do some light reading.
I swear when I refer you to this link I'm not shilling for the company that employs me, which also happens to be a sponsor of the series. A lot of these essays are good. Even the ones that piss me off.
Because my employer sponsors and promotes it and because I listen to NPR more than is strictly healthy, I've been hearing these for a few months now. Then Diana found something about it in the Sunday paper and has since made it her mission to get me to write one. I'm editing it now, and once it's done I'll post it here. I hope Diana will, too. And anyone else.
I think the most interesting thing about writing one of these essays is the very first step. What do you believe? It's a hard question. Especially when you know you should focus on just one thing, and you have o more than 500 words to explain yourself. What do I believe? Lots of things, really. I believe in competition and live music and friends. I believe in the awesomeness of Nature and also in science. I believe in laughter and I think I at least want to believe in the basic goodness of most people. Then again, I also believe that you can't go home again. I believe in the dark side, not the one George Lucas made famous but the one in all of us.
Of all these beliefs and all the hundreds more I didn't think to name just now, what really defines me? What do you think of when you think of me? A better question: What do I think of when I think of me?
I'll try to get my essay edited and up by the end of the day.
I swear when I refer you to this link I'm not shilling for the company that employs me, which also happens to be a sponsor of the series. A lot of these essays are good. Even the ones that piss me off.
Because my employer sponsors and promotes it and because I listen to NPR more than is strictly healthy, I've been hearing these for a few months now. Then Diana found something about it in the Sunday paper and has since made it her mission to get me to write one. I'm editing it now, and once it's done I'll post it here. I hope Diana will, too. And anyone else.
I think the most interesting thing about writing one of these essays is the very first step. What do you believe? It's a hard question. Especially when you know you should focus on just one thing, and you have o more than 500 words to explain yourself. What do I believe? Lots of things, really. I believe in competition and live music and friends. I believe in the awesomeness of Nature and also in science. I believe in laughter and I think I at least want to believe in the basic goodness of most people. Then again, I also believe that you can't go home again. I believe in the dark side, not the one George Lucas made famous but the one in all of us.
Of all these beliefs and all the hundreds more I didn't think to name just now, what really defines me? What do you think of when you think of me? A better question: What do I think of when I think of me?
I'll try to get my essay edited and up by the end of the day.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Denver Part Two
I could just go on posting pictures of Denver in this blog and never do anything else, but I'll try to limit it to this. For now anyway.
I was hoping to be able to show you some pictures we actually took on this most recent vacation to my native land, but alas my wife ran off to California with my camera. More than likely when she gets back she'll post pictures from both trips.
On Saturday, I decided Diana needed to see Estes Park and more specifically the Stanley Hotel. The Stanley (apart from being very old and famous as a historic place) is best known as the place where Stephen King was staying when he wrote The Shining, which is a book I have some very strong feelings about but I'll spare you all that for now. Anyway, the hotel in the book is called The Overlook but it's based very clearly on The Stanley, which is itself said to be haunted. We even broke the rules and snuck up to the second floor so we could get a picture of Room 217 (where King was staying and the Overlook's most notorious room). Anyway, since I don't have any of the pictures we took, here's a decent shot of the hotel I found elsewhere.
Another thing I miss about Colorado is a local pizza chain called Beau Jo's. They make tremendous thick crust pizza with really thick edges. The dough is made with a touch of honey and they also provide bottles of honey at your table to put on your crust while eating. We took Diana there Friday night and sadly our service was pretty awful, but the pizza was still top notch. This is a small picture, but I hope you'll be able to get the idea about how fabulous these "mountain pies" are.
Here we have a lovely overhead shot of Boulder, home to the main campus of the University of Colorado (that's it in most of the buildings at the bottom). Boulder is one of the prettiest little towns you'll find anywhere. It was also cited in a government study as a place with an extremely high rate of marijuana use. That's right: the government paid someone to do a study that found that marijuana use is higher in college towns. But I digress.
This last one is for Erin. I found a few good pictures of in-the-flesh haven't-bathed-in-weeks Boulder hippies but then I found this and to me it really says Boulder more than even the actual city photo I posted above. This guy is a one man band on Pearl Street (an outdoor mall in Boulder). I just gotsta get me some of those shorts!
I was hoping to be able to show you some pictures we actually took on this most recent vacation to my native land, but alas my wife ran off to California with my camera. More than likely when she gets back she'll post pictures from both trips.
On Saturday, I decided Diana needed to see Estes Park and more specifically the Stanley Hotel. The Stanley (apart from being very old and famous as a historic place) is best known as the place where Stephen King was staying when he wrote The Shining, which is a book I have some very strong feelings about but I'll spare you all that for now. Anyway, the hotel in the book is called The Overlook but it's based very clearly on The Stanley, which is itself said to be haunted. We even broke the rules and snuck up to the second floor so we could get a picture of Room 217 (where King was staying and the Overlook's most notorious room). Anyway, since I don't have any of the pictures we took, here's a decent shot of the hotel I found elsewhere.
Another thing I miss about Colorado is a local pizza chain called Beau Jo's. They make tremendous thick crust pizza with really thick edges. The dough is made with a touch of honey and they also provide bottles of honey at your table to put on your crust while eating. We took Diana there Friday night and sadly our service was pretty awful, but the pizza was still top notch. This is a small picture, but I hope you'll be able to get the idea about how fabulous these "mountain pies" are.
Here we have a lovely overhead shot of Boulder, home to the main campus of the University of Colorado (that's it in most of the buildings at the bottom). Boulder is one of the prettiest little towns you'll find anywhere. It was also cited in a government study as a place with an extremely high rate of marijuana use. That's right: the government paid someone to do a study that found that marijuana use is higher in college towns. But I digress.
This last one is for Erin. I found a few good pictures of in-the-flesh haven't-bathed-in-weeks Boulder hippies but then I found this and to me it really says Boulder more than even the actual city photo I posted above. This guy is a one man band on Pearl Street (an outdoor mall in Boulder). I just gotsta get me some of those shorts!
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Rocky Mountain High
I hinted at it in my earlier concert post, but yesterday it was confirmed Dave Matthews Band will be playing three nights at Red Rocks in Colorado this September. Though these will be the hardest tickets to get ever, you better believe I'm at least going to try.
So, thinking about Red Rocks coupled with leaving for a vacation for Colorado this evening, I've been thinking about the old stomping grounds quite a bit lately. So I thought I'd put up some pictures of the happy place where I grew up and lived before I knew any of you.
You have probably heard of Red Rocks Amphitehatre. You've probably seen pictures of it. But what you don't know is how hard it is to get into that place. Diana got lucky. When she visited, my parents drove straight to the top of the place. Can't do that for concerts. The parking lots are below the venue, so you have to walk up the mountain. And then you get to this ramp, which is steep enough that it can just about kill you. Oh, and it's a good 6,000 feet of elevation there. I almost killed my roommate Vern who was from Louisiana walking him up this thing. And even then you're only at the bottom of the place.
The coolest place in Denver (certainly as a kid) used to be Elitch Gardens which started back int the early days as an actual gardens and slowly became an amusement park. It was the most lush amusement park you've ever seen, though. At least for a desert place like Denver. Then it got too big and they moved it next to downtown to a much bigger place, but it was basically a parking lot with rides and there was no shade anywhere. It took a few years, but that park grew up pretty nice, too. And then Six Flags bought it. Still, to this day they have the Twister II (a replica of the original Mr. Twister from the first Elitch's), which is my favorite wooden rooler coaster anywhere. Can't beat the view, either, downtown to the east and the mountains to the west.
One of the things I have always loved about denver is that it's really a city with a thriving downtown, like New York or Chicago or San Francisco. A lot of places (cougPhoenixcough) in the West don't have that. But Denver's downtown is awesome. Notice the trademark building on the left there. That's called the cash register building by most people (I think it was originally built as a bank headquarters) but wehn I was little I always called it the mailbox building.
This is not my personal favorite of all the golf courses in the Denver area, but its pretty much the coolest one to look at. It's called Arrowhead and in in the southern foothills.
This is the main terminal at Denver International Airport. The tent you see is not the actual roof, but it's there for dramatic effect. Diana think this is the funniest looking building in the world. Back when the airport was new, some PR schmuk said the tented roof was meant to suggest the snowcapped Rockies, which is a line of PR bull I doubt even he believed when he said it. Still, that's the only reason I've ever heard to explain it.
Last one. Downtown is a long street blocked off called 16th Street Mall. It's basically just a long series of buildings and shops and theatres and good stuff. It's mainly pedestrian but there is a free shuttle thats runs the full length of it and sometimes you'll see horse-drawn cabs, as well. Every city needs a downtown distination like this.
I'm feeling sort of guilty and thinking I should go back to work, so that's all for now. Maybe more when we get back.
So, thinking about Red Rocks coupled with leaving for a vacation for Colorado this evening, I've been thinking about the old stomping grounds quite a bit lately. So I thought I'd put up some pictures of the happy place where I grew up and lived before I knew any of you.
You have probably heard of Red Rocks Amphitehatre. You've probably seen pictures of it. But what you don't know is how hard it is to get into that place. Diana got lucky. When she visited, my parents drove straight to the top of the place. Can't do that for concerts. The parking lots are below the venue, so you have to walk up the mountain. And then you get to this ramp, which is steep enough that it can just about kill you. Oh, and it's a good 6,000 feet of elevation there. I almost killed my roommate Vern who was from Louisiana walking him up this thing. And even then you're only at the bottom of the place.
The coolest place in Denver (certainly as a kid) used to be Elitch Gardens which started back int the early days as an actual gardens and slowly became an amusement park. It was the most lush amusement park you've ever seen, though. At least for a desert place like Denver. Then it got too big and they moved it next to downtown to a much bigger place, but it was basically a parking lot with rides and there was no shade anywhere. It took a few years, but that park grew up pretty nice, too. And then Six Flags bought it. Still, to this day they have the Twister II (a replica of the original Mr. Twister from the first Elitch's), which is my favorite wooden rooler coaster anywhere. Can't beat the view, either, downtown to the east and the mountains to the west.
One of the things I have always loved about denver is that it's really a city with a thriving downtown, like New York or Chicago or San Francisco. A lot of places (cougPhoenixcough) in the West don't have that. But Denver's downtown is awesome. Notice the trademark building on the left there. That's called the cash register building by most people (I think it was originally built as a bank headquarters) but wehn I was little I always called it the mailbox building.
This is not my personal favorite of all the golf courses in the Denver area, but its pretty much the coolest one to look at. It's called Arrowhead and in in the southern foothills.
This is the main terminal at Denver International Airport. The tent you see is not the actual roof, but it's there for dramatic effect. Diana think this is the funniest looking building in the world. Back when the airport was new, some PR schmuk said the tented roof was meant to suggest the snowcapped Rockies, which is a line of PR bull I doubt even he believed when he said it. Still, that's the only reason I've ever heard to explain it.
Last one. Downtown is a long street blocked off called 16th Street Mall. It's basically just a long series of buildings and shops and theatres and good stuff. It's mainly pedestrian but there is a free shuttle thats runs the full length of it and sometimes you'll see horse-drawn cabs, as well. Every city needs a downtown distination like this.
I'm feeling sort of guilty and thinking I should go back to work, so that's all for now. Maybe more when we get back.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Of birds and windows
My parents' house in Colorado used to back up to a sizable field where a number of hawks lived. The hawks would chase birds into the large kitchen windows in the back of the house, stunning them, and fly off with lunch. That was gross.
I'm not entirely sure what it is that causes birds to fly into our windows here at our house in Phoenix but they do pretty often. One died and one hurt itself so badly it couldn't move and we ended up having to take it to a bird rescue shelter.
I thought all of this was pretty gross and really quite unfortunate. But then I read this story.
I'm not entirely sure what it is that causes birds to fly into our windows here at our house in Phoenix but they do pretty often. One died and one hurt itself so badly it couldn't move and we ended up having to take it to a bird rescue shelter.
I thought all of this was pretty gross and really quite unfortunate. But then I read this story.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Bloom-shakalaka
Happy June 16, everyone. Happy Bloomsday. Bloomsday, if you don't want to click the link, the the worldwide celebration of James Joyce's novel Ulysses, a book that follows the life of a man named Leo Bloom as he travels around Dublin on - you guessed it, didn't you - 16 June, 1904. Last year was the Centennial Bloomsday, which was quite a big deal, but I know out there somewhere people are celebrating today, as well.
Now, be aware, by celebrating, I mean that probably some universities or other groups of readers are doing readinsg of the book - so maybe using the word "celebrating" was overstating the case a bit.
I read Ulysses in my senior year of college after twice starting it on my own and getting lost on, oh, about the second page. Maybe the second time I made it to the third page before throwing the thing across the room. The professor of that class is a man I loathe, who once even subtly accused me of plagiarism, who (IMHO folks) is pretty much the embodiment of what's wrong with most literary academics. And yet, he got me to read Ulysses, and for that - if nothing else, and really I mean for nothing else - I thank him.
I hope you don't think me conceited when I say that I am proud of having read this book. Reading isn't an interpersonal contest, it's an internal one. Ulysses was something I always wanted to do, and that I very often doubted I would. That I managed to, at the age of 21, not only read the whole thing but even understand a paragraph here and there is something I smile to think about. As such, today makes me happy.
If I think happily about having read Ulysses, it is not because I particularly enjoyed the experience. If the aforementioned (all for you, Tony!) professor is what's wrong with literary scholarship then Ulysses is the wrong thing that brought him about. My problem here is not with modernism or "difficult books" in principal but really with Ulysses in particular. Writers from Virginia Woolf to Ian McEwan have written books quite thematically and structurally similar to Ulysses - both both of those writers did it considerably more succintly and comprehensibly. I don't want to get into too much of an argument here on what I think literature should be, but surely we can all agree that a book no one can understand offers precious little literary value indeed. Ulysses spends far too many pages in this trap of uncomprehensibility. Still, it has moments of absolute brilliance. Moments that remind you that, yes, the same author who wrote one of the greatest stories in literature hadn't gone completely nuts by the time he wrote this novel. I mean, he at least seems to have had afew lucid days.
As such, I will leave you with this, perhaps my favorite of all literary passages, the closing words of Ulysses. May you all enjoy such an evening tonight.
"... and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."
Now, be aware, by celebrating, I mean that probably some universities or other groups of readers are doing readinsg of the book - so maybe using the word "celebrating" was overstating the case a bit.
I read Ulysses in my senior year of college after twice starting it on my own and getting lost on, oh, about the second page. Maybe the second time I made it to the third page before throwing the thing across the room. The professor of that class is a man I loathe, who once even subtly accused me of plagiarism, who (IMHO folks) is pretty much the embodiment of what's wrong with most literary academics. And yet, he got me to read Ulysses, and for that - if nothing else, and really I mean for nothing else - I thank him.
I hope you don't think me conceited when I say that I am proud of having read this book. Reading isn't an interpersonal contest, it's an internal one. Ulysses was something I always wanted to do, and that I very often doubted I would. That I managed to, at the age of 21, not only read the whole thing but even understand a paragraph here and there is something I smile to think about. As such, today makes me happy.
If I think happily about having read Ulysses, it is not because I particularly enjoyed the experience. If the aforementioned (all for you, Tony!) professor is what's wrong with literary scholarship then Ulysses is the wrong thing that brought him about. My problem here is not with modernism or "difficult books" in principal but really with Ulysses in particular. Writers from Virginia Woolf to Ian McEwan have written books quite thematically and structurally similar to Ulysses - both both of those writers did it considerably more succintly and comprehensibly. I don't want to get into too much of an argument here on what I think literature should be, but surely we can all agree that a book no one can understand offers precious little literary value indeed. Ulysses spends far too many pages in this trap of uncomprehensibility. Still, it has moments of absolute brilliance. Moments that remind you that, yes, the same author who wrote one of the greatest stories in literature hadn't gone completely nuts by the time he wrote this novel. I mean, he at least seems to have had afew lucid days.
As such, I will leave you with this, perhaps my favorite of all literary passages, the closing words of Ulysses. May you all enjoy such an evening tonight.
"... and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
What Makes Summer Worth It
White Stripes show just announced for August adds yet another to this list of concerts I would like to see this summer ...
Thu / Jun 16 / Marc Broussard / Marquee Theatre
Wed / Jun 29 / Warped Tour – Offspring / Peoria Stadium: Probably not, since Diana will be in San Diego then.
Sat / July 16 / Alanis Morissette / Dodge Theatre: Laugh it up, bitch. Alanis is actually God, remember?
Tues / July 19 / Ray LaMontagne / Marquee Theatre
Sat / July 23 / DMB / Alpine Music Theatre / Wisconsin
Sun / July 24 / DMB / Alpine Music Theatre / Wisconsin
Fri / August 5 / Jack Johnson / Dodge Theatre
Tue / Aug 16 / American Idols Live / Glendale Arena
Fri / Aug 19 / White Stripes / Dodge Theatre
Thu / Aug 25 / Coldplay / Cricket Pavilion
Sat / August 27 / DMB / Home Depot / LA: Have tickets but this is kind of up to Diana (and Erin)
Tues / August 30 / DMB / Cricket Pavilion
Also, DMB at Red Rocks in Denver mid-September is apparently very likely. So hopefully that. And U2 in Vegas in November ... and.
BTW, one of those shows listed above is a joke. Were you paying attention? Or did you just rool your eyes at my questionable taste?
Thu / Jun 16 / Marc Broussard / Marquee Theatre
Wed / Jun 29 / Warped Tour – Offspring / Peoria Stadium: Probably not, since Diana will be in San Diego then.
Sat / July 16 / Alanis Morissette / Dodge Theatre: Laugh it up, bitch. Alanis is actually God, remember?
Tues / July 19 / Ray LaMontagne / Marquee Theatre
Sat / July 23 / DMB / Alpine Music Theatre / Wisconsin
Sun / July 24 / DMB / Alpine Music Theatre / Wisconsin
Fri / August 5 / Jack Johnson / Dodge Theatre
Tue / Aug 16 / American Idols Live / Glendale Arena
Fri / Aug 19 / White Stripes / Dodge Theatre
Thu / Aug 25 / Coldplay / Cricket Pavilion
Sat / August 27 / DMB / Home Depot / LA: Have tickets but this is kind of up to Diana (and Erin)
Tues / August 30 / DMB / Cricket Pavilion
Also, DMB at Red Rocks in Denver mid-September is apparently very likely. So hopefully that. And U2 in Vegas in November ... and.
BTW, one of those shows listed above is a joke. Were you paying attention? Or did you just rool your eyes at my questionable taste?
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