For the last few weeks, I’ve started writing a blog typically too late at night (on a weekend night only, of course) and almost assuredly after that last unnecessary glass of wine. In any event, most of the ideas were weak and not what I’d consider up to snuff for THE READERS.
For example, I launched into a 769-word exegesis regarding the songs “I Will Wait” by Mumford & Sons and “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and The Heart. I hypothesized how the rhythm and crescendo of each song were like snippets of varying sexual escapades. Once I started to re-read the post, it became clear that there was no real connection to fatherhood other than discussing the process in which a couple may produce a baby. Consequently, that diatribe did not make the cut - though I’d be happy to discuss the theory with anyone if we cross paths at a party or something.
Then, I started writing about how the kids have become picky when eating meat proteins as of late, yet I discovered that all three of them are huge fans of bacon. (I never realized this until a breakfast that I made a few weeks ago - I know, inexcusable.) But then I admitted that bacon seems to get a lot of air play these days, so I got gun shy when I couldn’t think of a cool spin on swine.
A different draft that I threw away was inspired following a night out with the guys when we were commiserating about our honey-do lists. We weren’t complaining about the chores at all. We were just laughing about how our wives think that every project takes sixty minutes or less. We called it the “magic hour.”
Mow the lawn? Her estimate - 10 minutes. His estimate - 90 minutes if you include weed wacking, 120 minutes if you include raking, engine maintenance, clearing debris from the walkways and driveway, etc.
Assemble something from IKEA? Her estimate - 30 minutes. His estimate - 60 minutes. For me - at least three hours, which includes the inevitable call to customer service about a part that seems to be missing.
Anyway, the draft started off kind of funny but there wasn’t enough material for a complete blog there.
So, I decided ultimately to revisit the “hodgepodge” concept. It is a lazy man’s way of writing a proper entry. Basically, each of the following would be good fodder for “Side Bar” or “For the Record” entries, but I’ve got nothing else to go on and I don’t want to go a whole month without posting. Without further ado...
For better or worse, my awareness of things chic and hip arrives at a glacial pace. For the last few weeks, or maybe months, I’ve heard both the phrase “Gangnam Style” and the actual song itself. However, I never connected the song’s title and the song itself until very recently, which made me feel like I was an octogenarian.
When my epiphany occurred and I linked together what were previously two separate concepts, I felt a bit euphoric in knowing that I would be able to google the lyrics. For the longest time, I’ve been singing “Woke up condom star” in lieu of “Oppan Gangnam Style” and it’s been killing me because I knew I was way off base. (You laugh, but I dare you to sing “Woke up condom star” next time you hear the song – it’s on all the time – and tell me you don’t think I was at least in the neighborhood.
Anyway, here is a link to the lyrics if you care: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/psy/gangnam+style_21031735.html. I anticipate Gangnam will ultimately go the same way of “Who let the dogs out?,” “All I want to do is a zoom, zoom, zoom, and a boom boom,” and “I wish I was a little bit taller” but let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.
Speaking of songs whose words I don’t know, can someone please tell me what “Some Nights” is about by the band “fun.”? I’m not sure if it is a happy song or a sad one. The beat tells me it’s happy but then that part in the song towards the end when the singer talks about looking into his nephew’s eyes gets me all confused. I know I could google these lyrics but I want to figure it out for myself if possible.
Recently read Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King. It is a collection of four novellas that published in 2009 or 2010. I really loved it. All four stories were dark. But each of them were dark for different reasons. I believe one of them is currently in production for a film. While I wouldn’t say this collection of novellas is anything close to Different Seasons, which included “Shawshank Redemption,” “Apt Pupil,” and “The Body,” (titled “Stand by Me” at the movies) I recommend it for anyone who enjoys horror fiction.
While we are here, I wanted to quote a blurb from what King wrote in his afterward. I feel dorky saying this, but I found the message really inspiring.
“From the start … I felt that the best fiction was both propulsive and assaultive. It gets in your face. Sometimes it shouts in your face. I have no quarrel with literary fiction, which usually concerns itself with extraordinary people in ordinary situations, but as both a reader and a writer, I’m much more interested by ordinary people in extraordinary situations. I want to provoke an emotional, even visceral, reaction in my readers. Making them think as they read is not my deal. I put that in italics, because if the tale is good enough and the characters vivid enough, thinking will supplant emotion when the tale has been told and the book set aside (sometimes with relief.)”
Fucking brilliant. Couldn’t have written it better. And that part about setting the book aside with relief – I felt that way when I finished Full Dark, No Stars because the stories made me feel uncomfortable in a good way, if that makes sense.
Lana Del Rey? I don’t deny that she’s talented. In fact, I do like her voice. But I’m not sold on her style of music. At least, just not yet. And I can’t say that I know anyone who has ever said they are a fan of hers. Does anyone care enough to try to convince me otherwise?
As made abundantly clear by my Gangnam discussion above, I’m one of the least qualified to ever discuss what current fad is now or suddenly passé. However, I am amused and equally appalled by the sudden resurgence of two trends I’ve seen on the streets recently, which harken back to the late 80’s and early 90’s: flat top hair cuts (a la Kid-n-Play) on African-American men and pegging the pant legs. I can’t say that I am surprised by the hair style, but the pegging is a shocker to me. While I fancied myself a pretty good pegger, I couldn’t hold a candle to the peg-skills of my buddy Noonan. I’m praying that he embraces the fad’s resurgence.
November, 2012 in my household will go down in my book as the bodily secretion trifecta.
Exhibit 1: Tilly has pooped in the tub three times. It’s like Caddy Day At The Pool from Caddyshack except I don’t have an assistant groundskeeper to clean up the doodie.
Exhibit 2: Gus has developed a knack for nailing me with a golden shower when changing his diaper.
Exhibit 3: Greta puked all over me and sort of into my mouth a few weeks ago as I carried her from her bed to the bathroom. Perhaps due to my pledging days at Kappa Sig, this did not bother me as much as it probably should.
All three of them have colds as of tonight, so add mucus and phlegm as a wildcard to the list. Fingers crossed, they'll be back to normal sooner rather than later.
I’m really looking forward to December, 2012.