Blog

  • ODDS and ENDS: Super Bowl, Minimalist Cities, and Gig Work

    Hey, the Super Bowl is here… whoopie… I really don’t care that much this year. I’ll watch, but it will be a “hate-watch” as I despise the Philadelphia Eagles. Besides being the Dallas Cowboys arch rival, their fans threw snowballs at Santa Claus. Yes, that’s real, and I can’t respect a fan base that hates on Santa. Which means, I guess I want to see Kansas City win. Either way, it’s just a “happening” kind of event for me. We’ll make queso and watch the commercials. The kid and the wife want to see Rihanna, so the marketing plan for that aspect was successful.

    Turns out the second worst city in America to be a minimalist in is my hometown of Arlington, TX. From what I read, air pollution, reliance on cars, and the lack of bike paths make it awful for minimalists, which sadly, I can attest to when it comes to Arlington. But in the City’s defense, it is still the largest city in America without a form of mass transit. Oh, and Salt Lake City is the best place for minimalists. Go figure…

    I started looking for a job this month. Not sure what to expect and there is no pressure, but I need to find something in the next couple of months. The wife suggested that I look into gig work. I’m open to this idea, but is there gig work that doesn’t involve delivering things; such as people, food or packages? Just wondering.

  • Short Story Review: “My Sad Dead” by Mariana Enriquez

    (The short story “My Sad Dead” by Mariana Enriquez appeared in the February 13th & 20th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Translated, from the Spanish, by Megan McDowell.)

    (It goes without saying, but just saying, SPOLIERS!)

    Photo illustration by Silvia Grav for The New Yorker

    “My Sad Dead” is a finely written story by Mariana Enriquez, and I am sure there are people who will love it greatly, but it fell flat to me. It was the equivalent of being a kid and eating my vegetables with dinner; I know it’s good for me, but I just don’t like it. Part of my hesitation to embrace the story was that the premise of a woman who can speak to dead people and get them to “calm down,” was too close to the idea behind Ghost Whisperer, the Jennifer Love Hewitt television show from the early 2000’s. The other reason is boilerplate basic, as the protagonist doesn’t learn or grow over the course of the story.

    Now, it wasn’t lost on me that the theme, or the central metaphor, was about how middle-class communities cannot divorce themselves from the blight of their societies. That these problems will land on their doorsteps eventually. Which is what happens when a ghost knocks on all the front doors late at night in the neighborhood, repeating his last act of looking for help before he is murdered by the kidnappers he escaped from. All the neighbors ignore him, thinking that he is a thief faking needing aid so as to gain entry to their homes and rob them. In this regard, the story reminded me of the short stories of Haruki Murakami, especially from his book The Elephant Vanishes. Both writers are very good at making their fantastical situations feel believable, and exist in the real world.

    Yet, when “My Sad Dead” concludes with the protagonist staying where she is, I was left feeling hollow, unsatisfied. All the ingredients are here for a satiable conclusion; death, mothers, children, ills of society… But the protagonist goes nowhere. The piece starts with the protagonist wanting to stay in the house with her mother, and ends with her reiterating that she wants to stay in the house with her mother.

    Nothing changes.

  • Pass

    I think I’m just going to pass on today. Not giving up, but I’m taking a pass. Just going to listen to music and read, and not do much else.

    I’ll do more tomorrow.

  • Watching the Grammys with My Kid

    It was a changing of the guard last night. The old was replaced with the new, officially. Yes, while watching the Grammys last night with my eight-year-old daughter, she took the time to explain to me who these artist are, and what songs they were playing. I didn’t let her know that I knew who the artists were, and I had most of their songs on several of my playlists, but that didn’t matter. In our house, the kid became the ambassador of what is cool and hip in music, while the wife and I were relegated to the back bench of the current culture.

    Watching the Grammys is my wife’s thing. Always has been, always will be. She does have a better ear than I when it comes to new music. If it were up to me, I probably wouldn’t listen to anything that came out after 2006. But, I have her in my life, so I am made aware, often, of things I need to listen to. Maybe, with my preference for “older” music, that is the reason why my daughter took it upon herself to help inform me of what was happening last night on the telecast.

    The cycle is now complete. I went from the student, to the master, and now I am back to the student. My older brothers were the gatekeepers in our house of what was, and was not good music; My oldest brother with his hair metal, and my other brother, the middle child, defending new wave. From this, I became the defender of rock and grunge, explaining to my parents who these people were on the Grammys in the 90’s. Now, my child has taken the mantel from me. I have much to learn, according to her. The truth is that I value moments like the one that happened last night. My daughter is starting to assert herself, creating her own opinions, and defending her choices. Right now, this is a friendly, fun and learning exercise between us. There is always a chance that in her teenaged years, this could take on a more confrontational aspect, which is why I make a point of not making fun of the artist and songs she thinks are important. I want her to know that she can voice her opinions to me, and she will know that I might not agree with it, but I will respect it.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, Balloons, and Formal Clothes

    (Help me find the funk…)

    The Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame is bullshit, but it can be fun bullshit. Like last year with Dolly being inducted. She was right, as a county singer and songwriter, she didn’t belong there. But Dolly is such a huge influential talent across all music, everyone wants to claim her as their own. Even when Dolly logically and politely protested the induction, no cared, and in the she agreed to join. See, that was fun bullshit. The fact that Soundgarden still hasn’t been inducted is real bullshit… if the RnRHoF was a real institution that had any bearing on anything. Soundgarden was one of the founding bands of the Seattle sound and grunge music. Shit, if lame ass Jackson Browne is in there, surely there has to be room on the shelf for Soundgarden.

    And China is sending balloons to spy on us, which is a novel approach. No one is surprised that China is spying on us. Everyone spies on everyone. What this reminds are the Fu-Go Balloon Bombs that Japan tried to use against the us in World War II. The purpose was to start large forest fires, but it never really worked as planned, though one bomb killed six people in 1945. (The part of the story that I find the most interesting is that unexploded bombs were found in forests years, and years after the war. There is a good chance that there are still bombs in the woods of the Pacific Northwest.) So, I’m not really surprised that China revamped the idea. At the same time, it also feels like an idea that is doomed to fail. Either it won’t travel where you want it, or it will be discovered.

    Since the Pandemic, I would say that my clothing has been rather casual. Like, casual all the time. I am comfy. I have a huge, blue cardigan sweater on, and it makes me feel like I am being hugged all day. But, I think I want to go back to wearing sports coats and blazers again. Not sure about ties, but I feel I am lacking in a sense of formality, which could be detrimental when I start interviewing for jobs again. All actions in life are a skill, and if you don’t practice those skills, they are doomed to fade away. It might be a sports coat with pajama bottoms, but it is still a sports coat.