Blog

  • My “Merch” Page

    I sit in my little office, and I try to come up with things. Sometimes I write them down, and put them up on my blog. Other times, I send them out to magazines – both online and print – with the hopes that they get published. I have made some headway in this regard, but my results have been modest, to say the most. Through all of this, there has been a goal in the back of my mind, which is that I will earn enough money from my writing to go and buy a new computer. Not that I need a new computer, it’s more of a symbol, and sounds better than saying I want to earn $1,000. (But if someone out there wants to buy me a MacBook Air 13-inch with M2 chip, I won’t say no.) As of the end of August, combining what I have earned from my writing and the ads on my blog, I have $6.69.

    I started to think, I might need to diversify my income streams from my writing. Hence why I am contemplating opening up a “merch” store on the blog.

    This might require that I come up with a logo. Maybe a funny catch phrase or two that could go on a sweatshirt or a hoodie. And I gotta have coffee mugs.

    I produced enough shows and ran some theatre companies that I know you never make your money off of ticket sales; it’s the concessions and the mech that really pays for everything. Well, that and grants and a large loyal donor base…

    Point being, maybe my tens and tens of fans are coming for my witty observations and inspired criticisms, but that stuff doesn’t pay the bills, you know.

    First of all, I do need you guys to like and subscribe as that does help me move up in the algorithm.

    Next, I will set up a page on the blog, and get some really funny and catchy shit on t-shirts that we all can wear ironically (or sincerely… they’ll always wonder when reading it…) I haven’t forgotten about the coffee mugs; those will have inspirational crap on it, like “The Only Rule is that There Are No Rules.”

    Right?

    Oh, and I’m open to a refurbished MacBook Air from like a year, as well.

  • Short Story Review: “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman

    (The short story “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman appeared in the September 30th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Annie Collinge for The New Yorker

    I’m paraphrasing this, but John Lennon said the best way to become a good song writer, is that you first have to write a lot of bad songs. I think that applies to any artist; to make good art, you have to make a whole lot of bad art first. That doesn’t mean that the bad art only serves the purpose of getting the artist to their good art. No, bad art can help in so many ways. That was one of the thoughts that went through my head while reading “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman’s effectively touching story.

    Here’s a way too short synopsis: Lily is a sixth grader who is writing a story, about the Princess Ambrose, while also dealing with the difficulties of her parent’s divorce. Elements of Lily’s life work their way into the world of Princess Ambrose.

    What Goodman’s story just smashes are the little details. The way Lily decorates her notebook that contains the story, her parents concern, the words and phrases used by grownups talking about kids, and the way Lily sees her parents sitting together when they haven’t in a long time. I appreciated how Goodman approached Lily’s struggles by never belittling them, and though the school might have over reacted, the adults in Lily’s life take her seriously. But my favorite aspect was that Lily’s story wasn’t particularly good, in regard to originality or grammar. Lily creating a “good story” really isn’t the point so much as Lily discovering, maybe subconsciously, that the issues of her life can be expressed and dealt with in the art she is creating. I felt that was a very honest and authentic way to dramatize the creation of this writer, showing us how important it is that she writes this story, even though it isn’t very good. I think lesser writers would have made Lily’s story epic, and original and well written… and that would have missed the point.

    My only criticism of the story is the ending. Not the climax, which was handled very well. No, I’m talking about the last nine paragraphs. After giving us a nice honest moment between Lily and her mother, the final scene is in Lily’s dance class with an odd fitting “deus ex machina” of a substitute dance teacher. This felt tagged on, as if to give Lily a win in the story, or to end on a button. I found it distracting because the story was taking us to a place where Lily, and her parents, are all learning that this life together will be difficult, but they will face it as a family. Just didn’t sit right with me.

    That’s not to say that I’m not recommending this story. “Ambrose” is sweet, and moves with an airy confidence that is charming. Goodman makes Lily a very interesting, and intelligent kid who is going through a time in her life which makes everything a challenge. This isn’t life and death drama, but Goodman shows how impactful moments in a six grader’s life can be.

  • Missing Sleep, and Snuggles

    Last night was a rough night of sleep for me. The wife went to be at 10, and I was going to follow her at 10:30, which is normal for us. (She needs a head start, because if we go to bed together, I will fall asleep first, and I will snore which will cause my wife not to sleep, and you can see why I don’t want this to happen.) And right as I was about to get off the couch and go to bed, the kid got up.

    She was sleep walking, and mumbling, and I quickly put her back into bed. This happens from time to time, so no big deal. Other than the fact that I was awake, and had trouble falling asleep. Then the kid did this three more times, and by 1:30 in the morning, I started to wonder if I was ever getting to sleep. We all did, but my total for the night was four hours of sleep.

    To say that I am dragging, well, that’s accurate. I have nodded off twice while trying to write this. Sure, doesn’t help that I am sitting on my bed, but still – nodding off over here. I might do a power nap before I leave to get the kid from school.

    When all of this was going on last night – the kid sleep walking and try to coax her back to bed – I thought about when the kid was a little baby, and getting her fussy little butt to calm down and get some sleep. We had a rocking chair then, and even though we normally got a few hours of sleep during that period in our life, there was an understanding that fussiness with sleep was a temporary problem, she would grow out of it eventually, and also that her being tiny and snuggly was also a limited timed offer. She wouldn’t be a snuggle bug for long.

  • Japanese Curry and the Fun of Trying New Foods

    YouTube is now the devil in my home. I say that because I find myself watching YouTube videos before I head off the bed. It started simple; I would watch rounds of different disc golf tournaments or Bad Movie Bible videos. Then somehow the algorithm figured out that I am curious about making Japanese food.

    The cooking video that Google decided that I needed to see was this guy:

    I respect Kenji’s cooking show and the recipe he put forth. I do draw an exception with putting raisins in curry, or any food that isn’t trail mix. It’s just gross people, always has been, always will.

    Like I said, not sure how I got to this video, but am I glad that I arrived, because now I have to make my own. As luck would have it, the local H-Mart carried the curry powder that Kenji used in his video, so later this week, I will give his recipe a try… except no raisins. Honestly, it’s just a bad idea.


    The great thing is that my kid is game for this. I don’t know how we did this, but we have a kid that is willing to try new foods, no questions asked. When I was her age, what my mom prepared us was pretty middle of the road, Midwestern American food. Nothing crazy or surprising, as most of the recipes my mom followed either came from Betty Crocker, or her mom, or her mother-in-law. Later in life, both of my folks became much more adventurous with food. Probably because they didn’t haver to feed three boys anymore.

    I was lucky enough to make great friends in college, who were from all over the world, or had at least traveled around the world. It was positive peer-pressure, as I didn’t want to look like the unrefined yokel who was afraid to try sushi, or Indian food, or the Mongolian grill, or the new Pho place that opened up down the street from campus. And it also helped that I started dating a gal who was a trained chef, and trying new foods was like her whole thing. And then I married her, so that kind’a sealed my fate.

    Point here, I guess, is that I’m going to try my hand at making Japanese curry. I am very fortunate that I have a wife and kid that encourage me to try my hand at creating these dishes, as they are very open to trying them. Oh, and I have really great friends that forced me out of my culinary comfort zone twenty years ago.

    Just, no raisins please.

  • ODDS and ENDS: The Dog Groomer, Fart in French, and Ice Cream

    (We’re all excited, but we don’t know why…)

    I love my dog. I always thought of myself as a cat person, but once we got the dog… well, I’m still a cat guy, but I do want to have a dog from here on out. And loving my dog, means loving all of her, including the bad stuff that she does. Which is very little, I might add. What the dog does that drives us nuts, and we haven’t been able to get her to stop, is that the dog goes ape-shit anytime she sees another dog. Like growling, and barking, and trying to break free from the leash so she can go and kill that other dog. It can make taking her for a walk a very challenging endeavor. Anyway, so when we take the dog to the groomers, the dog does her normal stuff when she sees the other dogs getting groomed, she goes bananas. So, we leave her, and when we come back to the groomers, they tell us how great of a dog she was; so kind, nice, and friendly. And we’ll ask if our dog was this nice version, even when other dogs were around, and the groomers tells us yes; that our dog was even friendly to the other dogs. This has happened enough times over the past five years, that I have come down to one of two conclusions; the groomers are telling us lies because no one wants to hear that their dog is an asshole, or our dog puts on this tough act in front of other dogs only when we’re around.

    My mother was a very proper woman. You had to really make her mad to swear, and she did embarrass easy. Yet, she raised three boys, and there was a lot of farting. BUT, my mother never said the word fart. No, that would be most improper. As she was raised in a French-American home, she did bring one, and only one, French term into our lives; péter. (That’s French for fart.) For the first several years of my life, I thought everyone also used the word péter. When I got to school, I learned quickly that no one used this word. Yet, the tern stuck with me, and in honor of my French heritage, I have made sure that my daughter knows that péter means fart in French.

    And, I want ice cream for dinner.