Category: Life

Dogpatch Redux and Laptop Joy

Thanks to alert neighbor Rob Wolfe, I found out that Wikipedia’s featured article today is on Dogpatch, which contains a few links to my site. Maybe I’ll get inundated with traffic. Or not.

I finally got all my raw plog files transferred to the laptop from my desktop at the office. These are all the files from my digital camera, almost two years worth of stuff. All of which is now accessible to the random-picture-grabbing screensaver. This is the coolest little feature for someone like myself who has thousands of pictures to choose from. It’s a slideshow of my life for the last two years. When I’m dead I imagine something like this will run at my funeral. I get totally sucked in to watching it. I think I’m going to leave it on at the house whenever people come over.

The Laptop and Cake

Regarding the guitar cake in the post from the 30th, you can now contact the sculptress for all your custom cake-baking needs:

Casey Engelhoven
Kitkatta2221 @ yahoo . com
(501) 372-1863

I got a laptop on Monday!! Kevin at work got a free Sony VAIO for participating in some online promotions. He also got a DVD writer. I bought both for $900. I have been without a working CD writer for well over a year now. I’ve already made two CDs for Katherine’s upcoming roadtrip. All my free time will now be spent on making compilations for everyone, probably a two-volume set since I have accrued so many good songs over the last year, much of it a direct result of Jamie’s influence.

Scenes from a Changing Century

I asked my friend Michael to give me his address so I could send him this postcard I found in California. He gave me his three email addresses.

The virtual may someday entirely supplant the actual. I told him:

Postal address, you ass! Postcards go in the mail. It’s this archaic system whereby these people called “mail men” actually hand-deliver bits of paper to your residence. It’s retro chic.

In other news, I’m giddily excited to finally have in my possession the entire 39 episode run of The Mysterious Cities of Gold, a French-Japanese anime venture that ran on Nickelodeon in the 80’s. It was a serial cartoon, so that the episodes combined to make essentially one long movie. I haven’t seen it since probably 1985. Last week I found a guy who burns DV-R’s culled from the out-of-print Japanese DVDs as well as bits from the US broadcasts. As with much of my nostalgia-glazed memories of 80’s cartoons, the show turned out not to be as amazing as I thought it was, but still it remains a great example of entertaining and educational kids’ programming. I remember it really got me interested in native South American and Central American cultures like the Incas, Mayans, Aztecs and Olmecs.

Oops I Did It Again

Another $150 black Ibanez 7-string came my way today. This time with hard case. How could I not get it? What a steal! I was having lunch with Natalie at Vino’s and she mentioned that her friend Clint was selling his, so I called him and checked it out. It’s in even better condition than the other one I’ve got. Of course this one was made in Korea rather than Japan, but who’s counting? [1]

We got my brother Trey married off yesterday. I was a groomsman for the first time. Tons of family members came in. Rehearsal dinner was Friday. The ceremony was at 1PM Saturday at St. Paul’s United Methodist in the Heights. Reception at the event hall inside the train station. Pictures soon. The groomsmen all had a lot of fun watching the sad, sad Razorbacks game in the church meeting room before the wedding. After the reception, Heather, my sister Mandy, cousin Leslie, and myself went downtown to find something to do, and found the Dave Matthews Tribute Band playing at Sticky Fingerz. I highly recommend this group. The drummer absolutely nails it. You can get by on sax, bass, guitar or violin in a DMB cover band, but you cannot front on Carter Beauford. You have to have serious chops to play his stuff. My old drummer friend Thelton came out for the show and we totally geeked out on the drummer’s performance. We talked to the guy afterward and he said this sort of thing wasn’t his usual bag – he has been a gospel drummer for 22 years (the guy couldn’t be older than 30). The sax guy sat with us during the break, too. His background is classical. Interesting bunch.

1.) For those of you playing at home, we have now hit the 17 guitars mark. Or 16 since the Turser tele is in Austin with Tara. Or 15 if you count the Atomic Strat being at Barry’s for the kids to bang on. Anybody want to buy the purple OLP?

Lapdances for Everyone

My brother had his bachelor party last night. I say “party” but really it was five guys drinking at Sticky Fingerz and Paper Moon. I had never been to a strip club before. Not because I had anything against them, just because I never had any overriding interest in investigating them. It’s just another one of those things I had never gotten around to, like learning to bake a pie or ride a motorcycle. I wasn’t sure quite what to think; I’m sure, given my tendencies toward overly analytical sociological observation, I could write volumes on the experience, but I’ll keep it brief and say I was pleasantly surprised. From seeing their depiction in movies, I assumed a level of sleaziness was inherent in these places, but there was no “I’m too sexy” posturing or detached posing. The girls were very friendly and sweet. Obviously they’re getting paid to be nice, so they can solicit lapdances, but really that’s not too far removed from Wal-Mart greeters getting paid to smile and say “hi.” It’s just good customer service. It’s not a job you take if you’re not at least somewhat interested in being honestly friendly with people.

Maybe I’ll write more on the topic later; there are so many interesting layers of social interaction going on at a strip club.

Now I know I’m from another planet when I walk into a strip club thinking “what a fascinating sociological case study” rather than “mmmm, boobies.” However, the latter eventually did outlast the former.

October-November Romance

Saturday I played at my friend Amy Bennett’s wedding. For her processional she wanted “If You Want to Sing Out” by Cat Stevens from the movie Harold and Maude. I had never heard the song, so Jason let me borrow the DVD and wow, what a perfect song and movie. I love discovering older stuff that I never know about; it’s an increasingly rare occurrence for me, having been sired by a man who has more movie posters than wall space.

The song was easy enough, but I wrote out an EZ-baroque counterpoint version of it to make it more…matrimonial? It worked out well. Interestingly enough, Amy is marrying a guitar player. David Planchet is his name, and he brought his ’62 Gibson to the wedding with him. His groom’s cake was an exact replica of that guitar. I can’t tell you how detailed this cake was. Tragically I left my camera at home, but I took a pic with the crusty trusty camera phone.

Come back later and I’ll have the contact information for the sculptress who created this magical thing. I ate the headstock. I almost didn’t want to. The Gibson logo was perfectly rendered, the frets accurate, the tuning pegs made with toothpicks, and the piece de resistance…a pitch-accurate lead sheet of Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing” made out of icing!

Also Saturday was Hillcrest’s annual Harvest Fest. I ran into an old high school chum who’s running for State Treasurer. Vote for Mac Campbell. My friend Hal did his website. What a weird world I’m moving into when the guy who might be State Treasurer was the guy who ran Spanish Club, and the company that did his website is run by the guy with whom I used to watch WWF and listen to Ray Stevens tunes.

This Saturday is my brother Trey’s wedding. So this week promises to be even more surreal than the last.

The Darning of the Sox

Slate had a fun article on why the White Sox and Red Sox have an “x” in their names. The piece contains links to some interesting stories about late 19th/early 20th century spelling reformists who wanted to simplify the English language. Sadly, they failed, and schoolchildren get their first taste of the breakdown of logical standards by first grade. And as if the indeterminacy of standards weren’t bad enough, wait until they find out about the indeterminacy of rules.[1]

In other news, here’s a picture from Tara’s reunion. It felt like prom, but with good wine instead of cheap beer. And I have better hair now.

Tara, will you marry me?

And to all you lurkers out there who didn’t offer opinions on my last post…you pansies. I know you’re out there; some of you have emailed me. People from Harrison, people from Arkansas Times, the doctor that works with Jessica. Go give me your opinion on the restaurant question. I need to know what y’all think.

And another thing. Check out Shelley Raymond. She’s really good. She’s a friend of a friend.

1.) Fortunately for them, they probably never will. I was surprised to find that searching Google for “wittgenstein ‘indeterminacy of rules’ chair” brought up only two websites. I thought Wittgenstein’s example of the Chair Problem was an elementary philosophical conundrum. Of course, my philosophy professor was John Churchill, the Teddy Roosevelt of Philosophical Inquiry, so it’s hard for me to know what everyone else was taught in Intro to Philosophy.

Help Me Out Here

My neighbors want the restaurant next door to my house to abide by zoning restrictions that say it can only have so many seats and can only stay open until 6:30. The restaurant’s owner wants to extend the zoning to add more seats and stay open until 9:00. Several of my neighbors just don’t like the restaurant because they think it negatively affects property values and clogs up traffic on the street. Also, the dumpster is an issue. So they don’t want to give the place an inch. Personally I like the restaurant, and I think 6:30 would hinder them financially, plus I might actually want to eat there around 6:30. So far, patrons have been good about parking on the wider street of Woodlawn rather than the narrow Tyler that most of the neighbors live on, and I don’t smell anything from the dumpster.

My question to you is, do think having a restaurant in a residentially zoned neighborhood would affect property values negatively? Am I the only person that finds it charming and actually a plus? Would you be more or less likely to buy a house near a small restaurant? Leave a comment with your thoughts.

All you lurkers out there who don’t actually know me, chime in. I know you’re out there. Help a brother out.

Please Sir, May I Have Some More?

Hot on the heels of the batch of pictures from last week, here are some new pictures taken over my four-state jaunt last weekend.

Tara pointed out to me recently that I don’t tend to take pictures of people. She’s right[1], and I’m trying to figure out why that is. Lord knows I met some interesting characters last weekend. I guess I just don’t want to bother people to take their picture, and whatever peculiar joy I get from taking pictures rarely arises from posed, smiling[2] shots. I’m still trying to figure out what sparks the “ooh grab the camera” reaction in my head. Looking through my pictures, the one recurring theme is that my subjects either seem odd (weird signs), or one-time-only (cloud formations). Maybe I shouldn’t think about the impulse too much. I might lose it.

1.) Actually the only times I like to take pictures of people are when they’re not aware I’m doing it.
2.) Read: Fake