gatball

One of the places I've been interviewing at, asking whether I'd consider sponsoring various clubs (depends), coach volleyball (sure, I played before), or coach baseball.

Huh?

I don't remember putting anything about baseball on my resume or application materials, not even under "nerdy obsessions."

I first think, no. I didn't even play Little League. I've played in church leagues and intramurals during undergrad.

Then I think, wait. This could potentially be ridiculously awesome.

Visions of Gatball swirled in front of me. Gatball (TM) would mostly consist of meticulously memorizing baseball stats from say, the last 25 years or so.

Who was the NL Rookie of the Year in 1987? Benito Santiago, fool! Who was the AL Cy Young for 1993? Black Jack McDowell, friends. (Greg Maddux won in the NL, which kinda made Chicago the center of the pitching world, I guess.)

The major downside to coaching baseball would be having to wear the uni, for sure. There's no way anybody looks good wearing those. There's something weird about having a non-athlete go through the rigor of wearing an ill-fitting uni. We don't do it any other sport, so why does baseball insist? They could wear comfortable althetic gear, like football coaches do, would definitely make a lot more sense.

Anyway. Something to shoot for. I already know I can do a better job than some people. Ahem.

(He has a hitting video that he sells on his website. Can't wait to get to the section on "Batting hacktastic free swingers with no plate discipline at the top of the lineup because they have speed." Or, maybe, "the Everyman Baseball Proletariat Ethic of Jose Macias," and "The God-man: Neifi Perez.")

God bless ya Dusty. I'll continue to keep my non-dark skin out of the sun while I work on the tenets of Gatball (TM).

what?

Bros. Maximillian and Pio. Who says being holy isn't cool? They're CFRs (Franciscans of the Renewal) working with the poor in Brooklyn.

While on another mission trip down in South America, the nuns they were working with asked the American brothers to sing an American song. Brother Maximillian, never at a lost, dusts off a swank version of Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler." The sisters all applaud and clap, their English not sophisticated enough to understand the song. When queried about his song choice, Br. Max said "It was the first thing that came into my head." God bless you, brothers.

... ladies

My first time going to watch a stand-up routine at his Friday night show. Thanks Melody, for finding him, wherever you found him. I haven't laughed like that in a long time. It's also nice to know that I'm not alone/crazy for noticing little things and wondering why they are that way.

"Spare change and wedgies are the same, because I only give them to people are who are really asking for it."

"I like how an eating contest, turns into a pooping contest."

"Exes and ok movies are also the same. They're both ok at the time, and I enjoyed them, but I wouldn't want to see them again."

transitioning

As I get older, I realize how little fun I have in aging. The joints creak, muscles ache, ears clog, eyes dim. As the Rolling Stones testified during halftime, it's not always pretty either. (As an aside, I'm sick of hearing "wow, for 63 year olds, they sure do move well," as if seeing 63 yr olds wearing butt tight pants and prancing around is completely normal and ok.)

I've always feared that U2 would end up turning into the Rolling Stones, AKA another band turning the grindstone to sate the gluttony of shareholders and buying golden toilets. Lately, I feel like they swallow up market share just for kicks, just because they're in a position to do so without having to earn it with superior product. I still enjoyed going to the show back in the summer, but I'm through paying $100 to see them, unless I'm close enough for Bono to drip on me. The last few albums? Ok, but not great. The songwriting will never match the eloquence that Bono musters in his prepared remarks at Harvard commencements or DATA presentations or National Prayer Breakfasts or Barbara Walters interviews, and the music suffers because of it. If he cares about all of this Third World debt and AIDS stuff, why didn't it ever show up in the music? You're still a musician, an artist seeking expression, aren't you Mr. Hewson?

And the thing is, they've become so successful that it doesn't matter what anybody thinks of their work critically anymore. Their fanbase covers every continent, every major city, and the back catalog of brilliant stuff (headed by the pantheonic Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby) distills the inevitable slide into mediocrity and insures that they'll always have fans long after they're gone. The songs have become authenticators of cool (iPod commercials), even if what they're selling has nothing to do with whatever artistic statement they try to make ("CSI: Crime Scene Investigators?").

It makes me wonder, why do I bother with keeping up with these guys? I've had to make a lot of room in the mansion of my musical universe since I stayed up in bed with Achtung blaring in my Walkman. I gave the upstairs rooms to Radiohead, the Dave Matthews Band, and the Velvet Underground. Interpol is staying in the downstairs rooms, along with Sufjan Stevens, Stellastarr*, Broken Social Scene, and the New Pornographers. Portishead, Wolf Parade, and Bloc Party are the rooms above the garage, and Feist, Fiona Apple, and Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan are in the guest rooms, for the time being, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. So, with the premium on space, should I kick U2 to the curb? Tell 'em to rent somewhere else?

And then Bono restores faith again in why I liked them so much to begin with, which is that they're a great band that makes great music but also cares about the Important Things. Whatever I may think of the music, reading his address at the National Prayer Breakfast reminds me that I still admire what he tries to do. The music might not be as great anymore, or you might hate the guy, but the message is important, and I'm glad that he's talking about it, because if he didn't, self-absorbed cretins like me would skim over it in favor of thinking up another iPod playlist or if I should ask that girl who pours my coffee... out to coffee. He makes me think of things outside of myself, which is good, because I get bogged down by my own selfishness and mediocrity way too often, when I promised that I'd try not to. So. Thanks Bono.

"A number of years ago, I met a wise man who changed my life. In
countless ways, large and small, I was always seeking the Lord's blessing.
I was saying, you know, I have a new song, look after it... I have a family,
please look after them... I have this crazy idea...

And this wise man said: stop.

He said, stop asking God to bless what you're doing.

Get involved in what God is doing—because it's already blessed."

--Bono, Feb. 2, 2006

Now, for goodness sake, go work on some lyrics.

genevieve

Finally took the photos off my camera. From December. I was hoping for lots of good shots of my goddaughter, but there was only one good one with her in it. I must be an awful photographer. Here it is:

That's her godmother Laura with us. What makes me laugh is that though we're in a very "family" kind of pose, there's no way anyone would believe that we're blood-related. Anyway, here she is with her real parents.


Ugh. I hate that the walls look pissy-yellow.

arcade fire and the weekend

Still sort of recovering from leading the retreat over the weekend, with a bunch (47) of Confirmation kids from a Polish parish. It always takes me at least two days afterwards to get right again, for whatever reason. I think being extroverted for that long is what does it.

I think the retreat went pretty well, from talking to my staff and seeing the kids. We had the kids interact with some intermediate and independent care residents at a hospice-type site, as a service project. It was great; they got play to bingo together, laugh, and talk (usually really loud, because many of them were hard of hearing). The point wasn't just to have fun, but to see that everyone, even people that many would consider at worst valueless, are beautiful and true treasures from God. It tied in nicely with the theme of the Magi coming to seek Jesus, that these elderly folks were simply Magi who were that much further on the journey than the kids were. The Magi brought their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and the kids, as modern-day Magi (as it were) bring the gift of their lives to Christ. So it follows, that if the gft of their lives holds value, then so does that of everyone else, including the residents. Anyway, the Pope develops that theme much better, it's worth reading in his words rather than mine.

That was all day Saturday. I was driving home from Adoration on Sunday night, and my iPod shuffled to the Arcade Fire's "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)." I hadn't heard the song in a while, but it fit, perfectly what I'd seen. It was as if the residents I'd seen the day before were singing the song, especially with lyrics like:

Then, we tried to name our babies
But we forgot all the names that,

The names we used to know

But sometimes,

We remember our bedrooms and our parent's bedrooms and the bedrooms of our friends

Then we think of our parents...Well, whatever happened to
them?!

You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold

As the day grows dim, I hear you sing a golden hymn

It's the song I've been trying to sing...

Then I thought about "Funeral," which the Arcade Fire recorded in the midst of losing members of their families, and I thought back to the residents, with their dwindling abilities, and it all tied together in my head. What I love about "Funeral" is that it acknowledges the sadness of losing someone, but the lingering remembrance isn't a sad one; it's rather hopeful in making the best of it. So. We may all "forget the names we used to know" but at least we had the moment that we did. It wasn't all for nothing.

Needless to say, the Arcade Fire has been in heavy rotation since then.