Clusterflockstock 1.9
If you’d asked me a week ago what color Andrew’s eyes are, I couldn’t have told you. Now I’ll never forget.
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Uh-Oh
Anybody seen Deron in the last hour?
Ireland, a couple of weeks ago
I can report that it’s still here. I took a lot of photos of Connemara earlier this month, which are up on Flickr. I’m still building the set.
I’m going back
to Texas tomorrow, y’all. For a week, anyways.
Big party on Dutton Drive. The last waltz. The final hurrah.
“Hey, my mom’s not at home. You wanna come over?”
I Should Kick Myself
The entry into the garage. We had new siding put on the house three…four? years ago. At the time, they also put in new garage doors with openers, new windows in the media room (a 10′x25′ room on the south side of the house). Why I didn’t include this door in the deal is a mystery to me. I remember thinking, “Ooo, this is too much money.” But, honestly, what would another three or four hundred dollars have done to the loan, lien on the house over the course of fifteen years?
Nevermind the decaying concrete ruined by ten years of throwing “snow-melt” on top of it, that now needs to be ripped out and replaced. “All in good time,” I keep thinking. “All in good time.” And then there’s the landscaping. Oh, fuck it. The shoemaker’s kids go without shoes.
Skinny men are sometimes fat babies
The proof is in eating the pudding.
strut
Traveler’s Badge of Shame
Now you know. All of you.
Largely why I was hated in high school
Phil once asked somthing like “is there a photo of yourself you wouldn’t show someone?” This would be it, if I were showing it. The dude on the left was my neighbor to the north of our house in the background. We shared a driveway.
Thank you, Cindy.
Not only is Cindy Scroggins a performance artist, but she is an information specialist. If ever you are looking for lodging in the Dallas area, you just call up Cindy. She will not steer you wrong.
At The La Quinta Uptown, some of the rooms have heat. Mine even had hot running water for two or three minutes. If you want to wash but your timing is off, you can fill the sink with cold water, then add water you’ve boiled in the coffeemaker and give yourself a whore’s bath.
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Let a Professional Do It
When I posted this, the phrase “insert in post” caught my eye.
from the comments
Phil Bebbington: Well, I am in Texas and spent my first night in Johnson City. I had Catfish served on a plastic plate whilst watching two drunks play pool – one swore he knew me and kissed me on the hand – this is only half the story, perhaps the material of a post, not sure.
They were barely able to walk when we were kicked out at 9 and yet almost managed to drive a straight line!
So any day now
Kelsey is flying to Paris, and Phil is flying to Houston.
Just think.
Felicitations, Phil,
on your natal anniversary. Now you are a big boy and can wear long trousers.
from the department of typos
Have succeeded in building strong partnerships with beers…
Submitted to my manager as part of my annual performance review.
Meet the Flockers: Joseph Logan
When the sun cast its golden rays on the foothills at daybreak today, I thought, “Today is my first day as a Flocker. Anything is possible.” Rick Neece and Deron Bauman made it so; for that, I am deeply grateful.
With thanks to Josh for the format, here’s what’s up:
Origins:
My surname is Scot-Irish. It has no discernible relevance to who I am.
Interests:
My background is in the theory of organizations. I’m interested in aggregate behavior, and I talk about it here. After working in a big corporation for several years, I now spend most of my time helping start-ups become going concerns. Aside from my work, which is really not work at all (because I’m a big ol’ org geek), I’m interested in Southern culture, foreign affairs, politics, visual design, the music of Tom Waits, the photography of William Eggleston, classic spy novels, and culinary arts. I recently decided to swear off alcohol, which I enjoyed immensely, but I still like fine food. Incidentally, I am trying to figure out a good nonalcoholic pairing for rare steak topped with caramelized onions in a red wine reduction. Suggestions are appreciated.
Location:
I grew up in McKenzie TN, about which I have written as Christopher Walken (see “Courthouse Envy”). My first job there was in a factory that made mobile homes. I drove a dump truck. That factory has since burned to the ground.
In the years since, I have lived in Memphis, Nashville, Lexington KY, Washington DC, Wilmington DE, and the Boston area (Cambridge, Josh. Would have loved to live in the post-molasses North End, though). My wife and I recently moved to Denver CO after having lived in The Hague, Netherlands, for 2.5yrs. While there, I shared a doctor with Slobodan Milosevic.
We now live about a mile from Columbine High School and about five miles from Red Rocks.
Religion:
I grew up in a Southern Baptist church and a Methodist church, which should explain my atheism and disinterest.
Family:
My wife, Ronya, is my best friend and one of the coolest people I know. We are the proud parents of three cats: Cassius, Luna, and June Carter.
Like Josh, I have experienced an unusual amount of family and friend death in the last couple of years. The most disturbing loss was that of my grand-uncle and best friend last spring. He penned the letter to the editor in “Courthouse Envy”, and his writings are likely to pop up again.
American Authors:
Not sure if American Authors is the ‘Flock tradition, but I realized upon contemplation that I don’t read many American Authors. William Faulkner and Walker Percy are two, but I’m also fond of the science fiction of Orson Scott Card and Neal Stephenson as well as the graphic adaptations of Batman by Neil Gaiman, Jeph Loeb, Tim Sale, and others. I’ll think of half a dozen other American authors I love as soon as I click “Publish”.
Across the pond, I’ve enjoyed Forsythe, le Carré, Faulks, and Greene, as well as some of the older classics. For nonfiction, I enjoy the travel writing of Bill Bryson, Stuart Maconie, and Chuck Thompson. I won’t bore you with the obscure names of the org theory writers I like.
Age:
I just turned 40. It was no big deal.
Lurking about:
I’ve been moonlighting as Christopher Walken for far less time than Josh, but I’ve been a fan for a long time. I’m truly honored to be here.
Conclusion:
Hmmm… What’s left to say? I promise, to the best of my abilities, to protect, preserve, and defend the ethos of Clusterflock…
See The Flockers: Josh Weichhand
This is me in 2007. The lack of a face and the t-shirt seem to be appropriate metaphors.
This is me a couple weeks ago after movie-hopping with a flask and my best girl.
Meet The Flockers: Josh Weichhand
Okay, let me just get out my index cards… (clearing throat).
Greetings to the greater Clusterflock community, flockers, readers, Christopher Walkens, etc. My name is Josh Weichhand and I’m the newest addition to the Flock. Thanks for opening the door.
Before moving on, I should take a moment to acknowledge Mr. Andrew Simone, who had more than a bit part in bringing me here.
Now a bit about myself:
Origins:
My surname is German — very German — and pronounced Why-Hand. Supposedly, we’re a rare breed (there’s only 34 of us or so in the world’s entirety). My grandparents told me our name means we have “soft hands.” This was supposedly meant as a compliment.
Interests:
I’m something of a communication apologist, immersing myself in critical theory and discursive studies in college. Someday I plan on going to grad school for semiotics or some such wet dream. Yet I’m a simple man with a simple existence. I like my beer cheap, my whiskey old and my public transit efficient. I’m a believer in footnotes, index cards, English gin, Thai food, used books and old typewriters. I collect my thoughts here.
Location:
Geographically, I was born and raised in a small Michigan town on the shores of Lake Michigan, which is not unlike living on an ocean. I left home after high school and have only been back on rare occasions and for some holidays. I’ve since lived in the bustling metropolises of Grand Rapids, MI (Hurray For Not Being Detroit!); Denver, CO; New York, NY; and I now reside in Boston, MA where I work in marketing.
Here in Boston, I live in the North End, which is the oldest neighborhood in the city. I live on the same street as that fellow who wrote the song “America” (My country tis of thee). Need another fun fact? At the beginning of the 20th century, a vat of molasses exploded in my neighborhood, flooding the streets and drowning a bunch of people (Yeah, that really happened). My older neighbors tell me that on a hot day, you can smell gingerbread in the brick.
Religion:
I tend to have strong opinions regarding religion, mostly due to my upbringing, which closely resembled the documentary Jesus Camp. I’ve been in the shit of evangelical fundamentalism and the beating hearts of their movement. Ask me about it sometime.
I’m comfortably agnostic, which actually has nothing to do with evangelical fundamentalism.
Family:
I got married over the summer to my aptly-named college sweetheart, Grace (whose surname is Kelly). She’s a designer and monograms all my cardigans.
I’ve experienced far more family death in the last 4 years than anyone should have to endure. This gives me a certain perspective about the world, which I don’t think is at all pessimistic or negative.
American Authors:
Out of my three favorite authors, two have killed themselves in the last five years and the other is such a recluse that he may already be dead. I’m not sure what this says about me.
Age:
With deference to Dave Vogt, I believe I’m dethroning him as the youngest Flocker, which is both meaningless and infinitely important. That being said, I enjoy being the youngest in the group as I feel it pulls me forward into some semblance of maturity or experience not shared by my peers. And that being said, I’m also completely self-conscious about it. Date of birth: August 26, 1986.
Lurking about:
I’ve been moonlighting as Christopher Walken for well over a year. I would point out which posts belong to me, but I feel like that sort of undermines the freedom and anonymity the pseudonym offers, thereby tainting my experience at the controls. All I’m going to say is that I am sorry about the prosthetic anus.
Conclusion:
This concludes the presentation. Thanks for letting me in on this experiment in community, interconnectivity and the perpetual sharing of thoughts and ideas. I’m excited to be part of this. Here’s to the start of something good.
Our Favorite Films of the Decade
Daryl and I made a list of our 10 favorite films of the last decade. They aren’t necessarily the best, but they’re the ones we most enjoy/admire. (They’re alphabetized–it’s hard enough to settle on a list, much less rank it.)
Babel
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
The Fog of War
The Hours
In Bruges
No Country for Old Men
Rivers and Tides
Sexy Beast
There Will Be Blood
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada
Runners Up: Bad Santa, The Lives of Others, Pan’s Labyrinth
Did we forget anything?
Dear Clusterflock: Is there a period of your life that makes you shudder when you think of it?
I don’t necessarily mean bad stuff, just perhaps what you used to wear, what you looked like, you know that kind of shit – the sort of time that you look back on and would prefer to forget and would certainly not show photos of yourself.
Mine was, if my memory serves me correctly (I have been trying to forget this), early to mid 90s. It more or less coincided with me losing my mind or perhaps it caused me to lose my mind. It was a whole style thing – I got terribly thin at the time for reasons that are tedious, but I then decided that I would grow a goatee beard and moustache. I have never been able to grow facial hair but I didn’t let that stop me. I then decided to take it a step further and attempt to cultivate a twirly moustache to the point that I sent off for moustache wax, and I used it. I also at this time started to look older than I actually was – difficult to explain, but, I started wearing clothes that I would have associated with men 15-20 years older than I was – sensible cords, flat cap – I have no idea why.
Thought of that period really makes me shudder and if I spend too much time thinking how others saw me I can make myself feel ill. I remember being that thin people apparently thought I had cancer – they didn’t tell me! Oh, I also wore glasses that I didn’t need. I now need them and curse every time I have to use them.
One day I had a moment of clarity and shaved the bloody facial fuzz off, binned the cap and glasses and somehow reverted to my juvenile ways.
I’d love to post a photo, but, it would mean I would have to leave Clusterflock.
So, how about you? What period of your life has that kind of effect on you? Or is it just me?
Christmas Memory: bb guns
One Christmas, my brother and I got Daisy bb guns. We wanted them bad. We couldn’t wait to shoot them, but it was mid-winter in Rockford. Daddy set us up a stack of boxes packed with newspaper in the basement with a target stapled to the side. It wasn’t long before we bored of straight shootin’ and opted up for tricks. We went upstairs, stole Mom’s hand-mirror off her vanity, and commenced fancy-shootin’ backwards Annie Oakley style. My brother’s first shot riccocheted off the blocks of the basement wall and hit my brother in the back of his head. Didn’t hurt him. Didn’t break the skin. But how he howled. It stung! We could have put an eye out!
I invite all clusterflockers/readers near and far to tell us a Christmas story over the next few days. It would be the best gift we could give each other.
ritual desperation
Every week my dad played the lotto. It was a ritual. He’d pull into the small parking lot of the liquor store around the corner from our house and walk straight to the counter. Not much was said. Last week’s ticket would be passed across the counter and scanned while my dad put his numbers on a new ticket. Sometimes, if I was with him and had opted not to wait in the car, he would buy a scratcher and hand me a quarter. With the rough edge of the quarter I’d scratch off the flaky silver coating.
As far as I know he never won a dollar. I imagine that in that moment, as he passed the old ticket over to be scanned, he would think about the money he was about to win. My dad would imagine his new life. The one without the shitty job and the hard work putting four kids through private school required. The lottery would hand him the keys to his new life.
Eventually, he would get a new life. One day, in one of those surprising twists you knew was coming the whole time, he would leave. My mom would cry but mostly because she didn’t know what any of it meant.
By now, he’s found a new liquor store. And, while he probably doesn’t play our birth dates anymore, he dreams of a new escape, from his new problems, as he waits for the clerk to scan his weekly ticket.
levi’s gran fondo | coleman valley road…
We turned left. At first it didn’t seem that bad. I told myself everyone had made a big deal about this section because of how late in the day it came. I pretended it wasn’t going to be too bad.
Before the ride an acquaintance had told me, as he accompanied me for a training ride, that Coleman Valley road wouldn’t be the so bad because “you could see the top.” At the time I’d thought it was a silly thing to say. As the incline increased more than 16% and I looked up the road at the cyclists half way up the climb the only thought I had was that I was never going to make it.
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An interview with Cooper Renner
at The Collagist:
“Running Night” is part of a short collection which is substantially finished, but it falls within a larger grouping of Malta-related lycanthropic work which is ongoing. The first entry, in terms of being written, is the novel A Death by the Sea, which I drafted during NaNoWriMo in 2008. Four sections of it have been published (New York Tyrant, Keyhole, Anemone Sidecar, Unscroll), and I’d love to find a publisher for the whole thing. Anyway, that started the Malta ball rolling for me. Once I got my mind really wrapped up in this world, ideas kept coming. The framework for the story collection, which I’m calling Dr Fenech’s Guide to Lycanthropy in Malta (1913), is that the doctor is collecting old tales from older men and women on Malta and Gozo and hoping to publish them in England.
. . . and an interview with Phil Bebbington
I just wanted to play and I had never shot medium format – what came after was the wonder of not being tied down by apertures and shutter speeds. Of course you still are as the Holga does have at least one shutter speed and aperture! But it is the freedom, using your time thinking about the shot as you have no control over the shutter and aperture.
Of course, there is a skill to using the Holga – it’s not quite as random as people think.