“How odd a figure I must seem to you now, a solitary crank who maroons himself with a TV set and dozens of stacks of dust-jacketed comic books. Don’t think I wouldn’t appreciate a dramatic visit between two and three in the morning,” he told her, “from an intelligent woman in spike heels and a slit skirt, with high-impact accessories.”

Don Delillo’s “White Noise”

Courtesy of James Breem

“Don’t Try”. Knowing we do about Bukowski — straight-shooter, mostly miserable, hated lots of things, author of great poems — I assumed his epitaph was a nihilist middle-finger to humanity. Nope. Not at all, in fact.

Chinaski, in a letter to a friend, on trying:

“We work too hard. We try too hard. Don’t try. Don’t work. It’s there. It’s been looking right at us, aching to kick out of the closed womb. There’s been too much direction. It’s all free, we needn’t be told. Classes? Classes are for asses. Writing a poem is as easy as beating your meat or drinking a bottle of beer.”

And years later, his wife explains:

“Yeah, I get so many different ideas from people that don’t understand what that means. Well, ‘Don’t Try? Just be a slacker? lay back?’ And I’m no! Don’t try, do. Because if you’re spending your time trying something, you’re not doing it…’DON’T TRY’.”

From Open Culture

A tourist in New York’s Greenwich Village decided to have his portrait sketched by a sidewalk artist. He received a very fine sketch, for which he was charged $100.

“That’s expensive,” he said to the artist, “but I’ll pay it, because it is a great sketch. But, really, it took you only five minutes.”

“Twenty years and five minutes,” the artist replied.

“Basic Economics” Thomas Sowell

By far, the wisest investment I ever made came when I was 14. At that young, dumb age, I was drawn into music and began investing time and energy into guitar, learning theory, training my hear to punk rock records, often at the expense of my school studies.

I don’t remember what I learned during the 180 days (and subsequent summer school months) of Mr. Bigley’s Earth Science class, but today I see how those formative years in my room, bellied up to the stereo with guitar in-hand, were the beginning of a lifelong passion. Every day, when I sit down to mull over songs, I draw on that experience. When I play, it brings me joy. I’m thankful today that I never gave up music, even when the F-major chord abused my fingers (and nerves) for weeks, even when studying for the next day’s test was probably a touch more important than analyzing Fletcher Dragge’s palm-muting technique, and even as college and jobs and adulthood closed in.

Teenagers tend to make some fairly stupid decisions, and I was not immune. But, for one time at least, my younger self nailed it.

In honor of the Bronx, which released a new record recently, here’s a classic going alllll the way back to, what, 2005? Happy Weekday. Go ahead and flip the switch.

I’m sure the Guthrie Center in Ithaca is a fine place, but somebody over there forgot to tell the bros in human resources that midnight, Friday, after a few hundred beers, was not the optimal time to get cute with its voice messaging system.

What you’re hearing below is a message from Guthrie, a short, 30-second reminder of an upcoming appointment, complete with three different voices – one computerized (“Friday, January 25^th”… “9 o’clock”); a human, relegated to filling in for the computer’s limited vocabulary (“Guthrie Clinic wishes to remind…” “Your appointment is scheduled at…”); and, lastly — I’m guessing — a kind of strange, hybrid cross between a computer and some asshole doing his best radio voice (“LINDseeeeyyyy”…. “ITHaaaccccaaaa”).

We laughed about this message for a good while, made a solid inside-joke about it that will last for the foreseeable future. I doubt that was the provider’s intention.

Maybe Guthrie saves a lot of time through this messaging system, but at what expense? What does a seemingly harmless voice mail, fragmented and awkwardly spliced together, tell me about the way they view patients?

Sometimes, a little effort and sincerity go a long way, particularly in a field becoming far more brazen in revealing its true tendency toward maximized profits.

Sometimes, a simple phone – human to human – says a lot more beyond the details of this week’s appointment in the “ALLLerrrgyyyy departmentttttttt.”

From ESPN.com

“[Manti Te’o] was more than an All-American linebacker from Notre Dame; he was an ideal, a template for integrity, compassion and humility.”

Nope, ESPN writer. Pretty sure he was just a 20-something college kid, mythologized by a ready and willing media and an equally ravenous public, starving for its next great saint.

The Notre Dame mess and Lance Armstrong’s doping admission provided two cheap and easy opportunities to roll out the mock outrage this week for a delicious moment of self righteousness. It’s been entertaining to hear just how “disappointed” and “ashamed” some are over this past week, when we mourned the loss of two more “template[s] for integrity, compassion and humility”.

It brought to mind this New York magazine piece from last month, which chronicles better than I ever can our general gullibility to “heroes”, their stories ripe for a Mitch Albom retelling and the ensuing waste bin in which we discard the whole lot when our “heroes” turn out to be tragically human.

Best of lists!

Here’s what I found to be the most rad in 2012:

On the subject of music. I listened to a whopping two records that were released in 2012. The rest of my tuneage was basically comprised of records I’ve worn out over the last few years: Sam Cooke’s Greatest Hits for everyday merriment; John Coltrane and Miles Davis for house-related activities; Strike Anywhere, Every Time I Die and Refused for those empty-newsroom, gonna-destroy-this-report-on-the-county-government-finance-subcommittee-meeting-and-then-go-buy-some-snacks days; and The National’s entire catalog for basically everything else.

So, Record of the Year — and I mean it, this was my favorite record this year and it just so happened to be released in 2012: Polica “Give Up the Ghost”. Also, a nod to Tycho “Walk” (2011), synthy, instrumental ethereal stuff that made for great running tunes. Take, for instance, my favorite track (note the little riff at 1:38):

Hat tip to Senneca for the recommendations.

Best Fiction Books:

1. “East of Eden” John Steinbeck
2. “The Fountainhead” Ayn Rand, who, by the way, has just been getting SHIT on since the GOP kidnapped her.
3. “Corrections” Franzen

Best Nonfiction:

1. “Omnivore’s Dilemma” Michael Pollan
2. “The Big Short” Michael Lewis
3. “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass” Frederick Douglass
4. “People’s History…” Howard Zinn
5. “Outliers” Malcolm Gladwell

Assorted:

Best Show that I finally got around to viewing: Mad Men
Best Movie: Batman?
Best Discovery: Coffee, honestly, how the fuck did I operate over the years?
Best Use of $20: Sports Illustrated subscription
Best Product that Changed My Life: Wool socks, for the second straight year
Best “Damn, I’m so Caucasian” moment: Tie — Yoga and Joining a CSA
Best Tweet: @DadBoner: “Wonder why Stone Cold Steve Austin’s never been in the olympics? Woulda loved to see him stun some french corncob back to cheese town.”
Best At Flooding My Twitter Feed: the intern who runs Obama’s handle.
Best Use of My Time at This Exact Moment: Snowboarding

Off to the hill.

Love, Lou

Well, here she is — the latest in the Louiston collective. The Fall Creek e.p. was recorded here and there over the past year or so in our old house in Ithaca, NY. It feels like I’ve progressed so much as a musician in that span of time, but thankfully what’s remained is my contentment with these songs. I fall out of love with my work quickly. In turn, that forces me to work quickly and get stuff out there. It’s why I choose to record and release four or five songs at a time and not 10 or 12.

I’m proud of this stuff, as both musician and as “recording engineer”. Writing songs is one thing; recording them on one’s own is a wholly separate beast, and the quality of tracks — at least from a strictly audio standpoint — has steadily improved over the past number of years. I’m certainly proud of that.

About the songs. The track listing is:

1. Hands Tied – a song from a few years ago that I completely forgot about. I stumbled upon the raw Garageband demo last year, added some lines and it was done in about 15 minutes.

2. Fog – Ya’ know how during the weeks leading up to the NFL draft, some quarterback’s “stock” goes up and up? He’s initially a low, sixth-rounder but steadily climbs up into the second round? That’s this song, the John Beck of the E.P., if you will. “Fog” was recorded as a deep cut, intended as a track 5 or track 4 at the highest. Here it is at track 2. There’s a place in it for me, something that perfectly encapsulates that first year in Ithaca.

3. You Were Amazing – This one’s been bumming around for a couple of years. I wrote it and still play it out in its original quieter, stripped-down version. I just wanted to hear what the thing sounded like with more instruments.

4. Mask – for my grandmother. Initially, this was a throwaway, but a close friend convinced me to give this track another try. It’s a strange song on a number of levels. Structure-wise, it’s two verses, one chorus, done. Odd. And, it sounds a little hollow without percussion, but it fits with the overall theme, I think.

5. First Dance – for my cousin and his wife. I was asked to write a song and play it at their wedding, a huge honor that never gave me a heart attack.

To download the E.P., click this —> Louiston – Fall Creek EP

(The above zip file includes the E.P. booklet as well.)

If you’re moved to drop a buck or two for this e.p., you can head over to my Bandcamp page and pay whatever amount you desire.

Or, you can simply stream the songs at www.louistonmusic.com.

One last thing, be a saint and pass this E.P. along to whomever you think might enjoy it. My reach is limited, but you, friend, help spread the word about my tunes. Thanks in advance.

Also, I’ve set up a central location to download each one of my albums. More on that soon.

Love,
Lou

I ran my first half marathon last weekend, driving some 300 miles north of Pittsburgh to run 13.1 miles with my pal Senneca. The Buffalo Creek Half Marathon was as expected: The first 10 miles are a breeze; the last 3.1 are hell. Finish Time: 1 hour, 51 minutes.