Tuesday, September 25, 2007 | by nathan

Fall Music: A Little Farther From The Sun

Fall is here, officially, if not quite weather-wise, yet. Fall is the time of possibility, for me; it’s the beginning of holiday celebrations, of harvests, of leaf changes and cool weather that lets us finally, finally relax and enjoy the things we’ve wrought all year, instead of planning, working, planning, working, planning. Fall is a time of mellowness for me, so I’ve constructed a new playlist for the joyous-yet-downbeat mood I’m always in during autumn.

I take a lot of walks once the weather gets cool. In fall sometimes the rain falls and it’s cloudy and I’m pensive. Other times, the sun is shining and it’s cold, and that’s my favorite type of weather. Fall is the time for walking, thinking, reflecting, processing, enjoying. This music helps me to do that:

Amos Lee’s latest album is the perfect walking album. It’s melodic, thoughtful, and a bit quirky. Amos is a brilliant songwriter and artist, and his genius is put to absolute use on this record. It’s simple but intelligent, which, to me, is the perfect thing for music to be; defying genres, Lee creates something that’s at once humble and iconic. It always reminds me of a cold day, with my coat-collar up, kicking piles of leaves as they blow across my path. Favorite tracks include the first, "Shout Out Loud," "Long Line of Pain," and "Skipping Stone."

Pardon me while I give my friend David a plug. Seriously, though? Amazing album, which I’ve been listening to a lot lately, especially when it rains. Perhaps the title, "Gardening in a Tornado," is what is inspiring this Pants-ness, but whatever it is, I gotta send David a fruit basket for making this CD. Favorite tracks include "The Gift," "Baby Don’t Cry," "Shine Through Me" and "Gardening in a Tornado." If you click on that image up there you can purchase the album from CD Baby, where you can also sample tracks.

I’ve probably had this on a playlist recently, but I effing gawl-darn love it. Ever since Brian and I caught Brandi Carlile at the Fillmore with the Indigo Girls in June, I’ve been playing this album over and over, mostly in my head, because music like this doesn’t really go with hot weather. Now that autumn is arriving I’m reveling in the mellow sadness in her voice, that delicate wail on songs like "Cannonball" and sweet, sweet harmonies on "Josephine."

There’s something seriously wrong with you if you don’t like Lucinda Williams, at least in theory. The album is titled "West," which is exactly what it sounds like: all those miles and years driving around Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle with my family as a child. My favorites right now are "Mama You Sweet," "Learning to Live" and "Fancy Funeral," but it changes daily. I’m not sure I could love this album more if I wanted to.

Okay, confession time: I’ve never been a big fan of Wilco. I’d say that I appreciate Wilco in the same way I appreciate Seinfeld - I understand that a lot of people enjoy it, but every time I came to it, I felt like, "I don’t get it." That changed with Sky Blue Sky, which I’m absolutely loving the hell out of. It’s exactly what I’ve been needing, and I’m thinking maybe I’ll sit up tonight and catch an episode of Seinfeld on TBS. You can call this album what you want, but it’s basically just country; it’s a worthier successor to Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard’s legacies than Toby Keith.

That’s the new stuff. EVERY autumn I pull out three CDs that almost never leave rotation: Ten Thousand Days by Bebo Norman, Give Up by the Postal Service and Running On Ice by Vertical Horizon. I won’t link images or post reviews because I’ve done so before, but if you don’t have those albums I’d recommend you get them.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007 | by nathan

338 - K.

She used to follow us around the school in the mornings, not saying anything, just walking behind quietly, not taking the hint. She was effing creepy, man.

Monday, September 24, 2007 | by nathan

Ti(th)e

During my sophomore year of college I took a wonderful history course that was all about the history of what is known today as the "Third World" or the "Developing World." It was taught by an oddball professor from Somalia, and while I never really got his weird teaching style, I learned a ton from the course about how the developing world was created and sustained through imperialism.

One day we were discussing a pair of books we’d read about the role of Christian missionaries in the process of imperialism. The class immediately found something they could seize upon: "See? All this is the fault of the Christians! It’s the Christians who are to blame!"

And, to be fair, they had a point, though you kinda have to squint to see it. After all, I knew (and still know) a whole, whole bunch of Christians who are deeply concerned for the poor, who work diligently, even risking their own lives, to bring about an end to poverty. The fact is, many people of faith are the ones taking care of AIDS orphans in Africa, and I’m not. I thought it a little unfair to leap on the Christians when we’d spent the whole semester learning about the colonial business interests exploiting these countries, turning them into banana republics, narrowing their economic output to one product and leaving them crippled to this day.

It drove me nuts, and immediately I raised my hand. "Okay, it’s great that we’ve found someone to blame," I said, "but are any of us willing to do something with this anger? Is anyone in this room going to sell their Suburban and send the money to the poor? Or are any of us going to skip that semester in Italy and go to Sudan instead?"

The class turned on me like a pack of wild dogs. "One person can’t make a difference!" one girl spat, angrily. "You can’t just go over there and expect to change everything by yourself!" someone else said. The professor calmed us all down and I sat there, sulking mightily, like Richard Nixon on an acid trip.

Now, here’s the part where I come clean: I drive an SUV (though, to be fair, I’ve had the same car for 8 years, it’s paid off, and I literally drive 20 miles a week, if that), and I spent a semester living in Italy. I’ve never been to Sudan. I’m terrified of bugs.

So, why did that little rant drive me crazy? Because I can’t stand when people are incredibly angry, over-the-top pissed off about poverty and social injustice, but then all they do is go to the bar, order a pint, and sit there and rant about it. I hate it when they blame everyone else but never actually do anything. I’m not going to sell my car, but I have come up with a few things, and I’d like you to join me if you’re able.

1) I’d like as many of you as possible to pledge to give to a charity this month. Take a bit out of your paycheck; say, the amount you might spend on iTunes this cycle (two weeks if you’re paid that often), and give it to a charity. Try to find one that doesn’t have a lot of overhead or administrative costs; this website is a good place to start. I’ve decided to start donating bi-weekly to Development in Gardening, because after reading their site and communicating with them I’ve come to think that what they’re doing is truly amazing and revolutionary. If you don’t have time to search for one, they’d be great to contribute to, and they need every penny; if $10 is what you can give, then give it. (p.s., I’ve started saving a lot of money since I switched from shopping at Wal-Mart to Buy For Less).

2) Do something. Okay, I totally dropped the ball on the AIDS Walk, but my good friend Paul asked me if I’d like to run the Oklahoma Brain Tumor Foundation Race for the Rainbow of Hope 5K race on November 10th in Oklahoma City. They also have a 1 mile fun run and a dog jog. I’d like it if as many people as possible would do this with me. Early November is always a glorious time of year in Oklahoma, and I can’t think of a better way for us to get some sunshine, do some good and maybe even challenge ourselves to get in shape. Who’s in? If you want to run the 5K with me and Paul, I’ll totally train with ya! (The best part is you don’t have to rely on me to get you the race form; it’s online here and here.) Also, if any of you volunteer with worthy and wonderful organizations, please let me know if I can help, and I’ll pass it on via this blog.

3) Support a political candidate you really believe in, and vote often. Even small municipal elections matter, and I’m making it a resolution of mine from now on to vote as often as possible. I just sent Barack Obama a paltry little sum. Democracy’s a wonderful thing, people; let’s support it. 

4) Be grateful. Give thanks. I don’t know if you believe in a higher power or not; I do, and I think that often helps me put my tiny little frustrations into perspective. I’d love to say I’m the kind of person who wakes up every morning and gives thanks; I’m not. Usually I wake up and wish I was filthy, rotten rich so I could sleep in until 10 and play Super Metroid until 3, then write for five hours and drink myself to sleep. That’s not my life, and it probably never will be; but I’m grateful that I have as much as I do, including - if I lay off iTunes and Threadless - enough money to give at least something to those who have literally nothing.

So here’s where I make a big challenge, especially to my fellow bloggers. I want to organize some kind of "Christmas gift" to a charity, and I’d like to get a bunch of website owners together to make a plea to our readers to take a little money as the holidays get started (don’t accuse me of jumping the gun; Target already has Christmas stuff out). I think we could raise a nice chunk of change for those in need. After all, blogs shouldn’t just be us whining about how much we hate it when people go through the self-check-out line at the grocery store with a basket full of $300 worth of groceries, should it?*

*though seriously, people, stop doing that. 

Monday, September 24, 2007 | by nathan

337 - K.

The only real confidant I had in Connecticut worked with me at the Branford bank, where we spent five hours every afternoon commiserating over our lives’ directions.

Sunday, September 23, 2007 | by nathan

336 - L.

When he came out to me, hurting deeply, I so wanted to help. But when I didn’t call him for a week he became mean and manipulative.

Saturday, September 22, 2007 | by nathan

Not-Notre-Dame #1 vs. Not-Notre-Dame #2

I’m glad to see someone else was as pissed about the press coverage by ESPN2 of the Oklahoma-Tulsa game as I was last night.

Could we please, like, um, call the game we’re watching, instead of spending ten minutes talking to Lou Holtz about Notre Dame, blocking the entire screen off with Notre Dame’s schedule, and letting at least 3 penalties go unexplained because we’re too busy talking about Notre Fucking Dame?

The press coverage of Oklahoma has always been biased; during the Miami game two weeks ago they stopped calling the game to take five minutes to talk in detail about each of the Miami players and their relationship with their coach. Last night was far, far worse, however. Anybody else want to throw their beer through the TV, and only didn’t because - how sterotypically Oklahoman would that be? We don’t need another incident like this one. 

Saturday, September 22, 2007 | by nathan

335 - M.

Your spiritual guidance the first four years of my faith journey was completely priceless. I am sorry there were things I wasn’t ready to confide to you.

Friday, September 21, 2007 | by nathan

334 - Old French Whore

Do you remember that skit from Saturday Night Live? There was a woman at the gay bar in New Haven who looked exactly like that, but real.

Thursday, September 20, 2007 | by nathan

Cutting A Rug With Evil Corp.

When I was a sophomore in college, two of my good friends took me to Ballroom Dance club. It wasn’t something I was particularly keen to do, but I must’ve been slow on the uptake thinking of an excuse, or perhaps I was drinkin’ that day. At any rate, I wound up in the basement of the student center without a partner, as my friends had neglected to tell me that I’d needed to find someone to ask.

So I was standing there in the corner, secretly excited about my chance to silently mock the other dancers, when a beautiful blond girl walked up and asked if I’d like to dance. I shrugged and said sure. We were learning the waltz that day, and though I must’ve stepped on that poor girl’s feet about a zillion times, she was graceful, kind and funny, and we had a genuinely good time. Though I never returned to Ballroom Dance club, when I’d see this girl around campus I’d say hello and crack a joke or two.

One day I was in the student center having lunch with a friend when the girl walked up and said hello. We exchanged pleasantries for a few seconds, and when she left I turned back to my friend; his eyes were wide, like dinner plates.

"Do you know who that was?" he asked.

I shrugged. "That’s just this girl I danced with at Ballroom Dance club."

"That’s Sam Walton’s granddaughter." 

"Huh."

**********

When I was 13 years old we lived in a cockroach-infested apartment only two blocks from what would later be my high school. Then, in December of 1993, my mom got a job as a staff pharmacist with Wal-Mart. It was largely due to this job that we were able to move into an honest-to-God house, the one mom still lives in to this day.

Mom rose in the ranks with the company to become a pharmacy manager at one of the busiest Wal-Mart Supercenters in America, and eventually became one of the most highly-paid pharmacists in the company. She ran a tight ship, made consistent profits for her store, and was generally very well-liked by most of the people she worked with.

I worked at Wal-Mart twice, in the summer of 1999 as a shelf stocker in another pharmacy (not mom’s), and again in 2002 as a cashier because I needed some quick cash before I raced off to Connecticut. Neither time was horrible, though I was always very, very glad to get to leave at the end of the summer, and I never did figure out how people who worked there full-time supported families or even drug habits.

Then, in November 2003 she was let go from her job. I won’t get into the details, except to say that the reasons they gave her were entirely fabricated, and it was essentially just a way of them getting out of paying her what would’ve been a major bonus for the year. Then, when she went to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, she was essentially told, "We can file a claim for wrongful termination, but it’s Wal-Mart. They can pretty much do what they want, and there’s nothing we can do."

We were all crushed. Financially and emotionally, our family felt washed-out and bereft. It was an awful time. Mom got a new job, which she enjoys thoroughly most of the time, and we all recovered.

**********

Last night Brian and I watched our latest Netflix entry, Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price. It was easily the most poorly sound-edited film I’ve ever seen, but other than that it was absolutely fascinating and enraging. It’s a perfect study in American capitalism at its worst, at people who honestly do believe that if they gave up a billion dollars of their own personal fortunes to assist those at the bottom rungs of society, the people who are holding on for dear life to support their families, that their lives would even be any different, much less worse.

Last month my audiobook was The Wal-Mart Effect by Charles Fishman. I highly recommend you read - or listen to - it and immediately, immediately stop shopping there. I recommend you support your local grocers and local agriculture, like I’m trying to do, and maybe even pay a few cents more for stuff, knowing that you’re not helping finance the world’s ruin by saving those few pennies.

**********

Somewhere I read that the girl who taught me how to waltz is worth something like $20 billion. I can’t really say I hold a grudge against her personally; she was so gracious that I stepped on her feet so many times, but I really hope she’ll understand that I won’t be padding her trust fund from now on. I know her to be a believer, and I hope that at some point the Lord might help her - and the rest of her family - to willingly give a bit of that overlarge fortune to purchase decent healthcare for all their workers, and, if it’s not too much trouble, to write my mom a check for that bonus they cheated her out of. It’d help her out a lot.

Thursday, September 20, 2007 | by nathan

333 - C.

She moved to town in 9th grade, became best friends with J., and they were thick as thieves even before they found out they were second cousins.