Tuesday, February 9, 2010 | by nathan

Okie Blog Awards

One of the things that I love about Oklahoma is that, in the absence of a national spotlight shining all over us, we give rise to some really surprising and inspiring pockets of creativity, much of it of the DIY flavor. The Flaming Lips are perhaps the most well-known example of this, having achieved international stardom and artistic genius while based here, in what most of America considers to be a "cultural wasteland." But living here I am continually surprised by the stuff that people are doing, and even more surprised that people I know are the ones doing it.

My buddies K.C. and David are wonderful examples of this (and if you’re not busy this Friday and/or Saturday, K.C.’s record-release shows at the Blue Door promise to be amazing). Also of note are our burgeoning improv and stand-up comedy scenes, including Twinprov, the outstanding two-man improv group staged by my old friends Buck and Clint.

I think we’ve got a lot of people here in Oklahoma who could be getting ready to see their careers take off. After editing two chapters of my novel early this morning, I honestly believe I might be lucky enough to be among them. So why am I so honored to be nominated for an Oklahoma Blogger Award? I don’t know. But I am. It’s cool, especially considering how many great Oklahoma-based bloggers there are, and considering that blogging is such a weird thing to do. The blogger blogging his blog.

I have a love/hate relationship with blogging. On one hand, I am awed by how much amazing writing and creativity is out there. On the other, I can’t help but remember what Doug Marlette told me on more than one occasion, that blogging is "karaoke for writers," and that having one doesn’t make one a writer, any more than my awful, fourth-beer rendition of "Let’s Stay Together" makes me a musician.

Maybe the point isn’t to be a writer. Maybe the point is to care about something. My friend Greg is passionate about food; that’s why his food blog, The Corner Booth, is so great – because he gets to talk about something he cares about. David lives and breathes music – he knows more about it than anyone I’ve ever met. I like to see people getting enthusiastic about stuff; I find myself infected by it. If someone is talking to me about something that excites them, I find myself interested. I can’t help it. That’s why I think blogs are so great – all your better ones are people sounding off about what they care about. Be it food, music, their families, their own creative pursuits, or the way they imagine Jon Arbuckle’s life might be had he never visited the pound – it’s cool that people can put these things out there.

Me? I’m passionate about writing, and about humor, and bad movies, and Oklahoma, and Jesus. And I’m kinda stoked and honored to be nominated for Best Writing in the Okie Blog Awards. I really recommend going through the list of nominees and finding some new, excellent reads by Oklahoma-grown bloggers. Their excitement for their subject material, and for this weird-ass state we call home, is infectious.

Monday, January 25, 2010 | by nathan

The Quiet Place

Hey there, Internet Website! How have you been? Good? Replacing your diaper every time a new Apple Tablet rumor makes you evacuate in your pants? So glad to hear it; me too.

Me, I’ve been busy. I’ve been thinky. And then, this weekend, I’ve been lazy. Which is to say that my work life currently threatens to overtake my life me. The two of them are fighting so much that I’m about to pull this car over and give them both the frowning of a lifetime.

And so, to that end, I took Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday, a week ago, and spent some alone time at one of my favorite spots on Earth, Red Rock Canyon State Park in western Oklahoma.

It was temperate, and mostly cloudless. The best part, of course, was that it was almost entirely deserted, it being January and all. That, and all your better Americans were out celebrating Dr. King’s birth by – I dunno – cleaning up a park, or registering voters. Me, I was out in nature with The Jesus. We totally didn’t contribute to the National Day of Service. But we also didn’t litter, so.

Anyway, I just needed some fresh air. The drive out to Red Rock – or at least, the way I go – is breathtakingly scenic, at least for people who love the plains as much as I do:

Someday I dream that that will be the view from my house. Perhaps without the concrete piping and the cell tower wires. But you get the general. Along the way I also met a very friendly herd of buffalo:

They were watching me like hawks, but in general they were pretty nice. I think it was because this guy was with them:

That drive really is gorgeous – you go out state highway 152 to Binger and then up to the Canyon, just south of Hinton. Listen to your best road trip mix.

Anyway, once I got there the stillness of the canyon proved to be exactly what I needed. I sat for awhile, read, prayed, was quiet. It was the perfect way to spend an extra day off work. The best thing – or at least, one of the best things – was the smell of the evergreens that grow all over the canyon. When I was a kid I used to get a rash when I touched them, but I never could stay away because of how they smell. I love them; it’s the smell of home, for me:

I’ve been going to this canyon since I was a little, little kid; I grew up just 20 miles away from it. It’s a little further away now, but I learned how to rappel here, I’ve hiked every inch of the trails, and I once ran afoul of a rattlesnake, though I got away just fine. I learned a lot about geology here. And when I’m stressed, or sad, or just needing to go to the Quiet Place, the Happy Place, this is the place I picture myself. Just thinking about it, I can almost smell the cedar trees. What’s your place like that?

Thursday, December 24, 2009 | by nathan

Snowstorm on Cleveland Street

Okay, I don’t actually live on Cleveland Street. But:

1) the main character in my favorite Christmas movie did, and

2) my neighborhood is called Cleveland, so.

Anyway. A Christmas Carol from (a) Cleveland Street:

Silent Night:

Windswept night:

We are trapped:

In the worst snowstorm anyone in Oklahoma has ever seen:

And it took Brian five and a half hours to get home from work:

But he’s home safe now, and we have power and warmth, and we’re going to my mom’s house in the morning, instead of tonight. Praying for everyone stuck or broken down or car-wrecked out in the snow this evening. And the snow makes our house look pretty with all the lights on.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace. Amen.

I hope your Christmas and New Year are happy, safe, and filled with delight and wonder.

Monday, November 23, 2009 | by nathan

Mfg. Co.

I wrote about it the other day, but the revitalization of downtown Oklahoma City via the Core to Shore projects and MAPS3 are very, very exciting examples of urban renewal in a city that, for too long, has been defined more by life in its suburbs than in its heart. Flying over OKC recently on a flight to Kansas City, I got my first good look at where the city’s development is heading geographically, and it thrilled me to no end. This plaque is on the Fred Jones Building I wrote about last week; I was down there recently and got to walk around Main Street and the new Film Row district taking some pictures. This is one of my favorites.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009 | by nathan

Model-Ts and Law Degrees

Any professional affiliations I may or may not have put aside, I find this incredibly cool. I hope all the OKC denizens who read this website are planning on voting for MAPS3 on December 8. 

Friday, October 30, 2009 | by nathan

The Resting Soul of Galileo

I hope all you Okies can pick up the Oklahoma Gazette this week; it contains what I think might be the best piece I’ve ever written for the publication – a farewell ode to Galileo Bar & Grill in the Paseo.

I started going to Galileo after my inglorious return to Oklahoma City in 2002, and have loved everything about it ever since. I love the artwork, the beer, the staff, the food, and especially the ambience. Because the Gazette is a strictly third-person publication, I wasn’t able to share my own personal memories of Galileo. So, here are some vignettes.

In the winter of 2002 I took my little book of scribblings to the open mic poetry reading. I listened to everyone else read, frantically searching through my book for something decent; everything suddenly seemed like crap and I grew a case of cold feet. Also, I ran into a boy I liked there and was so worried about impressing him that I worried my writing would scare him away. That was one of the stupidest things EVER, but there you have it.

In the summer of 2003 I sat on the back patio at Galileo with a group of well-connected Oklahoma progressives who had responded to a posting on Meetup.com; we were there because we supported Howard Dean and were soul-sick about the Bush administration. David Walters and Miles Tolbert spoke eloquently, and we all left with a sense of purpose and determination. Later, we all had our hearts broken when John Kerry earned the nomination, and even worse when Bush was re-elected.

In 2004 my friend Dylan came to see me, and we took him to see K.C. Clifford play a show at Galileo. The show was excellent, the crowd was raucous and into it, but a knot of hippie girls insisted on standing directly in front of our table, effectively blocking our entire view of the stage. When we politely asked them to move, they turned and sneered at us in a way that suggested we might be imminently devoured. Peace and love indeed. Whatever, we still had a fantastic time.

In 2005, at another K.C. Clifford show, I asked my friend Laurie what she thought of the possibility of me getting together with this guy Brian I’d been hanging out with a lot. She loved him to death and gave me a look like "OH MY GOD ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS GET OVER YOURSELF AND GO OUT WITH HIM." Some months later, in that same restaurant, at a table a few feet away, I asked him to marry me. I have an audio recording of that entire evening; if my house ever catches fire I’m grabbing Sam and those CDs before I run out of the house.

We had my 25th birthday party at Galileo. My family got me a wonderul Indian quilt from Craig’s Emporium and I drank sloe gin fizz all night. It was another K.C. Clifford show, and she sang me "Happy Birthday" from the stage and dedicated "The Wish Song" to me.

When the first Equality Ride came through Oklahoma City, they parked their big gay bus down in the Paseo and shared their stories with the assembled crowd, stories of finding Jesus in the midst of the crazy struggle with capital-letter topics like Sexuality, Alcoholism, Drugs and God. I looked out into the crowd, most of whom had just come down for dinner, and saw some tears, and even more expressions of dawning understanding and compassion. I spent the rest of that week smiling my head off.

IN 2006 my friends Jon and Tish were racing through OKC to make it to our friend Faith’s wedding in St. Louis. They called asking where they might find some good fast food. I told them to forget the fast food, and directed them to exit the interstate at NW 23rd, and to meet me in the Byron’s parking lot. I called over to Galileo, got a couple wraps and some hummus to go, and delivered it unto them. They called 20 minutes later to thank me profusely.

At yet another K.C. show, the Bluehouse were invited to the stage mid-set to serenade the crowd with their kickass rendition of "Heard It Through the Grapevine." Another time, a dude had a seizure just a few minutes before showtime, right in the front door of the restaurant. Finally, at yet another show, K.C. was struck with a case of the giggles mid-song when a woman in full belly dancing regalia strolled, nonchalantly, just a few feet past her as she sang. Her giggles proved infectious and soon the entire restaurant was laughing.

Also in 2006, on my last day as an intern at the Gazette, a job and an opportunity that changed my life forever, the editor and one of the news reporters took me out to lunch at Galileo and told me I had a promising future. JOKE’S ON THEM! No, seriously, it was a wonderful day.

This past summer, after a Dr. Pants show at CD Warehouse, pretty much the entire show crowd met afterward at Galileo, where we pulled several tables together outside and gabbed until the place closed. It was the last time I ever went there; I wish I’d have known – I’d have ordered a sloe gin fizz and a K.C. Calzone (named, of course, after Mrs. Clifford).

That place has formed such a nexus of activity and history in my Oklahoma City life since 2002. There’s a new place opening in the space on December 1; it’s going to be called Picaso’s on the Paseo. I don’t know if it’ll be good or not, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear going in there, but I say let’s all go and raise a glass to what was, and what will be. In the meantime, though I will probably be murdered for doing so, I’m posting this photo, which my friend Todd sent to me as I was researching this story. It’s a photo from one among countless dinners at Galileo wherein we laughed, drank, philosophized and generally just enjoyed one another’s company. It’s possible this photo is from winter 2002, but I’m not sure.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009 | by nathan

Uncovered

Driving up May last week I noticed that the sign at the NW 30th and May shopping center, the one with the awesome locally-owned grocery store, camera shop, burger joint, Christian coffee house and sex shop – just across the street from that place where they found that body, you know the one – had removed the laminate over their sign – one presumes to replace it? I hope not; I hope they’re going to restore this original sign, because it just looks so great. Here’s what it was like before:

Not terrible, but the green with the rusty lettering pleases me. I like seeing old stuff uncovered.

Monday, October 12, 2009 | by nathan

420 at 329

This weekend while we were in Norman for the OU-Baylor game I took the opportunity to take a stroll past the front window of the men’s clothing shop I used to work at. Since the company has long since shut down its stores I suppose I can just give up the whole "anonymity" thing and tell you that the one year – and one day – that I spent working at Harold’s was among the worst in my entire life. It wasn’t just the store’s fault; I was doing a pretty good job of self-sabotage in general back then, but working there was not the best.

But I have to say, a highlight of my time at Harold’s, a time that I enjoyed, were the times when I got to hang out at their store on Campus Corner in Norman, which was the original location.

Of course, this was back when the owners of Harold’s were doing their best to destroy all of Campus Corner by driving rents sky-high, effectively shutting down some of my favorite places, including LaBaguette, where my friends and I would go in high school on Friday nights to hang out, drink coffee, talk philosophy and pretend to be three years older and eighty times more pretentious than we actually were. God, did I love those times. They also had sabotaged the original Harold’s store by opening an outlet just around the corner, which meant that customers would come look at what we had, take up hours of our time trying things on, and then go next door to get the exact same thing for seventy percent off; it’s any wonder the company imploded.

I did love hanging out on the Corner. It made me feel connected to college, again, and to a college I love and where I eventually earned my master’s degree. The presence of aforementioned retail outlet, and the generally dwindling business on Campus Corner at the time (see above, re: sky-high rents) meant that the Norman store was SLOOOW. Entire weeks would creep by where, if it weren’t for the fact that we were the only place in Norman selling Jack Purcells at the time, we wouldn’t have made any sales. The front door opened at the top, and we’d leave it open all day long just to let the fresh air in. My boss and I would hang out, one person in the store, the other on the sidewalk smoking, shooting the breeze for hours. That part was fun.

One day I was in the store by myself. It was a beautiful, sunny, crisp autumn day and I was just watching foot traffic amble by on the Corner. Suddenly, a stoner sort of wandered up. He had greasy hair, a dirty, tie-dyed shirt and eyes the color of maraschino cherries. He stopped in front of the door where I was standing and looked down at the tree on the sidewalk, where he saw this:

Which, I dunno, I guess that’s a little strange, a plug socket at the bottom of a tree. But I’d been looking at it for months from just a few feet away and it never seemed that odd. But this stoner, he was really taken by it. He stopped, and started staring at it, and then back at me, a giant grin growing on his face.

"That," he said at last, "is fucking art."

I smiled and nodded but said nothing.

"No, no, no, no, man, no," he said as if I’d argued with him. "That shit … is fucking … fucking … ART." 

At this point I pursed my lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing, because I wanted him to continue. I was eager to hear his version of art criticism.

"I mean, like, look! It’s a fucking … pluuuuuuug … in a fucking … tree." 

"That’s fucking … ART, right there, is what that shit is, there. It’s fucking ART."

He sort of stumbled around awhile, each repetition of the word "ART" getting louder and more pronounced, until a small crowd had gathered to watch his bizarre performance piece, which, like any good show on the Fox network, ended as soon as people started watching it. He wandered off in the direction of the recently-closed LaBaguette, mumbling about what bullshit it was that that place had closed down because that place was fucking ART, it was fucking THE SHIT.

At times like that, I didn’t mind that job so much, but they were few and far between, and I was eventually ripped from the Campus Corner store to do bitch work at the 50 Penn Harold’s. Things turned out pretty okay, so I guess I can’t be bitter.

An interesting side note to this story: when I was taking these pictures, I was standing next to two women who had run into each other and clearly had not seen one another in a long time. There was a huggy, middle-aged-lady reunion happening as I snapped the 329 on the door and then the FUCKING ART. I was vaguely aware that the two women’s families had stopped in a small knot on the sidewalk, and when I stood up from photographing the plug socket, I found myself FACE TO FACE, inches away, from one of the guys I once worked with at the 50 Penn Harold’s. He was actually an okay guy, and has since opened a wildly successful store of his own, but it was such a shock, such a weird, weird coincidence to run into him that I said nothing.

I don’t think he recognized me – I look quite different now, having aged a bit, changed the way I wear my hair and gotten glasses, so I’m hoping he didn’t realize who I was and think I was being rude when I ducked my head and practically RAN away from him. Coincidences like that are too much to bear, and anyway, AWKWARD, right, like, "HEEEYYY, remember that thing we both did that I was terrible at and got fired from? BOY THOSE SURE WERE THE DAYS, HUH? Did you get a good look at this FUCKING … ART?"

Monday, October 12, 2009 | by nathan

Crimson & Cream

We attended the OU vs. Baylor game over the weekend, witnessing the spectacular and much-awaited return of our much-beloved Sam Bradford to the field after he was almost killed by the Mormons in the season opener and sacrificed to their god, or eaten so they could imbue themselves with his strength, or whatever crazy things that the Holy Underwear makes people do. Cripes, but those Mormons are competitive, aren’t they? Anyway, with the exception of his shaky, unexpected and wide-eyed play in the season opener, we’ve all been very impressed (and a great deal relieved) by one Mr. Landry Jones, but DEAR JEBUS did the Gaylord Family Memorial Stadium erupt in loudness when Mr. Bradford walked onto the field. It wasn’t the best game of his career, for certain, but we did manage to beat the Baylor Bears into submission through a series of intensely disappointing field goals, which was sort of like making them bleed to death by paper cuts, but a win is a win, especially in conference play, and especially a week before the Red River Shootout.

Thursday, October 1, 2009 | by nathan

The City

This is actually a composite photo made up of four pictures I took from the Beacon Club not too long ago; it’s grainy and weird and I really kinda like it. The weird reflection off to the right of the image really seals the sort of post-apocalyptic urban paradise bit for me; the whole thing makes the city look dead and silent, when it’s really anything but. This is looking northeast from downtown Oklahoma City, and if you look real close, about 1/3 of the way over from the left of the picture, you can see the State Capitol dome peeking over one of the buildings. It might help to look at the original size photo.