Barbershop Backtalk

2007-09-25T23:24:00.000-04:00

A poem, ~~second~~ third draft:

Take down these next ten digits:

[Phone number]
[Repeated. Faster.]

That,
my friends,
is your muthafuckin' bat phone.
A direct line to dial
before the next time you head to hit the [Name of Location]
because I
am the wingman.
Here to help you procure all the pussy
I've never been able to get for myself.
And I know that probably pissed off half the women in the audience,
but I'd remind you that one day
you're going to go out for that good dick
and I'm not going to judge you then.
I might even
be able
to help.
I'm available to push, prod, nudge
and be the grand fucking facilitator
without a single soul sensing a thing.

Providing open shots
like Steve Nash gets the Suns
carrying conversations about nothing
like a master of my domain
and, yes,
fucking
fat
friends.

NOTE:
There remains a two-bagger minimum.
I've still got some standards.

Keeping the conversation
cohesive and compelling
is par for the course,
but the Phase 2 package
means remembering that time you saved the sea lions in Alaska

...

There's no pinnipeds in the Arctic?
Well, fuck you and your marine biology!
... I meant penguins.
Ladies love the lil guys.

And it's obscure knowledge like that
that will allow me to cock lead block
right through the heart of the defense
breaking open a lane
for backfield penetration
bandying stiff arms about
as you hit holes
without anyone
deflecting a pass.

This is a special set of skills
acquired only after years of watching
that guy
get the girl,
before becoming cool belatedly
and remaining unable to convert the knowledge
into succ-sex
in spite of myself.
When you're accustomed to being best friends,
it's hard to treat women like conquests
because you've seen what they look like defeated
and that's not something you're ready to be responsible for.

So I've made every effort
only to break hearts
that will remember me fondly
as I mutually mack it for everyone else,
offering a steady supply of situational setups,
making the magic happen
because maybe it means
this time
they don't fuck it up.

And it's easier to have that faith in others
than change anything about myself,
a me never remembered
unless I'm run into,
but then showered with smiles
and even some shots,
because if the situation went sour,
well,
it wasn't my fault
and God -
she had sooo much fucking fun that night
and totally wants to do it again,
obvi,
and needs my number like, yesterday.

This is a fine plan
until she shows up with someone else
and can't remember my name
at the introduction.

But I'll smile
and find a partner for pool
because maybe it means
this time,
she won't fuck it up

if only she gets a little encouragement
from someone willing to draw away enemy fire
even as it blows up
in his face.

2007-09-13T23:27:00.000-04:00

A poem, ~~third~~ fourth draft:

It’s okay.
The Grand National Nightmare is over –
Barry Bonds FINALLY hit those fucking home runs.
Now we can move on to hating Michael Vick
because electrocuting puppies is waaay worse than doing steroids.
And since he happens to be black,
we won’t have to demonize any white athletes.

But first,
Picture four friends.
They are 12, and walking back from school.
They see a girl beating down some dude,
yelling to give back her headphones,
encouraged by the friends that surround them.
One of her people
says the white kid
is laughing at her.

Three friends are named 'Aamir, Shapel and Kareem.
The fourth
is Benjamin.

He is surrounded,
and hit twice
and they laugh.
They take the Yankee hat Kareem just bought
because they won the World Series
and the rest of the city
is celebrating.

Because of this
you know in your stomach
that when a friend cracks wise
about his latest DWB,
it's not just an attempt at black humor.

We are the sons and daughters of the Civil Rights generation,
and for the first time

America

is exploring how it works
when the dominant popular culture
is colored.

Our poetry has become Def,
Jammed into breakbeats
and sped-up soul samples,
stomped around in Air Force Ones
and steel-toed Timberland boots,
our flat-brimmed fitteds sittin' sideways
bling so bright you can see it in the dictionary.

But all the ice shines cold light
in distracting directions
and the snow trapped
in the mainstream
makes music like Minstrels.

These are some things you probably know:

Barry Lamar Bonds.
Leftfield.
San Francisco Giants.
Black.

Already established as the best player of his generation,
Bonds hits 351 home runs after the age of 35.
He collects four straight MVPs.
This is one more than anyone has ever earned
in their entire career.
He is named in a federal investigation
regarding illegal performance-enhancing drugs.
As is Gary Sheffield,
black,
a training partner who couldn't keep up with the regimen.
Reporters seek Sheffield for comment.
Two books are written.
The world wants its records back.

These are some things you should know if you don't:

William Roger Clemens
Pitcher
New York Yankees
White

A one-time phenom thought to be on the decline,
Clemens wins four Cy Young Awards for three teams
after the age of 34.
This is one less than anyone has ever earned
in their entire career.
He is named in a federal investigation
regarding illegal performance enhancing drugs.
As is Andy Pettitte,
white,
a training partner who couldn't keep up with the regimen.
Reporters pass Pettitte by for comment.
There are no books,
and Clemens gets paid $18 million
to start the season two months late,
and only join the team on days he is pitching.

Sports
they can be at the forefront of society.
Baseball broke the color barrier
seven seasons before
Brown beat the Board of Education
And now that Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith
squared off as coaches in the Super Bowl,
their landmark leadership
showcased on sports' most spectacular stage,
maybe
just maybe
we’re prepped for a black President.
In politics.

We are
Team America.
Fuck.
Yeah.
Just remember,
don't hate the players,
hate the games
we keep playing
with race.

Because until I can’t update this poem with parables,
we’re still separate
on unequal fields.

2007-08-21T21:03:00.000-04:00

A poem, second draft (Word to D-Wil of The Starting Five):

The Grand National Nightmare is over –
Barry Bonds FINALLY hit his fucking home runs.
Now we can move on to hating Michael Vick
because electrocuting puppies is waaay worse than doing steroids.
And he happens to be back,
so we won’t have to demonize any white athletes.

Barry Lamar Bonds.
Leftfield.
San Francisco Giants.
Black.

Already established as the best player of his generation,
Bonds sets a career high with 49 home runs in 2000.
He is 35.
The next year he hits 73.
The next three, 45 in each.
He collects four straight MVPs.
This is one more than anyone has ever earned
in their career.
He is named in a federal investigation
regarding performance-enhancing drugs.
So is Gary Sheffield,
black,
a training partner who couldn't keep up with the regimen.
Reporters seek Sheffield for comment.
Two books are written.
The world wants its records back.

William Roger Clemens
Pitcher
New York Yankees
White

In 1997,
after four straight seasons of 11 wins or fewer,
Clemens leaves Boston for Toronto as a free agent.
He is 34.
During the next 10 years,
he wins four Cy Young Awards for three teams;
three of the other seven seasons rank among his best.
He is named in a federal investigation
regarding illegal Human Growth Hormone.
So is Andy Pettitte,
white,
a training partner who couldn't keep up with the regimen.
Reporters pass by Pettitte's comments.
There are no books,
and Clemens gets paid $3 million per month
to start seasons two months late,
and only join the team on days he is pitching.

Adam Bernard "Pacman" Jones
Cornerback
Tennessee Titans
Black

In two years as a pro,
Jones is questioned by police in 10 separate incidents,
famously "making it rain" during the NBA All-Star Weekend.
He has not been convicted once.
April 10, 2007
Jones is suspended without pay for the entire season.
There is a chance of reinstatement after Game 10.
An appeal is made,
but withdrawn when it appears futile.
He is not allowed to practice with the team.
He has turned to professional wrestling
because he needs to make a living
and he has got a lot
of fucking time off.

Jared Scot Allen
Defensive end
Kansas City Chiefs
White

Twice convicted of Driving Under the Influence.
First time:
May 2006
Enters a diversion program.
Second time:
Sept. 2006
Pleads no contest.
April 28, 2007
He tells the KC Star he has been suspended 4 games without pay
under the NFL's Substance Abuse Policy.
After expressing remorse and becoming involved in local charities,
focusing mainly on juvenile diabetes,
an appeal is made.
July 16, 2007
4 games becomes 2.

Sports
they're at the forefront of society.
Baseball broke the color barrier
seven seasons before
Brown beat the Board of Ed.
And now that Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith
squared off in the Super Bowl,
landmark leadership
showcased on sports' most spectacular stage,
we might
just might
be prepped for a President.
In politics.

We are
Team America.
Fuck.
Yeah.
But remember,
don't hate the players,
hate the games
we keep playing
with race.

2007-08-19T15:35:00.000-04:00

A poem, first draft:

CURTAIN

PROLOGUE
You lost her twice.
The first time at 15,
when you believed being cool
was beyond you.

Then again at 22,
when a move made too much sense,
but the seven years since
has stripped away any sense
of an ability to sense
and perceive innocence
because every broken heart
makes it harder to choose correctly
when a special situation presents itself.

SCENE
Meeting a mutual friend on the subway
on the kind of day we all imagine in cliche.
It is morning.
You are on the way to school.
She is standing next to your friend,
five-foot something with brown hair in a bun
and glasses that make her library hot.
Her chest is ample,
and she has not yet grown into the ass
that will inspire introductions to your friends
just to prove it actually exists.
Jocks have yet to make bets about bedding her
and this means that you've still got time to dismember a bird
because you found a prayer the second you saw her.

You are only a sophomore -
wise enough to know this won't end well,
but foolish enough to try.

You pop the cherry of your acquaintance,
and faith scores a point against cynicism
because it is the first time you know what people mean
when they talk about breath being taken away.
It is the only time you lie to her outright
because she asks if you're asthmatic,
offering an inhaler,
and nodding yes is an easier answer.
You convince yourself she was laughing with you
when it only makes you choke harder
and she becomes the only girl
to take your breath away two times at once.

SCENE
Train rides.
SCENE
Small talk.
SCENE
She EXITS.
You have nothing new to say to your best friend,
so you tell him you hope you can make it to her party.
You say this while blushing.
He notices.
Of course he notices.

--You like her.
--Huh?
--Like like her like her.
--Uh ... yeah, I guess.

SCENE
Scheduling conflict.
SCENE
New semester.
EXIT
Train rides.
EXIT
Interactions.
END
ACT I

CURTAIN

ACT II
SCENE
It is seven years, two college experiences
and a fuckload of technology later.
CUE
Reconnection.
CUE
Curiousity.
SCENE
Halloween.
The East Side.
It is warm.
You're a Newsie.
You hold an address
and papes
with a cigar stashed somewhere on your person.
Elevator goes up,
and you're there.
She's a faerie
and you forget you should breathe
for the first time since 15.
You recover in time to talk
because you remember living last time,
and you still had not been instructed
on the physics involved in inhalers.
She rolls blunts like breakfast cinnamon,
introduces you to her people
and you take the train together
when it's time to go home.

SCENE
Hanging out.
SCENE
Mad movies.
CUE
Holding back.
EXIT
Your chances.

SCENE
Big snowfall.
First day post-operation
you're allowed to open your eyes.
Glasses gone,
you go along
as she captures the community on film.
The scene so perfect
all you can do is observe,
a ghost of your ability to alpha.

ENTER
Job prospects.
EXIT
Brooklyn.
ENTER
Upstate.
END
ACT II

EPILOGUE
When you live larger than 8 millimeters,
second chances are short in supply
and often speed by
because 24 frames per second
only fools you into thinking
you're seeing the speed of life.

SCENE
We met.
SCENE
We left.
SCENE
Reconnect.
SCENE
I regret
that each scene to be next
features another actress
in the role that could have made her
a star.

CURTAIN

2007-08-15T13:58:00.000-04:00

From a January mass email:

I placed third at the November Oneonta Poetry Slam, hosted by the Black Oak Tavern, against some stiff competition. I also worked with the owners of the Oak to set up a myspace page for the venue ( http://www.myspace.com/theblackoak), where you can find a recap of the event. I was later invited, along with Sierra -- another newcomer; she came in second at the November OPS -- to join the Intangible Spoken Word Collective and feature with them Friday at SUNY-New Paltz's Gathering of the Minds event. Nearly 30 poets performed to a packed house at the Student Union. I actually surprised myself by coming through smoothly (until flubbing MY SECOND TO LAST LINE. Ugh. That close.)

There was an afterparty at a bar downtown, and then a late-night "Round 3" impromptu poetry showcase at the organizer's crib, where most of us crashed for the night before brunch and a return trip to the Big O.

2007-07-02T11:49:00.000-04:00

Sports writers
are the most cynical bunch of fucks you're ever going to encounter;
They hate their job, the athletes they cover and the people they're writing for.
However, this remains a career they chose because at one time,
they cared.

After all,
these were the dorks getting their asses beat
for knowing more about baseball
than how to get in a girl's pants.

The reason they became writers and not fans
is an innate ability to be objective,
to separate the personal experience from the game.
And it takes a special moment
to realize this is even possible.

Mine came in 1993.
--
I was 10
and the Mets
were terrible.

I'm talking spectacular disappointments.

The team had broken the bank,
bringing Bobby Bonilla back to his hometown -
which is what you can do
when you make him the highest-paid player
in the history of the sport.
And joining "Bobby Bo"
were Bret Saberhagen,
a two-time Cy Young Award winner
and one-time phenom,
and Eddie Murray,
who's now a Hall of Famer
and one of four players
to ever amass 500 home runs
AND 3,000 hits.

And these three players
are now known as the core
of "The Worst Team Money Could Buy,"
because those Mets
lost 103 games.

One day, relatively early in the year -
with losing already threatening to euthanize
this abortion of a baseball experience -
I looked up from the sports section
and remarked to my father
that I sure hoped manager Jeff Torborg
got fired sometime soon.

My dad replied almost immediately,
"Well, jeez, honey -
we never like to see anyone lose their job ..."
And right then, athletes stopped being heroes
and started being people.
I had already
become a journalist.
--
So you have your "Eureka!" moment,
and you take a job barely making a living wage,
all while writing about adults earning millions to play a kid's game

You commit to working nights and weekends,
traveling all the got damn time,
and you learn the art of getting information
involves working the room like a politician,
and that you go to Derek Jeter for the facts,
but Gary Sheffield
for the truth.

And though Jose Reyes still doesn't speak English so good
after three years in the big leagues,
you know he's always smiling because he really is just happy to be there.

You learn to phrase your questions
so Willie Randolph doesn't get defensive
like he had to be growing up in Brownsville
and that if Tom Glavine trusts you,
so will everyone else.

And you pick up all this
just so you can become
the coolest dude the hot girl at the bar has EVER
introduced to her guy friends so she doesn't have to give out her number.

But then one day,
you'll meet a kid like Jack,
who survived a Stage-III terminal cancer,
and knows something about what it really means
to live and die with a team.
And he'll tell you how cool it was
the first time a real-life YANKEE
visited him in the hospital,
and how he knew then he'd be okay,
because he had to get better to see one more game at the Stadium
before it closes after next season.

And for a moment,
the filters come off,
and you remember that you've been doing this for a reason.
Because a kid like Jack -
even though he's a Yankee fan -
know that sometimes
all ya gotta do
is believe.

2007-07-01T02:12:00.001-04:00

WHY did Freaks and Geeks get canceled? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

That is all.

2007-06-20T23:49:00.000-04:00

A first "draft" of me spitting the poem I posted last week:

2007-06-20T16:05:00.000-04:00

This is a fantastic article from BusinessWeek, outlining Best Buy's move away from the 9-to-5. As someone who wastes an infinite amount of time in the workplace environment because I know I have to kill an eight-hour day or risk the wrath of Capt. Dress Me Down for No Reason, this article made way too much sense to ever actually be implemented in my case. But a guy can dream.

Word to kottke.org for the link.

2007-06-19T20:42:00.000-04:00

Reddi
(from her MySpace)

My boy Akie, broke-ass bohemian and musician extraordinaire, posted a livejournal entry (which I can't comment to, son!) the other day mentioning his upcoming collaboration with Reddi, the copper-haired vixen above. She's got a pretty pop-ready sound, kind of like Des'ree, but ... hip. Check out her site or her MySpace.

2007-06-19T12:17:00.000-04:00

With Senators (and former Congressmen of my district) like this, how am I supposed to expected to be anything but a schlocky hopeless romantic? Thanks, Chuck - it's good to know I get it from somewhere.

2007-06-14T21:06:00.001-04:00

A poem (in progress?) I don't want most people to see:

Breaking your heart
is the hardest thing I have to do before leaving, so I'm saving it for last
because that aftermath isn't an insurgency I've got a real plan for.

And in trying to be selfless,
I'm making my self less
and all I want is to let you make me more than I am.
Crack the can open again;
vacuum seal separated as metal slices neatly through metal
at every emotional twist
until all of me is exposed and you can empty and rinse out my insides,
filling me back up with every dream I've been unable to articulate
because it lacked the eloquence your editing was able to offer.
You helped rewrite the stories of my soul in an order that made more sense,
and doesn't depend on defense to provide proper context.

It took a little bit of time,
but you're no longer a best-friend bandage
ready to fall away after any intimacy opened has healed.
You've rubbed raw my secret moments,
infected every embarassment
and poisoned my plasma with so much shared ... life
that a hemophiliac episode could never
bleed you out.

We've succeeded in stripping away
the pseudo-personality I repeatedly recreate
protective layer by practiced parable,
filleting the rigid structure of intentional reveals
in order to savor the flesh of my experiences
without any forced direction as you sectioned my soul into categories of your choosing.

"I'll take relationships that shouldn't have got this intense" for $500.

And when I come back to visit,
I hope you're somewhere else.
Not because you're out of town
or have a family function
or a fall festival on some farm,
but because you're bigger than this.

And I know you don't believe that,
and maybe you never will,
but all I can do is tell you,
lock my hands around your shoulders
and keep you an arm's length away
because you'll need the distance to see I'm speaking the truth.
When I'm speaking of you,
and the way your life sparkles like fairy dust and affects everyone else just as much,
because you allow them to fly when you make people believe
that Neverland really is the second star on the right and straight on 'til morning.

So stay awake with me
and steal kisses before the sun as it breaks above the balcony,
our eyes too bleary do anything but stare directly into the center
just like our mothers warned us not to.
But we won't go blind,
just come to find ... love
in a look we'll never get to share again.
And though time from that moment passes,
until we see that same sun set together,
this day
never
ends.

UPDATE: Edited after performing Thursday, June 21

2007-06-12T16:01:00.000-04:00

An incredible Henry James quote on the females, from Daisy Miller:

Certainly she was charming, but how deucedly sociable! Was she simply a pretty girl from New York State? Were they all like that, the pretty girls who had a good deal of gentlemen's society? Or was she also a designing, an audacious, an unscrupulous young person? Winterbourne had lost his instinct in this matter, and reason could not help him.

That's my life in five sentences. Crazy.

In other news, this story brings new meaning to the term "thrill ride."

2007-05-31T13:02:00.000-04:00

A rough poem I'm having trouble revisiting:

I just got
tired.
Tired of taking shit,
tired of taking care,
tired of caring.

There were 25 times
I thought we were over,
but the last time
was the first time I knew.

We're gonna hit that awkward phase,
the adolescent maturation
of an evolving relationship
that never really was,
but should've been
as long as both of us
weren't idiots.

We both had side stories
and tangential relations.
But you fucked someone we knew,
and the girl I fucked
had no face
because she was part of a past
that's only moved upstate
in the amounts I've chosen to reveal.
And for that,
you've never been confronted by my options,
never had to think about knowing
what it could be like to lose me.

Each time I found an out
I let myself let you go
a little bit further,
snapping back harder each time
until one was final
and separate ways
became the inevitable consequence
they had threatened to turn into
from the first time we kissed too quickly
and hung out too often,
too early,
and force-fed an intensity
falsely founded on a feeling
I realized too late was fiction.

2007-05-30T18:59:00.000-04:00

So I had a nice 5+ hour bus ride back from the city, and with sleepy eyes and low lighting, decided to vibe with the iPod instead of reading. I took advantage of the time available and threw on 2Pac's double-album, All Eyez on Me, intending to listen start to finish. But, shortly into Book 2, I was froze in my tracks by some of the most blatant beat jacking I had heard in a minute. I knew - KNEW - I had heard that beat, heard it fairly recently and that it came from a song that wasn't obscure. Check out "Shorty Wanna Be a Thug" and see if you can hear it:

You name that tune? Would it be ... Kanye West and Paul Wall smash single "Drive Slow," perhaps?

Wow. Kanye's supposed to be one of the preeminent producers of this decade, and he straight up JACKED a 10-year-old beat. This isn't even like flipping a sample differently - all he did was slow it down. I call bullshit, 'Ye. Man up and do yours.

2007-05-16T14:29:00.000-04:00

My boy Fascious finally released his first video, "Anoxia's Inertia," via YouTube. It's a dope song - my favorite off the Regime Records' release "Corpus Callosum" - is a sick lyrical display AND has a substantive message. As a hip-hop fan, you can't ask for much more. Enjoy:

2007-05-10T00:37:00.000-04:00

Ways girls can catch my attention, No. 47:

Walk outside wearing pajama pants and a ratty tee with your hair up and no makeup on.

This is guaranteed to make me look, because if I see you like this, and still think to myself that you're worth hitting on, and not only worth hitting on, but actually cause me to hit on you, I'm already in love.
Women have NO IDEA how much this factors in to long-term decisions.

Even if it's a one-night stand - we're judging you in the morning. It's not really on a "Wow, she just did BLANK, she's clearly wack" scale, but more of a "Holy fuck, she just impressed the hell out of me" scale. Passing this test puts you on the "call again" list. Even if the ONS wasn't worth it.

However, if you wear makeup and do your hair right while rocking the aforementioned outfit, you can earn major hot points - it seems kind of classy, even though you're clearly trying too hard. But do you. We're all about the hotness. And totally not superficial. Nothing like that. Not at all.

2007-05-07T14:56:00.000-04:00

I've done a lot of reflecting during the past week, and have decided the "Barbershop" gimmick has run it's course. During the next year, I plan on rolling out a new (well, heavily redesigned) Web site that's blogcentric (which is what this should have been). The new blog - Just Left of Nowhere, which I've been writing for two weeks now - is "life as it's happening," which means, yes, I break down that girl drama most of you hear in pieces. All nicknames, though the recap in post one is likely to earn me a butt-kicking. It should be noted that I'm going on a good three weeks drama-free, which I'm pretty sure is a new record.

I'm planning, for now, to maintain "Barbershop Backtalk" as a blog for random ideas, thoughts and recommendations that would fit outside of Nowhere's scope. We'll see how it pans out.

Remember to check out The Laminated List Fantasy Draft and keep an eye out for the debut of The Watering Hole (Torah commentary from the 20-something set) on May 25.

2007-04-11T16:08:00.000-04:00

This just happened. Really.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:51:41 PM): i can't decide if this is llfd blog worthy: http://www.deadspin.com/sports/boxing/i-like-oscar-de-la-hoyas-chances-if-he-doesnt-explode-before-may-5th-250574.php

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:51:59 PM): it's high comedy, nonetheless

PatJMcCullough (3:53:33 PM): Oh yeah! I actually read that!

PatJMcCullough (3:53:37 PM): That is seriously messed up.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:53:42 PM): yeah really

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:54:01 PM): blue balls are bad enough the next day ... but for five months??

PatJMcCullough (3:54:21 PM): I mean, that would piss me off something extreme.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:54:45 PM): i'm sayin

PatJMcCullough (3:54:45 PM): Think about it. Five months of getting *thiiiiiiiissssssssss* close to busting and then having to stop?

PatJMcCullough (3:54:47 PM): GOD.

PatJMcCullough (3:55:07 PM): He probably has tried to kill his wife a few times. Just out of sheer frustration.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:56:08 PM): i mean ... is she okay with this? like while he's balling her out, does she go "oh, no you don't - I've seen that face before. You pull out THIS SECOND, mister. I mean it!"

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:56:51 PM): and he does it all forlonly, like a kid who has to stop playing with ninja turtles to clean his room?

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:57:25 PM): does she count to 3 first?

PatJMcCullough (3:57:25 PM): How does he not walk around for hours with a raging hard on.

PatJMcCullough (3:57:43 PM): Like, it's not like he can go train or work out if he's pitching a monster tent.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:57:49 PM): i have trouble going five days without cleaning the pipes

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:57:52 PM): i'm sayin

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:57:58 PM): could you imagine sparring?

PatJMcCullough (3:58:09 PM): God.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:58:15 PM): is swordfighting illegal in boxing?

PatJMcCullough (3:58:20 PM): HAS to be.

The BR00KLYN Boy (3:58:23 PM): can we frame this conversation?

2007-04-10T09:18:00.000-04:00

Things that have thoroughly amused me this morning:

Two quotes from "A Home at the End of the World" -

A bakery truck drove by, the driver singing Patsy Cline's "Crazy" in a loud off-key voice, and I sang along with him for half a block. I suppose at heart it was the haircut that did it; that exploded the ordinary order of things and showed me the possibilities that had been there all along, hidden among the patterns in the wallpaper. In a different age, we used to take acid for more or less the same reason. (pp. 153)
I could have skewered his heart with a kitchen fork because he was a peripheral character promoted by circumstances to a role he was ill equipped to play. I can't deny this: I thought I deserved better (pp. 174)

And a passage -

The entire reveal scene when Bobby and Clare tell Jonathan they're sleeping together (pp. 175-180)

I'm clearly going to have to re-read "The Hours." Stupid Michael Cunningham making me like him.

Also, Jimmy Rollins is HI-larious. After declaring pre-season that the Phillies were the team to beat in the N.L. East, Rollins - who's team is 1-6 after losing to the Mets last night - defended his statement thusly:

Above all, Rollins was firm in his position that he'd said what he'd said for a reason, and he had no regrets.

"I don't have to defend it," he said. "If I didn't feel it, I wouldn't have said it. I try to tell it the way it is. Sometimes it needs to be said.

"It's like with your wife. If you don't tell her you love her, even though she knows it, (she) still wants to hear it. With us, the feeling is there, that, 'Hey, we are good,' but sometimes you need to hear it to really believe it."

What a guy. Jimmy Rollins, I heart your resolve. Even though I hate you because you play for the Phils, and I will thoroughly enjoy watching the Mets relegate you to the second division. Which they can't do because this isn't soccer, and there's just no way you'll be as bad as the Nats. But still.

2007-04-06T09:09:00.000-04:00

So I have the kind of mom who buys books for me without reading them because she thinks I'll like them. Because it she pays attention (to life, my interests, what else I'm reading), she's unfailingly good at this. However, when she thrust upon me Michael Cunningham's "A Home at the End of the World," I was highly skeptical, track record be damned.

Cunningham, you see, is on my author sh*t list. He wrote "The Hours," which being spun out of Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway" was bound to be disastrous for our introduction. It took me about seven years and four full-fledged, non-mandatory attempts for me to stubbornly succeed at finishing "Dalloway," which I've now come to appreciate. "The Hours," however, still makes me want to do something - anything - but read the next page (line, sentence, word).

Mi madre was acutely aware of this, and I unnecessarily reminded her when he foisted "End of the World" upon me. She insisted I would like the book. And I insisted I hated Michael Cunningham with a fiery passion from the depths of my soul. She again insisted I would like the book. I again insisted that no, really - I hate Michael Cunningham, and I didn't think she was getting this. She again insisted that I would like the book. I decided to placate her and take it, finishing "Speaker for the Dead" and starting Michael Chabon's novella, "The Final Solution," before giving "End of the World" the obligatory toilet-time preview.

Wasn't impressed, but wasn't turned off.

One day and 32 pages later, I'm conceding: you win, mother. I present the following passage, in which the narrator's nine-year-old, slightly tipsy self finds his father in the kitchen during a party for the grown folk:

There I find our father leaning up against the refrigerator. A line of butterfly-shaped magnets hovers around his head. "Are you enjoying this party?" he asks, touching his goatee. He is still getting used to being a man with a beard.

'Uh huh.'

'I am, too,' he says sadly. He never meant to be a high school music teacher. The money question caught up with him.

'What do you think of this music?' he asks. Carlton [my brother] has put the Stones on the turntable. Mick Jagger sings '19th Nervous Breakdown.' Our father gestures in an openhanded way that takes in the room, the party, the whole house - everything the music touches.

'I like it,' I say.

'So do I.' He stirs the drink with his finger, and sucks on the finger.

'I love it,' I say, too loud. Something about our father leads me to raise my voice. I want to grab handfuls of the music and stuff them into my mouth.

And BANG. There it is. I'm D-U-N. Like Bobby and Whitney (No, really - this time it's serious. Suuuure it is, guys.) My mom has taken a solid lead in the battle of book recommendations. Blast you for making me like Michael Cunningham. That was my last bastion of literary hate. I'll get even one day.

2007-03-31T10:15:00.000-04:00

After remembering a nearly year-old book recommendation last time I was at the library, I'm now in the middle of Orson Scott Card's "Speaker for the Dead" (sequel to "Ender's Game," which was the remembered recommendation). It's got a bit of a different flow to it than "Ender's," but I read a line I LOVED last night:

... he knew that most stars were invisible to us; a trillion of them could disappear and we'd not know it. For thousands of years we would continue to see the photons that had already been launched before the star disappeared. By the time we could see the galaxy go blank, it would be far too late to amend our course. (pp. 87)

I can't even properly verbalize the reasons why this struck me, though the nagging thing I want to say is that it really puts the insignificance of the individual - and even society - in perspective. That was a favorite concept from my astronomy class at UNC: in universal terms, none of this matters. The whole of human existence only dates back about 200,000 years. The universe is, conservatively, 13 BILLION. So, human history is 1/70,000 (1.42 percent) of history as we can establish it. Crazy stuff, this.

2007-03-25T20:19:00.000-04:00

Out of tragedy, great art can be made. It serves to honor the memory and make relevant stories and situations that would otherwise go unheard or forgotten. In the aftermath of Sean Bell's fatal shooting by NYC police - two of whom have been indicted on charges of second- and third-degree manslaughter - Aurora Rose has composed a song, "Fifty Times." She's allowing me to host it, offering it up here:

On a similar note, I spent the last few days covering the 4th annual Special Abilities Weekend at the Baseball Hall of Fame, much of it trailing Ray Negron as he spoke to three audiences - a classroom in Michigan, a group of at-risk students from Albany and a group of Museum visitors. Negron has a great story: George Steinbrenner busted him tagging Yankee Stadium in 1973, and made him pay off his damages by serving as a batboy. Negron remained in baseball for the next 34 years, working mainly as a consultant and player agent. The two cousins who escaped when Negron was caught never made it out of the streets, slain by gunshots as young men.

But that wasn't why Negron was at the Hall. Last year, he wrote a children's book, The Boy of Steel, about a young boy with cancer who gets the chance to be a Yankee batboy, and must fight to be strong enough to accomplish his duties. The story was born of Negron's work with pediatric cancer patients, after a hospital visit when second baseman Robinson Cano - volunteering for the first time - said he'd try to hit a home run for a young boy. Cano went 0-for-his-first-four at-bats, forgetting the promise. During his fifth at-bat, in the bottom of the ninth, Cano hit a game-winning home run. Negron approached him after the game, and told Cano he was glad he honored his promise. Cano asked, "What promise?" Negron reminded him about the boy from earlier in the day. Cano's eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, "Oh, my god!" Cano later invited that boy to serve as honorary bat boy for a day.

Negron knew this was an important story. Approached by Harper Collins (through Regan Books) to write an autobiography, Negron redirected the project, focusing on publishing a children's book. "The Boy of Steel" was published in August 2006, eventually reaching No. 2 on The New York Times Best-Seller List for children's books. All proceeds from the book's sale go directly to the New York Yankees Foundation.

Having grown up in Brooklyn, I was skeptical. There's always an angle, I thought. Not with Ray. He means it. Really, really means it. This is important work he's doing, and I'm not letting people go without knowing it. Cheers, Ray. You've made me a better person in two days. I can't imagine the number of people you've done that for in 34 years. Thank you. From all of us.

2007-03-24T12:57:00.000-04:00

So I totally was ready to bring some reading material for a trip to the can here at work, but totally lost my nerve because there were other people sitting around in the break room. It would have been like announcing to them, "Man, am I ready to take one GREAT poop." That's too much information for most people, let alone these poor saps from the Village (of Cooperstown).

However, upon further review, I've decided I no longer care. I'm ready to be "that guy," the one who enjoys reading on the toilet unashamedly. So the next time you see me, magazine/newspaper/book in hand, I'm going to give you a knowing smile that says, "Yup, I know you know. And I know you think that's a little weird. I'm okay with it. You can be okay with it, too. Deal? Deal."

This is what happens when they make me come in on a Saturday ...

2007-03-19T01:39:00.000-04:00

An update to the last post:

After praising Shari Goldhagen's book, "Family and Other Accidents," I opened my email the other day to find a note from Ms. Goldhagen herself, thanking me for the support. Totally made my day. I already swore by her stuff, but she's officially earned a permanent spot in the favorite author pantheon. Cheers, Shari. I hope if I ever make it as a writer, I stay as grounded as you are.

2007-03-06T15:01:00.000-05:00

It was a slow week up here in Oneonta, with the college kids on break, and I became quite introspective, coming to a realization that I'm not sure means much of anything: I think the reason I like being around and interacting with people so much is that I tend to be terribly melancholic in my alone time.

A strong desire to re-read Family and Other Accidents launched the train of thought. It's one of my favorite books, if not my favorite since I've read it, and in pondering why, I realized that all my favorite passages and lines were, in a word, "devastating." Just soul-crushingly sad. An example :

(SCENE: Connor Reed, two-year-old daughter in tow, meets up with ex-fiance Beth Martin)

"Conn?" Beth asked. "Who would have thought we'd both end up in Boston?"

"Yeah, everyone in this city calls me 'Kahnah.' " He stood up, and she gave him a quick hug; she was easily a foot shorter than him. "So, you're a doctor now or something?"

"Or something." She shrugged, rolled wide eyes, smiled at Jorie. "Is this your little girl?" Beth held out her fingers for Jorie to squeeze, and looked up at Connor. "She's so cute. I can't believe she's yours."

"Hey."

"No, I mean, I knew you'd have a beautiful kid; I just can't believe you have a kid."

But Connor knew what she meant: she couldn't believe he had a kid that wasn't hers.

Whenever I think about the book, that's the section that comes to mind. When I need to explain to someone why they should have read it months ago, that's the section I'll use. And that type of sad is an undercurrent in other books that don't let me go, not to mention music ("Calm Down," Joe Budden; "Thnks Fr Th Mmrs," Fall Out Boy, Infinity on High; "She Tried," Bubba Sparxxx, Deliverance). Though this is often couched in terms of potential positivity (things working out for someone else, setting up success where there previously existed failure, etc.) And what sealed the deal for me was that this type of mood ran through all my best writing, whether I was 16 years old or 23.

Maybe I just haven't gotten comfortable with me yet. Maybe I haven't learned how to be comfortable, period. Either way, it feels easier when people are around, enjoying themselves — or not — just living life, one moment before the next.

2007-03-03T23:34:00.000-05:00

I just spent an entire Saturday sitting on my ass. I played three games of NBA 2K6 and finally figured out how to score down low, but completely forgot how to play defense, losing all three on absurd runs by the computer, specifically Paul Pierce and Rashard Lewis. I watched an entire season of Extras. I finished Waiting … I watched Big Fish and thought about how I'm turning into Edward Bloom, and I'm only 23. I find it troubling, because I shouldn't have a mythology this early in the game.

I updated The BC CDC a little bit. I wrote an email to Liz (from B&N). I almost wrote my first mass mail in more than two months. I talked to Edna. I didn't call Juan for his birthday (for the fourth straight day). I decided everyone in Oneonta is wholly unreliable, because no one follows through on anything they say the first time; they either change the plan or it fails to happen or fails to get to me. Fail fail fail. (Sorry, I wasn't allowed to use that word while writing for MLB.com. That was pent up for nearly a year.)

About the only positive to take out of today is that the Knicks won two games in a row for the first time in nearly a month. Starbury is back! (Word to Sash.)

2007-02-28T14:00:00.000-05:00

I finally got my new phone. Hit me with the digits so I don't have to create one of those facebook "event invites" to harass you all by email.

2007-02-25T23:54:00.000-05:00

I finally updated bcbarbershop.com officially for the first time in two months. There's a fair amount of new ish, and I've undertaken a few projects to bolster the overall content.

Enjoy it, kids.

2007-02-18T18:47:00.000-05:00

I washed my phone ... and lost every number since Summer 2005. That means if you know me through: Barnes & Noble, The Baseball Hall of Fame, Spoken Word Poetry, Oneonta or some random meeting in New York City, or changed your number, I got NOTHING. If you'd like to stay in contact, please call/text me (same number: 347 866 3164; I've got a temp phone) or message or email me or something. Otherwise we're not gon' be in touch until you run into me randomly, dig?

Good look, y'all -- I was due up for this.

2007-02-13T19:08:00.000-05:00

So I was listening to Hip Hop is Dead the other day (week, really, but hey -- the blogosphere is all about timeliness ...) and realized that NaS and The Game have made two tracks together that I know of -- "Hustlers" (on HHiD) and "Why You Hate The Game" (on Doctor's Advocate) -- and both of them are fucking awesome.

These are two of the most complementary emcees you could possibly pair up; each brings out the best in the other. NaS' career has been haunted by poor beat selection and an attempt to reach unnecessarily for commercial attention. The Game falls back on gangsta-rap cliches (being Crip, guns, rims, etc.) and incessant name-dropping when he doesn't have a concept song. NaS brings it lyrically (this and this never happened) and conceptual ("Rewind," "One Mic," "Hip Hop is Dead," etc.). The Game has incredible beat selection ("Higher," "Compton," "Dreams," etc.) and is dope when rapping for a reason ("Doctor's Advocate," "Ole English," "Like Father Like Son"). Why have these two cats not put out a record together?!

With The Game's beat selection and NaS contributing the concepts to keep The Game on point, there's no way this could be anything short of a classic album. Seriously. Can you even present a valid counter argument? My side's up two tracks to none.

But this got me thinking -- what are other combos you'd like to see put together "supergroup" albums, and why?

2007-02-07T19:30:00.000-05:00

There are lots of reasons I'm not in the NBA. For now, I'm going to go with I can't do this.

Agent Zero is my hero (and won $20,000 for what he did in that video).

2007-01-23T21:36:00.000-05:00

So I know this singer, Aurora Rose ... and she's kind of a big deal. One week from today at The Knitting Factory in NYC, you can find out just how much.

Aurora goes on at 9 p.m., but she's performing as part of the show "Welcome to the Looney Bin" featuring RephStar and the Rhyme Factory (10 p.m.) and Rebel Diaz (8 p.m.) I can't vouch for the other two beyond their MySpace pages, but the songs they have up there are pretty dope.

Tickets are only $8, so you ain't got an excuse -- support your local artists! (You know, since I can't because I live in Oneonta now ...)

2007-01-18T13:52:00.000-05:00

Just wondering, but can I please get some visionary credit on Avril Lavigne?

She's legitimately hot now. Who knew three years ago that Avril and La Lohan would swap status on the hotness scale? Even I didn't see that one coming.

It's definitely time for an LLFD stockwatch column.

2007-01-17T15:50:00.000-05:00

Yeah ... so I've more than realized it's been much longer than "sometime in the next few days" and I still haven't updated bcbarbershop.com. I'll post a few times here before Monday, and update the site by then. You can hack off a limb -- your choice -- if I fail to do so. I have fewer limbs than blog readers (I'm pretty sure), so that's a decent threat to work under. Pressure is AWESOME.

Later kids.

2007-01-02T22:56:00.000-05:00

Update is coming at bcbarbershop.com sometime this week. I just needed today to get used to being back in Oneonta (and go to a dinner party courtesy of another Brooklyn transplant. P.S. Did anyone ever tell you I like people? And they tend to like me? If not, consider yourself forewarned. ... Not sayin', I'm just sayin ...)

PPS
Kate Todd is awesome. Her three lead singles are available at katetodd.com (Click the Music link)

PPPS
In case you didn't know, she's from RFR, which remains the best show of all time. I refuse to deny this.

2006-12-28T15:40:00.000-05:00

So for the record -- though I know I'm already two games and 23 assists late -- Allen Iverson and 'Melo are going to make it work in Denver. AI now has a real teammate for the first time in, well ... ever. The cat's always had a distributor in him, but never anyone worth distributing to. This year's the practice run, and next is the victory lap. Hate all you want, but we in here talkin' about practice, man. We talkin' about practice.

2006-12-25T12:40:00.000-05:00

So I kind of didn't update bcbarbershop.com within the last seven days. This is due to my impressive talent for preparing for a trip home (by, say, putting my laptop power cord, cell phone and iPod chargers and wireless card in a mini-bag) and then not being prepared when I am home (by, say, leaving that bag in my bedroom in Oneonta). On the plus side, I'm currently in the middle of three poems at once, and have clearance to add several new musicians/poets to The Soundtrack. So the update, when it comes, will be substantial. I'm liking these new joints. There's a couple of good concepts. You'll have to wait and see, kids. Enjoy your gift getting or chinese and a movie. Jews.

2006-12-18T16:23:00.000-05:00

I'm going to update bcbarbershop.com this week. Look for it in the next few days. Any band recommendations -- preferably of the "you know someone in them" variety -- are welcome. I like new music, and pretending that you're all discovering the cool ass people I put up there, like recent addition Aurora Rose or that everpresent stalwart, theFoundation.

Get at me.

You know you want to.

2006-12-15T09:39:00.000-05:00

Things girls have said about me in the last week:

I'm hot.
I'm fun.
I'm a talented writer.
I'm funny.
I make them feel good about themselves.
I'm slick.

They're all clearly delusional. They forgot "celebrity in the making" and "kind of a big deal."

It's a good time to be me.

(PS it's hard to breathe because my ego is filling the room. On the plus side, you can hate on me for not being able to drive.)

2006-12-13T23:56:00.000-05:00

As promised, bcbarbershop.com has been updated. Enjoy it, kids.

2006-12-12T10:01:00.000-05:00

There's an update coming either today or tomorrow at The BC Barbershop. However, I've had to do the update in sections. If you're the curious kind, you might want to check out The Soundtrack to see what I've been listening to.

Be pre-paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaared.

2006-11-26T02:02:00.000-05:00

There's an update at The BC Barbershop.

And it's a big one. Enjoy it.

2006-11-24T17:42:00.000-05:00

So I finished that poem I mentioned in the last blog entry. The next Oneonta Poetry Slam (Dec. 7) will mark the performance debut of Media Filtration, which you'll be able to preview here at the BC Barbershop after I finish updating the site. Yes, you read that correctly. I've actually made progress that will result in publication. Should be later today. Couple poetry joints, updated DVR schedule, new band or two, updated regulars (wait, what?), maybe some revamped music suggestions and as many DVDs as I can remember purchasing since the last time I made current that absolutely ridiculous connecting list.

Hope everything's going well for the rest of you on this post-Turkey Day afternoon (evening for the East Coast kids). Be easy.

2006-11-14T01:25:00.000-05:00

I came in third at November's Oneonta Poetry Slam. It was annoying on one level, but good on another -- the quality was so high I couldn't front on the winners, although I still wish I had won. Props to Jimmy the Loch and Sierra for topping my low-nine average. I'ma bring it next month. The idea for the poem is there, I just haven't executed it yet; I'm about two verses shy. The revolution is coming ... and on the internet. Word.

2006-11-03T22:30:00.000-05:00

In case you haven't noticed, I flipped the color scheme for the site. It's a lot cleaner, I think, and the first step in a catch-the-hell-update.

Also, there are big plans in the works (as always, but this time collaboratively). I may contact some of you. Be prepared like Simba.

2006-11-02T12:30:00.000-05:00

Ah, the wonders of autobills and Domain Name Registration. I realized late last night the site was down, but called the wonderful folks at HostGator, and everything's kosher now. The whole correction took five minutes from the time I dialed. Good guys, those.

Sorry for the mixup, and feel free to check for the full DC post at Barbershop Backtalk.

2006-11-01T10:00:00.000-05:00

In what's sure to become the biggest debate to rise out of Cooperstown since Buck O'Neil was passed over by the Baseball Hall of Fame, I, Benjamin John Couch of Brooklyn, N.Y., might have been sick for the last few days.

Yeah, you read that correctly.

The man who has scoffed in the face of all disease for nearly eight years might have been "under the weather." Check the facts and decide for yourself:

The Setup
So I take a four-day trip to Washington, D.C. this past weekend (Oct. 26-29), ostensibly to see many a Tar Heel living in the area, and go to a massive party another friend organized. I spend the next three days either on the Metro, eating, drinking or sleeping and occasionally in costume. (Usually in that order, but no guarantees. Blurry is where it starts.)

With the big Halloween festivities set for Saturday (The Nightmare on "M" Street Bar Crawl -- and NOT Sabrina's party, as I found out earlier that day when she was disappointed at my no-show the night before. My bad, ha.) we costumed up and set out and about on a fairly chilly night. After a bit of wandering around outside (an hour? two?) we finally camped out and turned the bar crawl to a sit-in. Many hours and rounds later, we returned to Stevie's pad to crash, eight people deep. I definitely stepped on people when I woke up and really, really had to pee in the middle of the night.

The First Symptom
I woke up and began gathering my belongings (a/k/a clothes), realizing I had to return to Rachel R.'s place to pick up my luggage in order to travel back to the CLR. I turned to Phill (whose stuff was also at Rachel's) to ask him when he wanted to head over.

Except nothing came out.

My voice was gone like Bassy's chain. As I began to wake up, it started going in and out, but being that it's pretty impossible to communicate through every fourth syllable of the words you're intending to speak, this didn't help much either.

A Hershey's Milkshake (I just wanted a Strawberry NesQuik. I'm revoking D.C.'s "city" status until I successfully make that purchase.) soothed the throat enough that I could maintain a horse-ass conversation with Whitney at brunch. (NOTE, for anyone who eats at Union Station's America DC restaurant: They make up the towns of origin for all the dishes. PB&J did NOT originate in the podunk Georgia town they claimed. My very friendly waiter informed me as such.

I was highly disappointed.)

I did manage to leave an inaudible message to my mother upon arriving in Albany. (Yes, that's the closest effing airport.)

The Day After
So I wake up on Monday with enough of a voice to talk, but sound like an 80-year-old emphezema patient with a three-pack-a-day habit. Someone referred to this as my "sexy voice," and I mulled whether pulling in chainsmoking senior nan would be worth it.

This line of thought directly led to me adding a pack of Halls Honey Lemon Cough Drops to my purchase at Hannaford that evening.

The Secondary Symptoms
Tuesday, I wake up feeling a bit of tightness in the chest and the throat could be interpreted as sore. I start downing the Halls like House with a leg cramp, and somehow, the cough has worsened. I nearly choke to death on a cough drop during a department meeting, and try to explain the physical mechanics, saying something along the lines of, "The drop slid down my throat, and in my body trying to expel it, the drop went further down."

That will make a million times more sense if it ever happens to you.

I go to the gym, change up and promptly set a new personal pace record on the Precor EFX Elliptical Cross Trainer (min. 180 strides per minute for 25 minutes, high of 210; 3 min. forward, then 2 backward, repeating.) I run through my normal workout, only failing to set new maxes on a few because I added an exercise (lateral raise) and did one out of order (lat pulldown before low row).

Returning home, I'm starting to feel congested in the sinuses. Not in an "I-feel-run-down-way" just like there's a whole bunch of crap that's not supposed to be there behind my eyes and nose. Also, the slight tightness in the chest remains, and I still sound like I'm talking out of a hole in my neck. However, while checking myself out in the mirror (I'm not going to the gym for any other reason than to do this and be like, "Yup. I look good naked." Because it's been established that I look good with clothes on. It's like the Final Frontier.) I notice there's a phoenix-shaped red splotch across my upper chest and neck, extending shoulder-to-shoulder, from Adam's apple to breast bone.

Unfortunately, no super powers appeared with it.

I finally pass out at 12:30 a.m. reading Paul Auster's Moon Palace. I decide choosing to read his cannon was a good decision, even if there are many a recurring theme in his books (single, older guy who's gone through a bad divorce and has estranged kids, a few sex scenes "essential" to the plot and New York/Brooklyn connections for three. Word to Diane.) However, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. because I am unable to breath due to nasal blockage. I run through an inordinate amount of tissues and several Halls to seemingly no avail. However, I realize if I lie on my left side, the sinus crap leaks down, but on the right, it remains in place. I quickly plug a tissue into the right nostril, lie on the right side and am out cold in five minutes.

Day Four
I wake up this morning feeling, well, great. Voice could use a lil sanding to be considered "smooth," but I'm feeling free and clear in the sinuses. And then once Adam gets to work, I promptly go on another 12-minute phlegmatic coughing jag that is directly Halls related. He refuses to believe I'm healthy. I resolve to position future cough drops further forward on my tongue. In order to alleviate the coughing, I swallow at least a half-liter of water. This, coupled with my normal H20 consumption rate causes a raging desire to relieve myself. Iwill do so, leaving you to decide the Couch Cold Conundrum.

(If I could easily construct a poll in the next 30 seconds, it would be here. But my bladder is not going to let said poll exist. Later, kids.)

2006-10-13T09:55:00.000-04:00

I'd like to thank Howard Bloom's Sports Business News for alerting me to the following article, which needs to be filed under "When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong -- Fantasy Sports Special Edition"

Candiotti comes clean on fantasy baseball

By Scott Ostler
The SF Gate
October 13, 2006

You gotta admire a ballplayer who will do anything, even risk injury, to help his team win. Unless it's his fantasy-league team, and the injury he's risking is to someone else.

This, then, is a cautionary tale of a guy who took the rotisserie stuff waaaay too seriously.

His name is Tom Candiotti. Remember Candy? Walnut Creek kid, star pitcher at St. Mary's, became a knuckleballer and pitched 16 seasons in the major leagues, '98 and '99 for the A's.

Candiotti, now a radio-TV color man for the Diamondbacks, told me his story, cringing with remorse more than a decade later.

"It's '92 or '93," Candiotti says. "I'm playing for the Dodgers, Jeff Kent is with the Mets. I'm in a fantasy baseball league. I don't have Kent on my team and he's off to a torrid start and he's killing me."

The Dodgers are in New York to play the Mets. Ramon Martinez is warming up in the Dodgers' bullpen to pitch the series opener. Candiotti strolls to the pen and, within earshot of Martinez, tells pitching coach Ron Perranoski, "Perry, I just talked to Bret Saberhagen, and Sabes told me that if Kent gets drilled his first time up, he's mush for the rest of the series."

First inning, Kent steps to the plate.

"Ramon just absolutely buries one in Kent's ribs," Candiotti says. "It was so bad that he went down on one knee, and he had to come out of the game. I sat there thinking, 'What did you just do? You told a complete lie, you got this guy drilled!'

"After that, it was funny. Pedro Martinez (Ramon's brother) started drilling Kent, and so did all the other Dominican pitchers. For years, Ramon drilled Kent every time. ... That winter I'm at a charity golf tournament, I wind up in Kent's group. We sit together at dinner. He's the nicest guy in the world. I didn't tell him."

How did Candiotti's fantasy team do?

"When I saw Kent get hit by Ramon, that was the end of my fantasy days. It was out of control."

I ran the story by Kent. He shrugged.

"Gettin' hit's part of the game," he said. "I've been hit for many reasons, so a rotisserie league (is no big deal)..."

Then Kent said, "Candiotti, eh? Heh-heh-heh. (Pause) He walks around with a little dog."

My god, what have I done? Candy, hide the dog.

My favorite part of that is where Candiotti mentions that Pedro Martinez started drilling Kent and then so did ALL THE DOMINICAN PITCHERS IN THE MAJORS. That is amazing. I know last year Milton Bradley basically called Kent a racist, but maybe the guy had a reason ...

Can you imagine going through a few years of this?

(Middle innings, Dominican pitcher on the mound, KENT is 0-for-1 with a first-inning HBP and a K. He turns to a TEAMMATE.)

Kent: Hey man, you ever get the feeling the Dominicans are out to get you?
Teammate: Uhm, what?
Kent: I mean, I know Latin players pitch inside more, but these guys, man ... I feel like they always come at me early. Right in the ribs. Like right there. (points)
Teammate: I dunno, man. Never really looked for it. ... You were kinda crowding the plate.
Kent: Yeah, guess I must have been ... (looks wistfully into the distance, single tear)

2006-10-12T16:13:00.000-04:00

Asshole, pointing to guy with Red Sox bumper sticker on his wheelchair: He's a Boston fan; let's kick his ass! Oh wait, looks like God beat us to it.

--126th & St Nick (From Grand Slam Wednesday One-Liners)

Wow. Just ... wow.

I love Overheard. Even if they keep stiffing me on the Headline Contest.

2006-10-04T13:50:00.000-04:00

Reason No. 4,321 I love overheardinnewyork.com:

Chick: Do you know the rules for being in Brooklyn?

--Law office, 54th & 5th

Overheard by: The legal intern

That, my friends, is a girl who knows.

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/006311.html

2006-10-03T14:06:00.000-04:00

Woo Hoo! 5,000 posts. Holla.

Aaaaand ... I'm done.

So I spit during the open mic at the third Big O! Poetry Slam and totally wussed out on reading a new piece. It's an examination of reverse-LJBF ish, but I'm unsure on the ending. Something's nagging in the flow of it. There's not a rhyme scheme, and while that can work, it feels off here. In any case, I fell back on Committing Coolness. Ah, standbys. I kinda flipped the feel this time, though, going for a resigned, sad, when-did-this-all-disappear kind of vibe. Hopefully it didn't fall into monotonous. Audience seemed polite enough about it.

I gotta stop almost losing my pieces, though. That's gonna catch up to me if I can't iron it out.I'm like THIS CLOSE to doing Potential Partnership next time. I'm also pretty sure I'm going to lose my nerve and swap out at the last second. That's kind of a balls-out piece; maybe I'm never going to hit my stride until I feel like I can spit that for a cold audience. In time. In time.

2006-10-02T10:57:00.000-04:00

A sign next to the light/fan switch in the bathroom at the Huntington Memorial Library in Oneonta:

Please leave fan on when necessary.

That cracked me up. Because it means they had problems with a smelly shitter. Or many of them. It's always in the little things. Keep your eyes open, kids.

2006-09-28T17:40:00.000-04:00

Whutup kids?

I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still alive. Haha. That is waaaaaaaaaay overdramatic. Really, I just left my laptop at home in Brooklyn and I only have internet access at work right now. And it'll be like that for two weeks (WAAAAAAACK) So those of you used to late-night AIM convos or off-hours facebook- or myspacing need find some other form of entertainment until I get my comp back.

I can tell you, living in the Dark Ages is NOT awesome. Well, at least when you've been using the Internet since you were in 6th grade a/k/a 1994 a/k/a I beat the curve and you didn't, so ha. Prodigy, whut! (Yeah, that existed once.) This also means no Web site updates for those of you hanging on them ... But since you've been waiting since the end of July, at this point, what's two weeks?

I'll hit on some more stuff this weekend, hopefully -- contrary to popular belief, Oneonta is big enough for a library. Until then, B well, B easy, BC.

2006-09-26T12:11:00.000-04:00

A rider to be attached to the previous post, playwritten. I call this "The Day After."

An apartment. THE GIRL is eating breakfast. THE ROOMMATE ENTERS. THE ROOMMATE makes coffee.

THE ROOMMATE
So Couch, huh?

THE GIRL
Yeah he was here. ... And then he left.

THE ROOMMATE
That bad?

THE GIRL
Wouldn't know.

THE ROOMMATE
Wait, what?

THE GIRL
Wouldn't know.

THE ROOMMATE
Like you didn't have sex?

THE GIRL
Nope.

THE ROOMMATE
Really?

THE GIRL
Nope. Nothin. Didn't even kiss me.

THE ROOMMATE
Is he straight?

THE GIRL
Think so.

THE ROOMMATE
I'm confused.

THE GIRL
Me too.

SCENE

2006-09-25T02:27:00.000-04:00

I have intimacy issues. And there's no reason I should, but I do and I hate that. I'm just ...

... tired.

And it's my own stupid fault, and I know it.

Which makes it so much better to think about.

Which I can't stop doing.

Can somebody say Downward Spiral?

2006-09-10T13:42:00.000-04:00

I am one lazy Webmaster. I did do some work on the site the other day. I'll update soon, promise. Also, I'm going to start putting my update emails as blog entries.

2006-09-05T23:47:00.000-04:00

Things that amuse me, and likely only me, because nobody else pays attention to these things, No. 479 in an ongoing series:

Quoth Tony DiNozzo (Michael Weatherly's character) on NCIS, Tuesday, Sept. 5:

"I got a better chance of hooking up with Jessica Alba than these guys do of infiltrating SeaLift."

NCIS is easily the best Dark Angel-alum series I've gotten sucked into.

Except for Numb3rs.

And Supernatural.

Ah, who am I kidding? That show altered my life. Just remember that Jessica Alba would've been my 7th round LLFD sleeper in 2000, equating to my 14th round thieving of Minnesota Twins stud starter Francisco Liriano a/k/a "The reason my fantasy team ran away with the regular season this year"

I am a golden god.

I'm on drugs!

... I dig music ...

Nah ... I'm on drugs!

Oh, pop culture. Wrap my insecurities in your comforting blanket of cotton candy fluff.

2006-08-08T10:39:00.000-04:00

An 88-year-old Indian man just had twins. He also has sex daily.

And you thought Hef was gangsta.

2006-08-03T20:55:00.000-04:00

I might well just have finished my finest poem yet ...

... except I still have to write the middle of it.

Check for it after the weekend.

2006-07-25T16:20:00.000-04:00

This article about the suspension relaxations in the Italian soccer leagues has a great ending:

"Hundreds of Lazio fans outside the hotel where the verdicts were delivered screamed in delight at the news their team was back in Serie A. Minutes later, they scattered when a sudden thunderstorm drenched them."

2006-07-18T20:51:00.000-04:00

Great lines I failed to use, No. 743 and 744 in an ongoing series:

No. 743
After recapping how I ended up in Cooperstown to a complete stranger on the bus, to independent party hot girl sitting next to me
If I ask you out, can we skip to the second date because you know my life story?

No. 744
(smirking) I'm not hitting on you -- you're too old for me. ... The way I see it, you can either stay mad at me or prove me wrong. Your call.

2006-07-01T16:18:00.000-04:00

(NOTE: If you were directed here from the d.a.y. at SLAMonline, the Knicks draft entry is here.

I checked out my first event in the Oneonta poetry scene on Thursday. It was a slam at the Black Oak Tavern. It was during the PSI/SUNY-Oneonta Poetry Cross Training conference, so there were an abundance of poets. 22 signed up to perform, so they staged a two-round slam, with the top five scores (out of 30.0) advancing to a second round. I drew a slot around 15 (kinda hard to keep track, and enough time to make me antsy.

Listening to the poets slotted in front of me, I thought the quality of some was quite high. Notably, one girl did a HI-larious comedy joint about being an obbsessive girlfriend, and another did a metaphorical one (her "why I write" piece) that kept coming back to space metaphors; new clothes for old hat, but sometimes that does the job. Oh, and there was a flipped love poem by this dude Bamboo MC that was funny, and got the room hot and bothered. But others I just wasn't really feelin'. Respected the effort, just not my bag. Oh, and a bunch of cats were reading and forgetting ish. Judging seemed kinda harsh -- scores were pretty low, due to judges being unfamiliar with the process, I think. Lotta low 20s early.

I was up third after a short bathroom break, and had pretty much committed myself to performing The Catch for the first time in front of an audience. The emcee flubbed my intro about four times and had a whole mic adjustment ceremony before finishing. I finally got up on the mic, said, "Some guys do this to get girls. I'm not one of them. See ..." and then I launched into the poem.

And I had these cats the whole time. I'm talking, they were listening so hard, they weren't even outwardly reacting because of the processing. I didn't even get a reaction on the Tetris line, which is definitely a flash point. If I were in New York, they would have made me rewind it. I did catch one older lady in the audience feelin' it, so word to you, ma'am, wherever you are.

As I walked off the stage, I definitely think I heard some girl mutter, "What an asshole." Which is what the poem's supposed to do ... if you listen superficially. I bet she remembers me, though. Then the scores came:

3.3
4.1
6.5
7.8
8.4

Drop the high and low and you get a combined 18.4. Now I know that's not the easiest poem, especially for the first time I was performing in a community, but that stung. That range is definitely ridiculous though. Worst part is, the next event isn't for a month, so I've gotta sit on that number. I'm not really mad, just disappointed because I believe in the poem. I don't know that they were ready for something that honest, or out of the normal cycle of "revolution/love/why I write" joints. So it goes.

2006-06-29T06:55:00.000-04:00

So last night was the 2006 NBA draft. As a fan of the New York Knicks, who just suffered through an unmitigated disaster of a season, I was actually looking forward to this. Forget about Isiah Thomas the coach (debatable success) or free-agent-signing/trading GM (questionable success) for a moment, and reflect on his laudable draft track record entering the draft:

He selected Damon Stoudamire and Jimmy King (1995), Marcus Camby ('96) and Tracy McGrady ('97) in Toronto, and then Trevor Ariza (2004), Channing Frye, Nate Robinson and David Lee (all '05) for the Knicks thus far. Wrapping up the throwaway second-round pick of a Fab Five leftover (King) in aluminum foil, the Toronto group consists of a superstar and two long-term legit NBA starters; all three players remain in the league nine years later, and they all start. While it's still early to make a call on the Knicks' foursome, Ariza was regarded league-wide as a steal at the time of the draft and throughout his two years in the league; Frye has flashed star potential, and Robinson and Lee are clearly both rotation players in the league, Lee as a do-everything hustle player, Robinson a sparkplug off the bench. Nearly every one of those picks was questioned at the time it was made.

Which brings us to this year. And the tremendous draft-day slide of Marcus Williams, who was widely expected to be in the lottery. With the Knicks selecting 20th, the selection had "best available player" written all over it. I was convinced Isiah would go insane and take Williams or Rajon Rondo (if only for the name -- can that guy be anything BUT a pro basketball player?) Maybe even Josh Boone if he were feeling tall.

And then he picked Renaldo Balkman.

The NIT MOP.

Boos rained down from the Garden crowd. But they might as well have been jeering WHOOOO?

He followed up by selecting Mardy Collins from Temple, who has been widely compared to Aaron McKie, with the 29th pick. That choice made (and makes) sense, a good combination of need (backcourt stopper/big guard) and talent (some projected him in the lottery).

But Chad Ford's analysis on ESPN.com summarizes the intial post-draft reaction to Balkman:

"I understand why Thomas likes Renaldo Balkman -- he's the anti-Knick. He's a hard working, blue-collar athlete who scraps and fights for everything he gets. He doesn't want to shoot 20 times a game and doesn't have a 40-man entourage whispering in his ear about how great he is.

But I just don't think Balkman has the talent to warrant a first-round selection. He might have the right attitude, but I can't see him as anything more than a marginal role player in the NBA.

Given who was on the board when Thomas selected Balkman -- including Marcus Williams, Rajon Rondo and Shannon Brown -- I think this was a wasted pick."

But I woke up at 5:30 this morning, and began reading all the New York papers for draft reaction, as well as doing a little research on Balkman. While Ford's harsh assessment could prove true, I discovered some interesting things. Balkman was not listed in the NBA draft media guide, which featured 133 players, and won the NIT Most Outstanding Player award purely for his defense (same article). He was also the best player at the Orlando pre-draft camp. And Thomas revealed that the Phoenix Suns wanted to take Balkman with the 27th pick.

This last part is the kicker, and the whole reason I hate Isiah Thomas. And this is hate in the "I hate girls and keep coming back" sense, not the "I hate the Yankees" sense. Because -- as with almost every other move and accompanying explanation Thomas has made -- this is just reasonable enough to make you think, "Yeah ... Yeah! ... YEAH! I get it! I see where he's going. This could work."

But why should we believe Thomas? Who says Phoenix would have drafted him? That's a pretty convenient excuse, but it's got no legs like the guy in Kids. Except for one thing: Phoenix promptly traded out of the first round. Thomas could actually be right. Just like he might be every time he makes one of these crazy moves or signings that don't seem to work out. The difference here is with his draft track record, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt. And that sucks. Because right now, this is one crazy draft pick.

NOTE: This article ran in the New York Post the day after I blogged this. What can ya do, besides revel in how good the Knicks will be in NBA 2k7, where you don't have to worry about players pining for minutes or not playing hard (or a bunch of rabid fans out for your blood)?

2006-06-22T22:05:00.000-04:00

A confidence booster after offering a preview of my latest poem:

blewsmokeatyou (11:17:46 PM): I like it a lot.
blewsmokeatyou (11:20:10 PM): I really hope one day to see you at a reading.
blewsmokeatyou (11:20:13 PM): Pimping your book.
blewsmokeatyou (11:20:19 PM): To a million screaming gfans.
The Swill Barber (11:22:39 PM): haha
The Swill Barber (11:22:49 PM): in time perhaps
blewsmokeatyou (11:24:01 PM): It will happen. I believe it.
The Swill Barber (11:29:07 PM): here's to hoping i follow through
blewsmokeatyou (11:29:14 PM): You will.
blewsmokeatyou (11:29:16 PM): I think so.

2006-06-13T19:00:00.000-04:00

Check it out: the Brooklyn boy has a new entry up on OverheardinNewYork.com. That was from my foray into the city two weekends ago. Gotta love the Q.

2006-06-13T12:06:00.000-04:00

Oh, J.J. Redick, you silly little man.

Ah, schadenfreude. It's a wonderful thing. (Word to Avenue Q)

2006-06-13T07:53:00.000-04:00

The site feed now actually works, thanks to my good friends at feedburner. I had to resolve an "I hadn't updated it since it was hosted on the UNC server" issue that has since been resolved. Happy subscribing.

P.S.
Because of this the blog search now works. It's still crawling files though, so it will take some time to catch up to the entire blog, but it should in time. It definitely works on recent entries.

2006-06-11T01:24:00.000-04:00

To all the people who created Olsen twin countdown clocks, waiting for the Playboy spread we all know is coming, I dare you to look at this photo.

That's not even really all that close to nekkid, and it's like passing by a train wreck. You know you shouldn't look, but you do, and then you're traumatized and unable to look away and break the spell. Before you know it, you're scarred for life.

Excuse me, while I go throw up the rest of that fantasy.

2006-06-09T23:51:00.000-04:00

So this week has been quite bountiful regarding the ASNB-Couch conversation connection. Here are a few more notable -- and actual -- exchanges:

June 7, discussing the ramifications of drafting a girl with an ED (think Nicole Richie) in the LLFD:

helios483: yeah i think success score drop is mandatory
helios483: but if you knew the shit going in
helios483: well
helios483: that's like me drafting RuPaul and then saying, I think I wanna drop him for a real woman
helios483: too fuckin bad, jackass
The Swill Barber: hahaha wow
The Swill Barber: you might have wanted to stay away from the first person there .... ha
helios483: haha
helios483: so subsitute Alexei's name
helios483: and subsitute an Asian transvestite for RuPaul

(This gets much funnier if you know Alexei's nickname is "The Asian Assassin." His response upon finding out about the exchange? "I hate both of you more than life itself.")

Also June 7, on deciding whether to take action:

helios483: see....here's a failsafe question to ask yourself in these situations....if she came to your room naked and you were sober, would you fuck her? if the answer is yes, it doesn't hurt to put in a LITTLE work if you know the outcome will be sex (only because she doesn't want to feel easy and just give it up, so she makes you work for it)
helios483: if the answer is no...ask yourself if you were drunk would you fuck her
helios483: then, if the answer is yes, only fuck her if you don't have to put any effort into it
helios483: i mean, unless you're drunk and you've accidentally put in work and can now have sex
The Swill Barber: haha ... well reasoned
helios483: i do what i can

June 9, discussing ... well, this one's self-explanatory, and definitely not PG:

helios483: damn you equador!
bcouchmlb (4:54:10 PM): haha ... world cup pool fucked?
helios483 (4:54:39 PM): i had them winning in the challenge pick em, then i changed it to tied because i read these articles that said they suck unless at high altitudes
helios483 (4:54:52 PM): they're up 2-0 with only the overtime minutes goiung
helios483 (4:55:43 PM): fucking pundits, man
helios483 (4:55:57 PM) : they ruin my life, these so-called "experts"
helios483 (4:56:14 PM): i'll tell you...the two best jobs to have in the world....weatherman and pundit
helios483 (4:56:27 PM): though porn camera man comes a very close 2nd
helios483 (4:56:42 PM): tied with the guy that's supposed to eat the chicks out and shit to get them ready for their scene
helios483 (4:57:22 PM): not that i would want to dine on a plate of porn star cous cous
helios483 (4:57:35 PM): but at least i could touch their titties or something
bcouchmlb (4:58:39 PM): haha ... dude eating out porn stars as a warm up has to be the worst job ever
bcouchmlb (4:58:56 PM): i'm not eating strange nan unless i'm hitting it and getting head
helios483 (4:59:44 PM): like i said
helios483 (4:59:56 PM): come on man...they have to make like $10 an hour
helios483 (5:00:12 PM): i was making $8 an hour at Victoria's Secret and i wish they woulda let me eat some of them chicks out

Also June 9, Sash stating the obvious at a point it needed to be said:

bcouchmlb (5:50:43 PM): i'm just a lil wary of it being this easy
helios483 (5:51:16 PM): no need to be wary of it being this easy
helios483 (5:51:21 PM): after all, you read the game
helios483 (5:51:21 PM): twice

2006-06-05T14:19:00.000-04:00

Once again, this is actual conversational clippage from a Sash-Couch connection:

The Swill Barber: i've decided i'm a social parasite
helios483: yeah
helios483: well that works
helios483: nothing wrong with that
The Swill Barber: once you introduce me to a group of people, i completely take over
The Swill Barber: happens everywhere
The Swill Barber: like at b&n
The Swill Barber: your people
The Swill Barber: hillel ... my frat ... wherever
The Swill Barber: i come and go as i please, and people always miss me after i'm out
The Swill Barber: aaaand the ben couch ego balloon is officially filled with enough hot air to lift off
helios483: hahaa
helios483: yeah, i guess i could say the same thing about me
helios483: except i don't have any friends
helios483: and i never get IMs, e-mails, calls, texts, or things written on my facebook wall about people missing me, so ...
helios483: but in the moment, i'm very cool to be around

2006-05-26T15:10:00.002-04:00

Things that have actually made me (irrationally?) angry during the past two weeks:

Sash vehemently defending his offer of Casey Blake for K-Rod to another owner in our Yahoo! fantasy league, and resoundly critizing my theory that Blake for Mike Gonzalez would be a much more reasonable, while still beneficial, alternative.
ESPN.com's Bill Simmons proposing the US Weekly fantasy draft -- a watered-down, neutered version of the Laminated List Fantasy Draft I've had published on the Web since February, and established since December -- and then posting two mailbags since, neither of which acknowledged the e-mail I sent the day the article ran, in which I explained his obvious oversight. (Notice there are no links to Simmons. I'm not bitter, Sports Man. You Boston-loving, over-the-hill father.)

Things that have blown my mind during that same time period:

That a girl I was talking to on the phone last Friday called me out for watching a movie and drinking by myself, AS I WAS DOING EXACTLY THAT. The comment was unprompted.

In my defense, it was only 8 p.m.

Upon entering a bar in Oneonta for the first time ever, I ordered a drink and glanced up at the TV -- the first I had seen in a week -- and promptly saw Bryan Hoch giving an interview about the '86 New York Mets on SportsNet New York. Given, he's the managing editor of Mets Inside Pitch, but he's my age, and they tend to go for people who have nothing better to do (i.e. are retired) on these things. Of course, maybe Bryan didn't.
The term for a single cigarette, purchased on the street or in a corner store is "loosey" like "a loose cigarette." For some reason, I always thought it was "Lucy" -- dating back to when Erik Green would buy them during breaks at Hebrew School -- and could never figure out why. Thank you, Dave Chapelle. My life's perspective has been re-oriented.

Yes, that does mean I only recently saw all of Season 2 of Chapelle's Show. I'm culturally deficient. Well, mainstream culture, anyway.

I found out this kid I was in elementary and junior high school (P.S. 193 and Crudde Hudde (IS 240), respectively) with, Derek Rada, is in a band called Finding Four, and they are very good.

Their song "NYC" now blares from the speakers of anyone checking my myspace profile.

Sorry Akie, thefoundation's run of profile song dominance has ended. (TheFoundation is also on myspace.)

The apartment I'm close to getting in Oneonta is huuuuuugigantonormous.

And also within walking distance of bars.

Oneonta does not know what it is getting itself into.

Especially because I just re-read The Game.

2006-05-22T22:55:00.000-04:00

There's a line in my myspace profile that references Old Britney's abs being an ideal body trait for the potential missus. My good buddy Bryan Hoch saw it, and felt the need to pass along the following photo of Current Britney.

I was just trying to keep the dream alive. Now, I see it was lap-sitting in the driver's seat during an accident. Thanks, Bryan. Thanks a lot.

With friends like these ...

2006-05-20T11:37:00.000-04:00

My relationship with Sash, in a series of three voicemail messages:

Saturday, Apr. 15, 2006 4:56 a.m.
(Upon returning home after we -- and others -- met two girls on the corner of 12th St. and 3rd Ave., in front of Due Amici, at 2:30 a.m., convinced them to hang out with us for the next two hours and got their numbers)

Couch, my man, it's Sash. I just want to know if I should accept it tomorrow, or if you going to have an official ceremony or something for Wingman of the Fucking Year Award. Cuz holla at your boy for the dirt he did tonight. I was on fire. Got that shit, brought it out -- who got phone numbers, my man? Who got hotties, my man? Two random fucking chicks off the street. They cute too. One of them, the one who's not as cute, she's really cute. And the other one, she's just as cute and she's not just ... I don't know, man. They fine. But yo, anyway, I'm about to go to bed. Holla atcha boy tomorrow first thing, aight homey? Peace.

Saturday Apr. 22, 10:57 p.m.
(Upon hearing I was going to one of the two aforementioned girls' birthday party)

Get ready little Benjamin, it's Sash. I'm going to give you one week to fuck this chick. Aaaaand if you don't, I'ma be very, very disappointed with you. Aaaaand, yeah. Holla.*

*I may or may not have censored this entry to protect Sash from the wrath of his girl. You decide if and where any censorship took place. Kind of like Choose Your Own Adventure.

Tuesday May 16, 7:56 P.M.
(After the fourth home run in five games by a waiver-wire injury pickup in our Yahoo! Fantasy Baseball League)

CASEY FUCKING BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!

2006-04-22T17:46:00.000-04:00

Here it is, folks: the second half (Rounds 6-10) analysis of the DSM LLFD. (First Half) Things got interesting here as drafting by need became the rule of the day. Major surprises, both in picks made and picks available to scavenge at the end.

Drafter codes: AL = Alexei | AN = Andy | B = Brendan | C = Couch | SA = Sasha | SU = Juan Suazo

ROUND 6
Rachel McAdams - SA, Monica Bellucci - AL, Anna Kournikova - SU, Evangeline Lilly -B, Maria Menuonos - C, Gretchen Mol - AN

Initial Reaction: How did we all forget about Evangeline Lilly?

On Second Thought: Really, this was just a good round all around. Well done, fellas.

Final Thoughts: This was quite a round. Not a bad choice in the bunch. Unless you saw Rounders, in which case you're unable to look at Gretchen Mol without wanting to throw shoes at her. This is where Sasha's Melyssa Ford mishap actually had consequences. By drafting Ford to fill his Media spot, when she should be a TVP, he cost himself one TC spot during the replacement process. Ford slid from ME to TVP, Pressly went to TC (Active), Vergara went to TC (Bench) and then because McAdams was ineligible for P37M, U21 or 24k positions, she was bumped from his list. The empty ME/A spot has been filled with Tanith Belbin, who might well have been a 6th rounder had anyone remembered her on the spot.

ROUND 7
Amanda Bynes -AN, Ashley Olsen - C, Gwen Stefani - B, Rachel Bilson - SU, Mischa Barton - AL, Mila Kunis - SA

Initial Reaction: Did I really just pick Ashley Olsen as a U24k?

On Second Thought: Yeah, I did. Crap.

Final Thoughts: Andy led things off with a solid U21k pick in Bynes, followed by me absolutely panicking because I didn't want to waste my second TC. The Olsen pick was followed by the selection of Rachel Bilson, Mila Kunis and Nikki Reed, proving only that I needed to think to find a suitable alternative. Not to mention that Avril Lavigne would have been an ideal candidate there. Gosh. Was not thinking. Outside of that, everyone went for need and filled spots appropriately.

ROUND 8
Maria Bello - SA, Liz Cho (ABC-7 NYC) - AL, Buffie the Body - SU, Naomie Harris (28 Days Later) - B, Heather Locklear - C, Nikki Reed - AN

Initial Reaction: Damn it! Why didn't I think of Nikki Reed? I watch the stupid O.C.!

On Second Thought: Naomie who? Ooooh -- her.

Final Thoughts: Sash was all hype about his big Plus-37 M.I.L.F. sleeper, which he began plugging several rounds in advance. However, when it turned out to be Bello, who I took in the last mock draft, I was disappointed, both in Sash's sleeper not being completely out of left field (like, say, his Jennifer Beals pick in the MD) and that I wouldn't be selecting Ms. Bello for my own list. However, I did snag Locklear, which I felt was doubly good considering she's single as of lat month. Also, it was amusing to watch Juan pick Buffie the Body and then say, "Yeah, she's busted. But that ass ..."

ROUND 9
Rachel Hunter - AN, Monica Sweetheart - C, Tyra Banks - B, Hayden Panettiere (Remember the Titans) - SU, Christina Aguilera - AL, Keyshia Cole - SA

Initial Reaction: Tyra! Why, Lord? Why not me?

On Second Thought: Really? Nobody had taken Tyra by the 9th?

Final Thoughts: Brendan easily wins this round for tabbing Tyra this late. Juan's Panettiere pick was solid (and Sasha-driven). Alexei's selection of Christina Aguilera as a U24k was shrewd. And Sasha kept up his streak of most obvious and uncreative picks (save for Pressly in Round 2) by taking the sixth of his seven selections from the initial mock.

ROUND 10
Teairra Mari, Sarah Chalke, Michelle Rodriguez, Kaylee DeFer (The War at Home), Jennifer Love Hewitt, Devon Striker

Initial Reaction: Michelle Rodriguez for Lost! Brilliant!

On Second Thought: Whoa ... I still got JLH.

Final Thoughts: While this round was defined by drafting for need (Sash, Brendan - U21k; Couch, Suazo - TVA; Andy - MO and Alexei - TC) everyone did quite well for themselves. Sash broke out Mari with fervor, setting the tone for the quality of the final round selections. Alexei's Chalke pick was very solid for Round 10. Suazo's Rodriguez TV choice was outstanding, Brendan's (Couch-aided) U21k pick of DeFer was quality, JLH was my TV target the whole time and Andy's Striker pick closed things out on a very hot note. This round, and the draft as a whole, gets the BC Seal of Approval.

Final Lists

ANDY

Active:
Maria Sharapova - A
Penelope Cruz - FA
Devon Striker - MO
Fergie - MU
Jennifer Connelly - TC
Rebecca Romijin - TVA

Bench:
Gretchen Mol - TC
Rachel Hunter - P37M
Nikki Reed - U24k
Amanda Bynes - U21k

COUCH

Active:
Jessica Alba - FA
Maria Menuonos - ME
Mayra Veronica - MO
Beyonce - MU
Anna Benson - TC
Jennifer Love Hewitt - TVA

Bench:
Monica Sweetheart - TC
Heather Locklear - P37M
Avril Lavigne (orig. Ashley Olsen) - U24k
Lindsay Lohan - U21k

BRENDAN

Active:
Katie Holmes - FA
Tyra Banks - ME
Laetitia Casta - MO
Gwen Stefani - MU
Heather Kozar - TC
Evangeline Lilly - TVA

Bench:
Naomie Harris - ME
Christina Fernandez de Kirchner - P37M
Scarlett Johansson - U24k
Kaylee DeFer - U21k

SUAZO

Active:
Anna Kournikova - A
Christina Milian - FA
Vida Guerra - MO
Shakira - MU

Halle Berry - TC
Michelle Rodriguez - TVA

Bench:
Buffie the Body - TC
Salma Hayek - P37M
Rachel Bilson - U24k
Hayden Panettierre - U21k

ALEXEI

Active:
Kelly Hu - FA
Liz Cho - ME
Natasha Yi - MO
Alicia Keys - MU
Eva Longoria - TC

Kristin Kreuk - TVA

Bench:
Sarah Chalke - TC
Monica Bellucci - P37M
Christina Aguilera - U24k
Mischa Barton - U21k

SASHA

Active:
Tanith Belbin (orig. Rachel McAdams) - A
Melyssa Ford - TVP (orig. ME)
Jamie Pressly - TC (orig. TVA)
Esther Baxter - MO
Keyshia Cole - MU
Zoe Saldana - FA

Bench:
Sofia Vergara - TC
Maria Bello - P37M
Mila Kunis - U24k
Teairra Mari - U21k

Hottest girls I can immediately think of that got left out:
Mariah Carey, Eva Mendes, Kate Beckinsale, Avril Lavigne, Jessica Simpson, Sienna Miller, Hilary Swank, Adrianna Lima, Heidi Klum, Danica Patrick, Jennie Finch, Pam Anderson, Stacey Dash, Paris Hilton, Morgan Webb, Jennifer Aniston, Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron, Janet Jackson, Mandy Moore, Lauryn Hill, Denise Richards, Kelly Monaco, Stacy Kiebler, Eve, (Pre-KFed) Britney Spears, Julia Roberts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Nicole Kidman, Michelle Pfeiffer, Demi Moore, Sharon Stone, Jennifer Lopez, Gwyneth Paltrow, Free, LaLa, Pink, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Kirsten Dunst and Kristin Cavalleri. And Rosario Dawson. And Alexis Biedel. And Lucy Liu. And ... And ... And ... I'm done.

And Uma Thurman. And Vivica Fox. And Nia Long and Angela Bassett. Damn it. I'm stopping.

2006-04-19T22:30:00.000-04:00

The first-half of a round-by-round analysis of the LLFD Drunken Speed Mock follows. I will post the second half either tomorrow or Friday.

Drafter codes: AL = Alexei | AN = Andy | B = Brendan | C = Couch | SA = Sasha | SU = Juan Suazo

ROUND 1
Penelope Cruz - AN, Jessica Alba - C, Scarlett Johansson - B, Shakira - SU, Kristin Kreuk - AL, Melyssa Ford - SA

Initial Reaction: Penelope F*ING Cruz?!?!

On Second Thought: Seriously. Penelope Cruz went first. Can we think about this?

Final Thoughts: All solid picks. Everyone got who they wanted, even if some of who they wanted could have been taken much later (*COUGH* Penelope *COUGH*). Kreuk was arbitrarily elevated to first-round status by Alexei, who had to know Sash wouldn't select her. It would have been much more fun to watch him take Ford and then observe Sasha's head turn every different shade of angry. Inadvertedly, Sash cost himself Rachel McAdams with this pick because of a misclassification of Ford as a Media Personality that I signed off on at the time. More to come on that later.

ROUND 2
Jamie Pressly - SA, Eva Longoria - AL, Christina Milian - SU, Katie Holmes - B, Beyonce- C, Jennifer Connelly - AN

Initial Reaction: Sash picked a white girl?!?!

On Second Thought: Sash picked a white girl. Read that again.

Final Thoughts: The intra-squad sabotage begins. Following Sasha's stunner, Alexei screwed Juan by taking Longoria directly in front of him. Juan responded by hijacking Milian, shrewdly slotting her as his Film Actress to keep open a Taster's Choice slot. Brendan's Holmes pick was miles too high, but to his credit, he had no idea what he was doing. And she did just come off the PL. Beyonce somehow skyrocketed to second-round status for me after not being picked in the original mock. As for Jennifer Connelly, I'm only letting that pick slide if Andy was thinking about the end of Requiem for a Dream, which while not sexy in the movie, is quite sexually intriguing in theory. (If you don't know, watch it, and you will. Oh, how you will.)

ROUND 3
Maria Sharapova - AN, Mayra Veronica - C, Laetitia Casta - B, Vida Guerra - SU, Alicia Keys - AL, Esther Baxter - SA

Initial Reaction: There was enough booty in this round to feed Africa.

On Second Thought: Sharapova's slimness might offset all of it.

Final Thoughts: The first pick of this round easily offered the most hilarity, because seconds after I picked Mayra as a revenge shot at Juan, Andy goes, "Wait? Did I pick the one that dates the hockey players or the one that was good at tennis?" I said, "Good at tennis." His face fell through the bottom of the bar. The rest of the round was very solid, with the noted exception of the backstabbing going too far when Alexei took Keys and rubbed it in Sasha's face; he forgot he took her four rounds later in our last mock.

ROUND 4

Zoe Saldana - SA, Natasha Yi - AL, Salma Hayek - SU, Heather Kozar - B, Lindsay Lohan - C, Fergie - AN

Initial Reaction: People our age want to sleep with Heather Kozar? And, dude? Fergie?

On Second Thought: Fergie does have her humps, her humps, her lovely lady lumps.

Final Thoughts: This round kicked off with Sash once again pouncing on Saldana rounds before anyone else would remember she was on the board. I might have done the same thing with La Lohan, but Under-21 girls are like the catchers of fantasy baseball -- there's quality at the top, and then all of a sudden you're stuck with Jason Kendall. Alexei self-corrected and took Natasha Yi in a much more reasonable spot than third overall. Somebody must have helped moderate our boy's Yellow Fever.

ROUND 5

Rebecca Romijin - AN, Anna Benson - C, Christina Fernandez de Kirchner (First Lady of Argentina) - B, Halle Berry - SU, Kelly Hu - AL, Sofia Vergara - SA

Initial Reaction: Christina who?

On Second Thought: Nope, Alexei's case of Yellow Fever remains severe.

Final Thoughts: Andy's lead pick of Romijin was solid, especially considering she slotted in as a TV actress with the debut of Pepper Dennis this month. I was sold on Anna Benson after her FHM spread. (Good gosh.) And Suazo made sure that Halle would make her LLFD debut. (As a 5th rounder? Who would've thunk it?) As for our triple-named First Lady, well, she was probably pretty once. But she does make for an interesting Plus-37 M.I.L.F.

Lists by Round 5:

Andy
Maria Sharapova - A
Penelope Cruz - FA
Fergie - MU
Jennifer Connelly - TC
Rebecca Romijin - TVA
Positions Remaining (Active): MO
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC, P37M, U24k, U21k

Couch
Jessica Alba - FA
Mayra Veronica - MO
Beyonce - MU
Anna Benson - TC
Lindsay Lohan - U21k
Positions Remaining (Active): TVA, ME/A
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC, P37M, U24k

Brendan
Katie Holmes - FA
Laetitia Casta - MO
Christina Fernandez de Kirchner - P37M
Heather Kozar - TC
Scarlett Johansson - U24k

Positions Remaining (Active): TVA, ME/A, MU
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC, U21k

Suazo
Christina Milian - FA
Vida Guerra - MO
Shakira - MU
Salma Hayek - P37M

Halle Berry - TC

Positions Remaining (Active): TVA, ME/A
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC, U24k, U21k

Alexei
Kelly Hu - FA
Natasha Yi - MO
Alicia Keys - MU
Eva Longoria - TC

Kristin Kreuk - TVA
Positions Remaining (Active): ME/A
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC, P37M, U24k, U21k

Sasha
Melyssa Ford - ME**
Jamie Pressly - TVA**
Esther Baxter - MO
Zoe Saldana - FA
Sofia Vergara - TC
Positions Remaining (Active): MU
Positions Remaining (Bench): TC**, P37M, U24k, U21k
**These categories changed retroactively due to the realization of Ford's ineligibility as a Media Personality, the intended slot in which she was drafted. We didn't realize this until after the draft had taken place, so this is how Sasha's list developed at the time. Full explanation of the this in Round 6.

To be continued ...

2006-04-15T12:22:00.000-04:00

With Sasha in town this weekend and the core LLFD partcipants of me, Juan, Alexei and Sash (sorry, Ak) at a bar, we had no choice but to enact a special, one-time-only, no preparation, 30- seconds-per-pick version of the LLFD. We recruited two newbies, Andy and Brendan, to flesh out the competition, which this time was quite stiff. Draft order was determined by drawing straws (word to Erin and Michelle): Andy, Couch, Brendan, Juan, Alexei, Sasha. An ordered list of picks follows, with a more organized version and analysis to come:

Round 1
Penelope Cruz, Jessica Alba, Scarlett Johansson, Shakira, Kristin Kreuk, Melyssa Ford

Round 2
Jamie Pressley, Eva Longoria, Christina Milian, Katie Holmes, Beyonce, Jennifer Connelly

Round 3
Maria Sharapova, Mayra Veronica, Laetitia Casta, Vida Guerra, Alicia Keys, Esther Baxter

Round 4
Zoe Saldana, Natasha Yi, Salma Hayek, Heather Kozar, Lindsay Lohan, Fergie

Round 5
Rebecca Romijin, Anna Benson, Christina Fernandez de Kirchner (First Lady of Argentina), Halle Berry, Kelly Hu, Sofia Vergara

Round 6
Rachel McAdams, Monica Bellucci, Anna Kournikova, Evangeline Lily, Maria Menuonos, Gretchen Mol

Round 7
Amanda Bynes, Ashley Olson, Gwen Stefani, Rachel Bilson, Mischa Barton, Mila Kunis

Round 8
Maria Bello, Liz Cho (ABC-7 NYC), Buffie the Body, Naomie Harris (28 Days Later), Heather Locklear, Nikki Reed

Round 9
Rachel Hunter, Monica Sweetheart, Tyra Banks, Hayden Panettiere(Remember the Titans), Christina Aguilera, Keyshia Cole

Round 10
Teairra Mari, Sarah Chalke, Michelle Rodriguez, Kaylee DeFer (The War at Home), Jennifer Love Hewitt, Devon Striker

And there you have it. The obvious shocker is Penelope Cruz going first, along with some of the vicious backbiting and stealing of picks between Juan, Sash, Alexei and myself. Ramped up to six people, there was stiff competition and many, many new faces on the board. Check back for the full analysis, and prepare for the update at The LLFD Web site.

P.S.
The draft was snake style, so it went Andy to Sasha in Round 1, and then reversed each round thereafter. I know that forces you to think a little if you're trying to match up selections to participants, but the positional list will come soon. Be patient, young Skywalker.

2006-04-13T12:32:00.000-04:00

Since I haven't blessed y'all with an update in a minute, here's a round of Instant Message Madness:

How to ruin your reputation in eight IMs or less, by Ben Couch (Apr. 11):

The Swill Barber (8:38:02 PM): all good
The Swill Barber (8:38:05 PM): aight... i'm out
The Swill Barber (8:38:16 PM): goin ta chill with my boy alexei
The Swill Barber (8:38:26 PM): that's way more gay than i intended
The Swill Barber (8:38:38 PM): i was going for a "my friend, not yours anymore" kinda vibe
The Swill Barber (8:38:50 PM): instead, i win unintentional homo of the year
The Swill Barber (8:38:53 PM): crap
The Swill Barber (8:39:20 PM): yo ... can we pretend that one-way exchange just never happened?
helios483 (8:39:49 PM): hahahah
helios483 (8:39:54 PM): that shit was so brokeback
helios483 (8:40:02 PM): you're lucky i was riveted by Deal or No Deal
helios483 (8:40:08 PM): otherwise i woulda caught you mid type

Reasons why the LLFD is such a great idea:

erinjeter: so I couldnt sleep last night and I started making my draft list
The Swill Barber: well done
erinjeter: I added the, "I swear I'm not a necrophiliac" category to my own list.

Reasons why Sidekicks and drunkeness are not such a great combination (Feb. 13):

pantsproductions: u r laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame

Auto response from The Swill Barber: recovering from eye correction surgery. will reply sunday

pantsproductions: aorry I'm drunk
pantsproductions: your my boy
pantsproductions: yiu bettter not fuckim o
pantsproductions: move
pantsproductions: I will be sad
pantsproductions: maaaaad sad son
pantsproductions: everywhere else vs nyc sux
pantsproductions: trust me
pantsproductions: they don't call it the center of the universe fo nothing
pantsproductions: god I'm drunk, peeeeeeaee homie

2006-04-07T15:28:00.000-04:00

There's something that's been bugging me recently hip-hop-wise:

the complete and total commercial audience-induced flameout of Bubba Sparxx, as encapsulated by the song "Ms. New Booty" and the corresponding controversy.

Reading the song title, finding out about the controversy and then listening to the track itself, I wanted to stab myself in the eye with a fork until I wasn't seeing any of this happen.

It's a dirty little secret of the industry, but Sparxx's second album, Deliverance, was one of the best records of 2004. Backed by Timbaland's dense country landscapes, Sparxx made a record that was soulful, completely cohesive and unmistakably American. Timbaland dug deep into the country crates for a slew of home-fried barnyard beats born of rural America, while Bubba's country drawl located and brought an anything-but-urban reality to the record. He poured everything into that album, writing a wrenching ode to the one that got away ("She Tried"), songs about uplift in the face of obstacles ("Overcome") and just enjoying himself and his rural background ("Back in the Mud"). He and Timbaland tried to win the 4H Fair and earned first prizes across the board.

But this isn't about the reasons I (and so many critics) liked Deliverance. It's about the aftermath of that album's release.

It flopped.

Didn't even go gold. Sold something like 350,000 copies. One of the best records of the year didn't go GOLD. And he was on a major label. In an interview with Hip Hop DX, Bubba discusses the effect Deliverance's flop had on him, culminating in this exchange:

Bubba Sparxx: You know what they say about good reviews.
HipHopDX: What’s that?
Bubba Sparxx: A dollar and a good review will get you a Coca-Cola. Deliverance was very critically acclaimed, shit almost put me in the poor house. I don’t really give a fuck about critical acclaim anymore [laughs].

He uses this as the reason he made Ms. New Booty, an admittedly commercial track about women with big butts, with a popular producer of the moment (Mr. Collipark), aiming solely to get radio spins. This is a guy who wrote an entire song detailing a relationship and apologizing for his boorish behavior when he realized he let the one get away, not in an attempt to win her back, but to thank her for allowing him to grow and change and learn from the experience. And it worked! Ms. New Booty is a top-ten record. It's in another top ten as well -- Top Ten songs from this year that no one is going to remember or feel the need to play once that next hot single comes out.

It's a microcosm of this entire Houston rap scene. Does anyone really believe we're going to be checking Mike Jones and Chamillionaire records in ten years? Five? We're gonna run with Scarface, some T.I. and UGK, maybe even a lil Paul Wall, but that's it. Almost none of this music has staying power. But it's selling crazy amounts of records. People must need a lot of coasters, and unfortunately, Bubba's new album, The Charm, is another one on the pile.

The commercial hip-hop machine (label for not properly promoting, audience for not properly listening) destroyed Bubba Sparxx's ambition. And that makes me sad. At least he already made the record of his life.

2006-03-30T09:19:00.000-05:00

I'm in that huge office building between Raleigh and Chapel Hill. Yeah, the one that blights the skyline with its sheer unaccompanied monstrosity. It's named "University Tower." I spent four years in college here, passed it ump-teen times and I find this out at 8:50 a.m.; I've been awake for four hours and flown from LaGuardia to RDU on five (Maybe. Maybe.) hours sleep, a day after I drove eight hours (four each way) to spend three hours in Cooperstown (two interviewing for a job, one exploring the Hall) on five hours sleep (Maybe. Maybe.) after working a closing shift at Barnes & Noble the night before and reigniting the longest-running non-situation of all time; I also found time to lead off a poetry open mic, hang out with my best (and oldest) friend multiple times and make some necessary phone calls to maintain other (shorter-running) situations; this neglects to mention the calvalcade of family (culinary) events that took place this past weekend due to my (awesome) Grandmother's combination retirement and 80th birthday (non-)surprise party.

Are you tired after reading that sentence? Do your eyes feel a little strained? Just wanna lean back and look away from what you're supposed to be focusing on?

Good. Because you're starting to get some sense of where I'm at right now. I'd say I was delirious if I weren't coherent. Stupid stress. Shapel called me out on this, but if you pay attention, I'm not all there right now. I need to slow down. I'm just not sure how.

Maybe this is just being 22.

2006-03-24T01:29:00.000-05:00

As I walked home, I thought about picking up the clarinet again. Just dropping into some music store, buying some reeds and testing out the ole chops. As I neared the end of the final block, I heard the strains of someone practicing (not-so-well) the saxophone. That was some relevant ish. Sometimes, it all comes together.

Then I got in the house and had to let the dog out to go pee.

Haha. I'm buggin'. So it goes. I'm about to check the NuYo tomorrow (Friday). I'm getting deep in this poetry scene. I'm a friendly cat, and these dudes all seem to be diggin' me as an artist. It's obvious I'm green, but they're all so encouraging. At least the crews I'm rollin' with.

If this move to Cooperstown happens (I'm knocking on wood like a mofucker right now), I'm starting an open mic if there isn't one already. I've got to keep up with this. Motivation like I've got at the moment is going to make the Genesis remix actually coalesce.

Provided I have time. Did I mention I'm locked in to write a manuscript for a book? It's going to be a companion to the Shellman Talks Baseball CDs (available at that very Web site.) The deal is there's this 70-something guy Dale Shellman, who was a failed minor league ballplayer with the Brooklyn Dodgers. In 1985, when the first million-dollar salaries were being handed out, he got PO'ed at the amount of money these guys were making. So he bought a tape recorder, packed his family into a fan and set off for Spring Training.

He then finagled a press pass and proceeded to interview 88 players for 21 hours total. The 88 players include Hall of Famers, retired (ex: Ted Williams) and active (Mike Schmidt) , as well as a slew of the top players of the era. Topics ranged from the technical aspects of baseball to the baseball life, but focused on the money issue and how large salaries were changing (and would continue to change) the game.

After failing to publish a book himself, Shellman stored the tapes for 20 years before breaking them out last year. After a year-long struggle to market them in some fashion, the company hit on this book idea, and contacted a professor in the journalism department at UNC. He put out an APB, and two of my former professors contacted me independentlly, at which point I decided I needed to follow up on this. Everything fell into place, and now I'm being flown into Chapel Hill for two days next weekend to brainstorm and figure all this out.

It's funny, I don't feel that busy, but writing this down makes it all seem really intimidating. Doubly so when I think that I just went on a very solid first date with the best friend of one of my best friends, and I'm somehow 1st and 2nd in my two facebook pools (55th at UNC, 7k-ish overall) with a bracket I filled out on a lark just to browse over all the potential matchups. I'm officially mad I didn't do a serious one for serioius money. I think by equating those two things, I've just proved my life is ridiculous at the moment. I want my fantasy draft to be over. (It's Sunday.) That'll be one less thing looming over me.

I believe it's time for The O.C. and some sleep. Night kids.

2006-03-22T14:43:00.000-05:00

The first line in my new notebook/journal, written March 17 at 3:43 p.m.:

I'm not a very good liar. But I also have trouble telling the truth.

That might be the most honest two sentences I ever wrote.

2006-03-21T02:37:00.000-05:00

Wow. I totally just caught the most unexpected co-sign of all time:

Read this muchmusic.com interview with Juelz Santana, and pay attention to his response to the seventh question.

This brings "I've got nothin' " to a whole new level.

2006-03-15T13:41:00.000-05:00

I just ran over an AIM convo I left open, and saw quite the pretzel-purchase-inducing line:

theswillbarber (12:29:41 PM): cuse has been dogging it all season -- they finally played up to themselves in the tourney
theswillbarber (12:29:50 PM): but i do agree they blew their wad
ShayFree22 (12:29:55 PM): ewww
theswillbarber (12:30:08 PM): haha... sorry about that one ... guy comment
theswillbarber (12:30:15 PM): sports talk gets me riled up

2006-03-15T13:23:00.000-05:00

A several-day-old truism regarding the womenfolk, courtesy of Alex, Sasha, or However You Know Him:

"Be ready for nothing at all. Because they'll tell you, 'I'll make it worth your while.' And then just buy you a pretzel."

I've been bought a lot of pretzels of late, but things are starting to turn. We shall see.

2006-03-14T03:37:00.000-05:00

An actual online exchange between Sasha and myself from Sunday night (Note this took a mere 2 minutes 1 second):

The Swill Barber (10:14:47 PM): watch i'ma catch this job with the hall, then my shit's gonna be all out of whack
The Swill Barber (10:15:14 PM): nobody's gonna come to cooperstown god damn it
The Swill Barber (10:15:25 PM): cept baseball fans i guess
The Swill Barber (10:15:42 PM): and there've gotta be some hot teachers or camp counselors rollin through
The Swill Barber (10:15:54 PM): i'ma get fired for having sex inthe bathroom
The Swill Barber (10:15:56 PM): hahahaha
The Swill Barber (10:16:05 PM): i need to stop talking
helios483 (10:16:12 PM): yes
The Swill Barber (10:16:12 PM): i hate erin and her free beer
helios483 (10:16:14 PM): i think you do
helios483 (10:16:20 PM): cause i was just about to say i would try to visit
helios483 (10:16:27 PM): but if you try to have sex with me in the bathroom, damn it
The Swill Barber (10:16:41 PM): i'm no mary, ha
helios483 (10:16:44 PM): haha
The Swill Barber (10:16:48 PM): but yeah, that's reasonable

2006-03-03T20:28:00.000-05:00

Just caught this flash cartoon cracking on Coach K(ryzlajdlajdlkalkd). It's sharp-edged, and the "D-Harmony" commercial spoof of E-Harmony kills me every time I watch it. Enjoy.

PS
Thanks Miriam for sending it.

2006-02-28T03:14:00.000-05:00

Whutup kids? My boy Jason (a co-worker at B&N) alerted me to the fact that he also publishes a blog -- The J Way -- and I caught a shout out there last week. Y'all should check it out. He's an interesting dude with a lot to say about topics like life in NYC, being vegan, astrology, gardening and a whole slew of things I'm not thinking of at the moment. Enjoy.

P.S.
A word to the Firefox users: My comp displayed his blog funny, so you might have to suck it up like I did and use IE to peruse.

Though it'll be worth it.

I can't believe I just recommended IE over Firefox, in whatever context. Gag me with a spoon.

2006-02-26T22:04:00.000-05:00

It's on.

The Laminated List Fantasy Draft is officially official.

2006-02-25T03:11:00.000-05:00

Finished.

I'm I think I've finally knocked out the kinks in the LLFD site, and all that's left is to update some exceptionally minor info on Juan's page before the Monday release date.

My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed. I'm counting sheep and running out, but I think that last one is coming back around. I'm gonna chase his ass down either way.

This is what building this site has done to me.

2006-02-22T18:13:00.000-05:00

So the fine folks at Nike sent me the following ad for Michael Jordan's new sneaker, the Jordan XXI, in the mail:

I decided to respond my making one of these on my own:

2006-02-22T01:51:00.000-05:00

So I was sitting next to this young (early 20s) Asian couple on the train this morning, and I was about to throw up all over myself at the lovey-dovey Asian-English language flip-flopping flirtatious back-and-forth as the girl attempted to explain the palm reading she was performing on herself and the guy. Really, I realized I was just jealous that I wasn't that guy.

But then the guy finally leaves after this drawn out goodbye that almost leaves him stuck on the train past his stop. And I'm getting all into Another Country (which was in the free bin at B&N. Holla.) as we're starting to pass over the bridge, and I hear a sniffle. And then another. And another -- in that ragged-ass, unable to breathe kinda way, and I realize this girl is actually weeping. On the Q train. I can't really catch her eye to confirm, cuz she's a little hunched over, and she pulls out a digicam and starts browsing photos. The breaths quicken and all I want to do is ask this chick if everything's okay, but I can't. And it would've been nobly intentioned -- she wasn't terribly attractive, just devastated.

But I couldn't do it.

I thought it like 20 times, then 20 more and 20 more while I thought about those 20. I kept rationalizing. Maybe she's got a cold. Maybe she's just breathing funny. You wanna know the clincher? I didn't have a tissue to offer. Because that would have be the proper step. To ask the question and offer a tissue to blow her nose in. And I didn't, so I couldn't bring myself to ask the question without being able to follow it.

The door opened there would be terrible. Would she have to explain? I'd be obliged to listen at that point. What if she just had discovered he had been cheating, and faked her way through that final conversation knowing the entire time that was goodbye goodbye, then reminisced her way through that photo set. Or maybe one of the two was moving. What prompts that? How does one feel that emotion? What if she wasn't even crying? What then? Then how awkward is the random, unprompted "Are you all right?"

But I didn't ask, and we won't know. Maybe we never could have. I don't think I'm as nice as I believe myself to be. Fuck.

2006-02-21T02:27:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd be tired after a 13-hour day at Barnes and Noble, but my body woke up, which is so far from awesome it's not even funny. I had an idea today:

First, to send in a half-truth to PostSecret, one that I'd considered many a time, but have realized is clearly not the case. (I have a specific one in mind, but I'm not giving it up.) Then wait for a response that it was life-altering, and send in a second secret, revealing that I'd sent in a false secret that changed someone's life.

That's a fucked-up power to have. I feel like it would unravel the whole spirit of the site. Start a controversy too, over which secret it was and who sent it. That's a whole can of worms, knowing for certain there could be lies up there. Unless you doubt the veracity of the secret claiming the previous one was false. You could get into all kinds of circular logic here.

These are the thoughts running through my head that make me wonder if I'm a bad person.

Because I'm going to follow through on this one.

2006-02-18T19:10:00.000-05:00

Below are several new rulings for the LLFD. Be aware that a Rule Book will be part of the forthcoming site. This is for reference to keep y'all posted. Edirs are in italics.

The Starting Six

At any given time, one's active Laminated List must contain one:

Film Actress
TV Actress/Personality

A TV Personality is either a show host or reality show participant.

Musician
Model
Media Personality/Athlete

Anyone who asks questions or participates in sports shown on ESPN or ESPN2 as part of their job.

Taster's Choice

The Bench

At any given time, one's bench must contain:

Taster's Choice
A Plus-37 MILF

Only if none of the Starting Six qualify, otherwise this reverts to a Taster's Choice pick.

Under-21 Keeper
Under-18 Keeper

Models

Will be defined as:

Women who model for a living, and are known primarily in that context.
This includes:

Video Vixens

Women who often appear in music videos, because if they are prominent enough they will be appearing in the men's magazines.

They will always be able to fall back on this status if doing nothing else.
However, if they get caught up in something else (usually Film), Model status shall be revoked.

Unless they are clearly a supermodel, as defined by a one-name recognizability test of participating friends.
Example:

Tyra Banks will have model status as long as she keeps doing Victoria's Secret ads.
Normally, if she stopped, she would be only a Media Personality.
However, one applies the one-name recognizability test:

If one says "Tyra" it's clear who you're talking about, and chances are, it's not because of the talk show.
Thusly, Tyra retains Model status.

Television Eligibility

Anyone currently on a TV show, of or intended to be season-length, whether said show is in-season or not.

Cancellation or series closure negates this status once the next TV season begins.
Examples:

Sofia Vergara is triple eligible as a Model, Film and TV Actress because of her ABC show, Hot Properties ( for now, even though it was recently cancelled).

Scoring

If one scores with a woman on their bench:

They must forfeit one Taster's Choice bench selection.

If one scores with a woman who does not appear on any relevant list, but is acknowledged to be "of list potential" by participating friends:

That person gains the right to an additional two redraft keepers.
These can be held and used during multiple redrafts.

BPP

If one sleeps with a woman currently on someone else's bench, the BPP is enacted for half of its normal duration. ( e.g. 2 1/2 years)

2006-02-18T03:47:00.000-05:00

My bad streaks wipe the floor with most people's good ones. But Got damn they are frustrating. Something is going to come of something. This, this I can say with certainty.

Meaning nothing all the while.

Time's passing with some fucking quickness. It's almost March. I've been at B&N for three months. Baseball season's almost starting. March Madness is soon. It's a crazy time. I don't know what I'm saying.

I'm too good not to make any of this work. If it does, I'm gonna have great stories. But if it doesn't, I'll still have the stories, and I'll have to take solace in that.

I had a great random story idea the other day. It's more screenplay-ish really. Gotta run with it and see where it goes. That hasn't happened in a while.

I'm going to bed.

2006-02-15T23:35:00.000-05:00

Things I arbirtarily decided today while composing the LLFD Web site:

Models
1. Will be defined as:
  1. Women who model for a living, and are known primarily in that context.
2. They will always be able to fall back on this status if doing nothing else.
3. However, if they get caught up in something else (usually Film), Model status shall be revoked.
  1. Example:
    1. Tyra Banks will have model status as long as she keeps doing Victoria's Secret ads.
    2. If she stops, then she is only a Media Personality.

Television Eligibility
1. Anyone currently on a TV show, of or intended to be season-length, whether said show is in-season or not.
  1. Cancellation or series closure negates this status.
2. Also, the former leads of shows in syndication qualify.
  1. The reason for this is that syndication means there were at least 100 episodes, and often establishes a celebrity's stardom.
3. Examples:
  1. Sofia Vergara is triple eligible as a Model, Film and TV Actress because of her ABC show, Hot Properties.
  2. Jessica Alba no longer qualifies because Dark Angel was cancelled after two seasons.
  3. Jennifer Aniston counts because Friends is widely syndicated.

Several other decisions are close to coming down. The Web site is coming along. It's grunt work at this point, but it's getting there. Gimme a weekend.

2006-02-15T05:21:00.000-05:00

I'm officially ridiculous. Officially.

My love life follows suit.

2006-02-14T11:12:00.000-05:00

The LLFD Web site is officially under construction. Officially.

The world does not know what it is about to get into.

2006-02-13T01:13:00.000-05:00

Phone call from Sasha
Thursday, Feb. 9, 4:45 pm

"DAMN IT, jackass, you need to be here — I'm calling you. Anyway, what I wanted to say was: I've been thinking a lot about, you know, 'Proposition 25' a/k/a 'Operation Brokeback Drafting.' And, uhm, I wanted to change my vote. It's no longer 'No.'

"It's now, 'It really doesn't matter what the rest of you vote because I'm not doing it and neither are you guys, and if you decide to do it I'm not participating any more.' That's my vote.

"Because now, listen, it has nothing to do with the man thing or any of that. It has to do with the fact that the Laminated List Fantasy Draft has one precipice here: It hinges upon the entire idea that we can actually have sex with the people on this list. So if you add this little, you know, this 'interesting proposal' as you called it, to the mix, it just brings this whole thing to … now you're going to have sex with Brad Pitt if you choose him, you know what I'm sayin'?

"This man crush — where do you draw the line? Where does it stop? I don't know — I'm confused by it. I feel like if my goal to have sex with everyone on my list, and there's a man on my list, then my goal changes slightly. Yeah. So, anyway, do you get the gist of what I'm saying to you? Please call me back at any time. Have a nice evening. Buddy."

PS
As per instructions, cuz I'ma hold it down for Nat:

Daiisychic: hey hun.... my school is doing some stupid thing..... sooooo can you please vote.... for me that is.. lol... and they it to allllllllllllllll your friends.. bc anyone can vote.. http://www.campusvixen.com
Daiisychic: Just go to Vote now... and then.... say.. VOTE FOR THE BRUNETTE IN THE RED DRESS

2006-02-12T17:08:00.000-05:00

In the event any of you don't know by now, I was out of commission this weekend while recovering from LASEK eye surgery. (i.e. I no longer wear glasses, bitches) There are updates to come regarding the LLFD, including an exceptional and HI-larious phone message from Sasha that pretty much obliterates "Proposition 25."

After these messages (i.e. my reading vision stopping with the blurriness) I'll be right back.

Word to ABC Saturday mornings.

You know you whistled along when you read that.