Predictions for the New Year

Well, 2007 is at its end. I don't want to look back too much. It's all in this blog already, isn't it? So here are some serious and no so serious predictions for next year:

• This country will elect either its first woman president, or its first biracial president. And I will be a happy citizen.
  
• The J-Dawg will start a band with his cousins in L.A. and Prague. The fathers will fight online about which one of us will get the producer credit on their debut album.
  
• During our trip to Prague, many conversations will start this way, "Yes, we are Americans. No, we didn't vote for him."
  
  Our new Czech friend will say, "Funny, I've never met any Americans who did."
  
  "Oh there are plenty of them. It's just that most of them won't go anyplace that doesn't have a Hooters."
  
  "Hooters?"
  
  "Nevermind. Long story."
  
• I will do at least 36,600 pushups.
  
  

This is not Mudville

I've seen a lot of baseball live over the years, but I had never managed to see a walkoff home run before. Until last night.

It was a close game most of the way. And as a pessimistic Sox fan in the right field bleachers typically does, I thought the game was over when the top of the ninth rolled around. I was wondering if they'd bring out some random reliever as they were down by 1 run. Suddenly "Wild Thing" played over the P.A. "Hm. I guess Papelbon hasn't thrown in a couple of days and he needs to the work," I thought.

Cinco-ocho came out and pitched the inning 1-2-3. Not before a foul ball festival in there, but still pretty efficient.

The next thing I know, I look up at the scoreboard and notice who is coming up third in the inning for the Sox: David Ortiz.

-Nah. He hasn't done it in over a year. It's too much to ask.
-Hmm. Lugo's on. Maybe Pedroia can get him home.
-Nope. Hey here comes Papi.

As he steps up to the plate, every single person in Fenway is thinking the same thing. Walkoff home run. Earlier in the game, he blasted one into the bleachers just a few rows in front of us. I've probably sat in those seats 20 times and I've never even seen anyone clear the bullpen, but he got it 7 or 8 rows deep.

The count goes to 3-1. I have no idea why the Devil Rays don't walk him. Somehow they give him a pitch that he can hit. And the ball sails high in the air. It looks like a pop foul that the first baseman could handle. Except that it's not. It's still going out towards right field. I can see the right fielder stumbling around after the ball. He was as fooled by it as anyone else. He runs to the foul pole but the ball is coming back the other way. I see it hit the hand of a fan in the stands. Did he reach out and interfere? Was it actually a home run?

I spot the first base ump and he's signaling home run! Fenway Park is filled with joy. The mighty David had not struck out! He'd hit it out!

Jen stayed home with the boy tonight. She's not much for night games, and it's definately past the J-Dawg's bedtime. I walked the mile from the ballpark back to our house and give Jen a kiss hello.

-I heard you guys.
-What?
-I heard two loud cheers from outside, around 10:30. What happened?
-David Ortiz. David Ortiz.

His spirit is no longer encumbered by this world.

My Uncle George passed away suddenly sometime last week. We're not sure exactly when. He had been working as an engineering contractor for Bechtel in Saudi Arabia. He was supposed to fly home to Boston for a few weeks of vacation, but never arrived on Friday. They found him in his apartment in Jubail early on Sunday morning.

I've been thinking about him a lot since we got the news. He was my mom's baby brother. He lived with us in Boston while he was getting his engineering degree at Northeastern. He'd take me along to the library when he had to study, and he taught me how to read.

I remember he had one of the early LED digital calculators. It must have cost a fortune back then, and he let a three year old play with it. He trusted me and he unleashed the tech geek in me.

He was the kindest and most thoughtful person I have ever known. He was always the ringleader of family outings to Chinatown. I'd bring friends with me sporadically. Not only would he remember them, but he'd remember what their favorite dish was and he'd make sure that we got it for them.

When I left Florida in 1999 with no job, or no place to stay, he let me stay with him as long as I needed while I started the next phase of my career and my life.

I can't even imagine who I would be without him. I've been flipping through iPhoto looking for a picture to put up with this post, but I can't find any that do justice to the brightness of his spirit and how much love he brought to everyone he met. I hope these words give you some idea of what he meant to me.

Overheard: In the South Bay (Boston) Home Depot Parking Lot

-He's a good man. I know he'll turn himself in on this last warrant.

Poetry 365: July

The box fan at the back of St. Ann's
is set on high, this Sunday morning,
keeping the Holy Ghost moving
towards the altar, all through the mass.

Me and Bodhi Down By the Schoolyard

Bodhi and I have been going for walks every weekday at 6AM before I head off to work. That's the great part of long summer days.

-We've learned some strange things about the neighborhood and the people in it. People will tell you all kinds of stories when your dogs are playing in the baseball field. Apparently, there are a group of guys who play jai alai on the tennis courts hitting wall after midnight. They pull their cars up to the court and leave their headlights on to illuminate the court. They also bring their dinner and eat it while sitting on the hoods of their cars. It sounds wildly implausible to me, but it sounds so cool.

-Listen, lady, our dog is not named after Patrick Swayze's character in Point Break. Yes, it's the same spelling, but that's coincidence. Besides, if we'd wanted to name him after a Swayze character, we'd have picked Daulton. "Johnny Utah" would be a great name for a dog, just not this dog, ok?

Poetry 365: Transition Point

There's a cherry blossom balance
where everything turns in again,
folding back into white flowers
and nothingness,
all as if spring
just happens by itself,
with no prompting by
rain clouds that move
like stones sliding
across the ice,
inning after inning.

Live by the sword...

die by the sword. In my Jeopardy experience that would be the absurdly large Final Jeopardy wager. After an absurdly competitive Double Jeopardy shootout, Everyone got stumped by the flag of Prince Edward Island. I'd wagered damn near everything, breaking every wagering rule. I just can't operate under the assumption that I might be wrong. It's absurd, but that's just what I'm like.

Here's my quick hits on the match:

Sandy is absurdly fast on the buzzer. I was very frustrated by her beating me to the punch time and time again.

LaDanian Thomlinson! He carried my fantasy football team this year. Gentlemen of the ZFL, consider this your moment in the spotlight. All hail Zod.

Wow, I know a lot more about the Old Testament than I thought. Lamentations? C'mon!

Watching at home, I didn't know the Sartre question. On TV, I did.

British Royalty? Another nightmare category for me.

Congrats to Laura. Well played wager. Sandy, I apologize for tailgating. You would have been a great champion.

Everyone loses at Jeopardy eventually. It's the nature of the game. I have no regrets about my adventure. It's cool to win. But it's been much cooler to share this with all of my friends and family over email, text message and phone over these past two days.

Clearing out my brain on Thursday's Jeopardy

Dvorak? C'mon. You know who I meant! I got a text from my brother that said, "Nice job, doorvac." I smell a new fantasy team name for next year. This was my nightmare category sprung to life. I was happy to get something and try to jump out of the category all together. Alas, not to be.

Thank God I recognized Jimmy Carter in the picture from Reagan's inauguration. That's the only clue that's it's 1981 and not 1985.

I was telling Alex my panic in sticking in "A. Johnson" They gave Andrea credit for "Johnson" despite there being two President Johnsons. Alex told us this was because there was only one Johnson in the 19th Century. So now you know what we talk about over the credits.

In the last shot of the show, you can see my head on the GIANT VIDEO WALL. Disconcerting to say the least.

Why 1916? It's the only date I know in Irish history. I remember W.B. Yeats's poem Easter 1916. Damn you William Butler Yeats! Last item on the board and I could have ridden it to first place. Not that I knew that at the time. Apparently, I didn't know much of anything at the time.

A category about the wives of the M.F. Yankees? No need to fear. Know thy enemy. It pays off.

There were clues that made me think about specific people that I know. Jane Addams was for Ms. Wren Violet who once worked at Hull House. Luzon is for my mother and her family who are from the Philippines. The entire fortune cookie category is for my Uncle John and Auntie Rubi who used to own a fortune cookie factory. I think my wife, Jen, was the only person in the whole studio that knew that quote from Black Beauty.

Bet it all!

If you noticed from my earlier post, my #1 dream category is American Presidents. My brother knows this and sent me this email immediately after the show:

Alex: The Final Jeopardy category is...
J-Dawg's Crazy Uncle: Bet it all! Bet it all!
Alex: Presidential Vetoes
J-Dawg's Crazy Uncle: BET IT ALL!

So yeah, I won on Jeopardy tonight. I had been in third place by about $4000, and well, the category broke my way. The other contestants' bets broke my way.

I watched the show at home with a bunch of friends and family. It's the closest thing to an out of body experience I've ever had. I usually watch the show for the questions and the answers. I'd seen all of those for this episode, so I just watched people's reactions.

I don't think Andrea realized that she hadn't bet enough to beat me until Alex said as much. According to all of the betting strategies, I SHOULD NOT have bet everything. And she bet accordingly. As soon as I saw the category, I KNEW to bet everything. How did I know? I was a geek as a kid. I was the 1984, 1986 and 1988 national champion in an academic game called... Mr. President. I knew the correct response for FJ when I was 11 years old. (I have no idea how it stayed rattling around up there for the past 23 years though.)

Of course, I almost managed to screw it up anyhow. As soon as they give you the FJ category, they tell to you write down your wager and write down "Who is" This way, you won't forget to phrase it as a question. I however just bet everything and wrote "Who" If you watch the tape, you'll see that I write down "Johnson" immediately. Then I look again and see that I've written "Who Johnson?" That's not even English, William! So I put in an upcarat and put in "was" Now I remember there are TWO President Johnsons. I jam an "A." in the middle there and now have a horrible mess of an answer that I pray that Alex can decipher. Thank God it makes sense to the Big A. You can see all of this panic in my face as while the music plays.

Geez, I show everything on my face. I'm like some sort of stylized kabuki dancer up there.

Thanks to the entire Jeopardy staff for giving me a chance to play. Thanks to Tricia and Andrea, you were great players and I was very lucky to win. Thanks to everyone out there who rooted for me. Thanks to all of you: my family, my friends, my co-workers, the people who sort of know me from this blog, the people who know Jen from her boards and had to explain to their significant others exactly how they kinda sorta know me. Watch again tomorrow.

Gameday!

I woke up at 4:30 this morning and could not get back to sleep. I am more nervous today, than I was the day that I taped the episode of Jeopardy that airs tonight. How silly is that? I know how it ends. Pete at work, says that I must be nervous that people I know are going to see the show. It's one thing when it's front of strangers. Maybe it is. Honestly, I don't even remember being aware of the audience during the show. It was all about the questions and the buzzer.

My neighbor, Ian reminded me of Douglas Coupland's dream Jeopardy categories. I can tell you that I do have nightmare categories, and yes, some of them did appear. Anyhow, here's my dream board:

American Presidents
Baseball
Poets of the 20th Century
90's Indie Rock
Elvis

What are your dream categories?

Reminder to everyone...

I will be appearing on Jeopardy this Thursday night. Check your local listings for station and time. At the very least, you'll get a kick out of turning on your TV and shouting, "I know that guy!"

That actually happened to me a few weeks ago. If you follow Jeopardy, you know that recently, for the very first time there was a three way tie for first. The guy in the middle position was Jamey Kirby. I KNOW THAT GUY! Way back in 1991, we were on a quiz bowl team that represented the state of Florida in a national competition. He was much faster on the trigger than I was. He was one of the alpha dogs on the team and I was the benchwarmer. A few years later we ended up living on the same floor at East Hall at the University of Florida.

If you think it's weird to hear your own voice on tape, imagine how weird it is to see yourself in HDTV. Man, am I glad I got my eyebrow waxed.

If you watched the clip, you'll notice that I don't claim Boston as my hometown. There were plenty of other people with Boston connections that week and I didn't feel the need to add to the Boston pile. Plus, it's not likely that there have been a lot of contestants from Vero Beach.

Summer Babe (Winter Version)

Once, I was a music junkie. If I was walking by Schoolkids Records in Gainesville, I was going in. And I almost never left empty handed. I read all of the hip British music magazines.Usually, I'd have some new CD in mind. Only once did I end up leaving with something I'd never even heard of.

It was Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted. I was flipping through discs when all of a sudden, Summer Babe came blasting over the speakers. It sounded like Lou Reed fronting a very loose and loud band. It was the only time I walked up to the counter and said, "What is this? I have to have it." Love at first sight, sort of.

"Everytime I turn around, I find I'm shot!"

Karma Police

OK Computer is the soundtrack to the part of my life where I lived in airports, hotels and temporary server rooms. I did web consulting from the time I was 22-26. I bought the record at a Tower Records in a strip mall in suburban Washington DC, walking distance from my hotel. On top of working in strange cities and eating bad room service every night, I was too young to rent a car in Virginia at the time. Disaffection, thy name is Radiohead.

I was working on the most difficult project I'd ever been on at the time. I had no backup, no safety net. I was me and the project manager (Merz!) vs. the data and the deadline. I remember working a 23 hour day right at the end. I slept an hour on a conference room table. At some point around 3 AM, this song came on over the tinny computer speakers. Merz was working on something else in the corner, not paying attention to the music. The song's ending sounds like the world disintegrating. That caught his attention. He thought it was the sound of the hard drive dying in agony.

My favorite line in the song? "Phew. For a minute there, I lost myself." Sort of sums up that whole work experience for me.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Sunday mornings, while the rest of the house was asleep, I'd put on these old bulky headphones that my father had purchased at a flea market somewhere. The classic rock station out of West Palm was airing the Lost Lennon Tapes, right after the "new age sounds" show, which weird whale songs and such. I'd always have a fresh cassette in the stereo and kept one finger on the pause key, so I could skip the boring narration and the commercials.

The Lost Lennon Tapes were from John Lennon's private collection. (Brought to you by English Leather!) There were unreleased songs, interviews and best of all, alternate versions of well-known tracks. My favorite episode was the about the development of "Strawberry Fields Forever". Over the course of the hour, they must have aired 10 different versions: one with just the drums, then just drums and mellotron, until finally the version we all imagine singing along to in the shower.

I remember the 20th anniversary of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. It was 1987. That was 20 years ago. At the time, 20 years seemed like the entire paleolithic era could have passed. Now, it feels like the Joshua Tree (released in 1987) came out just last month.

When I was learning to play guitar, I asked my friend Eric how I should go about doing it. He said he had a simple plan, just learn to play Beatles tunes.

"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see."

Blister In the Sun

I was 10 years old when this song came out. My friend Matt Z. was a proto music geek already. I remember he had a cassette Walkman with two headphone jacks that he'd bring with him on bus trips. We were pulling away from the school when "Blister In the Sun" came blasting into our brains. It'd probably be another two years before we'd realize what the song is actually about.

This song has only grown in renown in the 25 years since it was written. Every day after school from 1983 to 1993, there was someone bringing people over to their parked car, introducing the Violent Femmes via car stereo to their little world.

I was watching tv a few weeks ago when I heard this song as the soundtrack to a Wendy's commercial. Seems like a strange way to sell hamburgers if you ask me. I guess the Femmes need the money.

I saw the Femmes playing live in 1998 or so. They were playing a live outdoor show on a July 4th. It was an odd sight seeing three guys in their forties, singing the greatest teen angsthem of the 80s.

Last I heard, Matt Z. had joined the Peace Corps in Russia after college. The grapevine said that he came home with a beautiful Russian bride. I wonder if she's at the end, and she's starting to cry.

The iPod Project

I find that I write best when I have a project in mind. Inspired by this blog, I'm going to write about the songs that have been part of my life. I don't know if I'll really review the songs, so much as reveal something about myself. I'll probably just iTunes random feature choose for me most days. Let's see how long I can keep this one up...

Overheard in Clinic

- It burns?

- Like a yard sale toaster.

Poetry 365: Chop Chop

It's long after dark
and nobody knows my name
in this thousand year old crumble
of city, glass, history and smoke.
I just want a German beer
or a Cuban coffee, but there is no warmth
to be found tonight, just the floating
sleeping windows above the road.

Bodhi's Muay Thai Style

Erm...
Originally uploaded by ZelenyOko.

Last week was rough. Jasper wasn't feeling well, so I was pretty much the only one to leave the house at all. That meant few long walks for the pup, and no trips to the dog park. By Saturday afternoon, Jasper was almost back to his normal cheerful self and Jen had some studying to catch up on.

I called up our friends Roz and Dane for a trip to the dog park. R. and D. brought their dog, Incu. He's a big boy in comparision to Bodhi. He's a shepard mix. Bodhi found him physically imposing at first ,and hid out under the bench that Jasper and I were sitting on.

Finally, Bodhi and Incu started to play fight. Incu never knew what hit him. Apparently, Bodhi has adopted some unique fighting strategies. He kept getting underneath Incu and nipped at his knees and elbows. From below he'd roll his head under Incu's chin. Then there's the move he stole from our cats, the lie down underneath and strike with all four paws. Just bizarre and hilarious.

Poetry 365: Discubrir

Oh the shaking,
how quiet the house seems
when you can't find the last
smoldering ember of
Saturday night.

Poetry 365: Let the Blade Stop

Pill bottle on the dresser,
all the old jeans laid
on the bed. The TV keeps talking
about the autopsy reports.

Poetry 365: Trefoil Common

Move like smoke, little one.
Don't let them notice
the last arrow.

Poetry 365: Three Hours In

no sign of the shore
ocean? washing machine
last rites are too long

Poetry 365: PCH

Leaving the suburbs
for the wilderness and beyond,
we speed along the bottom of the cliffs
and the Pacific laps the right side
of the rental cruiser.

Where the hell have I been?

Los Angeles. On vacation and taping an appearance on Jeopardy! I can't really say how I did, as I am duty bound to make everyone watch the show. It makes for good ratings, you know. All I can say is that I didn't embarrass myself.

I will be live on your TV (in HD where available) on April 19th. Check this link for station and time in your area. Fire up your Tivos so you can make fun of me at your leisure.

I am a vain man. I was terrified about my appearance in high definition. I went and got my eyebrows waxed for the trip. Seriously, you'll thank me. I grew my hair out a little bit so they wouldn't have to powder my head to keep the shine down. They literally airbrushed my face. I don't actually look as good as I will on TV. There, I said it.

It's all a bit of a blur. I thought of specific people when some categories or questions came up. Most you will will probably read this post. I'll leave it to you to figure out who you are and which question brought you to mind.

Now, on to the waiting. :)

Poetry 365: He sings at the campfire

He played a Gibson guitar,
the one with the hummingbirds
carved in the pickguard.

He had small hands,
so He avoided the F chord
when He could.

He was too humble to sing.
He was happy to play
while John fumbled at the words.

"And Jesus was a sailor,
when he walked upon the water."
Cohen never sounded so sweet.

Poetry 365: Untitled

One tenth of the day
passes while we sit
under a honey locust tree,
wondering aloud if we were
two fools in winter.

Poetry 365: Unchained

The sea climbs halfway up the cliffs
and asks to see your paperwork.

Poetry 365: The Bird That Sings Dirt

is a bundle of gray feathers
stretched thin over hollow bones,
perched on the eaves
of the last house
at the edge of the brittle
winter woods.

Poetry 365: Burn

From the marbled fifteenth floor,
we can see the fire burning
in a lot, next door to Dorset Spa,
consuming the dandelion weeds,
the discarded Frito bags,
crushed rocks and umbrella stems.

Poetry 365: Tejas

Six days of rain fall
on the wildflowers.
The bluebonnets are on a bender
and just might sober up
in time for Mother's Day.