brainsplotch

Hello, I'm still alive and checking in. I can't give a legitimate reason for my absence. I suppose it has to do, mainly, with the fact that it's summer and there is not too much going on that interest me enough to write about it. Oh, and when I am on the computer, I'm wasting most of my time on Facebook. Damned Facebook, it should change its name to "internet crack". So what's been going on since May, you ask? Well, on June 26 I saw U2 at Spartan Stadium in East Lansing. The concert was originally scheduled for May 2010, but the band was forced to postpone the show due to Bono severely injuring his back. (Yeah, all that "saving the world" stuff takes a physical toll). Anyway, U2 were amazing, brilliant, fantastic. I saw them back in April '87 at the Pontiac Silverdome and it was the most mesmerizing concert experience I'd ever had. I thought there was no way it could ever be topped, but I think U2 actually were better this time around. ...

Don "Pedro" Pratt (or is it Walter Pratt?), kneeling (3rd from right), ca. 1890. Six years ago, I wrote a book, through Arcadia Publishing's Images of America series, entitled The Portland Area 1868-1939 . It’s a photographic history of Portland, Michigan. (Amazingly, it is still in print and available where all fine books are sold). I’m not mentioning this to toot my own horn (well, maybe just a little), but merely to set the scene for what’s to follow here. In my research, I came across a huge cast of characters that shaped Portland’s history in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, (and lots of information that never made it into the book). None of these characters were more interesting or enigmatic than a local baseball star named Don "Pedro" Pratt. Through the whole process of writing the book, his existence proved to be shadowy and fascinating: a guy who flitted in and out of the picture with a legend that reminds me of the blues singer Robert Joh...

I'm always a little disappointed when I see a great idea that someone else has thought of and wish that I had thought of it first. Of course, when that idea is done better than I could ever imagine myself doing it, I don't mind nearly as much. That's the case with a book called Cardboard Gods by Josh Wilker, which is an offshoot and extension of his wonderful website of the same name, cardboardgods.net. Wilker posts images of old baseball cards (ca. 1974-1981) from his childhood collection and uses them as a springboard for deeper, and quite often hilarious, meditations on his own childhood and life. He's an excellent writer, and has an extraordinary eye and ear for nuance and detail. What could be painful-to-read naval-gazing in less skillful hands comes off as humorous and moving portraits of a 40-something guy trying to make sense of his life, past and present. Wilker is about my age--from what I gather in the book I'd guess he was born in 1968 (same year as your...

The funniest speech I’ve heard in quite awhile. Ron Swanson’s "Visions of Nature" art show grand opening speech from Parks and Recreation. Worth quoting in its entirety: "Ok, everyone, shut up and look at me. Welcome to Visions of Nature. This room has several paintings in it. Some are big and some are small. People did them and they are here now. I believe that after this is over they will be hung in government buildings. Why the government is involved in an art show is beyond me. I also think it's pointless for a human to paint scenes of nature when they could just go outside and stand in it. Anyway, please do not misinterpret the fact that I am talking right now as genuine interest in art and attempt to discuss it with me further. End of speech."

Here's an update: I'm currently slaving away on a blog entry regarding R.E.M.'s new album, and their relevency (or lack thereof, depending on your point of view) in today's music world. I'm probably spending more time on the post than is necessary, since only about two or three people will read it, but I want it to be well thought out and coherent (unlike some of the stuff I foist on you people). Anyway, by the time I publish the darned thing, R.E.M. will have released their NEXT album. It was a ridiculously warm day in mid-Michigan today, with temperatures reaching the 80s. I, however, spent the afternoon working at the library, though I was able to take a walk this evening. Our house is just down the street from a Biggby Coffee shop (though my wife and I insist on referring to them as "Beaners'", their old name that was deemed politically incorrect a few years ago--I had no idea it was a derogatory name for Mexicans), and got some iced coffees (...

Back in the summer of 1986, I saw a strange little music video on MTV (back when MTV still played music videos--remember those days?). The entire clip was comprised of a black & white overhead shot of some sort of industrial site, perhaps a disused railyard or rock quarry. The song lyrics were superimposed in giant block letters in the middle of the screen. Prior to the lyrics' appearance were these cryptic lines, "Bury magnets, swallow the rapture, let's gather feathers," which undoubtedly left me scratching my young head The song, entitled "Fall on Me" was a somber, yet oddly catchy tune with a ringing Rickenbacker guitar sound. I was instantly hooked and haven't looked back since. (Okay, 2004's   Around the Sun was an awful album, but I digress). For the most part, I've been on R.E.M.'s side for 25 years. Back in 1986, I never would have thought that 25 years later I'd be talking about a new R.E.M. album. But the "boys"...

It started innocently enough: I was watching television one day when a Honda Accord car commercial came on. The background music was of a song I knew very well, a song I had first heard when I was about 13 years old and had grown to love more and more over the ensuing 30 years. The ad only featured the last part of the song: the vocalists’ multi-tracked voices singing, “Aaaaaaahhhh-aaahhh-aaahhh-aaahhhhhhh, heeeeere, I ammmm.” The song is “The Only Living Boy in New York” and the singers in question are Simon & Garfunkel, and hearing that song in that commercial soon led me to dig out my old Bridge Over Troubled Water CD, an album I hadn’t listened to in…well, I can’t remember how long. It has been a few years at least. Not too long after digging out BOTW, I learned of a soon-to-be-released 40th anniversary edition of the album, containing the remastered music (actually, probably just a repackaged version of the 2001 remaster) plus a bonus DVD with S&G's infamous and ver...