Into the storm

So the Aggies play the Miami Hurricanes in the Orange Bowl tonight. I wish I could say I was pumped, but I'm not. Instead, I'm looking at this game with a faint spark of hope surrounded by a cloud of impending doom. Coach Fran said the other day that this game would either be great exposure or serve to expose them, and I fear these are the most insightful words he's said since arriving in College Station. I want the team to be successful, but five years into his tenure, all Franchione has to show is a hard-fought victory over t.u. in Austin last year. Oh, and the worst bowl loss in A&M history, plus three of the worst losses all-time. And a cumulative record hovering around .500. And an antiquated option offense that can't throw the ball. And a defense that can't stop anyone else from throwing the ball.

Sigh. Tell me again what a great thing is was for the school to fire R.C. Slocum?

Now Playing: Pink Floyd Staying Home to Watch the Rain

Because there aren't enough networking sites in the world

There's a new networking site I've recently signed up for. It's called the Global Talent Database, and it's interesting in that it's not a social networking site in the mold of Facebook or MySpace. Instead, it's geared toward professional creative types--artists, models, photographers, filmmakers, writers, etc. It's heavily skewed toward the visual arts right now, but they've recently added features to make it more appealing to us writer types. There are still some technical limitations, but the guys running it are ambitious and seem intent on maintaining continual upgrades. Here's my page:





Currently I've got one story posted, "Coyote for President," along with a handful of photos (author portraits and other, more random things). What's most appealing is the cross-pollination aspect of the setup, with artists rubbing shoulders with scriptwriters rubbing shoulders with photographers...

Now Playing: Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here

Gloom and distraction

A project I'd really gotten worked up about just hit a brick wall. It's not wholly dead yet, but it's gasping and wheezing in a crumpled mess on the floor. I am, as always happens in these instances, in a deep gloomy funk. So instead of wallowing in my own misery here and inflicting it upon you, instead I'll point out another review of "The Final Voyage of La Riaza" I just stumbled across:

The fiction opens up with The Final Voyage of La Riaza by Jayme Lynn Blaschke. This is a completely other-worldly tale of sky-sailors and pirates. Blaschke skillfully develops the plot with characters that interact well, weaving well-written dialogue that really does let them breathe on the page. Descriptively, the piece is vivid and detailed, bringing the alien landscape to life. A real rollercoasting swashbuckler, the tale itself seemed to end a little abruptly, like a heavily applied brake. This was in keeping, though, with the style of the writing – blunt, pacey and unashamedly cold. I almost got the impression that a sequel could come after this; the characters were so strong. A great opener for the issue.

Would that all readers appreciate my innate genius thusly!

Now Playing: Billy Joel KOHUEPT

Friday Night Videos

Okay, there's no other way to wrap up my Carter/Cash family kick except by featuring the man himself. This was the lead single off the final album released while he was alive, "The Man Comes Around." While the album was uneven, it had some really powerful covers on it--none moreso than "Hurt." And the video is even more powerful. If you know anything about Johnny Cash's history and career, you'll understand.



But I can't leave things hanging with something so emotionally wrenching, no matter how good it may be. So here's a fun bit with a younger Cash doing a rare Orange Blossom Special/Jackson medly, presented simply because I love you all. It's a duet, but not with June Carter. Enjoy.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Roseanne Cash.
Now Playing: The Beatles Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

20 years ago today

One of the quickest and most effective ways to feel old is to see significant events of which you were a part of hit temporal milestones. Such as 20th anniversaries. And so it goes that 20 years ago, on September 13, 1987, Pope John Paul II came to San Antonio and celebrated mass before 350,000 people on a site that is now occupied by a school and subdivisions.

When Pope John Paul II presided over a Mass here 20 years ago today, the two-hour liturgy was not only memorable for Catholics and historic for San Antonio, but the centerpiece event of his visit also illustrated the successful cooperation among several faiths.

The Mass — the only Sunday service on the pontiff's nine-city, 10-day U.S. itinerary — took place on land donated by a Jewish businessman, who worked closely with his Baptist partner and Catholics to secure the site, on which more than 350,000 people assembled Sept. 13, 1987.

I remember getting up early and driving with my brother John to El Campo, where we got on a bus chartered by the recently-created Diocese of Victoria. It was fairly full, but not packed, with a bunch of teens, a few pre-teens and a handful of adults. Our bus parked on an under-construction highway (what is now Stotzer Freeway, just about a mile away from Seaworld Texas) on bare gravel roadbed. I have never seen so many buses in my life, parked side-by-side in a line as far as the eye could see.


View Larger Map

It was hot, blistering hot, and we were sucking down water as fast as we could. The irony is that the night before, a huge line of thunderstorms blew through the state. It was pretty severe in Columbus, if I recall, and San Antonio had it even worse. They'd constructed a huge white ziggurat of a stage on the site, with what was supposedly a spectacular network of towers for the backdrop reaching almost 100 feet into the sky. Only the storms destroyed all of that. The towers, I mean. A lot of us wondered what they'd do, how they'd manage to rebuild anything in time, but the problem was solved by bringing in construction cranes and having them hold aloft shimmering cloth banners of white and green. The overall effect was nice and quite acceptable given the constraints the organizers were working under.

Some of the nuns traveling with us had brought along a big hanging flag-style banner announcing the Diocese of Victoria to hold aloft. Only they had to leave it behind because of security issues and the blockage of sight lines it would cause. There were loudspeakers on poles all over the place to carry the words and music from the stage area, but as with any outdoor venue, these were utterly unintelligible. When the pope arrived, he rode through the crowd in his famed Popemobile, as there were four or so large aisles kept clear which divided the crowd, along with several aisles that bisected them. Unfortunately, we were situated on one of the outer aisles, and the Popemobile didn't drive our direction. We did see the top of it over the heads of the crowd, however. Security was generally working hard to keep everyone in their assigned areas, so the two-hour mass wouldn't turn into a mosh pit or rugby scrum, but about halfway through, the guards started letting small groups of people from the back areas (like me) run up the aisles to a point maybe 50 yards away from the stage and altar to take photos. At least it seemed that close to me at the time. So there I was, with my parents' Canon 35mm camera, trying to manually focus a zoom lens and take pictures without any photographic understanding at all. Amazingly enough, a dozen or so shots from the day turned out. The thing that's striking is all the green on display. And although the face can't be made out with any detail, it's pretty obvious who the elderly man sitting in the center of all the hullaballoo is.

That's one of those experiences that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Although I strongly disagreed with some of his socially conservative beliefs and teachings, I don't know if there's another human being on Earth I'll ever respect as much as John Paul II. I'm very cynical about famous religious personalities in this age of feel-good mega churches, but John Paul II, that man was pious beyond all reason. He walked the walk. There will never be another like him.

While I didn't understand anything he said during the mass because of poor audio, it was a thrill nonetheless to hear his garbled voice whether speaking in Polish, Spanish or English (there was a delegation from Panna Maria, the oldest Polish settlement in the U.S.--a tiny town just east of San Antonio). But in surfing the web, I found one excerpt from his homily, and with all the environmental challenges facing us as global warming and climate change alter our planet, I think it an appropriate way to wrap things up.

Only the human person, created in the image and likeness of God, is capable of raising a hymn of praise and thanksgiving to the Creator. The earth, with all its creatures, and the entire universe call on man to be their voice.

-Pope John Paul II
San Antonio, Texas
September 13, 1987

Now Playing: Christopher Franke Babylon 5

Late night ramblings

It's late, and everyone else is asleep. I'm up, all alone. Instead of doing any meaningful writing, I think I'll do some meaningless blogging instead.

A&M beat Fresno State in triple overtime today. After taking a 19-0 lead into halftime. Pathetic. The first half was impressive, I'll admit. The Aggies played tight defense and the offense, while not spectacular, mixed it up just enough to keep the Bulldogs off-balance. But the second half play calling was so conservative I wanted to throw up. Even the TV commentators picked up on how A&M was refusing to throw the ball downfield, even though Fresno State was all but daring them to. All the receivers were running short routes. This, after Coach Fran talked all week about how disappointed he was in A&M's throwing game last week, and was going to open it up and go deep more this week. Talking through his hat. It's like every complaint all the potbangers had about R.C. Slocum is magnified tenfold with Fran. I'm glad the good guys won, but if they play Miami next week this way, they'll get creamed (yes, I know the Sooners humiliated the Hurricanes today, and Fresno is a decent team. Still).

I learned today that a neighbor's child--a college student--committed suicide the night before. Very sad. I never really knew them, but I deal with kids that age all the time at work. I wish I could offer some meaningful sympathy, but I feel any gesture from me would be a hollow one. And in all honesty, these kinds of tragic events leave me feeling very vulnerable. I tend to respond by withdrawing into myself. Pretty much my defense for any unpleasantness.

I have an unpleasant headache, but I haven't taken anything for it. That would involve getting up and going across the house, which means effort. I'm too lazy to do so. How sad is that?

I thawed some ducks today--something like three teal and a pintail--small ones my brother had given me that've been in the deep freeze since early spring. I placed them in a gallon bag, and added two cups of the jalapeno mead. They're marinating in the refrigerator now, and I plan on cooking them up tomorrow sometime. My family watched me doing this with undisguised revulsion and fear.

I just took two aspirin. So apparently I am not as lazy as I initially thought.

I get unreasonably depressed when I try to "Friend" someone on MySpace and they ignore me. Another sad bit of my soul bared. I have no trouble rejecting random garage bands or spammers (and there are plenty of those out there) but I seek out new friend contacts none too often. So I take their indifference as a kind of personal rejection. Flashback to awkward high school days.

There are some really amazing photographers with dazzling galleries online. I'm just saying.

That's enough for now. Goodnight folks.

Now Playing: The Bangles Greatest Hits

Things happen quickly

NOTE: Today is July 16, 2013. I've just discovered this post, apparently unfinished and unpublished from Sept. 2007. It appears that I broach the subject of enrolling at Texas State to take some photography courses. I can only assume this remained unpublished because my efforts were rebuffed by highers-up. It would be another year before I actually started learning photography for true. I publish it now simply as a historical curiosity.

Back in those ancient days when Texas A&M still offered a journalism degree, an array of photography courses were a normal part of the curricula. Most of the students who earned a journalism degree there had at least one photo class under their belt when they walked across the stage to receive the ol' diploma.

I wasn't one of them.

Oh, I'd signed up for introductory photojournalism one semester, but as soon as my dad found out about it, he threw a fit and made me drop it. This pattern repeated itself with study abroad, fencing and half a dozen classes I've long since forgotten about. He was a controlling sonofabitch, and I was still too much of an obedient son (read: wuss) to stand up for myself. This, I'm not proud of.

So a couple of weeks ago, I kinda sorta start thinking I ought to do something about this sad lack of photographic knowledge on my part. Sure, I've managed to take a few decent shots in my time, such as this Lady Margaret passion flower:



and Peter S. Beagle:



But for every Peter Beagle, in which half a dozen different poses come out publishable-quality, I've got dozens of others where my lack of photographic acumen resulted in a whole lot of unusable drek.
Now Playing: Billy Joel Glass Houses