Member: cklarock

cklarock believes that old people are pissy because of their wisdom, not despite it.

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OCTOBER 15, 2008 @ 04:06 PM | 11 COMMENTS


APRIL 8, 2008 @ 09:00 PM | 10 COMMENTS


In my last entry, I picked the Final Four, but got the scores wrong. Who would have thought that NC would roll over for us? I guess after watching Roy's teams for 15 years I should have known. I also thought that Sherron Collins and Russel Robinson would do for the whole game what they did for *most* of the game on Memphis' Rose and keep him (relatively) quiet. The kid is legendary, but his team couldn't hang on.

Mario Chalmers, Mario Chalmers (p.s. Sherron Collins, Brandon Rush and Darrell Arthur), Mario Chalmers.

Lawrence, Kansas is the place to be right now, and will be for a few weeks.
MARCH 20, 2008 @ 08:13 AM | 14 COMMENTS



The Lost Painting

I'm currently reading this book, given to me by my lovely wife for my 38th birthday. She knows that Carrivagio is my best. Painter. Evar.

This is only partially due to his technique; in fact, I probably prefer Diego Velazquez or Rembrant (or recently, Antonio Mancini) for skill and vision. You see, I like Carrivago for the fact that he was as deadly as Count Dante (although his weapon of choice was a sword, not his fingertips).

Michelangelo Merisi de Carrivagio was a duelist; a scofflaw murderer and a pugnacious street-tough who rendered his subjects with an uncompromising naturalism that would make him the most hated and influential Italian painter of his day. Carrivagio was larger than life. He had talent, he had vision, he had severe mental health problems, and he had enemies.

If you decide to pick up The Lost Painting, you'll get a portrait of the life of Carrivagio, as well as a more detailed picture of the lives of the historians who are trying to peer through the fog of 400 years in order to better understand his work and his life.

Highly reccomended.




As a side note; USC over K-State, Kansas vs. North Carolina in the Final Four, Kansas by 8, Kansas vs. Memphis for the National Championship, Kansas by 13.

FEBRUARY 12, 2008 @ 07:34 PM | 12 COMMENTS


I really can't stress enough how much I love this video.

"Steppa right up, folks . . . get yer FREE BALOONS here! FREE BALOOOOONS! Sorry, folks no exit! Enjoy the Promenade of Baloons! Wait for it, folks . . . waaaaait for it . . ."

JANUARY 11, 2008 @ 03:13 PM | 10 COMMENTS


Antonio Mancini

I think I might have a new favorite painter, and I don't say that lightly.

I stumbled across this slide-show of some of Mancini's works, and . . . I think I'm in love.

This guy paints like I wish I could, seriously. I'm particularly enamored with his older stuff before he went (more) insane. I certainly need to see some of these paintings live, but even on my computer screen, woah.

Brushwork like woah. Color and spatial composition like woah. That ephemeral sense of humanness* so absent from most paintings like woah.

Based on a few HTML pages and .jpgs, I've already put him up there in my Personal Pantheon with Diego Velazquez, Rembrandt, Caravaggio (the worst painter, but the deadliest sword-fighter of the lot) and Vermeer.



"After the Duel" 1872

^ This painting floors me. It has such a compelling narrative, the figure painting is immaculate, the subject is treated with so much empathy and like a lot of his works, the color and value composition is sublime.



"Self-Portrait" (circa 1880)

^ First off, I'm a portraitist at heart. I get post-modern art, and I generally like post-modern art, but I also believe two things regarding portraiture: that it is the most demanding painting task, and that portraits that allow us to empathize with the subject are the highest expression of that task.

Mancini's paintings are full of life and heart, and seem *there* in that way that a poor-to-average portrait artist can never reproduce. But at the same time, he's taking liberty with the painterly traditions, adding nonsensical brushwork and using expressive non-representational markmaking without ever letting go of the image's core mission; to show us this person, and invite us to tell stories about him, or put him in our story.

Quite clearly, Mancini is also crazy, degenerating toward bona-fide bat-shit crazy as he ages.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.


_-
*I bet the Japanese have a word for this concept.
OCTOBER 31, 2007 @ 04:26 PM | 12 COMMENTS


East side walk it out!

Dead dancers walk it out!

OCTOBER 5, 2007 @ 11:54 AM | 17 COMMENTS


As many of you have surmised, this Sunday, Sophie and I were married. If you'd like to read my story about the weekend, click the spoiler link below. If you are frightened of weddings, sentimentalism, fawning affection, Green Berets or drunken ladies, do not click this link:


SPOILERS! (Click to view)


Our wedding was a small affair _ we had thirty attendees total _ my friends Eric and Stephanie volunteered to host the actual wedding on Sunday, and we invited the nuclear families (Em has 2 brothers, I have 1) and asked friends of ours from California, DC and St. Louis to come attend.

The wedding was Sunday, but we invited everyone in for a weekend in our quiet little left-leaning, very-much-like-San-Francisco college town. People started arriving on Friday, and we had a party over at our house that first night.

It was actually quite cool, because KikiBH and MrGoose hadn't met any of our other friends prior to the weekend, but as we expected, they fit right in. Our friends and family make up an eclectic lot, including a department store manager, a sex therapist, a Special Forces soldier, video and film producers, a retired criminal Judge, former strippers, full-time moms, several English or Literature degrees, computer security specialists, etc.

The things they all have in common: they all have huge hearts, are kind and gentle and are all whip-smart.

So as you can imagine, the conversations were never dull.

Friday night we did some take out food and started in on a bottle of wine that my brother Drue (DC2020) brought over. Kiki, Goose, Eric and Steph and my dad and step-mother came over.

The highlight of that evening was when my stepmother got drunk (vodka martinis on a mostly empty stomach = trouble) and started lecturing Kiki and Goose about how by not having children they are breaking their mother's hearts (totally awkward, I have to tell you, but having some small experience with drunks in their families, they were real troopers about it).

Then about the point where we were all looking at the ceiling or our shoes, step-mom jabs her finger at Eric (who is a Green Beret) and says in a belligerent tone, "what are *you* looking at?"

Now, in her defense, this is kind of in line with her sense of humor and was surely meant playfully, but in the context, it really came off as aggressive. The room went quiet. Of all the people in the room to get aggressive with, she picks the 220 lb. professional war-fighter*. It was pretty classic.

He replied, completely nonplussed, "Generally, whatever I feel like."

(*The weekend's ROE didn't include yelling at old ladies, heh heh.)

A short while later, I actually threw my step-mom out and told her to go sleep it off. I said, "I've never 86-ed an old lady before, but there's a first time for everything."

She said, "are you calling me old!?"

"Yeah, and you're drunk, too, so go sleep it off!"

Saturday, we ran 'round finalizing wedding preparations, getting the rented tables & chairs, etc.

That morning, I went out to breakfast with just Em's father and two brothers. We had "man time." Em's dad asked about our interest in football (soccer), saying something along the lines of "now talk about a dull sport!"

I got to (rather diplomatically, of course!) correct him and explain how, in fact, it's the only sport where there's something interesting happening the entire time, as every facet of the game is a technical duel . . . and there's no time-outs.

Saturday night, we did a dinner at the local historical hotel, in the "Big-6 Room": a classy space in a very old hotel with all sorts of worked-stone sports logos from back when the Big-12 was the "Big 6" (I think circa 1930). This dinner was great as some more of the local friends rolled in, and the parents really got their first chance to just hang out together. Judy (my step mom) and Lauri (Em's mom) were inseparable. It was great to see.

We wandered down to a local restaurant and had more drinks, closed their bar, brought the party back to our house and were up until 4 am or so talking and drinking.

Sunday arrives - the fateful day - and I'm hungover like a wet dog. Of course, I haven't slept much all weekend, and have had too much alcohol and not enough water. Sophie, thankfully, feels fine.

We slooooowly dragged ass out to finish some last minute details, and then, at 3pm (with the wedding scheduled to start at 5) a massive thunderstorm rolls in! It's Kansas!

Luckily, the front was only 50 miles in width, and moving at about 50 miles per hour, so while it kicked some ass, it didn't last, and by 4 the sun was back out.

Eric and Steph have a side-yard (modest by Kansas standards, huge by big-city standards), and we set up three 5' circumference tables with white tablecloths and candles in fall-themed centerpieces.

We got some pictures taken outdoors, arrived about 5:30, and had a cocktail (water for me, thanks!) and appetizer mixer. Drue had prepared the food for this event, and we had crostini with 5 toppings (roasted garlic, kalamata olives and marinated peppers being the 3 that I can remember) and empanadas (called hand-pies in London). Empanadas are one of my favorite foods, and these were GOOD. My buddy Ian told Drue that if he could make Empanadas like that all the time, he'd marry him next! biggrin

Our friends Chris & Ang and Scott & Britton had 5 kids between them: River and Helene (aged 6), Emily Rose and Mage (aged 4) and wee Christopher (aged 2). The kids were fantastic all day, running around and generally cute-ing up the place.

The ceremony took place at twilight, and was officiated by my father. As you can imagine, it was all we three (Em, my dad and I) could do not to cry. It was very touching. The vows were very good_spiritual but not religious. Looking into her eyes and saying the words was powerful. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling.

After the vows, Drue got the dinner plates ready: roast chicken with a miso glaze on a bed of shitake mushrooms and baby bok choy, a steak filet cut with herb butter and mashed potatoes, and pan-seared scallops on a corn, carrot and soybean chutney.

Now, my brother is as good at his job as nearly anyone out there_he's just not as famous (yet). And while he always has room to grow, he has ridiculous skillz in the kitchen. As the occasion was very special to him, he really went all-out. The food was off the rails, and people started freaking out about how good it was.

The wine was spectacular as well. Em's father spared no expense, and provided a case of wines from each of his 3 favorite Napa wineries (it was grueling research, he assured us all, but for his daughter, he would drink the wines of Hades if need be).

At our table, we had both sets of parents, Emily's brothers, and Dr. Daley (a sex therapist). Dr. Daley and my father have both at times not far behind us been attacked quite publicly by the Religious Right-Wing nutjobs that infest this fair state like roaches in the Projects, so it was quite amusing to see them both share some stories.

In fact, Dr. Daley had left his own birthday party to attend our wedding, so he had to eat and dash. In what I consider an auspicious omen, our wedding fell on Dr. Daley's 69th birthday.

After the dinner, people started to mingle, and I began to wander about receiving congratulations and just realizing that probably for the last time in a while (if not ever), all the people I really love were in one place, connecting with each other and basking in the promise of our union. Nothing but smiles, smiles and smiles on every face.

^ Maybe that sounds corny, but that's exactly how it was.

Monday morning we flew off to Las Vegas, which as you know, is Las Vegas. Pics of the honeymoon in Sophie's journal.

While I'm not a Vegas fan, I did discover how much better the town is when you're there in the company of a beautiful woman you are completely in love with. smile

SEPTEMBER 30, 2007 @ 09:36 AM | 10 COMMENTS


Best. Day. Evar.
SEPTEMBER 7, 2007 @ 10:46 AM | 10 COMMENTS



From the BBC:

'Human-animal' embryo green light

Regulators have agreed in principle to allow human-animal embryos to be created and used for research.

------------------





Human scientists are growing ever closer to my secret. Perhaps the time is ripe for my Doomsday Robot after all.




You know, in all seriousness, when they cross animals and humans it'll be the animals that get the shaft.



Yeah, I *could* pounce that other kitten, but *why*? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

JULY 31, 2007 @ 02:33 PM | 13 COMMENTS


I . . . I . . . I have to share.

Really, I'm not sure how even to contextualize this video except to say that Dragonforce (the band) is a half-mocking, three-quarters serious* throwback to Epic Speed Metal of the late 80's, and that the fan-created video below proves that they should make all of their videos out of Final Fantasy game cutscenes.

It's like . . . everything epic and strange about American Suburbia making out in a Comic Book convention bathroom with everything epic and stragne about Japanese videogame fandom. The only missing ingredient here is a 50-year old company man masturbating to it in Kyoto.

. . . not that we know that *isn't* happening.



*DC2020 insists that there is no irony whatsoever with Dragonforce. On one hand, I can admire their sincerity (i.e. at the level of being a acutal iconoclasts among a fantastically conformist subculture that thinks of itself as iconoclastic), but on the other I just can't help but feel kind of embarassed for how un-ironically *corny* they are.

That said, Dragonforce are so fucking adept and technical, though, that their skill and effort renders critics venomless. We can laugh at them all we want, but we could never do what they do.
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