9.29.2008

Tired

Have I mentioned that i'll be very, very glad when this tenure-review business is over (for now) and the revisions are done and sent in? I don't mean to complain, but I kind of miss my wife and kids. And my guitars. And poker. And doing stuff that isn't work.

Tenure/retention review!

Was anything ever this much fun? And then again, in four months!



Bunnies!

9.21.2008

So, how does one prepare for global economic collapse?

Stock up on canned goods? Buy a shotgun? I'm stumped.

Every now and then

I decide I'm about ready to quit my job and become a full-time blues musician.

Too bad I suck at it.

Looting

Even I am amazed at the pure, brass-balls, broad-daylight audacity of the Bush administration's attempt to loot the U.S. Treasury to the tune of $700 billion, no oversight allowed, no strings attached. This is what happens when the corporate ruling class declares itself above the law.

9.15.2008

Blues Fest

Our little neighborhood band played at the Eau Claire Coalition Blues Festival on Saturday. It rained (although not directly on us), and I was pretty much the weakest link, at least instrumentally. But still—fun!

I'll post pictures as soon as I can get them from my MIL's camera.

Did I mention that the in-laws are in town? I make jokes, but thank God for them and their excellent babysitting.

9.14.2008

Lives of the Poets (Part 1)

Every now and then I have this conversation with a poet acquaintance of mine in which I say something about the unseemly and pathetic clawing after crumbs that is the business end of poetry, and he says, "Well, if you're just writing poetry for what you can get out of it, you should quit." And then what I want to say is: Why is it bad to want to be rewarded for your work? Why is it bad to want to make a decent living? Take care of your family? Make your mortgage payments?

Well, it just is. And if you were really a poet, you'd know better than to ask the question.

9.03.2008

Not fully committed to the goals of FYE.

I will not require their attendance at Party House, or the Ultimate Road Trip. Oh, well.