Tragic, Tragic Thoughts

Nothing more fun than mocking people you secretly feel superior to, right? Then let's take a look at some excerpts from the Official Enya Web site's message board. The subject? The eventual demise of the Irish singer / songwriter / ethereal goddess.

(In my defense, I've been known to listen to an Enya album. I have not yet been known to post on the Web about her though. Until today, I guess.)

But let's listen to the fans.

"Everybody,are waiting for the new album,(me too),but we dont know if this new album will be the last one(I hope not),but suppose this was the last one,what you do?? you will try to find another artist like her?? How many albuns she will make until stop making music??"

And then --

"Do not worry, I think we will be hearing music from Enya for a long time and I would say that she will be writing music for as long as she physcially and mentally able...but that is a scarry thought. You have heard this phrase in a very popular movie..."There is another"..."

And then --

"Sometimes I've thought about what it would be like if Enya had a daughter? Has anyone else ever been thinking about that? Just imagine... another ethereal girl with an angelic voice? Or a son? Can you imagine a handsome young man singing songs that would be classified in the genre of Enya? Sorry about my imagination... I actually don't even know if I wish or not that Enya would have children to continue her genre... I've just been thinking. As I said."

OK. It's gettin' scary. Or scarry, I should say.

Not Much Change in a Day

Still on page 402 of Mr. Potter and the Phoenix. Hopefully will make progress soon. I feel the irritation of my sister, thousands of miles away.

Harry P. Update

I'm on page 402 of Order of the Phoenix.

Blog Round-Up

Some pertinent passages from my favorite online journals. Make sure to visit them all.

Mr. Will writes the following on the Supreme Court's sodomy decision in Lawrence v. Texas:

"I can't say enough good things about this surprising decision -- a shock considering the conservative court that made it -- and it brings us one step closer to recognizing gay people as normal people, just like heterosexuals, whose sex lives aren't deemed deviant."

Mr. Simanoff, over at the Daily Dave, gives us this:

"Head pain. Massive migraine. Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow."

And a cool story about he and his complimentary spouse purchasing Apple computers.

Brad speaks for many:

"I love my new job and hate it with a passion, all at the same time.

"I love this new city but miss what I've left behind, all at the same time.

"The buzzword of the moment is "confliction." But it's better, I suppose, than apathy."

The ever-reliable George Harrison -- or someone who looks remarkably like him -- contributes his usual scintillating prose.

"Some things on my To Do list for this weekend:

- Thank You card for Betty
- Charge razor
- New shoelaces on DMs
- Work on that other song
- Find the referral to the wisdom tooth dentist"

Recent Issues

1.) Odd rumors about an ex.

2.) Craziness from the dog -- who is also celebrating her one-month anniversary with us.

3.) Still in the 300s of Harry Potter.

4.) Looking forward to vacation

5.) Going through seven-months'-worth of St. Petersburg Times issues

6.) Preparing for an August move

7.) Antonin Scalia should take a cruise or something.

The Supremes Rule

The Supreme Court, that is. The court today overturned a Texas sodomy law and a 1986 decision that said legalized prohibition of private sexual conduct was OK. In other words, the 13 states that prohibit sodomy between consenting adults don't have a leg to stand on.

One of those states is Florida. One of them is also Kansas, which has the distinction of being one of only four states that specifically criminalizes sodomy between people of the same gender.

I've long found sodomy laws repulsive. It's shameful they weren't thrown out years before this. But it's heartening to see something done. At least the S.O. and I are now assured that we won't be breaking any state laws anytime soon.

You can read the decision here. Some of the best commentary on the issue has come from Andrew Sullivan. Get his take here.

Overheard on the Copy Desk

"Well, if we put it in quotes, we should actually write what she said."

Stack of CDs

There's one on my desk. Let's take a look at the titles.

Brian Wilson -- Live at the Roxy Theatre, disks 1 and 2
Brian Wilson -- Imagination (words and music promo disk)
Phish -- Hampton Comes Alive, disk 3 from the 11/21/98 show
Johnny Cash -- The Man Comes Around
Brian Wilson -- Self-titled 1988 album
Icewind Dale PC game -- Disk 2
Neverwinter Nights PC game -- Installation disk 1
Starship Titanic PC game -- Disks 1, 2 and 3
Holly Cole Trio
The Beach Boys -- Love You
The Beach Boys -- Good Vibrations Box Set disks 2 and 5
Philly Variety Assortment -- Mix CD
Brian Wilson -- The Andy Paley Sessions 1996
Brian Wilson -- Live at the Royal Festival Hall, disk 1
Monterey International Pop Festival -- Disk 1
Dave Matthews Band -- Under the Table and Dreaming
The Zombies -- Odessey & Oracle
Bob Dylan -- New Morning

Book Update

I purchased the latest Harry Potter volume on Monday. I'm on page 288 now. Reading isn't going quite as quickly as I expected. I'm reluctant to skim, and many other things are going on.

I'll let ya'll know about them soon. Within the next month, at least. How about that?

The book is quite good so far. I do wish it had been more rigorously copy edited in places. Too many adverbs trailing saids. Of course, given the book's nearly 900 pages, I have two-thirds to go. I'll let you know how it progresses.

Birthday Wishes

To Mr. Will A., who turns 23 -- or is it 54? -- today. Congratulations, man. Speaking as someone who has been 23 -- or possibly 54 -- for several months, I can tell Mr. A. that it's the age where everything suddenly makes sense. Ha ha.

As you shake your head at my wit, head over to Will's Damn Blog and wish him the best.

OK, OK, OK

A sibling informs I absolutely have to go out and purchase the new Harry Potter book so I can discuss it with her. I'd planned on holding off until I could read a copy for free, but I suppose I'll bite the bullet and buy the thing.

The series is good, don't get me wrong. But now I'm committed to reading a 900-page book as quickly as possible. Perhaps I'll update this blog as I make progress. That should offer some entertainment.

Toodles.

What I've Been Reading Lately

Not a book, but a message board. The American Copy Editors' Society message board.

As geeky as it sounds, there's a fun, outspoken debate about headlines going on over there. You really have to read it for yourself. And no, I haven't tossed in my spare change. I would be tempted to say something nasty.

Ditto

Same as last night.

Cranky Muttering

I wish there was something particularly original going on tonight.

Sadly, there isn't.

The news business still chugs along. The wealthy continue to consolidate money and power. People throughout the country continue their life missions of being effective cogs in inefficient machines. Or vice versa. I churn out a few poems, chat with the S.O. and play with the dog.

Perhaps that's the best one can hope for. Until naptime.

Surprise Music Chart News

Several years have passed since I considered using that headline. But this week's Billboard album chart has some interesting debuts.

Closeted R&B music icon and stroke victim Luther Vandross is at No. 1.

Androgynous '80s icon Annie Lennox bows in at No. 4.

And making their first appearance in the albums chart for decades, the Beach Boys' latest collection of old and moldy hits, Sounds of Summer, arrives at No. 16.

Congrats to all.

Today's Events

Max and I were quite the jet setters of St. Petersburg today. From the tables of IHOP to the aisles of the grocery store, we were where things were cookin' in this great city, one of many such great cities in the sunny state of Florida.

We started off by taking Tundra, the delightful dog, to the vet. She got shots. We then raced to the pet store and bought her some puppy food. After dropping her off at home, we went to the bank and the drugstore. After that, we traveled to a comic book store in Seminole, where Max burned some bucks on X-Men items.

We then returned home, where we picked up the dog and took her out to one of this fine city's many delightful dog parks. This park was full of other dogs and their owners, all devoted to the pleasures of running around and peeing.

After that, it was back home briefly. We then purchased some groceries. Watching of videos and eating of hot pockets followed. What bliss. I'm not going into the whole unfortunate incident with the bottle of iced tea. That's for me to know and Max to tell.

He's Home!

The significant other, that is. I picked him up from the airport Sunday morning.

Now I have someone to share all this ridiculous with on a personal basis. Yay!

Why the Delay?

I've been answering e-mail from devoted readers of the site. Okay, one reader, who may or may not actually be devoted. But this reader did e-mail. So that's cool, then.

Vitals Revisited

A quick recap of me, this blog and the location of those pesky weapons of mass destruction.

Name: Clay McCuistion.
Age: 92 and a half.
Height: 8'1.
Weight: 40-ish.
Occupation: Civilian administrator in charge of Iraq.
At Times Also: Copy editor at a daily newspaper published somewhere in the state of Florida, possibly near the Tampa Bay area.
Main goal in life: To be a friend to our dog.
Secondary goal: To somehow transfer all the cool music files from old, grimy computer to my new, sparkling one.
Another random goal: Compose an avant-garde dance piece

Just a Note

I'm listening to Phish's Hampton Comes Alive live CD set (six disks covering two complete shows) and am on "Divided Sky." A 15 minute, 12 second opus.

I suppose I wanted to say it's awesomesauce. Thank you.

The Worst Car Song Ever?

That's what NPR car advice gurus Click and Clack (also known as the more-difficult-to-spell Tom and Ray Magliozzi) said about the Phish song "Contact" years ago. Here's the lyrics. See what you think.

Contact
By Mike Gordon

The tires are the things on your car
That make contact with the road
The car is the thing on the road
That takes you back to your abode

The tires are the things on your car
That make contact with the road
Bummed is what you are
When you go out to your car and it's been towed

I woke up one morning in November
And I realized I love you
It's not your headlights in front
Your tailpipe, or the skylight above you
It's the way you cling to the road
When the wind tries to shove you
I'd never go riding away
And come back home without you

Obsession Alert

This actually started with Max. Then it snowballed.

I've been listening to a lot of Phish lately. The S.O. purchased one of the now-20 volume "Live Phish" set. I listened, I downloaded some of their shows, and I've been buying up assorted other merchandise. It's fun.

But what -- or who -- is Phish? I'll let the erstwhile folk at All Music Guide explain.

"During the early '90s, Phish emerged as the heirs to the Grateful Dead's throne. Although their music is somewhat similar to the Dead's — it's an eclectic, free-form rock & roll encompassing folk, jazz, country, bluegrass, and pop — the group adheres more to jazz-derived improvisation than folk tradition, and they have a looser, goofier attitude."

In other words, a jam band. With four guys -- Trey Anastasio (guitar), Jon Fishman (drums and vacuum cleaner), Mike Gordon (bass) and Page McConnell (drums) -- Phish goes a lot of different places. I've been engaged and excited by their music.

Let's see where it goes.

Early Morning Meander

My head hurts from the binoculars I rented at the Fleetwood Mac show this evening. By "this evening" I actually mean the evening of June 8, a.k.a. Sunday. The show was good in an arena-rock sort of way, and I'm glad I had the binoculars. But they made my eyes focus kind of funny, and now my head has interesting little pinging sensations.

Did a load of laundry this evening. It should hold me for a few days, although I plan to do more. Obviously that will be worth some serious space in the blog.

The dog has a name now -- Tundra. It was not so much decided in a burst of inspiration as finally settled on. I think it's a decent name, although the dog clearly doesn't associate with it yet. She was wild tonight -- my time at the concert should have been spent running around with her, she seems to say.

Over For Raines

The executive editor of the New York Times, Howell Raines, resigned yesterday. I'll let the folk at the Times tell it.

2 Top Editors Resign After Furor on Writer's Fraud
By JACQUES STEINBERG

Howell Raines and Gerald M. Boyd, the top-ranking editors of The New York Times, resigned yesterday morning, five weeks after the resignation of a reporter set off a chain of events that exposed fissures in the management and morale of the newsroom.

In a hastily arranged gathering in the newsroom on the third floor, the newspaper's publisher, Arthur Sulzberger Jr., told staff members that he wanted to "applaud Howell and Gerald for putting the interests of this newspaper, a newspaper we all love, above their own."

Mr. Sulzberger said that Mr. Raines, 60, who was the paper's executive editor for less than two years, would be succeeded on an interim basis by Joseph Lelyveld, 66, his immediate predecessor, who retired in 2001. There will be no immediate successor for Mr. Boyd, 52, who was the paper's managing editor.

A spokeswoman for The Times, Catherine J. Mathis, said that the search for a permanent executive editor was likely "to move quickly" — other company officials said it could be a matter of weeks — and that candidates would be considered from inside and outside the paper.

Read the rest of it here (registration required).

Zzz

I'm beat. More soon.

Continual Praise

The canine companion remains wonderful. She's about a foot away right now, sprawled on the orange tile floor. I tried writing a poem about her tonight, but poems about pets tend to suck.

I wrote a poem about my ex-roommate Sean's cat. It was called "Kira," and I was pleased with it. But cats seem somehow more suited for poetry. After all, Old Possum wrote an entire volume about them. And then the horrid ex-Mr. Brightman felt compelled to pen some tunes for those poems.

Thankfully, that's all a separate story. Much more coherent too, if I weren't quite as exhausted.

Dog!

The dog has finally arrived. She's a mostly white American Eskimo Dog (with some touches of light brown). She's about five months old and weighs 20 pounds.

Max and I picked her up from the Humane Society of Tampa Bay this morning. She's been a joy, so far. Intelligent, kind and incredibly responsive.

I'll try to stop gushing for now. It's late. But she's a wonderful dog. If only we could figure out a name for her.