this is not a new song. in fact, this song (by chromeo) is so old that i was bumping it on the hi-fi in my trusty subaru, my bones painfully rattling along to the beat in the subzero cold of a milwaukee winter:
my life in milwaukee seems like a another world these days. there are scores of people and places i love and miss up there, but nowhere inside me is there even a fraction of one iota of any tiny touch of desire to ever go back for anything more than a short visit.
nothing against the land of beer, bratwurst, and cheese curds, of course...
being a restless soul in a business where a certain amount of globe-trotting is expected, it's hard for me to imagine staying in one place for more than two years. to me, the excitement of a opening a new chapter will always trump whatever comfort the familiar charms of an old haunt may bring. i gave six of the hardest winters of my life to the cream city, and i'm afraid that's all she's gonna get.
the days of sweat soaked shirts have arrived in the mountains, overwhelming the chemicals that comprise that gelatinous blob that is my trusty anti-perspirant. i've been able to stay cool for short stretches thanks to modern conveniences such as the water bottle and air conditioning, but until a benevolent genius invents an air conditioner i can wear under my clothes, i can find small solace in the fact that summers were way hotter in greensboro.
it's almost impossible to avoid reality television. from asinine immunity challenges on survivor to the weekly struggles for head-of-household status on big brother. from rose ceremonies on the bachelor and bachelorette to whatever flavor flav and his rotating troupe of ho's are up to on vh1, there is something for everyone on today's airwaves.
my favorite of late is the cw's "farmer wants a wife". it's a simple premise really, ripped from the green acres playbook. a dozen big city girls take their high-heeled selves to the country for a shot at love with a strapping young farmer from a small town in missouri. like many similar shows, there are elimination challenges. here the girls bale hay, shovel animal feces, shear sheep, and other farm chores to win dates with the wholesome farmer. it gets a little messy at times, with the animal waste and the bunkhouse bickering at the ladies' quarters...
when a lady get eliminated, it's "back to the city" for her. pretty cheesy, i know, but it's been wednesday's most entertaining hour of tee-vee in i don't know how long...
it was a beautiful day for softball this afternoon at historic martin luther king jr. park. after a shaky first inning in which the peelers hung a crooked number on the scoreboard, we took a collective deep breath and let our magic bats do the talking. when it was all said and done, we had another mercy rule victory in the can, evening our record at 2 - 2. for the mathematically-challenged out there, that means we're playing .500 ball.
temperatures have been soaring into the seventies of late, necessitating a full slate of outdoor activities that have somewhat curtailed my blogging endeavors. you know, i strive to regale my readership with real life tales of ribaldry and wit from the world of photojournalism, but sometimes a guy just has to kick it outdoors on these ephemeral summer nights. in my neighborhood, that means twilight walks with the sprout and "dogoo":
it looks like fun, and it is, but more importantly it's been a great way to "condition" myself between softball games...
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just so you know, it hasn't been all fun and games this week. there was an excruciatingly long day in superior court this week feeding the news beast with reporters charu kumharia and russ bowen, seen below chilling in the passenger seat of a mobile newsroom, fondling his blackberry:
russ and i work opposite shifts, so this was our first time in the mix together. of course, courtroom stories aren't the best fodder for great storytelling, but under the circumstances it was a solid effort. maybe next time we'll strike emmy gold, but it could be another three months before russ is on my newsgathering dance card. who knows, maybe we could do a story on these pendulous plastic prosthetics:
i can see the tease now (courtesy of my homeboy eric white):
"truck nuts... amusing diversion or deadly distraction. find out what's swinging on area highways tonight at eleven..."
there's nothing like a train wreck to get an assignment editors into a full-on tizzy. i was in the right place at the right time to help out on a breaking news story involving a man, a train, an ipod, and a frenzied helicopter ride to the local hospital:
this isn't the first time i've covered the aftermath of a man vs. train incident, but it is the first time the victim survived. in fact, he was alive and chatting with emt's as he was taken via gurney from the helipad to the emergency room. i ferried my tape to the makeshift news bureau on-scene near the norfolk southern tracks where the accident happened.
it was textbook waffle house journalism. smothered and covered, chunked and diced. reporter carolyn ryan shuttled through a short stack of field tapes to put together a quick piece for the folks at home while a small army clad in logowear rushed to set up the live shot. for a few early-evening minutes, the dusty dirt road was the center of the local news universe, and though my role was small, it felt good to help the station flex its team coverage muscle.
western north carolina boasts some amazing scenic vistas. i peeped a few with my very own two during a drive through jackson county this afternoon, but what really stuck with me was this piece of roadside detritus spotted during a very long red light in near the biltmore estate:
i don't claim to be an expert on soft drinks, but that definitely isn't coca-cola in that bottle. i've also put in enough road miles to know that you usually spill more than you catch when you play "fill the bottle". next time just pull over, and don't spoil the scenery for those of us who can still afford gasoline.
every sunday afternoon, this ragtag group of television professionals takes the field in pursuit of softball glory in the asheville parks & recreation "b" league:
we finally notched a win this afternoon after heartbreaking losses in our first two league games, riding a rack full of hot bats to a "mercy rule" finish. here, heather "the intimidator" graf chokes up for a crucial third-inning at-bat against the gas house gorillas:
trust me, there's a whole lot going on in little 'ol asheville. i just wanted to stop in to let my half-dozen-or-so loyal readers to stay tuned, because i guarantee i'll regale you with tales of ribaldry and wit in the near future.
that was sort of like a tease for a c-block story, huh?
what's over seven feet tall, empty-headed, and not named shaquille o'neal?
giant puppets, of course. daniel meyer and the asheville symphony teamed up with the internationally respected red herring puppets for a one-night-only performance of the igor stravinsky classic, "petrushka". knowing that giant puppets make for great tee-vee, i attended the dress rehearsal with my trusty camera and let the tape roll.
something went terribly wrong in that bathroom. my mind's eye sees it in slow motion, a slip of the clippers, a piercing bloody-murder shriek, and the damage was done. my body convulsed involuntarily as i inspected the damage up close in the mirror; there would be no quick fix for this freak grooming mishap, the only solution was to start over from scratch:
i must say, i feel naked without my beard.
i initially grew my beard as a tribute to my good friend and former co-worker ryan nelsen, whose velvety facial hair was legendary in certain circles in the milwaukee area. ryan and i shared road-warrior duties for a small video production firm, seeing the world from the front seat of a battered ford windstar. when he left the company to pursue a career in film, i felt it necessary to honor a first-rate traveling companion by saying goodbye to my gillette sensor excel.
