Sunday, December 31, 2006

Revelation from a Resolution

2006 was truly my year of enlightenment.
I directed myself away from reality television to dedicate more time to reading and writing.
(I allowed the escape of Poker, i should note)
For the most part, the two legs of my enlightenment worked great together:
The more I read - the more I wrote [and vice versa].

The writing side of my enlightenment began to grow out of my control in the last quarter of the year. More people were finding this blog and providing me with great encouragement. The scales of reading and writing were not in balance. I began to think I was becoming a good writer.

Thankfully, here came Jeffrey Eugenides:


Sometime between 2 or 3 am this morning I realized I will never be a writer. No matter how many more coworkers say, "You're talents are wasted here." No matter how many more times a family member says, "Tom - you're creative - I need your help with this."
I know I can not make a living writing.

This is because I had fallen into the trap that is named "Middlesex."
"Middlesex" is the greatest work of literature I have ever read in my life.
It may not be my most favorite book I've ever read - but in my opinion it is the best written.

I woke up yesterday (Dec. 30) on page 291 of the 527-page novel. For an addictive reader as myself, it was not a good sign that I had over a month invested in this novel and had only gotten to roughly past halfway. With the exception of "The DiVinci Code" this book was the most widely read between my friends and coworkers. Each wanting to know where I was in the book, and what I thought of it. I told them that I had no idea why it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, and didn't quite get a hold of what was in the mix. I think every one of them knew I was about to fall into the trap. No one bothered to provide a nudge to keep me reading. Somehow they all knew.

Especially one of my best friends (and most avid reader I know) had to refrain from a reaction when he saw me struggle through the first quarter of the book in the airport. He liked the fact I had chosen such an epic to close out my 12 books in 12 months goal.

Back to why I can't be a writer, and why Eugenides is so good:
"Middlesex" is narrated by a hermaphrodite living as a man through the eyes of a childhood raised as a girl. From what I can tell in a short bio I read of him, Eugenides was neither raised as a girl or is a hermaphrodite. Sometime before 3 am this morning I realized that I'm only able to write as a 27 year old single guy. And pretty soon, I'll only be able to write as a 28 year old single guy.

At 5:28 am I finished "Middlesex." I gain intrinsic knowledge from HOW i read books. In the three day Easter weekend I had started and finished the alcohol love affair that was "Smashed." I endured a 3 month pursuit of Selby's "Last Exit To Brooklyn." I made short, expedient, and a near robot efficiency quick read of "Attention. Deficit. Disorder."

"Middlesex" was read much like "Positively Fifth Street." (which makes harmony in my conscience because P5S was the first of the 12 read this year). Each had struggling beginnings but out of nowhere gained a momentum that refused to be stopped. P5S was finished while home sick from work, at the end of a 4 hour marathon session of reading. Whereas the early parts of P5S were never brought back into focus when complete - "Middlesex" was as clear as crystal when I turned the page to find blankness staring back on the nonexistent page 530. The 11 p.m. - 5:30 am reading stretch was a new personal best.

I woke up 6 or so hours later completely refreshed, the near-full*** comprehension of an American Epic with multiple angles of view from the same source spanning multiple generations in two continents. While I had a pause before 3 am on how Eugenides put in my amateur place - I write this 12 hours later wanting to get better. Not because of him, not because of whoever reads this... but for me.

Special thanks to my fellow associate Traci, for loaning me her copy of Middlesex. I'm happy to be able to return it in the same condition. (The 12 books in 12 months did have one casualty - the busted spine of Last Exit To Brooklyn was given back to it's owner on life support)

***I want to expand on my near-full comprehension of this work. Please let me know if you have read "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides so we can discuss it. Even better, start reading it now and let me know when you're done.

Happy New Year everybody. Thanks for helping this year become a page turner (and if you didn't expect a lazy pun, you need to realize who you're reading... an amateur).


READ

Revelation from a Resolution

2006 was truly my year of enlightenment.
I directed myself away from reality television to dedicate more time to reading and writing.
(I allowed the escape of Poker, i should note)
For the most part, the two legs of my enlightenment worked great together:
The more I read - the more I wrote [and vice versa].

The writing side of my enlightenment began to grow out of my control in the last quarter of the year. More people were finding this blog and providing me with great encouragement. The scales of reading and writing were not in balance. I began to think I was becoming a good writer.

Thankfully, here came Jeffrey Eugenides:


Sometime between 2 or 3 am this morning I realized I will never be a writer. No matter how many more coworkers say, "You're talents are wasted here." No matter how many more times a family member says, "Tom - you're creative - I need your help with this."
I know I can not make a living writing.

This is because I had fallen into the trap that is named "Middlesex."
"Middlesex" is the greatest work of literature I have ever read in my life.
It may not be my most favorite book I've ever read - but in my opinion it is the best written.

I woke up yesterday (Dec. 30) on page 291 of the 527-page novel. For an addictive reader as myself, it was not a good sign that I had over a month invested in this novel and had only gotten to roughly past halfway. With the exception of "The DiVinci Code" this book was the most widely read between my friends and coworkers. Each wanting to know where I was in the book, and what I thought of it. I told them that I had no idea why it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, and didn't quite get a hold of what was in the mix. I think every one of them knew I was about to fall into the trap. No one bothered to provide a nudge to keep me reading. Somehow they all knew.

Especially one of my best friends (and most avid reader I know) had to refrain from a reaction when he saw me struggle through the first quarter of the book in the airport. He liked the fact I had chosen such an epic to close out my 12 books in 12 months goal.

Back to why I can't be a writer, and why Eugenides is so good:
"Middlesex" is narrated by a hermaphrodite living as a man through the eyes of a childhood raised as a girl. From what I can tell in a short bio I read of him, Eugenides was neither raised as a girl or is a hermaphrodite. Sometime before 3 am this morning I realized that I'm only able to write as a 27 year old single guy. And pretty soon, I'll only be able to write as a 28 year old single guy.

At 5:28 am I finished "Middlesex." I gain intrinsic knowledge from HOW i read books. In the three day Easter weekend I had started and finished the alcohol love affair that was "Smashed." I endured a 3 month pursuit of Selby's "Last Exit To Brooklyn." I made short, expedient, and a near robot efficiency quick read of "Attention. Deficit. Disorder."

"Middlesex" was read much like "Positively Fifth Street." (which makes harmony in my conscience because P5S was the first of the 12 read this year). Each had struggling beginnings but out of nowhere gained a momentum that refused to be stopped. P5S was finished while home sick from work, at the end of a 4 hour marathon session of reading. Whereas the early parts of P5S were never brought back into focus when complete - "Middlesex" was as clear as crystal when I turned the page to find blankness staring back on the nonexistent page 530. The 11 p.m. - 5:30 am reading stretch was a new personal best.

I woke up 6 or so hours later completely refreshed, the near-full*** comprehension of an American Epic with multiple angles of view from the same source spanning multiple generations in two continents. While I had a pause before 3 am on how Eugenides put in my amateur place - I write this 12 hours later wanting to get better. Not because of him, not because of whoever reads this... but for me.

Special thanks to my fellow associate Traci, for loaning me her copy of Middlesex. I'm happy to be able to return it in the same condition. (The 12 books in 12 months did have one casualty - the busted spine of Last Exit To Brooklyn was given back to it's owner on life support)

***I want to expand on my near-full comprehension of this work. Please let me know if you have read "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides so we can discuss it. Even better, start reading it now and let me know when you're done.

Happy New Year everybody. Thanks for helping this year become a page turner (and if you didn't expect a lazy pun, you need to realize who you're reading... an amateur).


READ

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Blog will return soon

The lack of posting is due to a mad dash to the finish of my "finishing 12 books in 12 months" resolution... Less than 72 hours and less than 300 pages left...

By the way, I found out recently that I was named Time Person of the Year (remind me to fire my publicist - nobody should discover that honor while waiting in line at Borders).


Parting Shot:
Screw you NFL! Why are you throwing a curveball at my New Year's Eve plans?

Blog will return soon

The lack of posting is due to a mad dash to the finish of my "finishing 12 books in 12 months" resolution... Less than 72 hours and less than 300 pages left...

By the way, I found out recently that I was named Time Person of the Year (remind me to fire my publicist - nobody should discover that honor while waiting in line at Borders).


Parting Shot:
Screw you NFL! Why are you throwing a curveball at my New Year's Eve plans?

Thursday, December 14, 2006

2006's VEGASTORY

PROLOUGE: Vegas Vignettes
For the most part, I have gone against the What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas cliché, only to advance my personal What Happens To Me in Vegas Should be Boasted to All Those Who Do Not Go to Vegas.

Sadly, there is very little to boast about from my most recent 4 day / 3 night romp in Las Vegas. The following are the true tales of grinding through a vacation that never met its potential told in nine acts:

ACT I: Landing with a Loss
On paper it looked perfect – the first flight out to Las Vegas will not only have a smaller chance of getting delayed, but also will get us out there quicker. However, we failed to deduce that we would have to wake up at 5 am and get a ride from my Father through the cold dark morning. However, my Dad loves these trips to O'Hare, and the only thing more upbeat than the Smooth Jazz on the radio was his demeanor.

The flight was smooth and painless (not an omen). However, getting there as early as we did prevented us from checking into our room. That didn't faze us – we were looking ahead to the Marquette versus a better-ranked Wisconsin College Basketball game about to tip off in about one hour. I knew it would be a very tough game for my alma mater. Regardless that it was at home, Wisconsin has had our number the past few years. All this reasonable data did not stop me from my heart fueled loyalty and pride.

Since our bags were being held for hostage (a.k.a. ransom) at Caesar's we decided to bet and watch the game there. Although the game was shown on the big screen, the seats and angle weren't the best – which led us to watch the game at Shadows (it's one of the many bars at Caesars). Watching your favorite team get soundly out played in each aspect to the game is not easier to watch when pounded with Fergie singles and Janet / Kanye collaborations.

Not in Vegas 3 hours and I'm down (there's the omen), but refuse to be out.

ACT II: High Highlight
No question, the best part – and thus most memorable – aspect of this vacation was the room we stayed in up on the 31st floor of the new Augustus Tower at Caesar's Palace. The main room – featuring a nicer couch than at my condo – was also larger than my Des Plaines residence. The bathroom – larger than my bedroom back in D.P. – was all marble with a whirlpool and a flat screen TV. Oh, did I mention the larger flat screen in the main room? Best of all was when I walked over to the window, wanting to know what the view would be and did a theatrical double arm swinging of the curtains.

A bright sunny day with the Paris Hotel at my 10 o'clock, The Belllagio at 2 o'clock and the famous water fountains straight ahead. I instantly forgot about the MU loss… I only wished we had watched the game there instead of Shadows.


ACT III: Scene at Spago
Personally, I am not in a position or relation to tell this act. All I am comfortable reporting was that my friend's family took us out to dinner at Spago, and my Meatloaf was wonderful. It was a risky play, but hey I was in Vegas to gamble. Why is meatloaf a risky play? Because my Father swears that you only have meatloaf at home or if somebody trustworthy recommended it you.

ACT IV: Cowboy Carnival
I should not have been surprised.  I have been getting emails from Treasure Island touting itself as the official home for the National Rodeo Finals. I never put two and two together that I was going to be in Las Vegas that same weekend.

Later than night we went to the Hard Rock Casino. It was a casino I have not been to previously, and thinking it's off strip location would give us a better chance of a Saturday Night $5 blackjack or craps table. We were wrong.

Hard Rock was filled with cowboys. Wearing cowboy hats. I heard frequent discussion about the rodeo. I could not care less. All I cared about is that my face card and nine was going to lose no matter what to that exposed King.

ACT V: Football Fever, Football Frenzy, Football Fatigue
I secure our seats at the Bellagio Sports Book well before 9 am local time. It was really the only thing I did right. It was pretty cool with all the televisions gearing up for football. Everyone was buzzing about what lines were better than others. I confidently made all my picks as parlays .. not wanting to make straight bets for less than even money.

Quickly, I realized that I was in over my head. With more than 6 games going on at once, and money basically on every one of them, I did not know what to watch. I could only pick a team and wait until a large crowd reaction (of which there were many) forced me to change perspectives. And every time you had a TD score that hurt your bet .. you were forced to watch it replayed for every single game. I must have watched Maurice Jones-Drew score 12 touchdowns last Sunday.

I had to leave before the morning games finished. I couldn't handle the overload and constant reminders of my poor football analysis.

I went directly to the poker "room" at Paris. I played exactly one hand. I then ate exactly one chicken quesadilla from the Chipotle about 9 blocks away. I do not think I have to tell you how the hand went. I just wanted a free refill.

All the cowboys in town pushed the Dallas Cowboys to a 7.5 point favorite. Even though it was too many points for that team, even at home, I wanted to root for the Saints without a monetary investment on the line. I wanted to enjoy football for being football..

We watched it from the flat screen on the 31st floor. I have no regrets about that sad fact.

ACT VI: Stranger Scorn
Determined to find $5 tables after the Sunday Night Football game, we went to a vast array of Casinos for the first time. Barbary Coast, O'Shea's, Flamingo, Imperial Palace and Harrah's are places I will not be eager to visit again. Besides the absolute lack of sanity with everything involved with Imperial Palace, and the man who I watched win 7 straight hands of Casino War at Harrah's, the story of this act is what happened at the $5 blackjack table at O'Shea's.

I pride myself at being nice to strangers. It is one of the biggest sources of my random stories and I knew I would need to have a conversation with one to have a good story to tell post trip. However, I didn't feel it would happen the way it did at O'Shea's.

One man, we will call him CUBS HAT because that is what he was wearing asked me where I was from. I told him Chicago and continued betting. Someone else said "Go Bears" and I replied "Yeah." That's the end of the story as far as I am concerned. I just was not in the mood to enter into a conversation with them. I have probably been in better moods that day (that pre-Chipotle No Limit Poker hand still on my mind and all).

About an hour later my friend asked me if I realized how cold I was to CUBS HAT and company? I had zero clue. Supposedly my friend has never seen me act as cold and standoffish in as long as he's known me, "without outright insulting anybody." It made me laugh and almost want to go back and try to prove my stranger friendliness. But mainly, I was shocked. I guess I gave CUBS HAT a look when saying "Chicago" that meant to say – if you ask me one follow up question I will gut you with a switchblade. Seemingly worse, my lack of Chicago Bear enthusiasm was a final straw to the table at large. Heaven forbid that I didn't want to talk about Ditka and sing Bear Down for them.

I asked my friend why he did not say anything while my rudeness was playing out. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "What was I supposed to say? Sorry, my friend doesn't usually act like a prick."

After walking through The Mirage to conjure up some Minor Setback! Memories, we headed back to Caesars… Only to hear behind us a young girl saying, "We weren't doing that well but it was really fun at the table – everybody wanted to know where we were from and everything!"

ACT VII: Tournament TQ
At this point, I was done with blackjack. Done with craps, and probably done with sports betting. I should even stay away from cash game poker! This entire trip was earned through excellent poker tournament play – and that's what I should do. I walked over to Treasure Island and came in 7th out of 25. WAY out of the money. I was pissed, but encouraged that I might be on the right track. I was eager for my next tournament but wanted to get my ass over to the Wynn Property to meet my friend (who had spent the day golfing) for some Chicago Bear Football.

It was during the Chicago game when we met the best character of the trip, but let me finish this thread with the last tournament report:

Getting back to the room at about 12:30 AM, I called the poker room from the room phone and found out that the midnight tournament was already under way, but I could still buy-in. I hustled my ass down there and got seated at Table #24. I knew this had to be a good sign. The first three hands I played ended up as full houses either doubling me up or knocking somebody out. I made it to the final two tables (field of 70+) but couldn't help but getting blinded out after doubling the same North Dakota bartender twice. I played for over 3 hours in that tournament and loved every minute of it.

ACT VIII:Local Lush
I don't think it is fair to mention the name of the man we met in the Sports Book of the Wynn Property… But let's just say that many people in the mid-80s, who loved oil-fortune based Television drama, wondered a whole summer about who shot him.

So this guy was probably my age. Maybe a year or so older but not a day over 30 was dressed very well. It wasn't the lack of jeans, but the cuff links that gave it away. This guy was also drinking some serious light brown liquor.

Wanting to re-establish my ability to talk to strangers I made sure to let him know what happened during the Bear game while he was getting a refill. The following is what I learned about my new acquaintance:
-Previously worked underwriting the dome stadium holding the Monday Night game
-Currently working for a larger financial group
-Born and raised in Las Vegas
-Spent a night in jail.

What?

Yes, I was telling him how I was getting killed at the Caesar's Poker Room (this is before the tournament mentioned prior) in cash games. He told me he got black listed from that poker room and long story short – spent the night in jail.

"Have you ever been in jail?" he asked me. "It's not good." he told me.

He got the charges expunged from his record. Thankfully he didn't have to call his clients and tell them that, "Hey, I've been charged with federal larceny."

My friend asked him for a stock tip. He instantly talked about how great the Wynn was doing – which by the way has concreted it standing as the best property in all of Las Vegas – but then told us about a small chemical company. "If you've got ten thousand dollars laying around – throw it there."

I couldn't help but burst out laughing, losing any illusion my well-dressed self may have presented to him, saying, "look buddy, I don't have ten thousand dollars to throw anywhere!"

He later took a phone call on his cell phone – and I pleaded to him (for his safety) to get the hell out of the book before they start mocking him over the speaker. He returned a few minutes later and took off shaking both our hands.

Good luck my stranger, hope you stay out of federal prison.

ACT IX: Leaving Lost
All I knew is that I was going to get my ass to In-N-Out Burger, period. I have wanted a burger there ever since I first saw The Big Lebowski. Not seeing myself in Southern California any time soon, Las Vegas remains my best option. I was denied my last time out to Las Vegas.

We all thought that it was near the Rio Hotel and Casino. We waited a half hour to take a shuttle bus there. We finally got to Rio and were told that the burger joint was MILES away. We still went into the Rio, but couldn't find a table cheap enough. We were wrong in every aspect of our venture.

After an extremely long cab ride, punctuating our failure, I enjoyed my Double-Double and bought a T-Shirt because I thought I deserved it. We walked 8 blocks back to the strip and played one last game of (losing) craps at the Monte Carlo.

Tipping the bell person for what seemed like the fourth time and riding in the last cab to the airport were uneventful.

Monday, December 4, 2006

Jack Bauer Under the Mistletoe


Tomorrow, Tuesday December 5, the fifth season of television's best show is released on Digital Video Disc.


I recommend instantly placing these discs on your NetFlix queue. I whole-heartedly insist that if you have not even seen the show - watch the first season as soon as you can. Need a good Christmas gift? Buy the first season (only $24 I believe) for someone who would appreciate great television.

Before the start of season five I complied a list of my 24 favorite characters in the show's (at the time) four year run:
Rank
Character (Season)
Comment / Memorable Moment
24
Chloe O'Brien (3, 4)
After an initial season (3) that wouldn't land her in the top 50, her great interplay with Edgar vaults her to 24. Memorable moment is when she offers a listening ear to Jack if he wants to talk about how his day is going.
23
Paranoid Y2K nut that lived in the log cabin (2)
Made the entire "Kim caught in a cougar trap" less pointless by offering up his shower to Kim - producing a memorable scene
22
Kate Warner's sister (2)
The evil blonde beauty... Memorable scene is a tie between killing her broken-hearted fiancée and "negotiating" with the manager to get into a locker at an auto garage.
21
Season one white palmer aide (1)
Who? The girl that who was used by the blonde Bosnian Drazen to get close to Palmer. I give her credit for going undercover to play the playboy - but got carried away and stabbed the poor hunky assassin.
20
Agent Baker (1,2,3)
Most underappreciated character in the series history. He is the top field agent (the actor is now on Lost as the Korean man) who was always the best tactical CTU agent... Jack requested his help in season two's airport, he ran with Chase to try to intercept Saunders in season three and the fact that he hasn't been killed in action shows how skilled he is!
19
Milo (1)
Came in to help out when Jaime was caught / died / killed.. would help only if he'd get a pay raise.
18
"Kevin Carol" / "Alan York" ~aliases (1)
Jack Bauer driving the limo with him in the backseat with a deceased Serbian Banker is my favorite scene of the entire series, period... Jack's immortal, "Where's my wife?" line is met with a full clip unloaded into the bulletproof divider - Jack;s expression remains unchanged throughout!
17
Lynn Creskie - Palmer White House aide (2)
Getting locked in a closet by Mike Novic, having to set a fire to escape, and eventually falling down a stairwell. Oh my, when you type it like that what an odd subplot
16
Woman Terrorist who slept with the Air Force pilot, then impersonated an FBI Agent (4)
Was a key part in the best start to finish episode in the show's four year history.
15
Kate Warner (2)
Best acting in the craft's history when keeping the same puzzled aloof expression constantly... always regretted how her "romance" with Bauer was never fully referenced.
14
Jaime (1)
Historical first of many CTU moles
13
Israeli Consulate (2)
When the rednecks beat him up after the nuke went off, it made me feel horrible to be an American... (Black comedy redneck line later in the episode when Kate Warner only had Euros in her home safe, "Do I look European?")
12
Guiel (2)
Pivotal in Jack's undercover operation, took the ultimate sacrifice, but his widow wife really soured at the end of season 3. (bonus points for the fake-mole angle when he tied up Kim to a chair for multiple episodes)
11
Michelle Dessler
Escaping from Saunders (in s3) was an awesome feat, and to realize she had to be recaptured was even better.
10
Alex Saunders (3)
A well played evil persona that had the great link back to Operation Nightfall.
9
Habib Marwan (4)
The best villain the show..s ever had.. the only one to truly be able to go toe to toe with CTU for more than half a season.
8
David Palmer
Best scene: Rejecting all the resignations at the end of season two.
7
Tony Almeda
His "I'm baaaaack" in season 4 was spectacular - right down to pouring the beer in his Cubs mug from season one
6
Nina Myers
I'm glad she's finally dead, but she was oh such the catching and fetching international triple agent!
5
Mandy (1,2,4)
No, correction - MANDY is the best professional terrorist for hire - and she got off scott free with a pardon! Her naked desert scene after she blew up the plane wasn't her best scene, but she gets honorable mention for showing dedication to the role
4
Chase Edmunds (3)
Let's give this guy a hand for a job well done... no seriously.
3
Ira Gaines (1)
His end was such a cataclysmic bomb on the show, the next few episodes struggled to keep the show afloat. Only because Marwan had the longevity is his role of best villain ever in doubt.
2
George Mason (1,2)
I actually wanted to put George at ..1. I liked him that much. The best source of comedy and best one liners in the show's history. Bonus points for marrying Sarah "Nina" Clarke in the off season after season one - Man, I miss George.
1
Jack
Jack, if I could marry your daughter, I'd want to change MY NAME instead!

Saturday, December 2, 2006

Bonding with the Garbage Man


As I realize my "sawed off shotgun" of a broom is still back at my parents house, I use my Rawlings mitt to clear the snow off my car...

"Don't go out there" says the man operating the garbage truck, while the crane lifts the dumpster into the back.

"Really?" I sheepishly respond.

"Don't go out there, it's not worth it, stay in." He talks not in a blowhard voice stereotypical of a civil servant, but in the Father Knows Best way of advice.

My reply of, "I don't have a choice." gains instant rapport.

"Yeah, me too... The garbage never stops."

It never does my snow bound stranger garbage man. It never does.