This afternoon, my brother, Alex, Ian and I played some doubles at Mercer County Park before Easter dinner-- Alex hadn't played since the summer (when he played once or twice) and my brother has been playing primarily pickleball so that evened up the teams-- it was my brother and I versus the children the old men won the bulk of the games-- the only times the children won was when Ian was serving-- he's got a big first serve now-- but most importantly, much fun was had by all, especially Alex because I kept forgetting he was left-handed and hit him some very poachable balls at the net, which he slammed with glee at my brother-- my brother is not used to the size my children have grown to . . . they are both much taller than the two of us and when Alex hits an overhead off of one of my lame cross-court shots, it's coming down at a crazy angle.
Wind . . . What is it Good For?
The wind is the most annoying element in sports (except when it becomes a tornado-- then it's one of the most deadly elements) and while I love pickleball, the ball is highly susceptible to the wind-- and yesterday was the first time I ever played pickleball in a low wind speed situation and it was awesome . . . you can lob and you can really hit the ball hard (I haven't played indoors yet . . . or not since 1988 in gym class at NBTHS).
History . . . What is It Good For?
New episode of We Defy Augury up . . . I read a couple of history books and learned a few things-- but probably not as much as I should have learned: "Revolutions, Reconstructions, and a Mountain Lion."
John Mulaney Stole My Bit!
I was texting with my friend Whitney today and I recommended he listen to the album "10000 gecs"-- but I also recommended the context in which he should listen to the album . . . this is an album to enjoy with a beverage or a substance or perhaps driving alone in the car, blasting it with the windows open (but do not combine all three) and I told him when he played Track 2 (757) he should recall this moment from 2004:
it's the Outer Banks Fishing Trip and there are twenty dudes crammed into the Martha Wood cottage-- a beach shack at Milepost 12-- and it's dark and we're drunk and playing some poker and also playing some tunes-- on a CD player-- and I've got Ween's new album Quebec and I'm playing "The Fucked Jam" over and over and over, for two reasons--
number one, I love "The Fucked Jam". . . the incomprehensible high-pitched lyrics, the weird synths, the random dips and pauses that make you think this groovy abomination is over . . .
but the second reason I'm playing this track over and over is that it's driving this huge guy Tinsley, once a linemen for the W&M football team, absolutely crazy-- and he's new to our fishing trip-- he wasn't in our fraternity-- and so perhaps he's not used to my brand of humor-- but the song is really driving him nuts and I keep promising him that it's over, but then it starts again-- check out 23 seconds in, it does that dip quite often-- and then I sincerely promise him I'm going to play another track from the album-- and then I don't and I feign surprise and tell him I thought it was over . . . and this goes on and on until he finally runs around the table, pops the CD player open, grabs the disk, sprints out to the porch, shaking the house with his massive footsteps, and throws the disc into the dunes-- which was completely deserved and we laughed and laughed-- and then a few years later-- and I'm just putting this together now-- John Mulaney does his "Salt and Pepper Diner" bit, about playing the Tom Jones song "What's New Pussycat" over and over at a diner, until the people in the diner lose their mind-- and he talks about how the song has a "dip in it," just like "The Fucked Jam" and I'm just realizing that Mulaney stole my bit (although my punchline was much better-- a giant football player barreling across the porch and chucking a little discus into the darkness) and I will simply await a simple thank you for the idea that propelled him to great fame and fortune.
Tennis Canceled (Self Reflective Stretch Day)
No tennis match today-- the weather is truly ugly-- and we could probably use a bit more practice so this might be a good thing, so this afternoon (after listing to this podcast) I have been trying to some flexibility exercises and it turns out that I should stop bench pressing and start sitting on the floor, getting up off the floor, doing Asian deep squats, and hanging from bars (not hanging in bars) or I'm going to be a burden to my flexible and fit wife (who can pop up from criss-cross applesauce without using her hands) when I get older . . . although I can get up off the ground without using my hands-- but I have to twist to my knees, so I've got that going for me . . . or I could keep bench-pressing and if I need any assistance when I get old, i could just punch a young person and then tell them they need to help me or I'll punch them again (but I'll have to coax them into getting down to ground level, since I won't be able to lift myself up).
This Doesn't Bode Well . . .
Horror with Panache (or Should I Say Flair?)
Last Night in Soho, which on first glance might seem like some other kind of film-- perhaps a feminine/Anglophile version of Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris-- but the film is NOT directed by Woody Allen, it's directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver, etc) and this is most definitely stylish and dream horror movie-- and it's a horror movie that makes decent sense (unlike Barbarian) but it mainly becomes a ghoulish contest of which blonde has more style, glamour and verve: Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy) or Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie) and the film is a reminder not to romanticize the past because it might not live up to your expectation (or die up to your expectations).
Remember When Harry Potter Fought Jesus?
I've just started listening to The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling and it seems Rowling is a useful and fascinating lens with which to observe the polarization of our culture-- I also forgot (until I listened to episode 2) how crazed the conservative Christians were about banning the Harry Potter books in the late 90s because they seduced children away from the magic of Jesus and towards the magic and necromancy and divination and sorcery and spells and fantasy of Hogwarts and the Potter pantheon-- and the books were just a victim of scale, of course, because there were plenty of fantasy books with far darker magic (I vaguely remember reading The Elfstones of Shannara in middle school . . . I think there's a nuclear war metaphor in that one) but the Harry Potter books were singular in their mass market domination-- anyway, it's an interesting podcast that's got a far broader scope than just talking about some J.K. Rowling tweets.
Horror and Lunch Buffet
Last night, Catherine and I watched the horror movie Barbarian and while I will admit that every decision every single regular person made in the movie was stupid and irrational and utterly insane, I was still gripping my wife's leg in terror throughout the film-- I don't really understand the title (although the film did take place on Barbary Street . . . a rundown abandoned Detroit suburb inhabited by squatters and derelicts-- aside form one cute AirBnB?) but there were so many bad choices . . . but that's how horror movies happen I suppose-- and maybe in this film most of the bad choices were made by men, but Tess-- the leading lady-- doesn't fare much better-- nor does the female arch-villain-- but it's still a fun and crazy journey; almost as scary was our ride to Muhlenberg University this morning-- torrential rain-- but the campus was lovely, the weather cleared up, and the free lunch at the dining hall was phenomenal-- since when does college have good food?
Spring Break! Spring Break?
Long last day of school-- I covered a class so I worked every minute, plus the kids are wild animals the day before break . . . this poor girl in Public Speaking class had to do a speech today-- she was absent last class-- and the assignment was to perform either a toast or a eulogy . . . and kids often eulogize goofy stuff like bad haircuts and their motivation but she was doing a semi-serious one about her dog, a teacup Yorkie-- who died a few years ago-- and her friends got the giggles because she was describing such a tiny dog and then when it got sad, they kept giggling and it got contagious because teenagers are idiots and I pretty much regretted all my life choices that had led me to being in that room full of those teenagers on the day of Spring Break-- but we got through it and the rest of the stupid classes and then there was still tennis practice but now I'm finally home, drinking a beer, listening to Beach House, and winding down from a long fucking stretch of school.
Dave Learns Too Much Today
I took over a new class today (because Cunningham got knocked up) and my co-teacher was out, so I had to learn a lot on my own (sort of, I called Cunningham twice on the phone, to her chagrin and the students' amusement, I enlisted the aid of our two tech support guys, and I asked the students numerous questions) and this new class is called Publisher's Workshop and the purpose of the class is to create all the articles and spreads for the school yearbook and to fill the school web page with articles-- so it's serious shit-- and I learned how to log onto Cuningham's iMac (it's slow and I hate the mouse) and I learned how to log onto the Bearhub web site -- which seems like a Wordpress blog-- and I got a Canva account (different from Canvas) so I can do the layouts-- and-- most importantly-- I learned the last name of my co-teacher-- because I only knew her first name, so now when she comes back I can refer to her properly in front of the kids . . . I took the kids (there are only eight of them) on a field trip today to the secret location where they store the tissue boxes-- I go directly to this secret location instead of putting in an order with the supplies lady-- so I taught them something (but probably not commensurate with what they taught me) and then we had picture day for the tennis team and I had to deal with MORE platforms-- the UTR site-- some kids have two accounts-- and Remind and Google classroom . . . so to summarize, I'm on a lot of platforms: Canvas, Gmail, Remind, Microsoft Email, Canva, Bearhub, UTR, and probably some shit I'm not even aware of . . . what have we wrought?
Long Fucking Afternoon
My son Ian, a senior, and Ethan-- an athletic and skilled sophomore, played their challenge match today for the first singles position and it wasn't pretty; Ian had two fingers taped on his left hand from a basketball injury and couldn't hit his patented two-handed backhand and Ethan suffered from calf cramps; Ian won the first set 6-1, Ethan won the second set 6-3 and then Ian won the third set 6-4 . . . Ethan showed that he's incredibly fast and can get to almost anything, Ian hit some decent first serves, but it was mainly a war of attrition and I'd kind of like to see them play again when they are both perfectly healthy.
Almost Fucking There
The Rutgers Expos team is slogging its way toward Spring Break but there's a bunch of essays, an Excel Spreadsheet, numerous college credit forms, and a bizarre final exam (called the FIE) in our way . . . I didn't realize there were so many obstacles in my way until Stacey called them to my attention Monday morning-- but we are diligently working through them (and I guess this happens every year but I conveniently forget about all this bullshit) and once this stuff is done and we make it to Spring Break, we will be in the final stretch . . . the fourth quarter!
March Showers Are Fucking Cold
The weather apps did not concur-- my students, with their newfangled iPhones, said their Apple weather app predicted 90% rain, but my much derided Weather Underground app said it wouldn't rain until 5 PM-- and the Weather Gods went with the Weather Underground (so we got 90 minutes of tennis practice in before we got wet).
Life is Scarier Than Death
It's easier to fight a deranged possessed puppet than it is to be an executrix . . . or at least that's my argument in this week's episode of We Defy Augury.
One-on-one Doubles
gecs!
I am still obsessed with the album 10000 gecs . . . I'm sure I'll get sick of it, but I'm listening to this album the way I listened to Paul's Boutique, The Pod, OK Computer, and The Soft Bulletin (among others) and it definitely scratches my brain.
Chat GPT is a Prude
I haven't played with Chat GPT in a while, but it rained today-- resulting in no tennis practice-- so I got to screwing around and I asked it a question inspired by a Beatles lyric and this is the pablum I got . . .
Yes, "Why don't we do it in the road?" is commonly interpreted as an invitation for sexual activity. However, engaging in sexual activity in public, especially on a road, is illegal and can be dangerous for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, engaging in sexual activity in public can lead to criminal charges for indecent exposure, public lewdness, or other related offenses. Additionally, it can be unsafe as there is an increased risk of being caught by law enforcement or pedestrians, as well as potential injury from passing vehicles.
In short, it is never advisable to engage in sexual activity in public, including on a road. It is important to prioritize personal safety and follow the laws and regulations set forth in one's community.
So Many gecs
If you liked this song, then you might like 100 gecs . . . if you need some context, listen to the new Switched on Pop . . . or go all the way . . . 1000 gecs . . . or even better: 10,000 gecs!
Longest Week of the Year
El Orfanato plus Being John Malkovich Equals?
If you're looking for a horror novel with serious puppetry, Being John Malkovich level marionette skills, then check out the new Grady Hendrix novel How to Sell a Haunted House . . . some of the scenes get a little long winded, but the book is very scary, very funny, and very Southern gothic (and once again, set in Charleston) AND there is an amazing bonus flashback set piece chapter set in Boston back when one of the main characters dropped out of college and joined a radical puppet collective with demonic and anarchic tendencies-- brilliant stuff . . . and Pupkin is a worthy villain and the book has a satisfying (and fairly logical, considering the subject matter) resolution . . . Grady Hendrix is a national treasure.
Wild Times
Thus Endeth the Streak
I played pickle ball today and tennis Thursday and Friday, and I did not fall down on any of those days . . . good times.
NCAA Weirdness Has Selected New Jersey
Tennis: First Day!
Whirlwind day: reverse schedule because of testing; Cunningham had a mental breakdown because of the positioning of her horizontal oblique fetus, and the fact that she needs to buy a car, get married, do a million parent/teacher conferences, get married, plan all her classes, and grade all her stuff . . . all before the baby pops out (although if she gets chased by a fungus person, it will pop out faster than you can say "Ellie) and while I'd never wish a mental breakdown on someone, it did make me less stressed about our first tennis practice . . . things went well, I raced out of school, drove home, let the dog out, made some coffee, and made it to the courts on time-- we only had ten kids out today but that's not bad for the first day, expecting a few more; we focused on the forehand today and did two forehand games-- one where you CANNOT hit a winner-- you can only score by hitting deep topspin forehands, past the service line, until the other person screws up-- and you get TWO points if they hit the net; the other where the server only gets one serve and the returner gets THREE shots, including the return, to win the point-- so in one game you consistent heavy forehands, like Nadal, until you wear your opponent out-- in the other you try to hit forehand winners-- very fun (and I got to play and absolutely crushed it . . . although I didn't play Ian or Ethan, who will be one and two) and then I got home fro tennis and Catherine was at the chiropracter so I got right to work on dinner and made some delicious homemade meatballs (with the help of Hello Fresh) and she was very appreciative-- and now all I need is Auburn to win and I'll be in good shape.
What The Kids Are Up To . . .
Mark Leyner vs. The Internet
Back to Belleayre (But Better)
My Boss is the Best
Yesterday, I had leftover tilapia for lunch and I needed some gum before I went back to class and breathed on the students and even though my boss was on the phone when I barged into her office, she fished some gum out of her purse and gave it to me (she said she went into multi-tasking mode, like she does when dealing with her two pre-school age children).
Cold Times in Laramie
If you're looking for a grim, bloody, disturbing podcast that investigates the unreliability of memory and the possibility that all first-person accounts are distorted and tainted-- a podcast that will make you question your own memory of the life you thought you knew, then check out the newest Serial production: The Coldest Case in Laramie . . . but it's a fucking bleak story set in a bleak place and I've listened to seven of the eight episodes and I doubt there will be a satisfying resoution.
A Podcast is Worth 10,000 Words
I converted one of my podcasts to text (using Otter.ai) and then cleaned it up and made it into a blog post and it turns out that a podcast is a lot of words, a whole lots of words . . . so if you want to read a whole lot of words, here it is: "Tomorrow I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."
Adulting 201
Delayed Reaction Dave
So I was going up for a rebound Saturday and some kid continued to box me out, even though I was in the air, and I took a hard horizontal fall but I felt okay yesterday-- good enough to play pickle ball (but not soccer) but this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a train-- mainly on the right side of my body, where I hit the floor, but I was also having trouble turning my neck-- but after trudging through my day, I went out with Ian and hit some tennis balls and then we played a game of 21 and though we weren't playing hard, i almost beat him-- got to 19, made one free throw and then missed the next one, sending me back down to 11 . . . anyway, I'm drinking a Swamp Donkey Pale Ale right now, and hoping when I wake up tomorrow I feel a bit less sore.
Anyone Seen This Guy Lately?
Yikes
I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.
Sports: The Great and the Terrible
I got one sporting birthday gift for my birthday, and one sporting slap in the face:
1) Alex and Ian played together in a volleyball tournament yesterday and they did NOT get into any kind of altercation . . . unlike the last time they played some sports together . . . so this made me very happy, the fact that they played together on the same team, cooperated, and had a good time-- wonderful stuff;
2) then, once the boys got home, we sat down to eat chicken parm and watch Rutgers basketball close out the Minnesota game-- Rutgers had a comfortable lead the entire game, and we were all sitting there-- like old times-- so our dog Lola was incredibly happy and content to have her entire pack together at last-- and then Rutgers imploded and there was much yelling, even from my wife, and Lola got scared and Rutgers blew a ten point lead in the last minute-- I'm not sure why they didn't pressure the ball at the end of the game, or why they had guys in the paint when the only way they could lose was the three-pointer, but they figured out a way to squander that lead, it was like the fever dream of Reggie Miller when he scored 8 points in 8 seconds to beat the Knicks.
Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes
The day has arrived,
the day of my birth--
And while the good doctor
has passed from this place,
I'm still hanging on
still running the race,
still working the job,
still writing the posts,
still chasing the lob,
still taunting the ghosts--
I've been knocking around
for fifty-three years,
my knees are a wreck,
I can barely quaff beers--
but while I can walk,
stand and not fall,
I'll remain in the game
and play pickleball.
Various Kinds of Door Decorating
Contingency Waist Plan
If I acquire a big beer belly, I'm wearing my friend Cunningham's pregnancy jeans!
Comparing Apples and Fungi
Here It Comes . . . The Long Haul
This is it: the long haul of school that precedes Spring Break-- five-day week after five-day week, tedium and repetition and no breaks in sight-- by the end of this stretch, some teachers and students will be empty husks, others will descend into madness, and very few will learn anything of value.
That's a Lot of Words . . .
I ran my new episode of We Defy Augury through an online transcript generator (Otter.ai) because I wanted to edit it and make it a blog post, but I learned that a 29 minute podcast is A LOT of written words-- 6000 or so-- and so I tried to whittle it down a bit but the post is still over 5000 words . . . it's pretty wild how many words are spoken in a podcast episode-- maybe I'm talking too fast?-- anyway, this is an interesting method of writing something-- first you outline it, then you perform the outline, then you edit the transcript of the performance into clear prose-- here is the result of that process:
Two Creative Concepts to Help You Be More Captivating.
Sometimes High School Kids Teach You Shit You Didn't Know
Today I learned three things from my students:
1) Chronophoto is an awesome online game;
2) InspiroBot is more fun than ChatGPT;
3) a girl in my Creative Writing class thinks I sound like the BoJack Horseman character Mr. Peanutbutter.
Sometimes High School Kids Are Actually Charming and Entertaining
This morning the students in my first period Public Speaking class crushed their Demonstrations speeches-- I always get nervous before we do 82 minutes of presentations because when they are bad and awkward, time crawls-- but today was wonderful and the variety was pretty astounding: we learned how to do a card trick; rebuild a drag-racing clutch; we witnessed an adept tarot card reading; I followed some instructions on how to do a professional pirouette; a guy demonstrated on the whiteboard how to draw a bunch of cartoon heads; and a girl showed us a slideshow on how to make cake pops . . . and then she gave everyone a cake pop!
Holy Mother of Peanut Butter and Chocolate Miracle!
The College Writing Crew was embroiled in another meeting about the state of the Rutgers Expository Writing Course . . . which will now by called College Writing because they are removing the Expository element . . . because it's racist?-- so we are thinking the changes Rutgers is making might be informed by documents like the NCTE Position Statement on Writing Instruction in School-- you should really browse through this very "woke" document to get a feel for what the fuck is going on in education . . . apparently writing is used as a "gatekeeping device," which contributes to inequity-- and so "writing instruction" should not focus on "the writing" and we should not "assess and evaluate" this writing-- but instead we should focus on the writers themselves AND if we are teaching kids logic and "reason, order and control, and directness of language" then we are being "Eurocentric" and "white" and we should instead promote "dialect that expresses their family and community identity, the idiolect that expresses their unique personal identity" and "multimodal" projects-- holy shit-- I thought documents like these were the product of super-liberal think tanks or something but they are obviously being adopted by more mainstream institutions . . . this is the kind of softball that keeps people like Jordan Peterson batting a thousand and turns well-meaning commonsensical folks in Republicans-- wild and weird stuff-- and not only is this insane because kids don't need to reflect on their identities any more than they already do-- but it's also going to promote the status quo because rich white parents are going to get their white kids tutored in the "Eurocentric" values of logic and reason and direct language-- and learning to write well which IS a difficult task-- that's why it's a gatekeeping task-- it's hard!-- and while kids do engage in lots of other kinds of writing-- Instagram posts and texts and Snapchat streaks-- that doesn't mean that they are academic writers-- just as we are ALL physicists . . . we can catch balls and accurately judge how objects will fall and understand how to drive a car at high speeds-- but that doesn't mean we should all be able to pass a college physics course . . . anyway, while we were discussing all this and figuring out the best course of action for next year, I sort of lost the thread of the meeting and said, "I wish I had a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup" and Stacey said, "I've got a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup!" and I was like WTF! and she pulled a two pack out of her bag and said, "A kid gave me this before Winter Break, is that okay?" and I said, "Yeah!" and we ate them and they were still totally delicious.
Satisfying Slime?
A Couple of Crucial Creative Concepts
Hail to the Chief!
A perfect President's Day-- it was 60 degrees and sunny in February, so Catherine and I played some pickle-ball-- the whole crew was out at the courts- and then we walked into New Brunswick and ate at Destination Dogs for the first time in a long while (the burger is better than the dogs) and we stayed up late last night and watched The Last of Us in real time!
White Lotus Season Three?
If you've finished both seasons of White Lotus and you need a lampooning-the-uber-rich fix, then you might enjoy Triangle of Sadness . . . but I must warn you this movie is over-the-top in many ways-- it gets super-gross at times, it really hammers you over the head with the "rich people are clueless" theme, and it eventually takes a rather unrealistic turn of events-- but I thoroughly enjoyed it despite these flaws-- it's funny and dark and weird and Wood Harrelson has an entertaining cameo in Act II.
Impressive Nap
College Writing is a Changin'
Yesterday the current EBHS Rutgers Expository Writing team (so Stacey, Cunningham, Soder, Brady, and me) and my boss took a meeting with two coordinators from the Rutgers Writing Program (Abigail Reardon and Brian Becker) and they explained the direction the course would be taking next September-- they were already currently modeling this new direction with a couple classes but they were going to "scale up" and completely revamp the course next year; anyway, the class WAS a synthesis non-fiction argument course-- the kids read long, dense, fairly difficult college level non-fiction pieces about far-ranging adult ideas-- organized complexity, criminal behavior, economics, sexual selection, sexism in a self-designated military academy, etcetera . . . great stuff-- and they learned to use these texts to formulate a sophisticated independent academic argument within the parameters of the textual evidence provided, without tangential anecdotes, outside sources, and random bullshit . . . and they did the same task over and over, with different texts, but the rules were always the same and the grades were NOT averaged-- instead they received the highest grade they sustained on any two essays . . . so it was more of a sports model where the kids really struggled on the first two papers, generally did not pass them, but then got better and better and received a grade for how good they got at the task, not an average of all their attempts-- anyway, it was a great class, I wish I had it before I went to college-- it taught our students how to formulate a thesis and an argument, how to complicate that thesis and go beyond compare/contrast, how to weave evidence into a paragraph, how to synthesize terms and ideas from different texts, and how to parse and understand a dense text . . . but apparently kids are struggling to do this at Rutgers, according to Abby and Brian, so the course is changing drastically-- in their words, the old course trained students to be "scholars" while the new course will invite kids to be "writers" . . . so the new course has four "projects," and while they are not fully fleshed out, this is my best description:
1. a personal essay with some modeling of techniques-- they called this the "College Essay 2.0"-- and this is ironic because years ago, when we first teamed up with Rutgers, they were very disdainful about our Composition Class that we ran for community college credit because it had a lot of reading examples and modeling rhetorical devices-- they thought that was sophomoric silliness and said so-- but now they are doing this themselves;
2. a synthesis essay with 4-5 short articles and a proposal-- this sounds vaguely like what we are currently doing, but with easier texts;
3. some response to a Radiolab podcast-- this might be synthesis or it might be the bridge to assignment number four;
4. an investigation into some question you'd like to think about during your four years in college-- and this can be multimodal-- so a website or a video or whatever-- they showed us a "beautiful" example that did look very nice-- it was a website made on Adobe that had lovely (stock) images and a cool layout-- use of a template!-- and was about how music soothed this girl's anxiety and had a citation from her friend Todd . . . it was pretty much journal entries-- and they told a story about a lousy student who figured out a good topic -- cricket!-- and he wrote about the progression and evolution of cricket-playing in our locality . . . so a cute assignment and one that smart kids will run with and not-so-smart kids will struggle with . . .
anyway, I took a bunch of notes (and also noticed that the Rutgers folk were zooming from home . . . it must be nice) and you can present anything to me and it sounds fine-- I'm like, whatever, I'll do that-- but Cunningham and Powers and our boss Jess process things much faster than me (they don't call me Delayed Reaction Dave for nothing . . . I got all pissed off about our new schedule a year after it was implemented, much to the amusement of the fast-thinking ladies) and they realized that this course was a major dumbing down of the old synthesis course and that this course is very similar to our English 12 community college credit course (except that course might be more rigorous) and while we didn't raise all these issues with Rutgers, we now have to decide what to do . . . and we have some theories as to what happened at Rutgers, from clues from Abby and Brian and from our own thoughts-- first of all, it used to be that it was impossible to place out of the Rutgers Expository Writing course, so everyone took it-- even the smart kids-- but lately, you can place out of it a variety of ways-- community college credits, AP scores, taking the course in high school-- so that the kids who have to take it freshman year at Rutgers are not the best students AND there is a major decline in college applications this year, more kids are dropping out than ever, kids experienced learning loss during COVID, and Rutgers pulls from a wide variety of schools . . . SO the kids can't pass the old College Writing course-- my wife says that her lesson plans that worked for twenty years of fifth grade math no longer work-- the kids can't do certain abstract and creative thinking since COVID . . . this was a lot for me to take in, but Cunningham has already outlined a new course that scaffolds the old Expository synthesis stuff in some better manner and I guess we'll present this to Rutgers because our kids are capable of doing this course and it's really beneficial for them while the new class just seems watered down and not that relevant to writing in other disciplines . . . I'm sure there will be more to this story and plenty more to synthesize and figure out but it looks like College Writing is a changing.
Miracle at the Wawa
Yet another sentence set at the Wawa-- and NOT at the Starbucks, I might add . . . there are ZERO sentences on this blog set at Starbucks because I've never been inside a Starbucks . . . I refuse to spend that much money for coffee and-- if I followed Cunningham's orders-- this Miracle at the Wawa might not have happened at all because she wanted me to pick her up some kind of crazy sugary barely caffeinated drink at Starbucks (she's pregnant and not drinking coffee) but I told her I wasn't going to Starbucks and I would pick her up anything she wanted as long as it was at the Wawa and we had an interesting debate/discussion in front of her AP Lang. class and then I drove to the Wawa to get a sandwich and to pick up a very complicated coffee order for Stacey; I ordered my sandwich on the little touchscreen and then I built Stacey's drink, which consisted of half a 20 oz. cup of some frothy extreme caffeine Mocha Wake Up out of a big multi-multi-nozzled machine, then 1/3 cup of dark roast from the regular coffee urn, and then a dollop of Irish Creme coffee creamer . . . and then I got in line and while I was standing there, holding her giant complex coffee drink, the little cardboard band that keeps you from burning your hand broke and her 20 oz. coffee slid through the broken band and fell and-- without even thinking-- I dropped my hand two feet down, lightning fast, fucking lightning fast and I caught the cup-- and did not spill a drop-- I caught the cup with exactly the right amount of force so that it fell no farther but I didn't crush it-- it was a fucking miracle-- and-- Testify!-- the guy behind me in line saw the whole thing and he was like, "That was amazing" and I said, "Yeah, that would have been a big mess" and I was very glad that someone Witnessed this Miracle and I am certainly a Blessed Figure on this Earth.
Nothing Romantic
Catherine, Ian, and I had a fun (but not very romantic) Valentine's Day-- we watched episode five of The Last of Us, which was gripping and compelling and scary and violent and tragic-- but had zero romance-- and then we went to the Rutgers basketball game and watched Nebraska shoot the eyes out of the basket, while the Rutgers crew hesitated on threes, threw away passes, botched lay-ups, and missed free throws . . . fun to be there but what a mess.
William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!
New episode of We Defy Augury up and it's a good one-- as close to being in my Creative Writing class as it gets . . . "William Carlos Williams vs. Wallace Stevens: Adjective Smackdown!"
Nice Work, Kids
It's official-- both my kids can properly shoot a basketball (and they learned to do it sooner than I did . . . I think it took me until I was 24 before I could shoot with proper form and spin).
Why Roger Goodell . . . Why?
It's Sunday night, I'm wiped out and want to pack it in and get ready for school tomorrow, but we're off to a SuperBowl party-- and I'm not complaining about that, it's wonderful to have friends and to be invited places-- but why not do this shindig on Saturday night?-- why torture all the working people?
Things I Learned Recently (For the Next Time)
I've now hit the age where I can have three alcoholic drinks and feel okay the next morning, but if I have four alcoholic drinks then I'll feel pretty awful the next morning . . . so that's how I felt this morning, but I took some Advil, shook it off, and went to the gym with my son-- I lifted weights but he got involved in a pick-up basketball game so we stayed for a while, and I watched the first half of the Rutgers basketball game while I was working out-- lifting weights, walking backwards on the treadmill, rowing, etcetera . . and it was stress free-- so that's what I learned-- when you watch your team while you're working out, you don't yell and scream and curse at the TV-- you release your stress through exercise . . . but then we drove home and caught the second half, and I yelled and screamed and cursed and Rutgers totally collapsed and I should have stayed at the gym for the entire game-- next time: three drinks and I stay at the gym, next time.
Game, Set, Dave is Old
When my son Ian was a sophomore I could still occasionally win a set when I played him in tennis; last year, his junior season, I could still take plenty of games off him; the past two days, we had some unseasonable warm weather so we went out and hit together and played some and it looks like now I'll be struggling to win points when I play him (but I'm sure hitting with him helps my game more than his-- so when I play my usual competitors, who are aging at the same pace I am, I'll be a leg up because of hitting with Ian, who is at the point where he's just getting bigger and stronger every day).
Pet Paradox
My vet still requires masking . . . for people-- but pets don't have to wear masks and they are the patients!
Tomorrow, I Just Might Start Playing Video Games . . . Tomorrow
Salad Days of Dave
Making a salad in the morning to bring for lunch seems like a great idea in the AM-- healthy, nutritious, delicious and fibrous-- but then when lunch time rolls around, that salad is not as appetizing, and feels a bit paltry-- especially if you forget the dressing.
That Was Only Monday?
Full on Monday today . . . as a model narrative, I told a story in Public Speaking I haven't recounted in a while-- the time Catherine and I took a bus from Damascus, Syria to Cappadocia, Turkey-- a twenty-hour ride for only seven dollars?- but the bus broke down at the border and the driver escorted us (and the dozen or so other passengers) to a decrepit mosquito-ridden gas station waiting room and then some other guy drove the bus into the darkness behind the building-- it was 3:30 AM-- and it was quite cold in the gas station waiting room so I told the driver my wife and I were cold (in my caveman Arabic) and that I wanted to get our jackets and he said the bus was broken and I couldn't do that but I finally got fed up and walked into the darkness around the back of the building and I found our bus and there were some guys inserting tubes into various hidden plastic containers in every nook and cranny of the bus-- even under the walkways inside the bus-- and then I realized why the tickets were so cheap-- this bus wasn't for transporting people, it was for smuggling gasoline over the border-- gas was subsidized and cheap in Syria and more expensive in Turkey, so after the guys had filled all the containers and canisters with gas, the bus was "fixed" and we headed to Goreme National Park-- but the bus dropped off on the main highway road sixty miles short of our destination-- the driver said a minibus would come along eventually, but instead Catherine stuck her thumb out and a truck driver picked us up and brought us all the way to our destination-- definitely one of the most scenic places we ever visited-- houses and Byzantine churches carved in the soft stone and labyrinthine underground cities to explore. . . and I told this story because I have some Middle Eastern kid in my first period class and I thought they'd enjoy it-- which they did-- but they informed me that, coincidentally, last night there was a terribly powerful earthquake right at the border of Syria and Turkey, right where our bus stopped-- so that was weird-- and then I covered PE class second period-- and I had what I now call "jailhouse" PE . . . first the kids walk in a circle and then I covered a split class of ping-pong and weight-lifting, so three premier jailhouse activities-- then another Public Speaking class, then down to the Library . . . excuse me, Media Center . . . for peer-editing, then an endless faculty meeting with an extensive presentation on the dangers of substance abuse . . . and wow, according to this lady, kids are really abusing all sorts of substances: THC, Delta 8, edibles, nicotine vapes, fentanyl, etcetera . . . drugs are easier than ever to get, hide, ingest, and abuse and she had all kinds of horror stories from the local emergency rooms-- but apparently vaping is horrible for you, vaping ANYTHING . . . heavy metals, weird particles, deeper lung penetration, unregulated chemicals and dosages-- scary stuff-- and kids are eating huge doses of edibles (or even dosing their classmates) and exhibiting some nutty behaviors . . . but perhaps we'll sort all this out on Tuesday.
Good (Dog Defecation) Deed
Today at the dog park, when this older guy's dog Max pooped in the far corner, I went and picked it up and disposed of it-- and I didn't even mention this to the dog's owner, a nice older gent named George, so this was a true altruistic act, a true good deed for which I received no credit . . . so it is now likely that upon my deathbed, I will receive total consciousness (or some such comparable benediction).
Uh . . . Wow . . . TV?
The third episode of The Last of Us-- the HBO show based on the video game with the same name-- is some very ambitious, very emotional, very amazing TV . . . the episode is really a film unto itself (it reminds me of the Station 11 episode Baby Boom in that respect) when the show takes a worthy detour in time and place to show us Nick Offerman as a survivalist prepper bizarro-world version of his most beloved character, Ron Swanson, with a compelling twist (the other fabulous cameo appearance is Murray Bartlett, another great actor who absolutely stole the show as Armand in White Lotus).
How to Get a Seat at Salt
Dave Educates the Youth?
Groundhog Day (on Groundhog Day)
It's mid-year . . . mid-terms are over and it's back to the repetitive grind; I did "first day of school stuff" in my three semester classes: learned a bunch of names, went over the rules-- no cell phones!-- and did all the icebreakers and such; covered several classes, including a couple of PE classes (one class was abysmal at ping-pong, leading me to lecture my College Writing classes about the sports they need to learn how to play before they go away to college: darts, pool, ping-pong, corn-hole, volleyball, and spike ball) and generally felt like we are on infinite repeat . . . no snow days, no breaks in sight . . . but soon enough we'll be over the hump (and it is getting sunnier in the mornings).
It's February!
Get busy, pack it in and compress yourself-- it's February, you sons of bitches, and you've only got 28 days to get it done this month . . . unless it's a leap year, is it a leap year?-- then you get an extra day and things aren't so dire.
Less Cheese Please
We stopped buying bags of pre-grate cheese (mainly because they have weird chemical additives to prevent clumping) and this had two good outcomes:
1. we eat less cheese;
2. when we grate a block of cheese by hand, the cheese tastes better.
Riley Sager, You Give Genre Fiction a Bad Name
Highs and Lows
Sarcastic Tone Implied
I'm not very good at sarcasm-- I don't have the voice for it-- so I've got to broadcast it . . . here it comes: you know what's fun after teaching English to high school students all week . . . helping your son on Saturday with all the AP English assignments he neglected to complete while he had COVID.
AM Record
An EB AM record . . . nineteen people at Friday morning basketball today-- pretty wild, we had an upstairs game and a sub-gym game-- and the winner of the sub-gym game (after 11 minutes of play) walked up the stairs and played the winner of the upper gym game . . . and it only took three games for my shot to warm up, but when it did . . . it was pretty spectacular (for 7:15 AM in the morning).
Two Profound Questions
Dave is Not a Doctor
I'm not a medical doctor (though I often play one in my home, when I'm diagnosing my children and telling them various remedies: try the NetiPot, take some ibuprofen, you need to ice that, go take a shower, take some Tums, etcetera) and I learned yesterday that sometimes it's beneficial to go see an actual medical doctor because they know a bunch of stuff and you don't end up down a WebMD rabbit hole; anyway, my son Ian has been experiencing some gastrointestinal distress and he had to stay home from school yesterday so he could be near a bathroom, and this is the second time this has happened recently, so I took him over to our pediatric doctor and we told her the deets-- he had COVID two weeks ago and lately he's been having stomach pains and diarrhea and she asked if he had been drinking sugary drinks and the answer was a resounding yes-- Ian works at the local bubble tea place so he has access to free delicious sugary drinks all the time-- and he had three Tuesday during his shift, and a bunch of lychee fruit-- and she said that after COVID or any viral infection, your GI is screwed up and can't handle sugary juice or drinks, and it gives you the runs, and then she asked if he had any dairy-- cheese, milk, etc-- and the answer was yes and she told us that after COVID people are generally lactose intolerant for a week or two, while certain bacteria is returning to their GI tract, so mystery solved and now we know the culprit and what to do to remedy his discomfort . . . that young lady really knew her stuff!
Why I Don't Own a Gun
When I play pickleball, I get great joy from hitting my opponent square in the chest with the ball-- if they pop up a "dink," this is perfectly acceptable behavior (when you're playing with guys) and when I play badminton, if someone doesn't hit their shot deep enough, and they are near the net, I take great pleasure (as do the rest of the players in my badminton crew) in nailing the person in the head, chest or stomach with the shuttlecock-- last week, I even took aim at someone who had just dove and was on the ground-- I hit a man while he was down!-- and though I behave like this while competiting, I consider myself fairly civilized . . . but if you take this basic human (male?) desire to hit other people with fast moving things and then you toss 400 million guns into the mix, something bad is going to happen on a daily basis . . . and it does, day after day in America-- and this is why I don't own a gun!
Let's Play Duck Duck Oil Sands
Where Art Thou, Snow Day? Wherefore, No Snow?
Another gray, kind-of-mild winter day . . . where is the snow?
Moral: Eat at La Casita!
Yesterday at early morning basketball, we had sixteen players so we had to run a pair of four-on-four games across the gym-- while this was fun and very tiring, it was also dangerous, as when you run games this way there is very little space between the end line and the bleachers-- and one row of bleacher seats were protruding s when I barreled in for my patented hook shot, which involves a fair amount of contact-- think bowling ball and bowling pins-- after I made the shot my momentum carried my into the bleachers, where the one protruding row took me out at the knees and I scraped my elbow against the recessed bleacher wall-- but, aside from a scraped arm, I was fine . . . although by the time the school day was over, I was looking forward to a mellow evening-- the wife and I went to La Casita and drank a few beers and ate mole and sopes and a gordita-- and we had the place to ourselves, which was nice but kind of sad-- if you live in town, PLEASE support this place . . . it has great food and it's cheap (which is very unusual for food these days!) and it would be a great loss if it closed.
Real Night Court Takes Longer Than 22 Minutes
The Joys of Fatherhood
It would be a perfect Thursday afternoon to relax, take a nap, perhaps have a beer or two and avoid the ugly weather, but instead, I'll be accompanying my son and a lawyer friend on an excursion to Woodbridge Municipal Court to take care of my son's (three) moving violations-- because, in the parenting domain, while grades and school and medical stuff seem to be my wife's purview, illegal activities are my jurisdiction.
I'll Always Have "Tupperawareness"
I made a playlist on Spotify called "psychedelicious" but -- once again-- I haven't coined anything new . . . dammit.
Beware the Candy House
Let There Be Sweat
The Sporting Gods did shine their benevolent (and sweaty) light on New Jersey yesterday-- for five glorious hours, as Rutgers defeated Ohio State (vengeance!) in overtime and then the Giants hung on to beat the Vikings in their first playoff appearance in years . . . I definitely had a bit of a hangover this morning, but some sacrifice to the Sporting Gods-- in the manner of imbibing-- is necessary for such illustrious results.
May the Sporting Gods Shine Their Light on New Jersey Today?
This could be-- if the sporting gods will it-- a great sporting day for New Jersey-- Rutgers vs. Ohio State basketball game is about to start, a vengeance match because of the lousy call that cost Rutgers the game the first time they played-- and then the Giants play the Vikings . . . and the Giants haven't been in the playoffs in half a decade . . . and I have no school tomorrow, so I'm going to crack open a beer soon and hope for the best-- and if the games are close, I'll be happy-- that's all you can ask for (and I scored a couple goals at Sunday morning indoor soccer this morning and my team won four in a row, so I'm feeling that the sporting gods are on my side today . . . although I guess everyone at soccer is from New Jersey, so that doesn't really indicate shit).
Picture This: You Are a Woman Working the Oil Camps of Alberta
Kate Beaton's autobiographical graphic novel Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands is heavy, viscous stuff; Beaton heads from Nova Scotia to Alberta to make some money and pay off her student loans, but working in the man's world of the oil sands, she experiences environmental devastation, loneliness, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual harassment and rape, and numerous existential crises-- all amplified by the insular nature of the oil camps-- highly recommended but not as fun as the last graphic novel I read.
Catching Up
This is the week COVID finally caught Catherine and Ian-- but not me! . . . or not yet-- and earlier in the week the principal caught Ian going out to lunch when he wasn't supposed to (because he left through a door with an alarm on it) and so Ian can't go out to lunch for the rest of the month and then on Wednesday afternoon, a state trooper caught Alex flying down the Turnpike, doing at least 90, weaving in and out of traffic, without using a directional and he was so appalled by his driving that he gave him three tickets and made him call his mother-- even though he's eighteen and a legal adult-- so the trooper could explain, as a courtesy, just how idiotically he was driving . . . so hopefully we're all caught up with this kind of crap and can now get on with our lives.
Word Word Words
Catherine and I couldn't agree on the difference in meaning between "pocket change" and "pocket money"-- the argument is too ridiculous to transcribe here-- but we did agree that Tanya's "core of the onion" speech about how when you peel away all her layers, there's just a "straight-up alcoholic lunatic" is an absolutely brilliant choice of words.
Next Level
This afternoon, Ian and I played basketball with a big man who could really pass-- it was like he had eyes in the back of his head-- and when he passed, which could happen at any time, in a fraction of a second-- the pass came fast . . . and now my thumb hurts.
Stars, Caves, and Everything in Between
When Pigs Fly
I never listened to Pink Floyd's Animals enough-- perhaps because of the weird song lengths . . . 3 songs that are over ten minutes and two songs that are under two minutes-- but after a couple of listens, I think it's my favorite one . . . obviously Dark Side of the Moon is incredible, but I think I've listened to that one enough for several lifetimes; Animals is a bit like my favorite David Bowie album, Low-- both albums are heavy on musical interludes and instrumentals and light on lyrics, and the songs seem to have a more chaotic structure than you're typical verse-verse-chorus-bridge-verse.
I Sat in a Teacup Chair on a Little Island
We Walked on a Little Island
Colin Quinn has still got it-- more to come tomorrow, but a full day in the city (but MVD . . . Most Valuable Driver . . . to Ian, who drove us to the train station AND picked us up).
Weird Movie
The Banshees of Inisherin is evocative, beautiful, bucolic, awkward, insular, funny and weird-- it will make you evaluate your friends, your landscape, your purpose, and just how clever you really are versus how clever you think you are . . . and though it's a slow burn, you'll eventually fall in love with Achill Island, J. J. Devine's Pub, and Jenny the miniature donkey.
Weird Weather
Foggy and unseasonable warm this week, which is annoying as far as snowboarding conditions go but a great week for our hot water heater (and radiator heat) to be broken.
The Futility of Chasing the Shuttlecock
I was playing badminton yesterday morning-- singles-- and I was heading to the right but the shuttlecock came back more to the left and I unwisely lunged back in the other direction and rolled my ankle-- it hurt, but not enough to stop whacking around the shuttlecock, so I kept playing-- but that might have been ill-advised because now my ankle is swollen and sore (although I still got my steps in today-- I covered PE class and we went outside . . . it was a balmy 65 degrees . . . weird) and I guess I have implement the analogous lesson that I learned while playing competitive tennis-- even if you get the drop shot-- and with some extreme hustle, you might-- you're still going to injure yourself and not be able to hit the next shot . . . in badminton it's not the drop shot, it's the erratic weird shot that goes a strange direction-- and I'm too old to make sudden lateral directional changes.
Livin' La Vida Lapvona
School Returns with a Vengeance
My wife and I had to teach today, despite the fact that it was a federal holiday, while Ian got to sleep in; Alex didn't get in until two AM because he's off for college break; the road was desolate on the ride to East Brunswick, and though we were all tired, the kids were in good spirits (I made them stand up and announce New Year's resolutions after I bored them with my thoughts on digital minimalism, stretching, and eating less sugary treats) but last period things got a bit hectic, as we were saying resolutions a girl slid out of her desk onto the floor and had a seizure-- luckily, I'm right next door to the nurse, so while a student cleared the area around her head I ran and got some assistance and then we cleared out while they tended to her . . . then when I got home, Alex informed me that the tankless hot water heater was totally broken so we went to the gym, worked out, and I showered there, but then when I got home, I went down and turned the thing on and really banged the circuit board with my hand a few times and now it's working again, for the time being (or not . . . just broke again . . . and Catherine just got home and she had quite a day as well, the elastic in her tights broke-- she was wearing a dress so she didn't moon anyone but she was doing a lot of shimmying) and then I tried to light our gas grill with a long wooden match, but I turned all the burners on at once before I struck the match-- God knows why-- and a fiery plume shot forth and burned all the hair off my right hand-- but my skin didn't get burned, scary and weird, but I seem to be unburnt.