I just remembered this...

I was sort of coerced into attending church on Easter by my aunt. You see, my grandfather who I haven't talked to in like 4 years is a pastor, and my aunt really wanted me to go and see him. So I did. I was terrified. People were dancing around in front of the stage during the music portion of the service. People were clapping horribly arrhythmically along with the songs. During the sermon I became convinced that my grandfather was preaching directly at me, and for the briefest of moments, I was almost swayed to let him pray for me. The awkward part was during the eucharist or communion or whatever protestants call it. Not being a christian anymore I felt no need to take something like eating the body and blood of Jesus Christ lightly, and so I abstained from the communion plate. I think that this may have clued my grandpa into my heathen worldview. After leaving, I could not believe that I had to go to church twice a week for so many years. It is little wonder that I am so hopelessly insane.

Thoughts on the good life

There are two things that I need to discuss with you today. First, I love being on the ranch. I am confident that when it comes time for the owners to retire, they will pass on the land to me, longtime ranch hand and caretaker. Don't you think so? And guess what...I'm gonna build a baseball diamond out there. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, "Housman, you are just copying your dad in Field of Dreams", and maybe you are right. But there is no way that I'm going to raise cattle, so I may as well have a ballpark. I'm also thinking about putting in an outdoor movie theater. Summer nights and outdoor films sound really nice. What do you think about installing an artificial lake? With giant water lilles, and maybe some geese floating around on it. "Do you want to take a walk around the lake?", I might ask. It would be such a disappointment if these plans fall through.
The second thing is that I enjoyed Cognac for the first time last night. I was sitting outside reading and drinking a glass of Remy-Martin on ice. Jack Daniels may have to take a back seat. The thing is, is Remy-Martin terribly expensive? No matter. Once you taste the finer things in life, you can't very well carry on as before can you?

Last night I totally fought Justin Cooley

I went to the Frog and Peach after class and cattle wrangling. Cooley was there and we had a couple beers and we talked about baseball and stupid people. I explained to him that I didn't care for the Decemberists latest record, and the guy just freaked out. He absolutley went bananas. He tried to hit me with a pint glass, but I totally ducked it and shoved him back. "Hey, woah!", I said, "Maybe just rela..oofff!" He had punched me in the stomach. I elbowed him in the belly, and when he doubled over I locked my hands together and hit him square in the back. He went down on all fours, hard. Then he grabbed my legs, and yanked them out from under me, sending me onto my back. Both of us got up, but he was faster, and greeted me with a fist right in the mouth. I was able to follow with a sharp left to his eye, sending us both crashing into the bar. At this point we were both finished, and we just sort of laid on the floor. Then I got really hungry and suggested that we go get burritos. He agreed. He had a vegetarian, and I ordered a carnitas burrito. Delicious!!

Last night I totally fought Justin Cooley

I went to the Frog and Peach after class and cattle wrangling. Cooley was there and we had a couple beers and we talked about baseball and stupid people. I explained to him that I didn't care for the Decemberists latest record, and the guy just freaked out. He absolutley went bananas. He tried to hit me with a pint glass, but I totally ducked it and shoved him back. "Hey, woah!", I said, "Maybe just rela..oofff!" He had punched me in the stomach. I elbowed him in the belly, and when he doubled over I locked my hands together and hit him square in the back. He went down on all fours, hard. Then he grabbed my legs, and yanked them out from under me, sending me onto my back. Both of us got up, but he was faster, and greeted me with a fist right in the mouth. I was able to follow with a sharp left to his eye, sending us both crashing into the bar. At this point we were both finished, and we just sort of laid on the floor. Then I got really hungry and suggested that we go get burritos. He agreed. He had a vegetarian, and I ordered a carnitas burrito. Delicious!!

Phoenix almost killed me

I was leaving Arizona. I had enjoyed a breakfast of a muffin and a cup of coffee while I plotted my drive back to California with the help of a road atlas. I made my way out of starbucks, and into a nearby swanky hotel's bathroom. Upon leaving the bathroom, something me felt horribly wrong. I attempted to stumble to my rental car, but decided against it. The closest refuge was the Wyndham Hotel's restaurant. I stumbled into the restaurant and sat down on the first chair I saw. I then found myself picking myself up off of the floor, and walking around the hotel lobby in a daze, and tried to figure out where I was, and who I was. At this point, hotel staff had called the paramedics, and they arrived quickly to accuse me of being on drugs, before taking me to the hospital. At the hospital, I was given fluids and diagnosed a victim of apparent dehydration, though I had been drinking water steadily upon my arrival in Phoenix. I have no idea what really caused me to collapse, but curiously one of the doctors mentioned to me, completely out of the blue, that he didn't think it was a tumor for a variety of reasons. Oh good. After being in the hospital for a few hours, and against the wishes of the attending physicians, I left. Partially because Phoenix sucks, partially because my doctor was wearing a bollo tie, and most importantly, I fear that hospitals may charge by the hour.

Spring Training part 2

Well, the Diamondbacks v. Angels game was sold out. This meant a frantic drive to Mesa, in order to get tickets for the Cubs v. Brewers. These ballparks are mostly in residential areas, and are hard to find, but I made it to Hohokam park (home of the minor league Mesa Hohokams) and, in time to watch the Cubs morning practice down the street at their practice facility. This was incredible. They have about 5 fields that all originate in the same spot, so you can just stand in the middle and watch the morning minor leaguer games, or batting practice by the big boys, all by turning around. The best part is that these fields are completely accessible. You stand right behind the fence at home plate, next to a radar gun toting scout, or behind the fence during batting practice listening to the hitting instructors give advice to guys like Derek Lee, Todd Walker, and Nomar Garciaparra. The players walk all around you, joke with the fans, and the scouts, talk with family members, etc. The game itself was great. 3 homers: Garciaparra, Burnitz, and Russell Branyan. The Brewers went into the ninth down by 3, and rallied to within one. Tomorrow, I'm going to see the A's play the Rangers. Phoenix still sucks. Tempe is my homebase, if only because of the University. ASU is offensively MTVcentric. It makes Cal Poly look like, God I don't know, Berkeley-ish. The Phoenix area makes me really, really proud to be from California.

Mr Baseball

Greetings, this entry comes to you courtesy of the Arizona State University library in beautiful Tempe, Arizona. I am in Arizona this week to take in some spring training baseball games, but so far most of the trip has been spent recoiling in horror after drving around Phoenix. Phoenix is easily the ugliest and oddest city that I have ever seen. Two blocks in any direction from the "downtown" area finds you in what looks like war torn Bosnia. Decrepit houses, junkies and prostitutes covorting in burnt out apartment houses, plastic bags and dogs wheeling through the streets, etc. There seems to be no reason for a city. The downtown skycrapers are pointless, an afterthought. Nothing happens in Phoenix, everything of any value is in Scottsdale, Tempe, Mesa. Although, the Phoenix Library is, quite literally, awesome. Very big, modern-make that ultra futuristic-and beautiful. Why it is wasted on Phoenix is a mystery. Why Phoenix exists at all is a mystery. Today I drove northwest to Peoria, spring training home of the San Diego Padres. I watched the Padres come from one run down in the bottom of the ninth to beat the Mariners. I went to the game to catch a glimpse of my unmet half-brother, who is a pitcher for the Brewers. I didn't see him. I fear that he got sent back to the minors. Oh well, the ballpark was a great little place for a game. The beer was cheap, the grass was green, and $6 got me a seat in the grass beyond the home run fence, but I was easily able to maneuver my way into a plush seat behind home plate by the 5th inning. I said hello to Mike Fetters, ex-Dodger reliever who was watching the game from the stands. Fetters was always one of those pitchers who I felt that I could probably hit. He looked pudgy and soft, and he didn't appear to throw very hard. Turns out the guy is like 6'5", and looks really, really strong. I'm guessing that he threw harder than it looked. Tomorrow, Angels v. Diamondbacks in Tempe. I'm going to tell Shawn Green that I miss him already.

Carnal pleasures.

I've recently noticed that when eating a meal, I become concerned that I won't finish with the best testing thing on the plate, the logic being that if I eat the best thing last, I've maximized my eating pleasure. Usuallly about 3/4 of the way through is when I have to start deciding what the last bite should be. On occasion, I find myself staring at two pieces of food left on the plate, each with a contrast in flavor. Do I end with sweet? Salty? Really, it is a very important decision.

Pointless, romantic nostalgia

I miss the period from 1983-1992 so much right now. I know that that probably means I'm not living in the present, but it is so fun to think about how rad it was to be a kid in the late eighties. Here is a list of the best things ever:

-Little League. Football wasn't half as fun. Nothing, and I mean nothing, beat riding my bike to practice with my glove hanging off a handlebar, in the warmth of a Visalia spring afternoon. We actually got to play games at night under lights once a week, with an announcer calling our names from the P.A! I have actually heard, "Now batting, for the Dodgers, number 17, Justin....Housman", while walking to the plate holding a bat.
-The plethora of incredible cartoons and toys of the period. Jesus Fucking Christ. The Transformers. GI Joe. Voltron. The Dungeons and Dragons cartoon. M.A.S.K. Battle Beasts. He-Man. Air Raiders. Wheeled Warriors. Go-Bots. Duck Tales. Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers. And yeah, I'll say it, JEM.
-Fucking Nintendo. It really hurts that this is missing from my life. Until recently, when nearly all my stuff was stolen in the San Diego move, I would run across old notes I had taken for Final Fintasy, Zelda, Castlevania, you name it. Some were in my mom's handwriting. Nintendo Power. Remember how they would preview new games, like Super Mario Bros 2 and 3, and you would absolutely freak out with excitement! I don't think that I'll ever forget Konami's 30 extra lives code. The term "extra life", was in regular usage in those days.
-The music. I remember riding around in the car listening to Richard Marx, Peter Cetera, The B-52s, Journey, Hall and fucking Oates, The Eurythmics, and Jesus..new wave.
-Building forts. We must have built like a fort a week back then. We'd go to construction sites and take lumber, or go to grocery stores and take pallets, and build forts, so that we could....have them knocked down by rivals, whose forts we would in turn destroy. Now that I think about it, as we got older (5th, 6th grade), forts served chiefly as porn depositories, guarded jealously, sometimes with sticks sharpened into spears, and dirt clods, resulting in titanic dirt clod fights.
-Smoking in restaurants. Pizza tastes better when the pizza joint is a dark, smokey place. There is no getting around it.

Alot of this stuff sort of stopped when I had to move to Morro Bay in 1991, but there were new things, The Estero Street Gang, street hockey, Joe's backyard, the evil house, eagle rock, fishing, etc., but non of these things fill me with nostalgia quite like the Visalia days. Except for when I hosed down Eric Scott with a fire extinguisher after he erased my saved Legend of Zelda game. That, my friends was awesome.