Thunderbolt

My heart is breaking right now. I can't help thinking about Matt's final day and his struggle with his bulemia and whatever other disorders he was suffering from. After my converation with Elliott last night, it feels like he wanted it to end. I'll never know for certain, but Elliott mentioned this. And if he was in pain, so much pain, from starving, from depression, from his body breaking down, from needles, it is likely that he may have given in. And this is the saddest fact that I am having to accept. That a man who was so full of life had become complacent and ready to give up. But I will never know. I said once that I thought he was slowly discommunicating himself with all of the people he loved. but Elliott insists that he still talked about our friendship. Maybe it's guilt I'm feeling. The grayness the skies this morning and the dim lighting in the office have put me in a mood. And I've begun haning posters for the CF walk, seeking donations. I ...

I logged on tonight thinking I would just give a brief update of where the hell I've been all month. My three or four readers have been desperate to know my whereabouts (thanking you for writing Ken in Witchita). Before I could get online, though, I spoke with Matt's brother, Elliott (who will no longer be identified as Matt's brother and will simply be known as Elliott). Whenever Elliott calls, I know it's going to be emotional. That's fine with me, because Elliott slowly reveals more about my deceased friend that I didn't know, nor would I have ever known if Elliott didn't want to include me in his life. It started as a fun call, bullshitting about the Twilight Zone (still one of the most influential shows in my life) and evolved into an intense discussion about our relationships with Matt. Then Elliott did something truly heart warming and unexpected. He changed the course and asked me about Jacob and what he has to go through. He wanted to know ab...

I hereby nominate "The Sure Thing" as one of the best movies of the 80's and one of the greatest romantic comedies of all time. I am one of the few who actually saw it in the theater (with my church group, no less) and I've loved it ever since. When I worked at American Video my last year of high school, I some how came to purchase the store's copy. We must have watched that movie a hundred times during the paint crew summers. Steve and I had so many lines memorized. Besides Boon and Otter from "Animal House," we wanted to be John Cusack's Walter "Gib" Gibson. While those "Animal house" guys were someone we aspired to be, but would never be cool enough to be, Gib was like us. He was one of us. He was a failure in love, but an optimist. And then my copy got lost. I believe it was Dillon, a guy we worked with, who borrowed it after one of the Malchus parties (one of the bigger one's). Though he claims to have never had ...

From:Scott Date: Fri, 07 Apr 2006 To: Steve Subject: WHMP 4-7-06 Got your message this week. Sorry I missed you. Your call actually lifted my spirits a lot that day. It's been a topsy turvey week emotionally, mostly work related and, of course, money stress. Everything seems cool now, though. Did I tell you I'm getting to write a second episode for the series I'm working on? I'm stoked. And a little nervous. They want it a lot sooner (and quicker) than the first one. But, what's that quote I keep repeating from the Springsteen boot in Cleveland? "Have faith in your abilities." That's what I'm trying to do. You'll be happy to know that I'm working on an new feature script as well. It has nothing to do with the horror genre. In fact, it's an attempt at a high school romantic comedy. Someone actually asked me to write this one, so I'm not flying solo. I didn't think of it until this morning, but I'm really enjoyin...

Can a hard rocking protest song make you cry? It can if it's done by Midnight Oil. Driving in through a pouring rain this morning, I dug out my old copy of "Blue Sky Mining" to give it a listen and possibly put some tracks on my MP3 player. I have always loved the title track, but today was the first time I seemed to listened to how well crafted the song is constructed. It opens with just a guitar and gradually builds as each band member joins along. Then, it erupts with so much passion and anger, I was close to tears. It's not just the relevant lyrics (written back in 1990), but the beautiful harmonies, and the fact that each instrument plays a different role in the song. Both guitars are playing variations on lead guitar which reminds me of the kind song structure Pearl Jam often uses. In fact, the song "Forgotten Years" off the same Midnight Oil album would be a great song for P Jam to cover. And Peter Garrett performs with such conviction that a...

It's that time of the year again. The sun is shining. The sweet smell of freshly cut grass. Birds chirp in the background. The crack of a bat and the "thunk" of a ball smacking the leather of a mitt. It's baseball season, my friends. I don't realize how much I miss the day to day activities of this sport until mid November, when the chill of winter settles in and my bones begin to ache. There is something about this game that fills me with excitement and joy. Despite the public problems the game is having at the moment with the whole steroid debate, I still feel this is the best family sporting event there is. I can't wait to take the kids to a Dodgers game this year. Or even a Jayhawks game out in Lancaster. And you can bet that when we visit Ohio sometime this summer, we'll be at Jacobs Field at least once. Let the game begin. Go Indians. Aloha

The following two commentaries ran in last Sunday's LA Times. They hit so close to home that I wanted to share them. WHAT I LEARNED AT THE RECORD SHOP By Lynell George Lynell George is a senior writer at The Times' West magazine. March 26, 2006 LONG BEFORE AMOEBA MUSIC opened its landscape-altering Hollywood flagship, and nearly a decade before "High Fidelity" immortalized that singular breed of retail animal — the completist record store clerk — there was a holy strip of scuffed-up, indie new-and-used record shops lining Melrose Avenue. Vinyl Fetish, Bleeker Bob's, 2nd Time Around and my two favorites: Rene's All Ears and Aron's Records. When vinyl still reigned (in various versions — 78, 45 and 33 1/3 ; import or domestic; picture discs and colored vinyl; sexy little EPs), these shops and a few others scattered across Los Angeles played host to all manner of yearnings, discovery and invention in my life. They felt as essential as the ampersand in R&...