xtcian

2/22/03 Columbia County, NY If you

2/22/03 Columbia County, NY

If you don't care about college basketball, stop reading now.

I mean it, stop.

Being emotionally invested in a sports team must seem like sheer lunacy to most people. I've seen people in movies ("Field of Dreams," "Any Given Sunday") and plays ("Take Me Out") try to explain how you could possibly hinge your mood on the actions of a bunch of guys playing a sport hundreds of miles away, but they all fail unless you already believe it. I won't explain here why I have loved the University of North Carolina Tar Heels since my formative teenage years (there are books already doing that anyway) but suffice to say I go through enough hormonal gymnastics during games to create several poltergeists. Sociologists note that spousal abuse rates skyrocket after each Super Bowl; while that makes me want to go beat the shit out of these guys, their pathology doesn't surprise me.

Dean Smith, Carolina's coach from 1961 to 1997, said "if you live or die by winning or losing, you're going to do an awful lot of dying." And he's right, I've been doing a lot of dying lately. Today we played Maryland at their new arena, and while I had only dim hopes of victory (they're ranked Top 20 nationally), I suspected we'd probably lose by eight. Into the second half, we were down sixteen. I went to the bathroom, and suddenly we were down by twenty-six. I told Tessa we would lose by thirty-five, and switched off the game in misery. Turns out we lost by forty.

To put that into perspective, it is our worst loss in 53 years. The last time we took an ass-whipping that hard, Harry Truman had just handed the reins over to Ike. To find a more dreary low for us, you have to go back to 1915, when Woodrow Fuckin' Wilson was president, when the basketball was a laced-up hog stomach and the game was still played in a cage. That year, we lost to the mighty Lynchburg Elks by 43.

No doubt some kid wearing breeches and a detachable collar was really bummed out about that game. Perhaps he didn't have the religion of basketball quite the same way I do, but for his memory and mine, I'd like to post a picture of Michael Jordan wearing the blue & white, to remind us of what once was, and what one day could be again.

Jordan in '83

2/21/03 Columbia County, NY I sat

2/21/03 Columbia County, NY

I sat atop a mountain today that allowed me a vista of the Berkshires and the Catskills that I never believed existed. Words pauper the experience, so you'll have to see it for yourself: take Lift 3 at the Catamount ski resort and you'll know what I mean. The most amazing part was seeing our little farmhouse and barn, straight into our bedroom window, thousands of feet up and a couple of miles away. It allows a man the perspective to take stock of his position. It also allows a man the ability to ski his first "black diamond" run ever, which I did without wiping out once (although Catamount's definition of a black diamond might be stretching it a bit).

Part of "taking stock" means telling myself, the blog, or whomever I am writing to (my future self? Peter in Canada? my mom? that guy in Minnesota who called me a "self-involved fuck" in my own diary?) what is going on in the bigger picture.

1. First off, I'm getting married on August 9th to the exquisitely unbelievable Tessa Blake. My proposal to her was much documented, but since then despite her occasional lapses into Bridezilla™ - we haven't done a whole lot about it. This dynamic has suddenly changed around here when Nell Casey and Virginia Heffernan got engaged as well, the three of them working themselves into a fine, frothy bouillabaisse for the fall nuptial season. I think it's fabulous, personally – why shouldn't your best friends get married when you do? Let's put on a show!

2. In order for the wedding stuff to work, we decided to defer our trip to France until later in the year. It seems the independent movie industry is having as good as year in Europe as it did here (i.e., fuckin' awful), so the classes have been moved til then anyway. I am sad to take down the nice maps of Nice we have in our bedroom, but they'll be back.

3. Through persistence and quixotic determination, we raised enough money to finish the creative portion of the Pink House movie. Not enough to pay for the lab costs and make it look like an actual Hollywood movie you could show in a multiplex, but enough to schedule reshoots, finish the editing, get all the animation done, and put my mom in a studio with an orchestra for the score. With this new edit, we can submit to any festival we like, and have a good chance at doing some damage. We are psyched, psyched, psyched. Those who read my lugubrious rant on the subject knows how much it meant to me, and how great it is that we're on our way to pulling it off.

4. My plan is this: we're editing the movie throughout March, but I've also got two book proposals I'm going to give to my agent by the 15th. If either floats, I'll spend the rest of the spring in research mode, hopefully up here at the farm where I wont be tempted by the liquor, loose women and absinthe of Park Slope, Brooklyn.

5. Except that the Columbia County farm is under construction because of Number 1 above. We have to make several drastic changes to the place to accommodate the hordes of guests that will descend upon us, which means I've been doing a lot of peeing outside.

Oh, and shoveling.

2/20/03 Columbia County, NY A semi-heat

2/20/03 Columbia County, NY

A semi-heat wave descended upon New York today (48 degrees!) which turned the state into a diesel-flavored Slurpee. It was not enough to keep me away from Mulberry Street Hoops, although in retrospect, it should have; besides a nice volleyball-style putback and four long-range threes, I played like a teenager taking his first crack at driving his dad's car.

The problem with playing poorly with this Thursday group is that it disproportionately hurts your chances at getting a pass or two the following week; you are constantly having to prove yourself, and since Back Injury 2000 I have pretty much trod water in the brackish swamp of B-minus basketball.

Perhaps losing a little weight will help, and I've sworn to do so before my wedding on August 9. Nothing is more boring than hearing about someone's weight loss (for some other bloggers, that's all they talk about) but perhaps mentioning it will thrust it into the cognitive ether, allowing me better access.

I lie tonight in Columbia County, our first time back in two months. The place is a shambles, with walls missing, dirt from the contractors all over the place, and an entire bathroom bereft of things that make it "a bathroom." I thought most of this would be finished by now. I close tonight by pushing the boat away from the dock, into the sea of sleep, a little demoralized, very tired, and overwhelmed by the number of things one must juggle in order to be a functioning adult.

2/19/03 Day 60 and Final

2/19/03

Day 60 and Final – of the Electric Larry and the San Frantastic Experience Road Trip of Goals Met, Dreams Realized, and the Oil Needs a-Changin'

Chapel Hill, NC to Brooklyn, NY

We arrived back in Brooklyn around 6pm, and it looked like God threw a snowball at the state of New York. Look at the picture of Tessa unpacking above, and you'll see cars entirely buried under 5-6 feet of rock solid ice. The neighborhood is quiet from the acoustic effect of muffling snow, and the locals are walking around like whaling fishermen off the coast of Nova Scotia. It is good to be back.

This has been the longest road trip of my life so far, which is impressive, since I have been on many. I've even done the "circumference of the country" thing before, but never in the winter, and never with an agenda. I'll come away with a few thoughts:

a) we spent too long in Texas. That place is depressing, and there are too many SUVs. It makes me feel bad about America. I love the people, but I can't stand the environment.

b) Mammoth Mountain is great. Don't let Ski Magazine tell you any differently.

c) Taylor's Refresher in Napa Valley, the Verti Marte in New Orleans, and Goode Company in Houston win the awards for Best Food for Cheap Whilst in Expensive Places.

d) You will have 25 meetings with millionaires in millionaire cities, but you will find your money in places you never thought to look.

And now, a few facts and figures!

route taken in red

Miles Put on Ol' Bessie, the Land Rover: 8556.2

Percentage of U.S. States visited: 48%

Names of Bunny Slopes Ian Skied:

whitefeather
bambi's glade
high five
jess's curve (wiped out)
easy rider
schoolyard
holiday
gus's pasture (wiped out twice)
sesame street
road runner
woolly's fun zone
tom's thumb
westward ho

Names of Wireless Internet Transmitters Through Which Ian and Tessa Stole Internet Access Without Them Knowing:

SenorMoisture
jdoner (affectionately called "J-Boner" or "The Doner Party")
Brazil
linksys
ChubbaFocusGroup
anyone's any
pcagnet
mine
pblarge
pbsmall
dan

---

warning upcoming self-indulgent section

Thanks to the members of Ian's family seen on trip: Kent, Steve, Sean, Michelle, Jordana, Melissa, Sean Patrick, Lucas, Mom, Dad, Carole, Aunt Marilyn, Uncle Chris, Aunt Joanie, Uncle Dick, Mark, Lana, Uncle Chuck, Aunt Lee, Rosie, and Auntie Donna.

Thanks to the members of Tessa's family seen on trip: Sandy, Thomasina, Tom Brooke, Doug, Michelle, Diane, Marcia, Louise, Barbara, Matthew, Justin, Andrew, Brooke, Tia, Aunt Brenda, Amber, Paul, Colton and Nonnie.

And thanks to our friends seen on this trip (in geographical order):
Scott Brown, Jennifer Marcus, Hooker, Geralyn, Jason, Tim, Veronica, Penny, Matthew, Michael Stuno, Jeff Prevorse, Kevin Kassover, Amy, Kathy Eldon, Dani, Mike J, Walt Boyle, Stasia, Jim, Andy Taubman, Todd Walker, Michael Sledge, Thilde, Andrew, David Ball, Farah, Baby Zaid, Pat, Charlie, Lorraine, Louis, Sophie, Baby Margaret, Ada, Susan Alchuler, Millard, Susan Durham, Jim Lewis, Nancy Miller, Salem Suber, Elizabeth, Victoria, McColl, Baby Lillie-Anne, Lee Anne, Suzanne, Betsy, Mark, Jane, Baby Roman, Chip, Scotty, Annie, Lindsay, Dana, Matt, Carrie, Colin and Emily.

If I didn't mention you, it is because I have been on the road for 60 days and my brain is cinnamon-flavored oatmeal. I still love you, though.

Okay, Lindsay you can stop hitting "control-F" for your name now.

2/18/03 Day 59 of the

2/18/03

Day 59 of the Keep This One On The D.L., But We're Still In Town Road Trip of Unexpected Delights

Chapel Hill, NC

On a day we were supposed to be barreling up I-95 en route to a snow-buried Brooklyn, we lost steam around 4pm and decided to stay in Chapel Hill, plans be damned. Tessa was cranky (it being Day 59 of a road trip that was originally only supposed to be two weeks or so) but after a sunshine run around UNC, she returned in great spirits. So great, in fact, that we treated ourselves to something we'd thought we'd miss this go-round: shrimp & grits and barbecue at Crook's Corner. Jesus, we've eaten well on this trip.

I'd forgotten about the basketball game tonight until my old buddy Andy Bagwell of the late, great Selected Hilarity group hooked me up with tickets so we rounded out the perfect Chapel Hill day with a trip to the Dean Dome to see my beloved Heels put on a paint-stripping, chassis-throttling shellacking of North Carolina A&T. True, going up against the 0-20 Aggies is a bit like playing the St. Hazel Rotary Club Choir, but a 360-degree dunk by David Noel probably added five minutes to my life. In the year 2067, when I am on my four-poster deathbed gasping my last, I will thank David Noel for giving me enough time to get out something really witty.

Later tonight, we went over to Matt McMichaels' place to show the trailer for The Pink House (I believe a very small version can be seen here) and talk shit well into the night. Yay for the simple, ancient pleasures of your college town!

2/17/03 Day LVIII of the

2/17/03

Day LVIII of the Bunker Mentality Cabin Fever Road Trip of Sorry, We're Closing at 2PM

Chapel Hill, NC

Snow is always a magical thing in Chapel Hill; I went to school here five years, and it probably really snowed twice. It's been a little more screwy lately (three snows this year alone) but this campus was picture-postcard made for it.

It being one of those days where nothing could be planned, all of us had nothing to do, and set up an impromptu gathering at Strong's Coffee Shop (which used to be The Roastery, which used to be Judge's Coffee, which used to be Barrel of Fun, an arcade where I spent approximately $750/year on Track & Field and Cyclone Pinball). First Tessa and I got a couch, then Dana showed up, then Lindsay and Matt, then Chip, then Colin Soloway and his new gal Emily Hodges.

Colin, for those of you who have been watching CNN lately, is Larry King's favorite war reporter, and has been asked not only to guest-host the show, but be Larry's correspondent for any possible Iraq war. Unbelievable! Ever since Colin's first breathless reports of finding the "American Taliban" John Walker Lindh, Larry King has fallen in love with him, the kind of love grandfathers have for their favorites.

We all chatted about the war (of course, Colin and his ilk secretly want it to happen 'cuz it's good for business), our wedding (where, inshallah, we shall all gather again), and the Sara Foster cookbook (by all accounts, simply a must-have for any displaced Southerner).

Tonight, we played Scrabble and I had a commanding lead over Sean, Jordana and Chip – until Jordana accidentally got "RHYTHMS" or something and kicked all of our asses. My best move was "WELCH" on Triple Word Score (I think), Sean had "QUIZ" on Double Word Score and Chip had "TOED" on nothing in particular. Just kiddin', Chip!

clockwise from bottom left: Emily, Colin, Tessa, Chip, me

2/16/03 Day 57 of the

2/16/03

Day 57 of the Jesus Christ Ma! It's Snowin'! We Gotta Git Us Fourteen Gallons 'o Milk Road Trip of Southerners and Snow

Chapel Hill, NC

Everywhere we go on this trip, we stay longer than we intend, but this time it won't be due to laziness or scads of unfinished business North Carolina has been socked in by a major winter storm that has everyone freaked out, buying hundreds of eggs and batteries and shit. It's hard to make fun of them for their paranoia, since the ice storm in December took out the power grid for five days – but driving around today wasn't a whole lot harder than usual.

I got caught behind some redneck driving a Chevy Suburban at about 4 mph through campus, slamming on his brakes every few seconds and skidding like a moron. I mean, it's the one day when having an SUV makes sense, and the idiot didn't even know how to drive it through the weather for which it was intended.

Doing anything in Chapel Hill today was a loser's game; even the convenience stores closed at 4pm, and school has been cancelled for the next few days. I guess it's cool that the local authorities have a realistic understanding of their constituents' total inability to drive automobiles, but I think we ate the last of the food tonight for dinner.

One place was gloriously open today; Woollen Gym, usually guarded by fourteen rent-a-cops with no sense of humor, had free, open access. It's not only the best set of basketball courts at UNC, it has Tar Heel ghosts going back to our first team in 1911. The 1957 NCAA Final Four was staged there. George Glamack, the "Blind Bomber," played there in the 40s, a player so bereft of sight that he could only shoot by looking at the markings on the floor (and had UNC's best field goal percentage for decades). Basically, the only place cooler to play a pick-up game would be the Dean Dome itself.

me and Chip after playing on the hallowed courts of Woollen

I did well for myself, despite having gained at least 7-8 pounds on this road trip, and scarcely recovered from a day of barfing. I blocked the shit out of some tall, lanky sophomore's baseline jumper, no doubt fueled by being back in Chappy Thrill. I always loved playing winter hoops here. Something about having so much fun when it's so dreary outside seems devilishly incongruous. It's like we're playing hooky from hibernating.

Tonight, it's raining needles of ice, and exceedingly unpleasant. Chip stayed overnight, and we capped off the evening with Tessa, gossiping about backbiting New York actors, finding stupid ways to lose $65 million, and enjoying the fine editing work done by the boys at ESPN.

yesterday, Chapel Hill was 55 degrees; today, kids were sledding on lunchtrays