Category Archives: Art

Proust Questionnaire Number Six

Marcel Proust Quote:
“Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees.”

Confessions Question:
The natural talent I’d like to be gifted with.

Confidences Question:
The gift of nature I would like to have.

Proust’s Answer:
Will-power, and seductiveness.

I have many extremely talented friends. God certainly has not shorted me in talents. But as I survey my friends, the two talents that do make me slightly jealous are glaringly obvious.

The natural talents that I wished that I had:

Derrick Gorshe’s ability to play the guitar.

Jay Janson’s ability to draw. (In fairness, this isn’t a good example of Jay’s drawing ability, but if you want to try drawing in pitch black, I can set that up.)

Proust Questionnaire Number One

Marcel Proust filled out the questionnaire twice. The first time was in either 1885 or 1886 in an English confessions album. The second time was in either 1891 or 1892 in the French album Les confidences de salon. There are some questions unique to both questionnaires and the wording is slightly different in both questionnaires.

To start this exercise (perhaps in futility) I will share one of my favorite Marcel Proust quotes, pose the questions both ways and share Proust’s answers to the questionnaire in Confidences.

Marcel Proust quote:
“Love is a reciprocal torture.”

Confessions Question:
Your favorite heroes in fiction.

Confidences Question:
My heroes in fiction.

Proust’s Confidences’ Answer

To remain true to the 19th century spirit of this question I am going to only consider literary characters and not fictional movie or television characters. Although it is really hard not to pick a fictional character like Glenn Beck. That character is hilarious! Brilliant parody of paranoid, right wing nut job! He has to be playing a character, right? Nobody with half a working brain could truly let loose the things that fall out of that guy’s mouth.

The label “elitist” has falsely been placed upon me many a time. I do not consider myself an elitist just because compared to some of my other fellow members of the human race I actually have standards.

Teresa knows not to ask me for Nicholas Sparks novels for Christmas. In fact, when my Mom and I went Christmas shopping for Teresa last year and she picked up a Nicholas Sparks book for Teresa I refused to let it be placed near the same bag as a book that I had picked up. It also had to ride in the trunk the whole way back from Des Moines. I’m not sharing any of the car cabin space with anything that guy put to print.

My reputation is great enough that when Elainie put the Twilight books on her Christmas list this year Teresa asked me if she should bother copying that over to my Christmas list book. (Teresa makes books that contain everybody’s Christmas list so that it easier to carry with you when you go Christmas shopping.)

I told her that Elainie is a teenage girl. It is acceptable for her to be reading such trash. But I would hope that she would aim higher in her literary pursuits in the future. Of course, there is no way that Elainie will be getting those books from me. My skin burns when I touch reading material that is beneath me. Even if I’m only buying it for somebody else. It is an allergic reaction that can’t be helped.

Despite my standing as the family literary snob, I actually have read very few fiction books this year. In fact, I don’t even think I’ve cracked open a book by either of my favorite authors: J.D. Salinger or Nathanael West.

The fact I have read so few fiction books makes it rather easy to answer this question. My favorite fictional hero that I met this year is the title character from Edith Wharton’s novel Ethan Frome.

According to the back cover of my Dover Thrift Edition of Ethan Frome, Ethan is:

Burdened by poverty and spiritually dulled by a loveless marriage to an older woman, Frome is emotionally stirred by the arrival of a youthful cousin who is employed as household help. Mattie’s presence not only brightens a gloomy house but stirs long-dormant feelings in Ethan. Their growing love for one another, discovered by an embittered wife, presages an ending to this grim tale that is both shocking and savagely ironic.

Since I doubt anybody will rush out to read this small book, I will just let you know why this book and character stuck with me, even though it will ruin the shocking and savagely ironic ending somewhat.

Ethan is stuck in a loveless marriage. He is in love with his wife’s cousin Mattie and Mattie loves him back. But he is paralyzed by the times he lives in and a mountain of debt and his personal code of morality. One of my favorite paragraphs exhibits the paralysis that has stricken Ethan.

Ethan had imagined that his allusion might open the way to the accepted pleasantries, and these perhaps in turn to a harmless caress, if only a mere touch on the hand. But now he felt as if her blush had set a flaming guard about her. He supposed it was his natural awkwardness that made him feel so. He knew that most young men made nothing at all of giving a pretty girl a kiss, and he remembered the night before, when he had put his arm about Mattie, she had not resisted. But that had been out-of-doors, under the open irresponsible night. Now, in the warm lamplit room, with all its ancient implications of conformity and order, she seemed infinitely farther away from him and more unapproachable.

Because Ethan and Mattie can’t be together in life, they decide to be together in death. They make a suicide pact where they sled down a hill together into a large elm tree.

Her pleadings still came to him between short sobs, but he no longer heard what she was saying. Her hat had slipped back and he was stroking her hair. He wanted to get the feeling of it into his hand, so that it would sleep there like a seed in winter. Once he found her mouth again, and they seemed to be by the pond together in the burning August sun. But his cheek touched hers, and it was cold and full of weeping, and he saw the road to the Flats under the night and heard the whistle of the train up the line.

The spruces swathed them in blackness and silence. They might have been in their coffins underground. He said to himself: “Perhaps it’ll feel like this. . .” and then again: “After this I sha’n’t feel anything. . .”

The sledding accident doesn’t kill Ethan or Mattie. They are both crippled and Mattie’s sweet disposition turns sour. Ethan spends the rest of his life with the wife that he despises and with a woman that is but a shadow of the woman that he loves.

It is a bitter life, but Ethan continues on every day with a daily reminder of his shattered dreams of happiness.

Be Aggressive!

On Sunday I descended into the depths of Missouri and Kansas on Sunday to watch Alexis compete in competitive cheerleading.

I had spoken with our Associate Pastor Andrea about good barbecue joints in Kansas City and she recommended Jack Stack for ribs and Oklahoma Joe’s for sandwiches. I looked into both places and found that there was a Jack Stack in the same suburb as the competition so we checked it out.

In a word… divine!

Everything was great. The fried mushrooms, the warm carrot cake, the ribs, the burnt ends, the beans… everything. I was particularly impressed with a cheesy corn side dish. Teresa is researching the recipe and we (meaning not me) are going to try to replicate it for our Thanksgiving meal.

I should point out that the carrot cake was one of the top 3 desserts I have ever had from a restaurant. Right up there with the tiramisu from Cosi Cucina or the warm chocolate cake from the cruise.

Photographing moving targets in low light does not make for the best pictures, but please enjoy a few pictures from the day:

Be Aggressive!
Statue in front of Jack Stack

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!
Looking over the program.

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!
Iowa All-Stars

Be Aggressive!
Now we get to the point of the pictures where it is more or less: “Where’s Alexis?”

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Write down your answers to “Where’s Alexis?” and mail them to A winner will be randomly selected from all correct entries.

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!
Can you imagine what this many cheerleaders (and their moms) in one room sounds like?

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!

Be Aggressive!
Elainie photographing.

Be Aggressive!
We are the champions, my friends…

Be Aggressive!
The Bennett women. I know Teresa will complain about this picture, but it was the only one of the 3 pictures I took where Mom doesn’t look drugged out.

Be Aggressive!
The medal.

Be Aggressive!
I’m going to call this Alexis’ gangsta look.

Be Aggressive!
No comment.

It was a good trip, but I was glad to get back out of the state of Missouri. Very glad.

Window Project #2

Kelly’s salon recently had their Grand Re-opening after all of their remodeling.

I hadn’t put a picture up in Salon 908 since the remodeling, so I decided to do a window project for the salon.

Salon 908 Window

For a closer look at Window Project #2, you will need to go to Salon 908.

Below is a closer look at the pictures for this project. It should be noted that the pictures below aren’t in the same proportions as they are presented in the window.

Night Flowers 3

4 other pictures were under consideration for Window Project #2, but were rejected for various reasons. The rejected pictures:

Flower Window

Flower Window

I will be starting work on Window Project #3 possibly as early as in a couple of days. But most likely it will wait until the beginning of December. I do need to start giving some consideration to whether or not there will be a Photography 139 2010 calendar in the near future.

Window Project #1

Last Monday I finally completed Window Project #1.

It has been several years since my mom got new windows for her house. I had her keep all of the old windows because I thought that there would be a point in the future where I would be able to use them.

I gave a few to Monica. I gave a few Rebecca. The rest have mostly sat around and collected dust.

The previous Monday (to last Monday) I came to a point of stasis with the Friend Wall. There is still room for more pictures and there are still a few people that aren’t represented on the Friend Wall, but I feel that the wall has adequate coverage for now. I can stop for now and move on to putting holes in the other (naked) walls in my house.

The windows will be a big part of what goes on my remaining walls. I finally got one of the window projects done.

I don’t really have a name for the completed window project, but for now it will be called Window Project #1.

Window Project #1 started with this picture of Jill’s hand.

Window Project #1
The rough image.

After cleaning this image up, tweaking it and converting it to black and white, I came up with the final image.

No. 14
The final image.

I measured a window and ordered a print.

I don’t really trust my own ability to cut straight lines, so I discussed the project with Teresa. She agreed to cut the picture down to size and actually came up with the idea to mount the picture to foam board.

Initially I was going to glue it to the back of the window. I was going to do that even though I had no clue whether or not that would ruin the picture or stain the picture or even hold the picture to the glass.

The foam board was definitely the wise way to go.

Before bowling (actually the greatest bowling night of my life) Teresa came over and cut the foam board and picture. I mounted the picture to the foam board, placed it in the window and put it on the wall.

Window Project #1
Window Project #1

After looking at it, I think I might need another picture to go with it. Another body part.

I’ve thought about an eye…

Johnathan Senior Picture

But I think that might be a little bit uncomfortable for some people to look at. Plus, I think I am going to work on an eye project in the future that might be a little bit more ambitious than one photo.

I think the answer is rather obvious. The complimentary picture should be of a foot.

It seems I’m in need of a foot model. Monica has graciously offered up her foot in exchange for me paying for a pedicure for her. I think I can find somebody that will work cheaper than that. I am, just a poor, starving artist after all.

If you hear of anybody wanting to offer up their foot for art, let me know.

But there are also a couple of other window projects on the horizon. I have a set of garage door windows I got from my Aunt Linda that I’ve always thought about using as a frame for flower pictures, but instead I am going to use it to hold family pictures and sit it in the corner of some yet to be determined room.

I am also going down to Salon 908 to measure some wall space on Saturday morning. I am planning on hanging a window up there before their Grand Opening. I don’t have much turnaround on that project though.

I hope my designated cutter is available.

Coltrane’s 1st Wife’s Middle Name

Rarely when I publish pictures do I explain the thought process, the technical information or the inspiration. If somebody is confused by a picture or intrigued by a picture I want them to come to their own conclusions.

I feel by telling people too much about a picture, it cheapens the experience for them. That being written, I am going to part with my traditional way of doing things and give a rare glimpse into what happened before I created a trio of images.

The story of these pictures actually starts with the story of the picture above.

As you can tell, I am very pleased with the shirt I am wearing. It is an awesome shirt and if it isn’t the greatest shirt I currently own, it is certainly a top 5 shirt.

If you can read and have an adequate brain, you probably have deduced that this shirt was purchased at the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Good for you Big Brain! This shirt was indeed purchased at the Beaverdale Fall Festival.

Sara invited a bunch of us down to her house for the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Jen, Jill and I accepted the invitation.

This is the first thing that happened to put these events into motion:

Jill picked me up in her sweet car.

The Car
Picture actually taken on the day that the idea for Alligator Shirt Day was Born.
More on that at a later date.

We swung out to Ledges to briefly interact with Jay, Monica and Jeff.

Then we met Jen in Ames and went to Beaverdale to meet up with Sara.

At Sara’s house we were treated to steamed asparagus and the company of Cousin Amy. Jen gave Jill and I beaver tats with a sharpie to symbolize the importance of the event.

I know a lot of people that are really good at a lot of things, but I don’t think I know anybody who is as good at a given skill as Jen is at drawing beavers. I think she should go into business.

After a small amount of time digesting the asparagus we made the short 3 block walk from Sara and Jupiter’s home to the Beaverdale Fall Festival. Jupiter was left behind in the basement. That is the life of a dog, no matter how pretty.

Our first stop was a table where an elderly gentleman was selling Beaverdale Fall Festival swag. He regaled us with tales of past Beaverdale Fall Festival shirts. My heart was particularly broken because a couple of these shirts sounded at least as sweet as the Beaverdale Night Fever shirt he was hawking this year. One was a parody of album cover of “Let it Be”. The other was a parody of the album cover of “Abbey Road”.



But if I live by one rule it is this: Don’t waste your time lamenting the beaver shirts that got away. Be thankful for the beaver shirts that you have.

Feel free to use my rule as the center of your life as well. I guarantee you it will serve you well.

Jen, Jill, Sara and I each purchased a Beaverdale Night Fever shirt. Admittedly, we should have picked one up for Derrick, but having to stand at Sara’s birthday party and take the picture of the 4 of us in our beaver shirts was his punishment for choosing 35 South over us on that night.

Jen and I declared that we would wear our beaver shirts at work on Monday. Sara gave us no indication when she would wear her beaver shirt, but Jill announced that she would wear her shirt to work on the following Friday.

Jill works at one of those companies that has “expectations” and “standards” about the clothes that their employees wear. But on Fridays, they let there employees get all casual.

Monday came and I arrived at work sporting my sweet new beaver shirt. I had Jesse take a picture of me with my phone so I could picture message Jen and find out if she was also sporting her sweet beaver shirt.

Jen was sitting in her office explaining the beaver shirt story to Jessica (who is the person that is organizing the Knocker Walkers team) when my picture message came through. This apparently amused them both.

On Friday, my work soundtrack consisted entirely of John Coltrane music. I decided to follow-up on Jill to see if she was wearing her beaver shirt. As I was typing out the text message I had a strange flashback. I remembered sitting around Jen and Derrick’s living room this summer before their wedding.

They asked the guests of their wedding to pick a song for the reception. We were going through the list of songs that people had picked and I had stopped on Jill’s song. She had chosen Naima by John Coltrane.

It was the only jazz song anybody had suggested. I remembered that.

Jill texted me back that she was wearing the beaver shirt and enjoying the many jealous looks she was getting from her co-workers.

I turned on the only copy of Naima that I possess and gave it a listen. The only version that I own is from the album Live at the Village Vanguard Again! It is 15 minutes and 10 seconds long. It is 110% chaos.

Now I know that the original is not chaos. The only other song on this album is a 20 minute 21 second version of My Favorite Things. It is also chaos. I have 3 other copies of My Favorite Things that are not chaos. This album is chaos. It is also genius.

I texted Jill and asked her why she chose the song Naima.

She answered back that it was her favorite Coltrane ballad.

I wrote back that I was going to need to find a studio version of the song because the only version I had was live and was chaos.

She wrote back that the studio version was “incredibly soothing and hopelessly romantic”.

I wrote her, “That is the single greatest description I have ever heard for a song.”

I told her I would find a copy of the studio version and give it a listen and then we could compare notes.

I did some research on the song to find out what album the original song was on. Turns out that it was Giant Steps. This was an album that I have literally held in my hands at least 10 times, but have never purchased because it seemed to me that I could wait for a remastered version of the album.

Ames is virtually devoid of music stores. I know that is partially because Ames didn’t support its music stores and partially because the internet and iTunes have so radically changed the market that music stores with inventory of not Top 40 (read crap) are not going to make it.

I remember when I was in high school – Bill, Lowell, Andy and I would load into Bill’s Ford Fairmont station wagon and drive to Campustown to visit the (not 1, not 2) 3 music stores located with a 3 block radius. There was Archives, Peeples and BHS Records. BHS Records wasn’t really called BHS Records. It went by another name, but we always called it BHS Records because it is where we discovered the Butthole Surfers.

Now they are all gone and if a person is looking for new, experimental, alternative music – good luck! I don’t know where this generation of kids is going to discover bands like Jerry’s Kids, Intense Mutilation, The Abortions, Dead Kennedys, Dead Milkmen, The Ramones or the Revolting Cocks.

The options in Ames for buying music are the big box department stores. That means virtually no choice at all.

But I wasn’t without hope. Best Buy has a small jazz section. Borders has a slightly bigger jazz section. Hastings has a slightly larger jazz section than Borders. But if you were to combine all of their jazz sections the term that would best describe the conglomeration is anemic.

That Friday after I left work, I did not have time to stop at Best Buy or Borders for reasons that currently escape me. After all, this was nearly a month ago.

Now I know what you are thinking… You are thinking that somebody that literally mines computers for a living must easily have the aptitude to download this song from iTunes, Amazon, Zune or illegally find it in one of the murky backwaters of the worldwide web.

It is true that I have that capacity. But I am also the guy who still wants CDs. I want liner notes and album art. I want to rip the CD to my hard drive. I want to be able to have a real CD (not a burned copy) to sit inside the 300 disc changer that resides at the bottom of my stack of audio equipment in my home.

On Saturday morning I had a fairly busy day scheduled. I woke up early and met Frank at the gym. This was one of his first times back to the gym since his NDE so it was a fairly light workout.

I left the gym with enough time to stop at Best Buy and Borders before I had to meet Sara in Beaverdale for our jaunt over to Prospect Park to watch Jen rip it up in the Des Moines Regatta.

Des Moines Regatta - 2009
Derrick and Jen at the Des Moines Regatta

I can write what I am about to write with a clear conscience. The dude that runs the Best Buy in Ames is one of my best friends and although he is not a reader (his term) he still is a loyal subscriber to this blog.

Scott tenderloining.

Best Buy broke, no, shattered my heart into a million pieces. Not only did they not have Giant Steps, they didn’t have a single Coltrane album. I could understand that they didn’t have Giant Steps. Even though it is a fairly seminal jazz album. I mean I don’t own it, so I shouldn’t judge Best Buy too harshly. But they didn’t have a single John Coltrane album in stock. I know, pretty unforgivable. I mean to have a serious talk with Scott about this tragic oversight the next time that we are knocking down a tenderloin. (Yes, I realize that music and movies are loss leader items for stores like Best Buy and in a tough economy it is smart business practice to keep as little on hand stock as possible, especially items that aren’t exactly flying off the shelf like 50 year old jazz albums. But we’re talking about Coltrane, man!)

Borders used to have a fairly decent jazz selection. Unfortunately a few months back they decided to lower their inventory levels and concentrate on selling Top 40 (read crap) music. Now their jazz section is a disgrace on multiple levels.

Their first disgrace is the size. It is only about 1/3 of its previous size. Their 2nd disgrace is that their discs are randomly “organized”. I literally went through every single jazz album they had in stock to determine that they did not carry Giant Steps.

Disappointed I made my way down to Beaverdale to meet Sara for the Des Moines Regatta.

I was hoping to have time to hit a music store in Des Moines while I was down there, but it wasn’t to be. The Regatta ran a touch longer than expected and then after the portion that interested us had concluded, we ate at Zimm’s.

Sara contends they have the best nachos in Des Moines. I argue for Skip’s.

I left Des Moines at 3 and had to be at the wedding of Mindy Vickers in Boone at 4. I got stuck behind the Army football team on Highway 17, so I was not able to make record time, but I did get to the wedding only a handful of minutes late.

I grabbed a seat in the back of the church next to my old boss, the Son-in-Law. After the wedding concluded, the Son-in-Law set up shop on the Senile Old Man. It was awesome! I could have listened for hours, but instead I congratulated the happy couple and headed to the ISU-Army football game.

After the game, I went to Dustin Jackson’s wedding reception.

Dustin and I – The World’s Most Dominant Egg Toss Team

I just want to note that I miss those sideburns.

I had an awesome time at the reception, before returning home to sleep.

In the morning I attended church and around noon the family took my mom to La Carreta for her birthday.

At this feast, Teresa asked me if I would take Logan over to the art festival in Ames. He needed to go for extra credit.

I agreed to take him because I was going to Ames to check out Hastings to see if I could find Giant Steps. I could use the company.

Johnathan decided he wanted to go, so we met at my house and prepared to load up the car. But before we got in the car Logan insisted that he get to choose the music.

I told him he could choose the music on the way there, but on the way back he was in my world.

He asked if I had The Beatles One CD.

I asked him if he meant, “Like the Greatest Hits Album”.


I was disappointed. My sister had failed in teaching him one of life’s most valuable truths.

“Greatest hits albums are for sailors and housewives.” I think we all know what terrible taste in music sailors and housewives possess.

I gave Logan a long lecture on the evils of the “Greatest Hits Album”.

Logan having the good fortune of me being his uncle his entire life, listened and took to heart the wisdom that I imparted to him.

The first stop in Ames was Hastings. As we approached the door I noticed that it was plastered with signs proclaiming that Hastings was closing on Wednesday.

Interesting, I thought. Then I entered the store.

“Bennett.” I heard called out to my left.

Ungs was working the Customer Service Desk.

“What is this all about?” I asked pointing to the sign.

“Our lease is up. We are closing down forever. They held a meeting and told us a couple of days ago.”

“Did they at least give you burnt cheese and pretzels?”


I was disappointed. When we had been told that Campus was closing down, the Senile Old Man had at least provided us with burnt cheese and pretzels.

I worked my way back to the jazz section and surveyed the Coltrane albums. Giant Steps wasn’t there. But as I examined the albums I noticed that Naima was on The Very Best of John Coltrane.

Fate was laughing in my face. I wanted to hear the song, but I didn’t want the indignity of buying a Greatest Hits Album. But sometimes a man has to swallow his pride.

I looked around to make sure Logan and Johnathan weren’t paying attention. Luckily for me, they were quite enthralled with a pimp goblet.

Might be what the Holy Grail looks like…

I picked up the CD and made my way to the checkout. They never noticed.

We headed up to the art festival.

Coltrane's 1st Wife's Middle Name

Coltrane's 1st Wife's Middle Name

They seemed to enjoy the art festival and after ambling around for an hour or so we headed back to Boone so Johnathan could go to work.

We dropped off Johnathan, then Logan and I made a brief stop by the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad so that we could see Thomas the Tank.

Coltrane's 1st Wife's Middle Name

Then I dropped off Logan and went home to prepare my house for Rabbit Feast. By prepare my house, I mean that I was home.

Becky came over and began her preparations. Jay came over and prepared his appetite.

Becky served so much food that I can’t possibly remember it all. I do remember that it turns out that I don’t particularly care for rabbit, stud rabbits aren’t treated with nearly enough respect and Becky made some kind of peanut butter glaze that was incredible.

After the meal, I amazed Jay and Becky with my ability to play YouTube on my Blu-Ray player. All things considered, I am more impressed by the fact that it plays Pandora. But to show them the YouTube functionality, we watched several clips from Robot Chicken. Becky was not amused by Robot Chicken. I feel bad that she doesn’t appreciate the greatness of that show.

Jay and Becky left around 11 and I immediately crashed.

The next day I brought my CD to work to listen to Naima. This is not how I like to listen to music. I like to not have any distractions and be in complete darkness. I don’t know, light distracts my ears. Nothing I can do about it. I have to live with this brain.

While I was perusing the liner notes, I learned that the version of Naima on this greatest hits collection was live.

Fate was laughing at me again. This time, I had to laugh with the stupid jerk as well. Then I went to Amazon and downloaded the Giant Steps version of Naima.

I made a CD of the studio version of the song and the two different live versions of the song. That night as I went to bed, I put the CD on “Repeat Disc” and listened to the disc until I fell asleep.

I’m not going to go into details about my exchange with Jill about the song. It was mostly me making references to other forms of art and a discussion on what it means to be “hopelessly romantic” and whether or not that is a bad thing.

But I will share the one paragraph that Jill sent that inspired me to make these pictures:

I believe that you do not need to be an accomplished musician in order to be an accomplished music lover. Actually, I think knowing too much about the technicalities can ruin just purely loving to listen to music. I luckily never cared too much about music theory so I don’t think I’m part of that group, but I would much rather go hear music live rather than listen to recorded music. That is probably why my favorite genre is jazz because it’s so spontaneous and so great live. Unfortunately I no longer have any of my jazz cds, but I will slowly rebuild my collection. I’m not going to pretend to know a lot about jazz because I don’t. I played in jazz band only because it was just so much fun. I was never great at it by any stretch of the imagination but I simply didn’t care. I’ve heard a lot of it, but honestly can’t name every standard or tell you who performed them all. I do know what I like when I hear it though, and I can usually explain why I like it. I think that is all that really matters.

I should state for those that don’t know, Jill is an accomplished musician and played the most rocking piccolo solo I ever heard in my life this Summer with the Boone City Band.

I think you know that I am not an accomplished musician. In fact, I could hardly be described as a musician at all. But I do still have my old slide trombone sitting in my basement from my days at dear old BHS.

But after being inspired and somewhat liberated by reading those words, I decided to take a self portrait with my trombone in homage to a couple of my favorite musicians (Miles Davis and John Coltrane) and two of their seminal albums, Kind of Blue and Blue Train.

So that is the story that lead me to sit in my basement one Thursday night and make these images with a beat up trombone that has seen better days, but will never see better days again.

Coltrane's 1st Wife's Middle Name
Kind of Blue Train Series – 001


I know it is a lot to get through just to see 3 pictures.

Vacation Stuff – Two

Here are a few pictures from another mini-adventure. I will not answer questions about this trip, (it was a spiritual quest and that is all you need to know) but I will let leak the following tidbits:

  • Faust really hates nature. Perhaps even more than Bill fears nature.
  • I was proud of Jay. He confronted his fear of waterfalls by not immediately running out of the park when he came face to face with the trickle of water that fell down a face of some rocks.
  • Jackson will make a great Ranger some day. He already lives by the creed: “No man left behind.”

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

Mankato Road Trip - 2009

I look forward to another trip to Minnesota at some point in the future.

Raise a Glass

I went to a fundraiser for the American Diabetes Association on Friday night with Sara and Amy. It was an interesting evening. The basic point of the night was wine tasting and art for sale.

I don’t drink, so I mostly looked at art.

However, there was one point where I was sitting at a table waiting for Amy and Sara to comeback with food. It was then that I meant one classy dame.

Three people approached the table. A dude, a lady I will call Ms. Manners and the Classy Dame.

Ms. Manners said, “Can we sit at this table?”

I replied, “Yes.”

Classy Dame answered, “You don’t have to ask him if we can sit at this table. This is our table. We were here first. I marked this table. I peed all around it.”

I replied, “How lovely.”

Here are some pictures from Sara from the night.

Amy and I

Sara and I

I am by no stretch of the imagination a fan of Grant Wood, but I am a fan of wooden cutouts that you stick your head through.

Sara and Amy

This particular piece of artwork really stood out to me. This is not a particularly good picture of it, but that is most likely for the best. The artist had made mosaic type pictures out of old magazines. All of the pictures were like the one to the left. A nice picture of people or of flowers or something. But then I came upon this picture. A picture of a catfight that included a depiction of both sets of mammaries and the “V” of one of the combatants. Nicely played artist. Nicely played.

It was certainly a memorable night.