So much time, so little to do...

Happy day after Monday! So, I am obviously a day behind my original schedule of blogs, now apparently writing on Tuesdays and Saturdays. What a wild ride this must be for you, my 5 subscribers. What twists and turns await us? Assured that there will be two posts a week, do you fear irregularity in the calender or do you embrace the terrifying unknown. Who can say, dear friends? Who can say? Well, I suppose you could. Also, I am nearly 70% sure that there are more than just those that subscribe that come to check this little page out. To those tragic figures, those Ronin Readers standing on the fringe of the blogosphere, glancing in from time to time with eyes wide with innocent possibility and appetites whetted for trivial, random, and often uninterestingly personal information, to you poor wandering souls I say this: Come, join us. Subscribe and get easily clickable updates. Also, subscribe and drive my readership up so I can look impressive to the nice gentlemen and ladies on craigslist to whom I will eventually send this blog in hopes of compensation. But mostly, you know, do it for yourself. You're the best.

So, I am pulling skyward from this weekend's down in the dumpsery. As such, I will not default and bore you with another treatise on ultimately unimportant baseball junk. I will briefly state that it is one week till the first Spring Training game, and I am excited. Not just excited, but twitchy. Anxious. Slightly engorged. Pujols had a really great press conference this weekend in which he talked about playing in St. Louis and stating how much he hopes to play his entire career there. I only own one baseball jersey, and I take a little bit of pride in wearing that number 5 around, not just because of the Birds on the Bat, but because the character of the man who owns that number is the stuff of legends: Ted Williams, Stan Musial, Cal Ripkin Jr., George Brett. These are all men who not only embodied athleticism and the competitive spirit of the game, but who also respected the fans and the legacy of baseball as an institution. Albert Pujols belongs in the discussion alongside these icons, and even a passing fan of the game should feel privelged to be able to watch him play the game. Idol worship end. Yay baseball.

It's Oscar time, and as such, my neighborhood is a ridiculous mess. Hollywood blvd. shuts down for 2 weeks, and let me tell you, if you think L.A. is gridlocked normally, the state of downtown Hollywood from Feb. 16 - 22 can only be described as a cluster fuck of mythic proportions. To give you an idea, I live here (I know, stalkers, you are welcome). If you look at the map, my clearest access to the 101 freeway is Highland ave. by way of Franklin. This leg of my travels is, at most, about 1/4 mile. With Hollywood Blvd. closed, this poor little road gets so clogged, it takes me easily 20 minutes to get to the intersection. C'est la vie, I also walk by numerous incredibly cool things every day, so I have no real complaints. Still, another reason to hate the Oscars.

Speaking of perks one enjoys living in Los Angeles, I will now brag. Ahem. ::knucklescrack:: I will be seeing Watchmen, not on opening night 03/06/09, but tomorrow. Wednesday. February 18, a full 2 1/2 weeks before the rest of the poor, pitiful world. Thanks go to Stephen Cross here, who picked me as his +1 for an Mtv event that will include the screening followed by a Q & A with Zack Snyder and a handful of the cast. This program will then be edited and shown on Mtv, which my generation remembers as a haven for music and cartoons. It is now known for slightly less stellar entertainment options. None the less, if having to appear on Mtv could be construed as a means of paying for the event I will attend, I feel the price is adequately fair.

In local news, Grandma Rhoads is back home and doing as well as one can expect. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to ask you now to shift the mighty powers of all the positive vibes you sent her over to my Grandpa, who is charged with caring for her. If you don't know me all that well, you may not have heard me talk that much about him. I will say without hyperbole that in my eyes, he is the most genuinely remarkable person to ever live. He is the embodiment of ideals and a lifestyle that has been all but forgotten in the modern world, and I firmly believe that every person in the world would benefit from sitting with him for one hour. I am lucky to have been given a life time with him, and I worry about him being able to carry another load on his 81 year old shoulders, so give a little thought to him when you can. I'm not sure what sort of metaphysics actually exist, but it can never hurt to try a little of everything.

Short story is moving forward. I will have the edit done by the beginning of next week, and then the long awaited submissions. I have played around with posting an excerpt here or some such thing, but I don't want to mess with the exclusivity of digital rights. That is to say, I don't want The Missouri Review to write me back saying, "Well, we love the story, but it is technically already publish on some shitty little blog, so no thanks." So, with that in mind, I will just keep it off the intertubes for now.

I lieu of that, I do have a treat. I can see you salivating there, starving for a little taste of exclusive material from your favorite unpublished, yet-to-complete-a-project, procrastinatory creative mind. Calm yourself. I am benevolent. Feast your eyes on this. A little free preview and a sneak peak into how Darrell and I communicate all rolled up into one barely legible tidbit. Be sure to zoom in.

That's a good bit for today. I will talk to you all at the end of the week with a very vague review of Watchmen. Spoilers will be hidden, so do not fear coming by for the rest of the info. Have a great Tuesday all. I am off to find a second cup of coffee.