Class Project

The Fork in the Road

2007-10-25T10:39:00.000-07:00

I wrote this for our newsletter. It's a bit more serious than normal, but I feel it deserves a look...

xoxo

Although our journey across the nation comes to an end, in Tucson in 5 days, our most difficult journey has only just begun. In collecting the information we have collected, in experiencing what we have experienced, we learned to take things for what they are. In examining the trees throughout the forest, and minding not the forest itself, we learned to leave over-analysis behind.

It was not always so. Pursue the Passion set out to find what makes people passionate. Perhaps youthful arrogance led us to believe ourselves capable of distilling conversations to their passionate roots. The first leg of the trip, through mid-August, we faithfully executed our original plan. As we continued, our insecurity in the project's simplicity grew. In retrospect, to believe that we could meet someone for an hour, cut their passion into a two-minute video, then progress to our next meeting, was a serious overestimation of our own abilities.

Dreaming big is always an overestimation. As feelings of doubt in the project mounted, we surveyed more honestly both the task before us, and our own abilities. It was difficult to come to grips with, watching our initial ideal exposed as somewhat frivolous, but we found comfort in several things. We found camaraderie, on the trip, with each other and those we met along the way. We received emails from readers who found genuine inspiration in what we offered. We found an incredible life experience being lived everyday.

What we have found is broken monotony. We departed as overly serious, business minded adventurers, and return humbled by our experiences. As a group, we have grown to support and nurture each other in a way none of us have ever known. What we have to offer is an honest interpretation of our travels, without presumptions of conclusions, which can help to avoid, or break, the mundane working existence. There is no singular, universal passion. Rather, there is an open-mindedness, fortitude and confidence shared among all we have found that is passionate.

Ant Bites.

2007-10-21T18:39:00.000-07:00

It has been a few days sans blogging. Honestly, there has been very little to report. We had the tamest New Orleans experience in the history of New Orleans experiences. We went to Bourbon Street Friday, and Le Bon Temps Saturday. Bourbon Street was gross, an amalgam of dimly lit bars and neon lit strip clubs. I hate party streets and this one no less.

We went to the lower ninth ward on Thursday to interview volunteers from Common Ground, a national volunteer organization. It was horrifically depressing to see the futile effort of a few volunteers; they essentially mowed lawns in the name of avoiding $100 city penalties for the owners. We cleared a lot with some law students from Washington University in St. Louis, and Zach won the contest for most ant bites about the ankles and wrists.

New Orleans itself is a grimy town. Even the nicest parts are gross, and reflective of considerable neglect at both the personal and municipal level. There are beautiful mansions on St. Charles Street that look as though they may come crashing down at any moment. We stayed with a friend of an interviewee named Ben, a law student at Tulane, and his roommate Christy, a fifth and sixth grade science teacher at a local elementary school. They were both hospitable, if not busy as hell, and we were able to get them out until four in the morning Saturday night.

We left today for Houston and are currently driving through some armpit of Texas. We made a gas stop in Sulfur, Louisiana, which may be the single most unremarkable place in the history of unremarkable places. We ate, just moments ago, at the venerable institution that is Taco Bell, in Winnie, Texas, a lovely little town, I'm sure. Now on to Houston and back under the watchful gaze of our dear 'sugardaddies' Jobing.com. We are interviewing the president of the Houston Rockets and possibly some players as well.

Home again in 9 days. I need a job.

xoxo

2007-10-17T17:40:00.000-07:00

This is from the beach in Biloxi, Mississippi. We had a lovely afternoon and evening there, but the place is still really messed up. It's tough to imagine any place recovering from a disaster so slowly, but there that is what I found. Anyway. The beach is still lovely.

xoxo

2007-10-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

Panorama of a Missouri sunset.

xoxo

Accents

2007-10-16T10:34:00.000-07:00

We stopped at a gas station in Mississippi, and my whole world has been turned around. I heard an accent that could have been so many adjectives, both positive and negative, that I think I have developed some sort of linguistic crush. I suspect however, that linguistic crush may be a little bit sleazy, like the first time a man falls in love with an exotic dancer. I went in the station to go to the bathroom, then bought a water for no reason, then proceeded to buy ice cream, which I really don't even like. That's how much I wanted to hear these women talk to each other.

We left the women, and my heart, at the station, found ourselves back on the road. Now would be a good time to note the vital role of NPR on this trip. Talk of the Nation, All Things Considered, and Marketplace (hosted by Kai Rysdal, my favorite name in the business) provide, for mainly Zach and I, a constant media source when the New York Times is unavailable, which seems the case more often in the south. Even where Verizon cannot carry us, NPR stands fast, with anchors ethnically named, and accents as vague as a recorded ransom note.

I think about this as the Mississippi Public Broadcasting donation drive is under way. Back to the linguistics. If NPR's accent, so soothing and mysteriously rooted, is a 0, on a scale of 0-5, the guy reading the news is a 1, the guy leading the pledge drive is a 2, and the women reading her personal confession of passionate love for NPR, in hopes of springing donations, is definitely a 4.

So: Let the essential 'foreigners' read the international and political stuff, but let a slightly more regional man read the regional news, cause who would trust the yanks to report local Mississippi happenings. The guy asking for money has to be charming, cue the accent, and the women giving her personal plea has to be a woman of the people, so, cue the heavier accent. I question most the disparity between the pledge drive guy and the reading lady. Why not use the same schmaltz for the leader and the lady? I don't know what any of this means, but I took note.

Where Does the Time Go?

2007-10-15T11:12:00.001-07:00

As I write, we drive from Memphis to Mobile, AL. Memphis was an interesting stop. After leaving the comfort of my old friend Daniel Roberts' home in St. Louis, we found ourselves our first city without any friends. It took all of 12 hours to make some, and we gladly used their shower. Thanks goes out to Kelli Gross and Carley Wright, who do great things for my personal opinion of Christian Brothers University in Memphis.

Jay's father was kind enough to fund a night out on Beale Street, which after Katrina became the busiest street in the southern US. The place was a mess. Needless to say we had a good night. Zach rode a bull. It was really all that could be asked for.

Working backwards, St. Louis was extremely kind to the PTP crew. We frequented a piano bar called Jive N' Wail, and also hit up some local college haunts. Daniel Roberts, who stayed with me some years ago as a member of the St. Louis Macabi contingent, was kind enough to allow us to extend our stay an extra day, which we used as another opportunity to go out. The Arch, by the way, is one of very few national landmarks that truly live up to whatever you may expect of it. It's huge. And shiny.

So off to Mobile we go, down I-55 on an overcast day. We're not sure what to do in Mobile. We met a guy from there and even he couldn't give us more than two suggestions, and one was a coffee shop and the other a pub. If anyone has any advice, let me/us know.

Where Does the Time Go?

2007-10-15T11:12:00.000-07:00

Home, and then Home, Again.

2007-10-10T09:34:00.001-07:00

On the road, our Verizon Aircards allow us Internet addiction even at 70 mph on the freeway. It is an incredible way to feel connected to all that which you care to be connected. I check Facebook nine times a day, and the New York Times at least 12 times. Without the mobile Internet, I fear I would have gone crazy two months ago.

While home for the past few days, I have been away from the Internet more then in the last three months. I did not think this would be a problem, until after 36 hours sans-Internet, I began to get a bit shaky. I didn't know why. I assumed, in terms of the trip, that I had become so addicted to the Internet because it allowed me to stay connected with Tucson, and all the people there that I hold so dear. What I found during my homecoming was a bit more interesting than that,

In Tucson, I: Had a wonderful Beyond Bread experience with Bridget Radcliff, my English advisor, and Charlie Bertsch, my favorite English professor ever. Watched 21 kids get arrested at the hands of the Tucson Police Department, just so they could see us perform 30 minutes before the aforementioned cops showed up. I saw every one of my beautiful friends, too many to name, and it was glorious. I ate La Parilla Suiza with my grandparents, mother, and brother. Essentially, it was the perfect trip home.

Yet why was I 'fiending' for the Internet, so? Seemingly awash with everything and everyone for whom/which I truly care, I figured the Internet would be as useless as (some metaphor of uselessness, ice to an Eskimo perhaps). But it was not so, and I realize now the answer is simple, and rather profound.

I have found a home in Marcus Garvey, our dutiful RV. I have found familial and friendly companionship with my traveling mates. I wanted so badly to get on the Internet and see what they were doing, in Nashville, while Jay and I hung in Tucson. I was so excited to come home, I skipped the prospect that perhaps I would miss this crazy life of ours, and I did. I missed Brett suggesting I do work, fulfilling all of his fatherly duties. I missed the Puppy and his youthful exuberance. I missed sleeping through states, and waking up in new ones. I missed my life, a thing which is easily taken for granted.

Home was beautiful, as it is and always has been. Yet when the RV picked us up at the St. Louis airport, I felt like I was home, again, a complement to the character and necessity of the people and things awaiting any homecoming.

xoxo

The 3:10 to Tucson

2007-10-04T09:14:00.000-07:00

Currently we travel at 32,000 feet, somewhere between Nashville and Houston. There is a couple seated behind me who either just fell in love, or a constantly sickeningly lovey towards one another. I don't really care about what might be true, but I do know that I hate them. "You send the cutest text messages." "No, you send the cutest text messages." "No, you send the cutest text messages." I'm in no condition to deal with this.

Our host in Nashville is the voice of CMT Radio. She calls 140 different country music stations every morning to read some news stuff, direct from Country Music Television. Emilee Warner. And she is/was wonderful. She took us to a hotel party for the International Bluegrass Music Awards (IBMA) last night. We rapped over banjos and mandolins. It was awesome. There is something very endearing about a community of musicians that don't shoot and stab each other.

Had great BBQ at Jack's on Broadway in Nashville. It ranked second on our Unofficial Survey of the Finest Pulled Pork in the Land, narrowly losing to Philip's in Crenshaw. Some might ask, how do you come to these decisions. Well, I'm glad you asked that.

Philip's offers nothing but food. You give them money, they hand you a sandwich in foil. In my opinion, they bear the brunt of whether or not you like the sandwich, as they have chosen to involve the consumer so minimally in the process. At Jack's, the user must apply his/her own BBQ sauce, after choosing from a variety of sauces. This is the key. I see the self-sauce-service as involving the customer in the process, and thereby relinquishing some of the credit as to the goodness of the sandwich.

A special happy birthday, by the way, to our fearless leader Brett "Capt. Sprinkle-Pants" Farmiloe. He is 23 years young today, and celebrating in Nashville with the puppy, and the voice of CMT. I think it's going to be alright for those two. Some of us will be in Tucson in 3 hours or so.

xoxo

2007-10-03T07:13:00.000-07:00

So, it is one of the hardest parts of this trip to actually keep the day organized. The only way to do it is to look at my iPhoto, with 2500 chronologically placed photos which truly offer, well, a chronology of everything we have done. Otherwise, you write a post and flagrantly omit attendance to the largest aquarium in the world, the Georgia Aquarium. Also, we ate incredible BBQ at Fat Matt's, where the manager happily fed some wary travelers, gratis. Prettty sweet deal all and all. Judy is helping me shoot, and Zach is in front of the Tropical fish viewing window. There are far better pictures, but this one is pretty cool.

forgetfully, xoxo

I Really Want a Cigarette.

2007-10-03T07:08:00.000-07:00

When in the course of human events, we find ourselves brought to a point where shooting guns is necessary, we shoot guns. And do it well. I don't know where that last sentence came from, but I know that I shot the hell out of some skeet, and it was fantastic. Skeet, unlike trap, is really hard. There's targets coming from every which way. It's awesome.

Within five minutes at the range, we had two shotguns and 100 rounds in hand. By no means were we offered any sort of training, other than what came in the form of stern criticism from Judy, the lady who hits the button when you say "pull." Basically, she took us to school, and by the end, I hit 16-25 shots, and Zach hit 12-25 shots. Brett brought up the rear with 3-25, shielding the rest of us from Judy's wrath for the rest of the Afternoon.

Shooting shit is hilarious. It's loud, it hurts your shoulder, it smells like black powder, the people look funny, it's expensive, but I will freely admit that I can't wait to go again.

We have spent the last six days in Dawsonville, GA, about 35 minutes from midtown Atlanta. Dawsonville is the home of TK's brother, big Will, who quickly became one of my favorite people in the world. We laughed, we cried, we offended some people. It was beautiful.

Due to an impending concert, and what I am beginning to see as "chronic bronchitis," I have stopped smoking cigarettes. Supposedly, this is a good thing. I hate everybody. I hate Jay, I hate Zach, and I certainly hate Brett. I hate myself. I haven't smoked in 18 hours. I do, however, feel considerably better than normal.

It's an overcast day as we head from Georgia to Tennessee (which for some reason, much like Mississippi, I will always remember how to spell). I will be in Tucson in about 24 hours. I'm excited.

xoxo, and see you soon.

Not so Hotlanta.

2007-10-01T07:47:00.001-07:00

It's cold down here. Not really, but my sheet and blanket in the RV hardly make up for the 50 degree temperatures. Last night I though I was dying.

We changed the name of the RV. He was formerly referred to as Arvydis, after the late, great Lithuanian superstar Arvydis Sabonis. He is now called Marcus, after the late, great African American champion Marcus Garvey. Not really the most pertinent information, but hey, it's what I got.

We sit on some street in downtown Atlanta, after having an interview at eight (Eastern), waiting to go shooting at one. I'm getting a bit twitchy, like Martin Sheen at the beginning of Apocalypse Now.

Jay and I return to Tucson in 3 days, which I am pretty excited about. I'm looking forward to La Parrilla Suiza. Tortilla soup,

xoxo

Welcome to Atlanta.

2007-09-27T18:38:00.000-07:00

We rolled into Atlanta on a steamy Thursday afternoon. According to the weather guy, the steaminess continues throughout the weekend, and much of the future and past of Atlanta. We picked up Brett's girlfriend TK at the airport, which, as far as I can tell, is the only reason we are here. If anybody has a better reason, let me know. We’re going skeet shooting on Monday. I really excited.

PTP + Guns = ???

xoxo

You Boys Ain't from Around Here, Is Ya?

2007-09-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

I write from the campus of Duke University, where one student told us, "Here, 90% of the kids are pre-med, and the other half are engineers." I love that math. We are spending the day studying the apathy of the private university student. After this, we are going to UNC to holler at some folk. Actually, I don't know what that means, but it sounds southern.

I love how everything said in a southern accent sounds either sexual, or sickeningly sweet. Example: young girl talking about economics = totally sexual. Employees of the campus store giving their approval to Charlotte Church's new baby = sickening. It leaves me wonder, is there any way to get angry in a southern accent. We hope to not find out.

We spent the night at Jay's aunt and uncle's house in Virginia Beach last night. There, we received the exciting news that we (Jay, myself) will be returning to Tucson for 5 days to do a concert at the Beta Theta Pi house on Oct 6th. We will be in Tucson from Oct. 4th through the 9th. We're really excited as it is a decent paying gig. Make plans accordingly.

The first person I saw in North Carolina was a white man in a cutoff t-shirt that said 'Good Ol' Boy.' If that's not funny, I don't know what is. To those who 'ain't from around wherever you may be', we salute you.

xoxo

The War of Northern Aggression.

2007-09-24T12:39:00.000-07:00

Driving from D.C. to Virginia I'm impressed with how easy it is to get lost. C street turns to D street runs into a forbidding monument-esque building that seems to offer no direction, save a circle that leads back to nowhere. Also, Washington/Virginia/Maryland: there should never exist a six-lane highway with a 35 mph speed limit.

Dean and Judy were incredibly welcoming to the PTP crew, providing everything we could possibly need. Honestly, I have no interest in leaving. Zach and I stayed in Virginia for most of the last four days, while Jay and Brett shacked up in DC with our friend Shurid Sen. I have eaten more real meals in the last 72 hours than in the last 6 years. The entire family forewent synagogue for a 3:45 showing of 3:10 to Yuma. I was happy about the decision. We then broke fast at 6:30, and went to DC for a night of barring.

Zach and I spent a considerable amount of time with a grown Anna Rose Pollock, who is wonderful. We also had a Sunday brunch with the Zweig family (Sherry, Max, Becca, Val, Brandy), to whom I believe myself vaguely related. It was really quite lovely, and we took some vague-family pictures. Zach and I returned to VA and Dean took us to play nine holes. It was a wonderful day.

We just finished driving through DC in the RV, taking plenty of cheesy video along the way. We now enter the south, first to Virginia Beach and then to North Carolina. I am feeling a bit regionalist, with a sever bias against the south and whatever it may have to offer. But as I've always said, there's no better way to get over severe prejudice than to see how the other half lives. Actually, I've never said anything like that, but it sounds nice. See you in Jena, Louisiana.

xoxo y'all…

Good Afternoon, Class

2007-09-20T14:05:00.000-07:00

Between Philadelphia and Delaware may lie some of the bumpiest freakin' roads in the history of roads. I doubt the Silk Road and the Oregon Trail to have been so uneven and pockmarked.

We stayed with Zach's great-aunt across the bridge from Philly, and his cousin Rich took us into Philadelphia, where we spent the evening entertained by Ms. Ivie and Ms. Lulu, owner and bartender of the upscale Italian eatery Sovalo, who also happen to be professional hula-hoopers (the proferred nomenclature is Hooper). 2 AM Wednesday morning, we were drinking gin and tonics, hula-hooping the night away. It was sweet.

We presented out (mis)adventures to a class of 55 entrepreneurship students at the University of Delaware. We stayed with Becca Zweig and her 4 sorority sisters near campus. Although there was no hula-hooping, there was good fun, and a reconnecting of long-lost 'cousins.' We broke the gutter of some establishment next to Becca's, and spent the morning 'fixing' it; the quotes are because we fixed nothing, only cosmetically solved the issue.

We awoke promptly at 11, ate bagels, and worked on the gutter and some Passion stuff. We ate again, buffalo chicken cheese steaks, and now drive towards Oakton, VA, home of the Dean Pollock Clan, where we will be imposing this weekend. Looking forward to photographing some monuments rarely photographed, in DC, such as that one to Lincoln, and whatnot.

xoxo from the Capital Beltway…

2007-09-15T15:20:00.000-07:00

This is a strange panorama from the 17th floor of the Millennium Hilton, overlooking Ground Zero. Being there on 9/11 was weird, much like this picture.

xoxo

Gettin' Cultured and Stuff.

2007-09-15T15:18:00.001-07:00

Benevolent brother Phil got the PTP boys complementary tickets to Spelling Bee, for which we are eternally and culturally grateful. We attempted, after the delightful matinee, to extend our cultural ambitions, to the Whitney's Psychedelic exhibit, but only made it as far as the line around the block. We then gave up, as any good group knows how to do, and strolled through Central Park.

I sit in Philip's apartment readying for dinner as Philip furiously mulls a spreadsheet. I think he is passionate about his job, or else he probably would have quit long ago. I know not one other person who works as much as he does. Furthermore, in the vein of our adventures, Philip is one of those people who fall off the PTP radar, because often people love their jobs and just don't want to talk about it in front of a camera. I respect that. I love my job and really don't feel the need to discuss it. Luckily, there is a countless multitude that is happy to brag of their happiness.

We went out in the east village last night, which reminded me that I never see any part of this city below 40th street. Not that I complain, but apparently there is an entirely separate world below the aforementioned thoroughfare. It was fun. I felt cool, which can be a feeling hard to come by in the city of hipsters. Perhaps, as noted in the previous post, I feel cool because I'm skinny, or lithe.

We learned today that Good Morning New York, on the highly rated yet continuingly despicable FOX Network, will be running a two-part PTP segment Monday and Tuesday morning. This is about as exciting as a root canal save the 24-hour RV parking we are getting by the FOX studios near Times Square. I love FOX. Rupert Murdoch is doing great things for the news, and America in general. Really, I'm not being sarcastic at all.

xoxo

Big Cities, Little Girls.

2007-09-14T07:43:00.000-07:00

I want New York and California to have a battle between emaciated women who can barely support their own paltry body weight. The New Yorkers would definitely win, due to their ability to survive the cold winters in the gritty City. I just don't think LA, a possible future home of mine, has the necessary intensity.

I went to a play with Phillip and the Gallos. It was nice to be back on Broadway. Phil scored Spelling Bee tickets for the PTP boys for the Saturday matinee. I think it is right about the level of maturity necessary for the group. And it's short, so attention span, not our forte, shouldn't be a problem.

I find this city to be more appealing all the time. There is something about the anonymity offered by huge metropolitan messes that speaks to me. I saw a man with a pretty serious head wound walking down the street yesterday, and very few eyes found their way to the wound. But that would imply that New Yorkers are rude, which they are not. They just don't care about you until you make them. Everyone from whom I have asked directions obliges sincerely. They want to prove what they know.

I feel as though I haven't interviewed anyone in a while, which is strange. But the trip is alive and well, as our its cast of characters. I have been charged with giving a 50-minute presentation to an entrepreneurship class at the University of Delaware. I never really thought Delaware was a real place, but it apparently has a University and everything.

The Light of My Life.

2007-09-10T16:25:00.000-07:00

In the second installment of my ongoing series of swinging inanimate objects, I offer for your consideration the light above Jay and my bed. Much like the fan aswingin' so softly in the front right corner of the RV, this rebel of a light has dislodged itself from the ceiling, and now teeters on the brink of calamity directly above our oft sleeping heads.

Two screws have fallen out entirely, and now the altitudinal fate of the lamp rests entirely on the final two screws, and either leverage or friction, depending on whose balderdash answer you care to trust. In any case, the light persists even during this, the twilight of its existence, although it luminescence has waned due to several layers of duct tape futilely applied to maintain the lamp's original posture.

Several layers of duct tape, I must admit, are an egregious understatement. I have applied nearly half a roll, yet each morning I arise and the lamp hangs again, seemingly in mock of my elaborate T-Pattern effort to provide the duct tape lateral support. As I write, the lamp defies what must now be four pounds of tape, and bounces happily along dilapidated roadways.

Perhaps the lamp is unhappy. It's a pretty weird device of illumination. With three settings, the two-bulb device can be: off, half-on, full-on. Perhaps the lamp, much like the fan, was simply unhappy with its station in life. Perhaps it dreams of a more fulfilling mission, and hopes to be considered for chandelier-ship.

Whatever the case, I'm pretty sure the little bastard is going to hit me in the head while I'm sleeping one night, soon. When that happens, I will dispense with attempts at humor, and throw it in the Hudson.

See you in the NYC.

xoxo

Cape Cod Panorama.

2007-09-09T10:33:00.001-07:00

View from the 3rd floor balcony. Cape Cod. Click the picture to get the full grandeur...

xoxo

Lobster Omelettes.

2007-09-09T10:32:00.000-07:00

Summering on the Cape has never been my thing. I'm more of a Coronado, Greece kind of guy. Even with this bias in mind, I agreed to a two-day stay at BJ and Eric's summer home on Cape Cod. BJ and Eric are friends of Brett's from Tucson, and, as it turns out, friends of mine as well. Tucson, some say, is a small world.

Their three-story house overlooking what I presume to be the Atlantic Ocean is magnificent. We spent the afternoon playing football on the beach, and spent the night eating lobster, steak, chicken, clam chowder and corn. I abstained from the lobster because it was looking at me funny. Well, he got his, in the form of omelettes this morning, of which I still did not partake.

We went to a local candy shop(pe) last night, and then to some local haunt to take with the natives. They call anyone who has lived on the cape less than three generations 'wash ashores.' What does that make three guys in an RV? Dinner? I spoke to a girl outside the bar who was a UMASS English graduate student. She took offense when asked how she studies the classics while unable to pronounce large chunks of the alphabet.

Back to Boston this evening, where I may be seeing my mother who has made a rare departure from her zip code. I got really excited when I found out our schedules coincide. So any mother that may read this, know your kids are really excited to see you. I miss my family. I miss sarcasm. I miss Bibi & Papa, although I have this nagging suspicion they are sitting where I think they are. On the road everything is lovely. We are awash in positive attention is not money and dignity.

xoxo

'Lidneatitus.'

2007-09-07T08:51:00.000-07:00

1. Niagara Falls is everything it is supposed to be, and far more misty than I had (never) imagined. We stayed with Jay's grandparents on Grand Island,10 minutes from the falls. Buffalo, a true workin' man's city. The word grimy comes to mind, and grimy I respect. The whole time I was there I had this nagging voice in my head telling me to forget my dreams and get a job down at the mill like pop. Then I remembered the mill moved to Brazil.

2. Canada,

What's up with the Space Needle rip-off? That's all you got? Build a huge statue of Paul Bunyon to solidify your unoriginality. And build more strip clubs as you obviously need more of those.

Cheers,

Noah

3. New York towns are hilarious. I will not disrespectfully make some up here, but they are great. Reminiscent of, and a shining tribute to, whatever happy populations of natives, later decimated by the new Americans, that once roamed these fine lands.

4. We are large front-page news in Syracuse's daily and the tri-weekly University of Buffalo Spectrum. Take that how you will, but remember we're at war.

5. Syracuse was good to us. The RV broke. With the serpentine belt goes the power steering and power breaks. I have a few questions about this, as my father did not teach me how to raise the hood of an automobile. Who the hell is using a pulley system with one belt to run multiple, vital components of the car? That's like replacing your lungs, kidneys and pancreas with some sort of super-organ that functions in all their stead. This organ will be called the 'Lidneas.' Or the 'Pungy.' Isn't there an applicable saying about eggs and baskets?

After a night at a bar where you flip a coin with the bartender to possibly win a drink, the PTP crew and some of the sisters of Alpha Chi Omega took a scenic walk through the Syracuse campus. We got back to Mark's Service Center at 3:30 AM, and I woke to the sounds of pit row at 7:30. Imagine waking up in a auto-shop. Mark, of Mark's, was incredibly hospitable, allowing us working space and even cooking lunch. We had the newspaper come there. He also hooked us up on four hours of labor, so, that was real nice.

Last night Class Project did something. I'm not sure the word concert applies unless there are more than 15 people there, which is meant as no disrespect to the 10, who Jenna brought (Jenna: One of many highly motivated coworkers from the venerable institution that is Club Rancho Sahuarita, who hosted us with her sassy and oft-humorous roommate Julia). Not a concert? A listening? The recital was fun, and if that is a bad as it gets, I love this business. Jenna's friends, plus the two random dudes who kept buying shots, were vary supportive.

Check your pulleys, maybe even those of a friend, and drive safe out there, And don't flip coins for beers because, for some reason, you start to get really mad when you actually have to pay for the beer you ordered. And stay off the grass in front of the Hall of Languages, which I think is Modern Language with way cooler people.

Off to Boston, which yesterday I learned I cannot place accurately on a map. xoxo

Shut Up and Listen.

2007-09-03T08:13:00.000-07:00

For a pre-codger, humbling experiences can be a bit off-putting. I do not presume to know everything, but arrogance I have been accused of more than once in my life. When something hits me like a ton of bricks, it really feels like 10 tons, because I never expected the first. Stephen Hopson was those bricks. At 47, Stephen is the first deaf instrument rated (can fly in 0 visibility) pilot in the world. Deaf from birth, Stephen gave up a top-spot at Merrill Lynch in NYC, as a stockbroker, to travel the world as a motivational speaker. Last night, he took us into his Akron, OH home.

I don't know what to say. The man reads lips. You never think about what you're saying to someone until you are keeping direct eye contact constantly. All of the sudden, words become more carefully selected. The guy is a better listener than most. Irony? How about not hearing tone? Wouldn't we all do better if only to take at face value the words that people say? Stephen was more than happy to answer my prying linguistics questions. The group sat around talking for 4 hours.

I'm a sensitive guy. I cry three times during the Shawshank Redemption: when 'institutionalized' Brooks holds the other inmate at knife point, when Brooks hangs himself, and the final cathartic moment, between Andy and Red, on the white-sands beach. But as moved as I can be by good media, Broadway included, I harden myself against the New York Times and Argentina's Clarîn, both of which I peruse daily. Hundreds die here and there, and man am I hungry for some Taco Bell. I often lack perspective and sentimentality in the real world.

Stephen is a reminder to get over myself. I think I am so damned smart, when I really know almost nothing, especially of adversity. As not poetic as this paragraph is, it is not easy for me to write. I get wrapped up in this defensive layer of arrogance wit that often inhibits my ability to just shut up, listen, and maybe even learn something. I going to learn something today, and maybe you could too. Just listen, don't struggle to be right, or even to be heard, and just listen. You might find something you didn't already know.

xoxo, and on to Buffalo.

Once in a Lifetime.

2007-09-02T12:29:00.000-07:00

trounce |trouns| v. [ trans. ] defeat heavily in a contest : the Knicks trounced the Rockets on Sunday.

There is nothing like a once in a lifetime experience. They are those situations so mired in expectation that disappointment is nearly inevitable (see: senior prom, your first job, weddings and children). So was the case with opening day at Notre Dame. 33-3 Georgia Tech over the Irish. Charlie Weis spent the entire post-game press conference claiming responsibility for his impossibly inept squad. It was like watching St. Gregory play Salpointe in a summer league game: pitifully close in the first half, followed by an ass kicking that reminds you to go to college.

The best part was the press box, where free hot dogs, chicken, soup and beverages were complemented perfectly by air conditioning. One of the most baffling aspects were the Georgia Tech tailgaters. Something about guys dressed for a debutante ball, 'shotgunning' beers and vomiting all over the place. Some things are just not masked well by seersucker pants, yellow tie, and a blazer. The Irish fans on the other hand were much more like UA tailgaters; shirtless, beer swilling drunkards, yelling, nay, slurring cheers at the top of their lungs. Good old Catholic university.

We stayed in South Bend with Dave Matthews, who Jay found on couchsurfing.com, a fascinating global community of people willing to take in wayward travelers for a few days at a time. He was one of the nicest people I have met on this trip, and his friend were more than willing to make sure we were the drunkest people in the Notre Dame press box since John Madden was covering college games in the 70's. On Friday night, shortly after we arrived, we were led to Corby's were the real life Rudy was getting wasted, basking in lackluster fame and semi-legendary status. Best t-shirr seen in south bend: Georgia Tech fan: "Rudy Was Offsides."

We are hurling down I-90, an interstate we are all to familiar with, on the way to Akron, OH, then to Buffalo, NY. Actually, we just crossed into Ohio, so I will say without fear of retribution that UA has a far more prolific offense than Notre Dame. Take that Touchdown Jesus.

xoxo.

No Excuse.

2007-08-31T07:15:00.000-07:00

I have very little excuse for not blogging. I have been waking up every morning in a bedroom overlooking Chicago, from 38 stories up. It is truly a sight to be seen. Hank Weber, cousin of Daniel, has been kind enough to let us crash at his father's city dwelling. Not too bad.

I went out with Allyson Gundee and Alan Weed last evening. Good wholesome night of fun lasting until three AM. I'm going to find my shirt, then go to an interview in 20 minutes…

xoxo

Sophomore Year.

2007-08-26T12:46:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like moving into you first unsupervised place. It provide opportunities for degeneracy unfathomed while under the lock and key of the RA. Needless to say, sharing in Aaron Pollock's first week in his apartment has been a true honor, fervently reminding me of how happy I am to be done with college. I've slept face down on a mattress, in a loft, with a coach pillow for three days. It was beautiful.

There has not been much pursuing of passion, but we have sampled nearly every eatery in a 12 block radius. I suggest Ian's pizza on the corner of Francis and University. It kicks the crap out of Anchovie's buffalo chicken pizza. We went to the farmer's market, in the shadow of the nation's second largest capitol building, and ate fresh Wisconsin cheddar cheese curds. They were disturbingly fresh and delicious.

Off to Chicago, and whatever that entails…

xoxo

Minnesota Magic

2007-08-23T13:28:00.000-07:00

When asked for four press passes to the season opener at South Bend, the Notre Dame University press man told us "that would be a tall order for the New York Times." Today, we received four press passes to the season opener at South Bend. Amazing what haranguing a press guy can get you.

We took in the Minnesota Twins' 8-4 victory over the Mariners in the Metrodome yesterday. Who, you might ask, actually attends baseball games at noon on a Wednesday? Tons of little kids, in fluorescent matching t-shirts, bused in from summer camps around the city. We sat between pink and electric blue, and my head still hurts today.

We interviewed a man named Bill who has been a boxing trainer in Minneapolis for 66 years. He works at Uppercuts Gym, the only female owned boxing gym in the country. The guy was fascinating, and seems to have a genuine love for helping others get the crap beat out of them. Really a very nice man.

We have been staying with Christian, a third year law student and friend of a friend from Jobing. He works in the public defenders office, and is a genuinely brilliant guy. He got us an interview with one of the lawyers in his office, which was scheduled at 8 am. After returning from the bar on the corner, with Christian and Zach, at 2 AM, I did not make it to the interview; neither did the lawyer. All was not lost, however, as Brett and Zach interviewed a janitor (who spoke minimal English, but seemed to appreciate, if not love, his job very much) and another lawyer (who, low-and-behold, was boring).

This morning we interviewed a man named Keith who started Electric Fetus, a record store, in 1968. The place is pretty incredible, specializing in rock and jazz, but also a little bit of everything else. Asked how he has dealt with the rise in popularity of online music sales, he pointed us to the now-larger 'gift' section of the shop, which mostly consists of what legally need to be referred to as 'water pipes.'

We head to Madison in a hour, where we will be imposing upon my nephew, who apparently in old enough to be in college.

xoxo

Sioux Somewhere.

2007-08-21T08:34:00.000-07:00

We camped in Sioux Falls last night, which is not to be confused with a whole other slew of Siouxs in Iowa and South Dakota. South Dakota, as I have just learned, does not believe in cell phones, wireless internet, or bug spray. The front of the RV looks like a graveyard.

We are on our way to Minneapolis where we will do our best to avoid all bridges and public works, although the plausibility of that scheme does not seem good. I-90 across South Dakota, by the way, is one of the most inhumanely boring stretches of road in the world; there are paternity suits that are more exciting to be a part of. Our only detour was into Badlands national park, which looks like the set of Armageddon.

Hopefully something fun will happen in Minneapolis. I'm looking for something fun.

xoxo

Generation Why?

2007-08-21T00:26:00.001-07:00

I'll start off this post by saying that I'm not quite sure how to use the blogger.com spell check on my Mac, so I apologize for any mis-spellings from here on out..............

Our 9 day break from our PTP travels and my current immobility due to back pain, have given me a lot of time to reflect. It was perhaps an in-depth conversation with a complete stranger in Albuquerque, NM where I was first able to articulate these ideas and I have used this handicapped situation to allow these ideas to perculate and grow. What I'm getting at is the question: Why have we had such a positive reaction to the whole idea of Pursue the Passion? And, furthermore, what generational differences have given Generation Y'ers such a sense of...I don't want to say entitlement...but more of a desire for personal fulfillment than the generations before us?

I think back to stories that my grandma used to tell me about her father, my great-grandfather, the blacksmith. She described how the two of them used to go out quail hunting. Once the game was killed, they would return home where my great-grandmother would pluck the feathers, boil and skin the birds, take what the family needed and send her daughter into town with the surplus to sell at market. Granted my great-grandparents had six children, but where was the idea of self-fulfillment there? It can be honestly assumed that they found their fulfillment in the health and happiness of their family. The same idea might be generalized about their entire generation. It is also safe to say, that in the case of my great-grandparents, that due to their Catholic beliefs and the strength of the Church at the time, that self-sacrifice was more popular than self-fulfillment, self-improvement or any of the other "self"-ish terms floating around out there nowadays. Mind you, the main outlets for communication at this point were radio, print media and the telephone.

My grandmother's generation held the same principle values as their parents, but were becoming increasingly more aware of the world around them with the popularization of film. No longer were people so limited to the messages displayed by print media, or in my family's case, the priests' interpretation of the world around them. They were still limited in the amount of messengers, but they had more outlets for information nonetheless. After World War II, soldiers came home eager to start families. In my humble opinion, this was partly out of celebration and partly out of the insecurity that tomorrow was not necessarily promised. So, they soon found themselves with families to support, and given the model set by their parents, they took the jobs necessary to provide the comfort, security and educational needs asked of them. I think back to stories that I used to hear about my Tata (endearing term for grandfather in Spanish), who worked two jobs, oftentimes with only a 15 minute nap inbetween them, to feed his six children. He, of course, was not alone in the matter. His wife, my Nana, worked 35 years at a local government base, all the while preparing meals, shuttling kids, sewing costumes and attending recitals, sporting events and the occasional parent-teacher conference to ensure the proper upbringing of her loving family. Again, where is this idea of self?

Then comes the baby-boomers. The popularization of television opened up a whole new world to the imagination of the American child. Popular radio shows had now transformed into television programs. The advent of this new technology not only provided imaginative sparks in these children, but also realistic possibilities for their futures. As with any new technology, it brought with it new industry. The same had been true of the film, but television broadened the scope and brought such ideas and images where they had not been able to be accessed before: the American living room. Again, it is my humble opinion that it was at this point that the idea of self-fulfillment began to enter the American psyche on a braoder scale. It has of course, always been an inherent ideology that Amceirca is the land of opportunity, but I think that the images portrayed on TV, however far-fetched they might have been, implanted something more concrete to these abstractions. And it wasn't just entertainment either. Baby-boomers were the first generation to grow up with television and as a result, they became increasingly more aware of what was going on in the world around them and the possibilities that it held for them and their futures. i.e. The moon landing and the notion that everyone knows exactly where they were and what they were doing and feeling when JFK was shot. Perhaps that is why PTP sometimes hears the sarcastic idea that "Not everyone can be an astronaut!" I think that TV has alot to do with the idea that being an astronaut was even a realistic possibility! My parents' generation was able to take the anti-conformist/hippie/flower-power/whatever-you-want-to-call-it stance, not solely because of, but in large part due to the diverse media outlets at their disposal. They protested what they considered an unjust war in Vietnam. They succeeded, in a way. The same can be said about the civil rights movements of the late 60's and early 70's. Media coverage yielded social change. The individual became increasingly more important as people began to see that their thoughts and concerns mattered and could help make a positive change in the world. (Once again, it is my opinion that) this individuality began to dwindle as this incredibly large number of educated people entered the American workforce. Because of the capitalistic machine that had preceded them, baby boomers knew that it was a matter of time before they traded their sandals in for loafers. They also knew that if it was going to happen, that it would have to be more on their terms then the companies that they worked for. Looking to avoid the short-comings of the the government's Social Security system, baby boomers sought out pension, health benefit and retirement plans from big business. Big business appeased and the relationship was as mutual beneficial as it was going to be.

It is perhaps either my ignorance or my belief that a few years difference should not divide generations, that I will group Generation X'ers and Generation Y'ers together. I also have a personal problem with being considered a different generation as my older brother Scott, when we are both products of the same two Baby Boomers. Anyways, whatever you want to call our/my generation we are one with infinite connections to the outside world. This works both to our advantage and disadvantage. We have constant access to any information we so desire attributed obviously to first the invention of cable television followed by the boom of the internet and globalization and our knowlege of how to use both to our advantage. We are always wired (or wireless, now I guess) in one way or another. Much like our parents, we have been encouraged to question everything and overcome the ideas that something, or anything for that matter, cannot be done. We can constantly be contacted whether via instant message, text message or plain old cellular phone call. On this same note, we are in contact more with our parents than generations of the past, a lot of times to our own detriment, as far the ideas of maturation and independence go. But it is because of these relationships, with both to our families and the outside world that we are able to explore the possibilities that the world has to offer us. We are a generation growing exceedingly comfortable with the ideas of multiculturalism as exemplified by study abroad programs and influenced by affirmative action practices implemented before our time (as negative as they are, were and can be at at times). According to a study done in 2005 (whose source escapes me at the moment), our life expectancy is 77.6 years of age, the longest for any American generation. This longer life expectancy in conjunction with the ever-so-competitive job market, pushes us to go to grad school, law school, medical school, etc. These, along with the failed marriages of our parents or friends' parents, have given us a sort of anxiety to start a family until we are happy with ourselves, our situations, our partners and of course, until we are able to do so financially. We are constantly pushing back starting families of our own, and as a result, this whole idea of self-fulfillment in a career or lifestyle chose has taken the forefront. We have a unique opportunity, even in a time of war, to explore the world and try to find ourselves and our happiness in the process. Yet why is it that at such a unique time where all of this information is at our fingertips, that social and political apathy is commonplace? Are we too self-involved? Does anything else but self-fulfillment matter? I think we could be TOO connected, if such a thing is possible. Perhaps our lack of involvement is some sort of a rebellion against the things that keep us connected. Or are we just so bombarded with messages that we simply can't find the time to formulate our own opinions? Or, if we are forming our own opinions and expressing them, do we now have too many media outlets that our personal thoughts and opinions become convoluted or lost in the pile that is the internet? Just some things to consider. Whatever the case may be, we are a generation reliant on technology. Again, sometimes to our own detriment.

As far as career choices go, I think that the global economy has allowed our generation moreso than any other in history, to find our true calling in life, make it a profession and make it lucrative enough to support ourselves and any family that we may start in the future.

Of course these ideas are just my own and I encourage anybody with any information or insight on these matters to post their opinions, thoughts, concerns, statistics, etc. I am becoming more and more intrigued by the social/political/historical implications surrounding this idea of pursuing a passion as a career, how the current conditions around us allow it to exist amd whether or not it is a feasible reality for Generation Y'ers, Generation X'ers or whatever you want to call us.

Thank you.

A 12-Hour Drive.

2007-08-19T12:42:00.001-07:00

By any standard, 12-hours is a heap of drive. It is also a theoretical limit; no drive, of supposedly 12-hours, is actually 12-hours; "I'll be ready in a minute, depending on the woman, could be as many as three hours. We left at 9 AM and arrived in Boulder at 2 AM, just in time for Jay to take his spasming back to the ED (somebody tell Max 'Dr. Sweet Tooth' Pollock I did not say ER). Class Project is now called Geriatrics, whose forthcoming album, Shingles & Back Pain, will be available at Wal-Mart nationwide in October.

I spelled Nate's last name wrong in a previous post. I don't actually know how to spell it, but I know I did it wrong. We went out Friday as a group of nine, to Studio 54 in the MGM. Best $9 vodka drinks in the desert, and plenty of those classy half-strippers only Vegas provides. The crew of nine included: PTP, Seth 'Tayshaun-but-don't-call-me-Nat' Turner, Nate TeplitzK¥, Max Wolitzky, Sarah and Meredith (friends of Zach who had the fortune of sharing in the '12-hour ride' back home to Boulder).

If nothing else I love the brevity of Vegas excursions. It's like a vacation on steroids. Pack in as much hedonistic ritual as possible and then get the hell out of Dodge, before the hangover sets in. We are now on the way to Sioux Falls, which is supposedly in South Dakota. There are either falls, or a memorial of a serious Indian defeat in Sioux Falls. On an odd note, Does Sioux Falls avoid the inherent eroticism of the 'x' by falling back on a Franco-something pronunciation? Either way, I'm excited to see Mount Rushmore, especially since they added W, Karl Rove and John Ashcroft to the mountain. That W. is so dreamy.

xoxo

A Picture

2007-08-17T20:52:00.001-07:00

DSCN2174.JPG
Originally uploaded by knomad.things

These will be daily, probably, as well...

Vegas Baby.

2007-08-17T20:51:00.001-07:00

I have only been to Las Vegas once since turning 21. I don't really see the draw. At least that's what I told myself, defeated, as I left the Pinball slot machine $40 lighter. 24 hours in this city seems plenty, especially after having spent the last 40 minutes choosing an outfit to wear to a club, named an adjective, offering $12 Amstels all night.

Jay and I interviewed Spamalot's production stage manager Tom Bartlett, a friend of Phil's. I was amazed by his ability to articulate his job and motivations. He spoke thoughtfully and sincerely, and I appreciated it wholeheartedly. Plus, we chilled in the Wynn for 6 hours, air-conditioning and all.

We leave tomorrow to revisit Boulder, after, what I imagine will be, a hot drive. Off to Pure and all that may entail.

Flickr

2007-08-16T14:27:00.001-07:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Thusly It Begins, Again.

2007-08-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

We leave for Vegas in an hour. It should be 130 degrees on the road, which is lovely this time of year. We will be joined on our journey through Kingman, AZ by one Nate Teplitzky and one Seth Turner. Seth receives the honorary title of Passionista because he is fresh off the plane from Costa Rica, now hopping on the short bus to Nowhere.

We will be staying with Max Wolitzky, who has graciously offered six boys use of his shower. It's gonna be mean.

I promised Auntie Barbara I would write everyday, and I intend to fulfill that promise from here on out. In that vein, I will be focusing less on content and offering whatever spills forth from wherever it spills. We'll see how it goes. We wil be in Vegas by midnight and hopefully there will be a funny story soon.

xoxo

Birth Control.

2007-07-31T16:50:00.000-07:00

Things have been happening. Jay wrote a really funny post about Spokane and the journey there. It was a trip, to say the least. Anyway, Jay's post is really funny and I will not even try to do better; so read Jay's.

Yellowstone. We camped at a KOA campground Monday night, which my mother afterwards told me is the STD capital of the world; this is funny only in that I thought the U of A was. Either way, I don't think any of us celibates really have anything to worry about. Speaking of celibacy…

I have been reading a lot about the renewed fight between comprehensive and abstinence-only sex-education programs; I have a better idea. Follow around, on a family vacation to Disneyland, any family of two or more kids + Mom + Dad. Allow me to explain.

The father, and perhaps, increasingly in modernity, the mother as well, has/have worked for 11 months and 2 weeks, statistically at jobs they loathe, just to take the lil' tykes on the vacation of their dreams. This 11 months and 2 weeks of miserable work would be summarized in the first 5 minutes of the sex-ed video.

From the moment the family gets in the car to drive from Nowhere, USA, to Somewhere, CA, the whole thing just flies off the handle. Lil' tyke 1 is punching #2, dad is angry at #2 for crying, mom at #1 for hitting, and mom at dad for a whole slew of other reasons, many from when they were still dating some years ago.

Scene three, arrival at Disneyland, is just a montage of credit card swipes, possibly even sponsored by VISA, "it's everywhere you could possibly imagine spending money, including the churro stand." After $75 worth of food made exclusively from sugar, the tykes get mad at dad because he won't by them personalized Mickey ears. They go crying to mom, talking about how much they hate dad, and mom more or less agrees with them. The three go off and leave dad bewildered by the churro stand.

At this point, a giggling Donald Duck approaches and says, "Hey Dad! Are you enjoying your vacation?" I would never have kids, and probably never have sex had I seen that in middle school.

Funny Things About Yellowstone:

1. Facial Hair – Are we familiar with the handlebar mustache? This KOA could have written the textbook on freaky facial hair. I saw a man with a beard on top of a beard. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.

2. Wi-Fi and Cell Towers – I love the great outdoors, especially when sitting on top of the RV, cool bear in hand, watching YouTube videos. Luckily, none of the slice of America we heard yapping on their cell phones had nauseating accents. That would have been too much…

3. The Recreational Vehicle. The RV is interesting for two reasons.

a: Phonetics: There is a tendency to write an RV, not a RV. An Artist. An RV. Say it out loud for a while.

b. Some RVs cost as much as $200,000. $200,000 = 10 17-inch MacBook Pros ($30,000), 2 cases Johnny Walker Blue Label ($10,000), 2 Round-Trip tickets to Argentina ($8,000), 6 Months living expenses in Argentina ($12,000), Personal Paella Catered by Gerard Nevesky ($10,000), a large house in Dubois, Wyoming ($30,000), Mayorship of Dubois ($10,000), a dead black-market Panda bear ($80,000), one terrible roulette wager on Black ($10,000).

For $200,000, the RV had better wake me up with a kiss and breakfast every morning.

4. Hanging out on my computer in the KOA, I met Noah, 18 from Atlanta. Cool kid. Starting school in Macon, GA this semester. We then met two girls, age 14, who asked to us my computer to check their Myspace pages. I agreed, thus beginning the confirmation of every fear I hold for the present generation. I used the word 'impressive,' and they told me I was "real smart." I had to keep reminding myself I was nine years older, but really, the gears just weren't clicking. As they read aloud the incredible amount of disturbing messages they receive from Myspace men, I tried to retain faith in humanity. It was hard. But Noah was cool, as Noahs tend to be.

5. The Ho-Hum motel, located in West Yellowstone, MT, is not a nice place to stay, but the name is right.

6. I have a bit of an emergence. Every time I close my cell phone, it turns off. I'm not asking for an iPhone, rather whatever exceptional phone you had before buying the iPhone. Anybody?

xoxo

Working for the Weekend.

2007-07-31T16:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lateness of this, but it's been a strange trip. After a long week of playing catch-up on my video editing duties, I was ready to let loose. And that is pretty much what happened.

Friday

The day started early with the four of us waking up at 6:30 AM. We were showered and out the door by 7:30 and parked outside of the KOMO TV station in Downtown Seattle by 9:00. The station was directly across the street from the Seattle Space Needle. Our location was no coincidence however. We were waiting for the producer of a show called N.W.A., an acronym which any rap fan would find amusing, especially when the target audience is women ages 35 - 163. The camera man for N.W.A. (Northwest afternoon) knocked on our R.V. door around 10:30 and the four of us found ourselves onset and being interviewed by hosts Natasha and Kent around 11:00 AM. The interview was almost as much fun as it was terrifying, but it was harmless and seemingly over before it began. We spent the rest of the mid-day outside of the TV studio looking for people on the street to ask them questions about their jobs. It was a nice, healthy switch from the typical scripted question and answer format that we have become accustomed to. I'm hoping that street interviews like these will become an increasingly large part of our project. We met a lot of people and ate lunch at a Greek restaurant called "The Grecian Corner". After lunch we decided to head down to Pike's Fish Market. Zach and I had been looking forward to catching some fish for about a week. On our way, we decided to stop off for a drink at Pike's Brewery, a local micro-brewery paces away from our goal. Gotta have a drink first right? We interviewed the owner who was nice enough to take us on a tour of the facility. No free beer though. Worth a shot. From there Zach and I continued our mission bringing with us a new dreamer, Noah. As has become the case, the Captain gave his 15 second pitch, and Noah, Zach and I found ourselves behind the counter practicing our fish catching. The key is to hold your hands out in front of you and go with the momentum of the fish, placing one hand behind the fish's dead head and one underneath the end of the body close to the tail. The same principles you would follow if you were trying to catch a sleeping baby, except for the fact that baby's usually aren't slimy in consistency and don't have tails. Never mind. Catch a fish and get back to me. Once our goal was "overdelivered"*(I'll explain later), I found myself having a weird deja vu-like feeling. Something told me that I was going to run into some one that I knew, even though I had never been to Seattle and knew of no one that was living there at the time. Normally I'd keep these thoughts to myself, but given that everyday of this trip has brought about an even more unusual experience that the last, i decided to say something about it. "I feel like I'm gonna run into somebody I know out here. I just have a feeling." The guys probably thought I was losing it. A few street musicians and a magician's act later I found myself following my colleagues down a narrow walkway cluttered with merchants, vendors and washed-up musicians. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an extremely large hand pointing in my direction. I turned and saw that the monstrous hand was connected to the equally impressive arm of Zach Verdin, a kid that I grew up with playing little league baseball with. I've known Zach since we were 6 and 7 years old. It was crazy. Not only that I had called our meeting, but that it was with him of all people. It was nuts. Nothing like that has ever happened to me. Probably never will again. Zach invited us up for a couple of drinks in exchange for a copy of The Rough Draft LP. We spent the rest of our Friday night drinking and playing video games at Zach's place in Renton, Washington.

Saturday

The departure of Captain Sprinkle Pants' Fun Boat to Hell was delayed by breakfast. We left awake and full and off to see what Spokane had to say for itself. We arrived at David's Pizza where Mark the owner beer-ed us, fed us and talked about why he loved, the pizza. We pretended to listen as we tended to our food. Once full Mark took us to Fast Eddie's, a Tucson-esque bar and grill. A few drinks later we found ourselves outside of "The Boulevard" in downtown Spokane. What began as a ploy to avoid a $5 cover charge, ended in a 15 minute, 4 song Class Project performance. Another sprinkly 15 second pitch success story. The crowd was less than receptive. The performers were less than sober. It was all that it needed to be. Saturday ended in the David's Pizza parking lot next to a fire truck turned pizza oven. Weeeeird.

Sunday

A hungover Captain woke up at 6:30 AM and drove to Missoula, Montana where we ate lunch and bought out the Army-Navy store. Some people bought oars, while other more sane people bought bandanas, hats or camera bags. I spent the rest of the day avoiding my work and catching up on my sleep. Noah and I are now sitting in Arvydis in a KOA (Kampground of America) just outside of the West entrance to Yellowstone National Park. Long sentence. Long weekend. * Overdeliver - verb: meaning: to shamelessly scramble after lying, truth stretching or "overpromising". Also see: bullshit.

Travel to Seattle for a Battle and Back.

2007-07-28T12:28:00.000-07:00

Really, there was no rapping in Seattle. Just a lot of press and some beer, and some more press and beer, and then some dinner with some press and some beer. It was pretty fun although the roller coaster under the space needle, after said beer, was not the best decision.

After our appearance on the afternoon show, we did impromptu interviews near the spacey needle, and then went down to the market for some more random interviews. This is where we started at the brewery, really just looking for a drink, which is an amazing instigator to go ask for interviews. This led us to the owner and his wife who gave us a twenty-minute tour. It was sweet and overly scientific, but the guy was on point.

After the beer tour we went upstairs imbued with a fresh sense of double ale confidence; with said confidence, we caught and threw the fish. I am proud to say not one of my fellow passionistas no myself dropped the slimy little beasts. I must say it was alarmingly easy to get behind the counter and start hucking fish. But we done did it, and did it well we did. Post-fish toss, we were watching street musicians and Jay felt as though he would see someone he knows…

In an alley some ten minutes later Jay saw someone he knows. Zach, a buddy from, well, life/home/youth, moved to Seattle from Minnesota, where he has been playing football for the last few years, about four months ago. He is a bartender and we waited until he got off work to hang out.

Whilst waiting the assistant producer of a morning talk show in Seattle took us out for beer and pizza. It was fun. Really nothing all that exciting. I interviewed everybody at the table, as the asst. producer had no idea what to ask us, considering she works for FOX and realized our chances of being conservative enough for the radio probably flew out the window ten minutes after meeting us. Thank god for demographics!

We leave now for Spokane, where I here there is not much. I will let you know if that is true.

Not So Shoeless in Seattle.

2007-07-26T23:06:00.000-07:00

So we made it to Seattle and the place is lovely. Cold as all hell, but I'm told that's a passing thing. Supposedly the fog is to burn off sometime around noon, and after that we expect a real scorcher of a day at 76. Remember, it's the humidity that gets ya. We interviewed a guy who refers to himself as the Passion Catalyst, which makes him only slightly crazier than Brett. It's nice to know that that person exists.

I forgot to mention we made it to the NIKE employee store. I walked out with three pairs of shoes (AF1/Dunk/Women's Converse w/ roses ((don't ask))) and some Oregon shorts for $133. It was sweet. The place sells everything NIKE makes for half-price and no sales tax. It's like the Factory store but full of good stuff. We interviewed the director of design for the Jordan brand and the dude was incredible. At 18 his guidance counselor suggested that as a black man from Inglewood he would do well in the Army. Needless to say that is advice he did not follow. Even the deepest cynic finds inspiration in a story like this.

I mentioned in the last post that we went to the bar-first-Chinese-restaurant-second Shanghai Tunnel with Jay's cousin Tony in Portland. The name of the restaurant comes from the very true story of the secret underground tunnels in Portland. These tunnels, some years ago, were traps for drunks to fall into, where there were subsequently anesthetized and shipped to China to be sold into slavery. Shanghaied as it were. Needless to say when this happened to Jack Bauer on 24, I hardly knew the history of such Sino-treachery, but now am impressed by the ingenuity of the plan.

We have an appearance on the Northwest Afternoon show tomorrow, taping at 10:00 am and airing at 3:00 pm on the local ABC affiliate KOMO. It is a six minute spot during which we will be discussing some of our favorite interviews during the trip. I am charged with discussing the 26 year old, very attractive epidemiologist studying HIV in marginalized populations in San Diego. This is all fine and dandy save that we have no video/audio/written notes of the interview. Actually, I was mostly wondering why the former model became a Johns Hopkins educated epidemiologist during our lunch at a trendy sushi restaurant in SD.

Needless to say, I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. Until then.

xoxo

Some Things.

2007-07-25T15:59:00.001-07:00

Hi. It has been a few days. We haven't really been busy, more on a vacation within a vacation. I have a lot to talk about so a list seems about right. If anybody has a problem with this, get over it. Or stop reading.

0. Not number one because it is a reference back to a previous post. Leah Drake thought my tattoo rant was pretty preachy. She's right. So in a newly developed Socratic way: Carpe diem quam minimum postero. If "seize the day" is positive, why would its elaboration/explanation/justification not also be positive? Am I crazy? Is it just too many words in a funny language?

1. Leavin' Beezy Land. Sunday we drove from Santa Rosa, CA to Portland, OR. It took about 16 hours. Zach drove most of the way but stopped after going completely insane. Brett came in with two outs in the top of the eighth and closed it out nicely. It was sad to leave Daniel Weber and Brett's family behind; they were really good to us, and we owe them all at least one super-blacked-out night somewhere in the world.

2. Redwood National Forest. Never have I had something so close to a spiritual experience. Certain awe is reserved for only the most amazing natural instances and this was one of those. When you stand among the Redwoods you feel as though you have to whisper. I have hundreds of surreal pictures. It was a great bonging moment for the PTP crew; kind of a check your ego at the door sort of thing.

3. Portland. Cool city. We a crashing with Jay's cousin Tony who is a stop-motion animator. Pretty much an avant-garde badass. He took us to Shanghai Tunnel, a cool bar then Asian restaurant (in that order), then Class Project did our first open-mic night at a some little bar. It was really fun. Just a few people and not a lot of bass. Like rap my mother could love.

4. Serann Newman. I don't remember much except for the name "Ran Ran." What I do remember, in a small tribute to her passing, is that she was a grandparent's friend and not a crotchety old lady. Rather I remember her as quite cool, which in this judgmental mind is no small feat. She is a good reminder to everyone that older does not always mean meaner. I appreciate that, almost as much as the fact that I have never written her first name, and may have spelled it wrong. Oh well. Cheers to Ran Ran.

xoxo

Tomorrow?

2007-07-22T13:11:00.001-07:00

Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. Sieze the day cause you got no idea what's coming tomorrow. Seems simple enough. I have been catching a little bit of flack for the possible cynicism behind my latest body decoration. I'm a little pissed.

I find there to be something tragic in the willful ignorance of the possibility of demise. If you just pretend that nothing bad will ever happen, you'll be fine. Right? No. And I find that kind of blindness repulsive. Ignoring a problem has never made it go away, from AIDS to apathy, ignorance literally kills people.

To recognize the cruel possibilities of the world is not to embrace them, but rather contextualize their existence next to all the fluffy things. I neither hope, nor wish for anything, for to either hope or wish is to leave success to chance/fate/etc. I take responsibility for the life before and after me, and for that, I place little faith in tomorrow and ensure that today is the greatest day of my life.

What I make of my day and what you make of your day is entirely my and your responsibility. Repeat the last sentence replacing day with life, afterlife, success, or cellar door. I profoundly pity those who live life passively, just as I pity those who are told they cannot do something and actually believe it.

As our bus hurtles through the Redwoods, I find myself stuck on some Polish tourists, dead at the bottom of a French mountain. The story broke my heart this morning. I think my mother would use that as more logic to never leave 85716. I see it as all the more reason to make today worth dying for.

Disregard, if only for a moment, the bubble in which many of us reside. Recognize that today, just like any other day, could be the last day of a fragile existence. Make sure today can bear the responsibility.

xoxo

Just a Pretty Picture.

2007-07-22T03:35:00.000-07:00

Clinton Who?

2007-07-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

It is Friday and we are currently en route to meet Peter Gross, a wildlife dude who has been featured on a whole slew of morning television programs I would never watch. Word on the street is, he has a considerable amount of wild turkeys roaming about his large Napa property. It is also quite possible that he has a lot of Wild Turkey and just invited us to come get wasted. Only time will tell.

Yesterday, Uncle Brett and I had a special day to ourselves while Zach and Jay caught up on some work at Brett's Mom's house. We met Armen Aussielo, owner of a local haunt in Santa Rosa, and also a real cool sports dude. His bar only serves beer and wine. I don't know why that is a vital piece of information, but I'm a vodka guy myself.

After Armen, we met Bill Gallagher, silent G, who is purported to be the largest developer in Sonoma County. We spoke outside his office as he was walking his employees' dogs. The man, who by my estimation is slightly more successful than Jesus, is real relaxed and genuinely humorous. Not rollicking, sidesplitting funny, but humorous nonetheless. We left his office feeling pretty good, about to have some homemade paella by a guy named Gerard.

Gerard Nevesky, paella cook for the stars. Dude has been making paella for five years and has somehow parlayed it into a globetrotting, near famous business that he runs out of Occidental, California. Occidental has one stop sign, at which we turned left, and soon found ourselves chatting with a guy cooking paella out of the back of his Land Cruiser. He started at 3:30, and had to jet to a gig at 5:00, but did not in fact leave until 5:30ish. We drank his homemade wine and ate his paella. It was delicious. Then he left for the Bohemian Grove party, where he was cooking for Bill Clinton, Bush I, and Henry Kissinger, none of whom he seemed all too impressed by.

Wednesday, to jump back, was pretty boring. We rose at 5Am to go stand around San Francisco all day. To say it was a waste of time would be a huge understatement, although if you must waste time in a city, SF is not a bad place to do it. Seeing all those Bonds lovers makes me want to wretch, but as Armen the bar owner told us, "I don't wanna take the guy out on a date, I want him playing for my baseball team." Good enough.

xoxo

Catching-Up with the Webers

2007-07-19T14:12:00.001-07:00

It was brought to my attention yesterday that we have interviewed 35 people as of last night. While this is a reason to celebrate as PTP builds towards its goal of 200 interviews for the summer, it creates a bit of problem for myself individually. As some of you may know, I am editing the majority of the interviews captured on video so that they can be placed on Jobing.com. As of today, I have completed 11 of these videos and admitted to Brett's mother, Kelly, that I will pretty much be playing catch-up for the majority of this 3 month journey. Sweet, right? So, if I don't post on this blog of ours for a long while, you'll all know exactly what I'm up to.

As a result, the booking of Class Project concerts has once again taken a back seat to my PTP obligations. It happens. On the bright side, we recently acquired Final Cut Pro which will take the place of the user friendly, yet efficiency-recenting iMovie. This will cut my editing time down significantly, but not so incredibly that I'll be able to finsih the ever-growing to-do list. Which I haven't had time to make.

Al is not lost. Last night Noah and I caught up with our best friend Dan (aka D-Web) and his parents for dinner at their lovely home in Santa Rosa, CA. I hadn't seen the Weber clan since graduation. Dan's girlfriend, and our long-time source for home-cooked meals in college, Kristy, made a short, but jubilant appearance. She's always in such a good mood. It used to raise my suspicions, but I've learned to love it. Dan's parents, Tom and Susan, were incredibly happy to see us and prepared us a wonderful feast of tri-tip, the best potatoes I've ever had, salad, and some of that famous Sonoma County wine. We ate outside on the wooden deck in their backyard and updated them on our travels, what we have learned so far, the ridiculous experiences we've had and our hopes for where we want to take PTP and Class Project both. It was perfect. After dinner, I explained to Susan that I had been feeling a little down in the past couple of days due to the overwelming amount of love and support that I had received at the Class Project Benefit Party, which my parents had thrown for us the previous Saturday. Of course it was uplifiting at the time, but I had found my heart sinking in the days following. I told her that dinner with the Webers had really helped bring me back to feeling normal again. She smiled her warm little smile and hugged me. We finished the evening by watching a live performance of Carlos Santana and Eric Clapton on Tom's entertainment center, which he obviously takes a lot of pride in. I would to. It looked and sounded amazing! I could see where Dan's love of sound and electronics came from. We thanked the Webers for their warmth and hospitality and D dropped us off back at Brett's house, where we watched a Tivo'd episode of House M.D. and passed out.

Fan the Flame.

2007-07-16T15:37:00.001-07:00

So there's this fan in the front passenger corner of the RV. This fan, in the front passenger corner of the RV, has not worked since we came into possession of the RV, but we assume, at the time of its birth, the RV and this fan enjoyed each other's dual functionality. Alas, some years and many miles later, the fan sat dormant, reacting not to sweaty, frustrated flips of its supposed operating switch by its new, hopeful operators.

This dormant fan, in the front passenger corner of the RV, recently, and much to our surprise, surged into usefulness once again, but not in the inherently limited role

it was destined to play from creation. No, this little go getter of a fan refused its boring fate, and hopefully, albeit somewhat mysteriously, dislodged itself from the oppressive bonds of ball-and-socket mounting system, and has now to overcome only the dangling purgatory in which it swings due to its resilient green, silver and black wires,

Theses wires, furthermore, reflect the boundless complexity of this fan, in that even during it's unending protest against its utilitarian duty, a baffling number of wires is still required to supply it with the power it so boldly chooses not to use, as it spends its days turning about these wires, finally able to survey the land that has for so many years passed at speed limits behind its forcibly turned back.

What lies ahead for this fan? Only with time shall we see...

La La Land.

2007-07-15T11:57:00.000-07:00

What follows is a list. It carries with it all of the advantages and shortcomings of every list that has come before and will come after. The order is now called "amorphously chronological," which essentially means absolutely nothing. A week feels like a year in LA traffic. Hopefully this will feel like 716 words.

1. New tattoo. Whilst interviewing Kevin Hinton, a tattoo artist in Venice with his own shop, I decided he may like to give a free tat. So we put the mic on him and he tattooed Quam minimum credula postero on the inside of my right bicep. It is the line that finishes Carpe diem, which I did consider including in the tattoo, but felt a passé suicide could have only appropriately followed. A certain mother in my life may say she was promised no more tattoos until after she died; I was not willing, however, to wait for what will certainly be a long, illustrious life for my mother. Translation? Google it. Or ask Jim Carlson. It's a highly interpretive language.

2. Class Project's Field Trip 07 Mixtape. We recorded two songs in LA Jay's various artist friends, including Dione the R & B singer who will more than likely be the next official member of the band. The kid sings beautifully and is a creative inspiration. Our recording sessions were amazing and the final product equally impressive. It also did not hurt to be recording in a five story beach house in Malibu, on the PCH. Songs will be on Myspace.com soon.

3. Malibu Inn. Great show on the 11th at the Malibu Inn. Nice spot overlooking the ocean right off the PCH. We went on first, a blessing in the unknown music world, and absolutely stole the show. It was fun. People went crazy. We sold a bunch of CDs, got some numbers (of artists), and were asked to do more shows in the area which is about the highest complement an opening act can receive. Dione, the aforementioned R & B singer, came out and sang the song Use Me Up with Jay and I. The house fell down. Who knew Bill Withers could reach such a young and diverse audience.

4. Dr. King's daughter's life coach. Brett and I traveled to Watts to interview Wanda Marie, the life coach of the late Yolanda King, daughter of the one and only MLK Jr.

I usually save reverence for children and the elderly but she was profoundly spiritual in a grab-bag-east-meeting-west kind of way. It was beautiful to hear her speak. She was pregnant at 16, mom drank, step dad raped her, and here she is, running Higher Ground Productions, which essentially decides the best way to use the King legacy all over the world.

A side note from the South American Apologist: When you think Watts, Crenshaw and Slausen, think nicer-than-most-of-Tucson. Not the hood, which we did visit some 40 blocks south while lost. Even LA people heard we were in Watts and acted amazed we got out alive. Not only did we get out alive, but Philip's BBQ on Crenshaw and Adams supplied me with the finest pulled pork sandwich I've ever had.

5. Class Party. Carol and Scott Whiting help a Class Project/Pursue the Passion fundraiser for us last night. Really just a huge BBQ with family and friends, and somehow there was money involved. We sold nine CDs and received generous donations from various friends and family members. Jay's nana, who competes with Bibi for cutest not-so-old-but-little-lady ever, promised we would be her prayers and gave us all personalized gifts (I got a business card holder, it will be stuffed with newpaper until I can buy some REALLY expensive business cards, none of that print off the internet business. I don't even want a title on my card, just something nearing cryptic). The night was closed by a sunset performance of two of our songs over a bucket and a saxophone, played by two of Jay;s childhood friends, in front of the 30 or so guests. It was beautiful.

Hope all is lovely in the 520. It is currently 74 degrees on the PCH on the way to San Francisco. I open to suggestions as to how to spend the next week.

Until soon.

California Dreamin".

2007-07-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

I cannot reiterate enough the importance of a temperate climate. Everybody is considerably less irritable/tired/unhappy/smelly in California. It has been "oppressively hot" in LA over the last few days often tipping the thermometer at nearly 90 degrees. I saw a small man burst into flames in Ventura. Luckily what feels like an ocean breeze distinguishes Cali from the sweaty jungles of Vietnam.

We are heading south on the 405 to interview a vice president of something involving building and whatnot. Not quite my cup of tea, but hey, maybe there will be A/C so we don't die of exposure to the harsh elements. We interviewed an epidemiologist over sushi in Long Beach. She studies the diseases contracted by overly passionate people, if you consider prostitutes and sex addicts passionate people.

Brett has somehow acquired press passes for the Long Beach Summer Pro League which is populated by the NBA equivilent of St. Gregory basketball players. If that comparison doesn't work for you, think about four basketball fans combing the entire roster, finding only three recognizable names, then realizing they are only recognizable for either tragedy, disaster or treachery (see: Ndudu Ebi[sic]).

First Class Project show of the tour went well. Special guests included the Browns (Tamera, Ed and Noah), my PA from KAMP radio (Kendall), and Seth's friend Vince, who wins the prize because he drove from Santa Barbara ten minutes after finding out about the show. As the winner he will receive a collection of cups from the delicious Subway chain of sandwich shoppes, which we will collect around this fine land of ours.

We were on FOX 13 news last night at 11:30. We were supposed to be on FOX's 10:00 news, but got bumped because of a four foot alligator in a swimming pool. There is not really a lot to say about that. Bumped for the gator. When we finally aired, the piece took odd notice of Jay and I and including a 10 second snippet of me rapping into the camera. If it hadn't of been on FOX I possibly could have felt some semblance of pride. As it stands, I think I might get a Christmas card from Bill O'Reilly and for that, I feel sick to my stomach.

In case anyone without my DNA/email address reads this, send us some email. We are receiving a lot of email and it is not coming from the places I want it to. Criticize, compliment, complain, curse, whatever. Each of us have email accounts NAME@pursuethepassion.com. (Noah, James, Brett, Zach). If there is anything you would like to know, ask. We have lots of time to do such things. Anyone hot in Tucson? Buenos Aires had there first snow storm in 80 years yesterday, so head on down and enjoy some climate change.

xoxo

See Below.

2007-07-07T13:01:00.000-07:00

The following is a list of possible titles for this BLOG entry:

Passion Aggressive

The Heat of Passion

Passion Flailing

Captain Sprinklepant's Funboat to Hell

RV There Yet?

119 Degrees and Climbing

We Got Ants

We're Lost

10 Reasons to Love Google Maps

Please Sir, May I Have Another

I have hesitated to write a BLOG as the first few days of the trip were somewhere between miserable and disastrous. I have, however, pegged my personal definition of the word passion: Passion (n):Fickle emotional mistress lying somewhere between lust and rage; i.e. Hercules killed his entire family in a fit of passion. How do you define passion?

Phoenix is not the worst city in the world, as to be the worst city in the world it would have to be in Texas, but it's pretty close. We interviewed the owner of a company called Fairytale Brownies. Seriously, that was the highlight of 72 hours in Phoenix. The brownies were delicious.

We thought we had left the heat in Phoenix but it caught up with us just before San Diego. Jay's car, which we are returning to Thousand Oaks/his mother, said it was 119 degrees whilst overheating. Close your eyes for a moment and imaging 119 outside and the heat blasting inside. Hell on wheels.

Mission Beach 4th of July was tame. Poverty is an incredible motivator for clean and sober living. We met some college buddies for dinner, watched some fireworks, and went to sleep in the back of the RV. We awoke with ants. Everywhere. One Sea World trip and a few cans of Raid later, the ants appear to have ceded the back of the RV, but are mounting a counter-attack/insurgency in the pantry zone. I will update this a dispatches from the front line reach me at HQ.

The group dynamic is interesting. Lots of passive aggressive behavior and use of the "royal we," a favorite of a certain (grand)maternal Arizona Inn alumni. I spend a lot of time with headphones on. Zach and Brett have been great about driving. We almost got hit by a train, but otherwise, we've been golden. The lock on the RV door ceased to function thirty minutes into the trip, which we saw as an issue, but was outdone by the door refusing to open outside of an interview. Imagine four boys piling out of a RV through the window ten feet up the side. With all of my mechanical expertise both problems were resolved, plus I created the evidence for some future insurance fraud. So we got that going for us, which is nice.

Zach, Jay and I saw the Padres get shellacked by the Braves last night. Jay's father's good friend Rick took us out before, during, and after the game. It was a long night. We stayed at dan's uncle's beach house/mansion in La Jolla. Note the double possessives in the last few sentences. Sleeping in a bed was amazing, and furthermore the lack of ant really iced the cake.

Jay and I are currently driving on the 5N to LA on the way to Ventura for a show tonight. 77 degrees and overcast on the way to a high of 83. Besides the nauseous attitude of the southern Californian, this place is like heaven. All due respect to the Rosenberg family, but you really picked a hot place for all of us to live. Besides the heat, I miss Tucson and all of its people I love.

xoxo.

Album Art.

2007-07-01T21:02:00.000-07:00

COVER:

INSIDE (p. 2/3). Click on the picture and it will become larger/better resolution.

BACK of BOOK (p. 4)

BACK/TRAY

5 Things About Which I am Excited

2007-06-29T11:56:00.000-07:00

1. Cold. I heard today, from a man well traveled across these our lands, that there still exists a place where the high is 75 in May. I laughed in his face and told him no international squad will ever take down the Dream Team. Not in a million years. We got A.I. meng.

2. Passion. One are in which I have lacked severely for the past few weeks. I am excited to be near Brett, Jay and Zach, and I say that without a trace of sarcasm (any you might have interpreted comes from your own prejudicial nature). These three, even more so Brett, have taken a fledgling idea and made it a reality. That is the kind of inspiration I need to be around. I am looking to Mr. Farmiloe to bring out the best in me, and maximize my potential in a way that will support the trip as a whole.

3. THE Rough Draft LP. I spent the first 12 years of my life tap-dancing and playing tennis, hardly the hardened Curriculum Vitae of a rapper. Well get over it. We got a CD, and it's coming soon. Oh, you're from the streets? You're a rapper? Cool. Do you have a CD? No? Huh.

4. Atlas. I bought a huge Rand McNally Road Atlas with a graduation gift from my aunt and uncle. It's sweet on its own, but will be sweetified when I add whatever I will. Writing, pictures, map outlines, notes. It should be some kind of extravaganza. I'm not sure what the point is. When I figure it out I'll let you know.

5. ?. I'm excited about a million things, but really this is the true inspiration. ?. Who knows. What is so amazing about this trip is that there is literally infinite possibility and zero guarantees. I am excited to find out what this trip brings. I am excited to be surprised. Basically I'm excited, and you should be too.

Street Cred Feels Good

2007-06-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

So much has happened in the world of Class ProJect in the past week. Like to hear it? Here it go!

First, we submitted our freshman album effort entitled, "The Rough Draft LP" to be mastered on Monday. A finalized version of the music that we have been working on for the past calendar year will be arriving in my mailbox this Saturday. Anybody in the Tucson area who would like to Join us for an album listening party this Saturday night, give me a call. As if that weren't exciting enough, I received a phone call from Ryan Clement, the mastering professional at Mix Makers (our mastering company) today. I was thinking that he was calling me back to confirm the payment that I had over-nighted him earlier this week. I soon found, however, that this was not the case. He had called to inquire as to who had done the mixing of "The Rough Draft LP". This made me understandably nervous as I thought that maybe he had found some maJor flaw in our mixing practices. I reluctantly told him that the mixing was done by myself and my older brother Scott (aka Scotty Green), again expecting him to point out inconsistencies in the album we'd spent countless hours "perfecting" to our taste. He paused. I cringed. "People usually don't send me something mixed so cleanly. They usually try to do some sort of rough mastering before they send it to me. But you guys definitely knew what you were doing with this." I smiled. Trying to disguise my happiness, I informed him that we know nothing of mastering, and that that is why we had sent our proJect off to him. He laughed and reassured me that our mixes were a model of what any mastering company would want from their clients. My smile became grinch-like. I thanked him for his call and told him that he could call me to compliment me anytime. He laughed and hung up. I did the same.

I knew that we had put forth our best effort with mixing our tracks, but these professional kudos gave me a sense of accomplishment beyond words. Actually.....two words might be able to describe it..........street (and) cred. It is one thing for another MC to approach me and tell me that he likes my flow, beats, rhymes, or any other element of our stage show, music, etc. After all, (whether I admit it or not), I am a rapper. It is another thing for a fan to approach me asking how they can get a copy of our album. I do have an album coming out. It is another thing still to be approached by a booking agent with an invitation for Class ProJect to perform at such and such venue on such and such date. I do do shows every chance I get. But all of these experiences can't compare to the feeling that I got after hearing Ryan's kind words on our mixing efforts. The main difference is that people who mix well, usually have a piece of paper that says that they should know how to do so. I do not. This was the first time that I had received any sort of "validation" for my efforts as an audio engineer. It felt good.

Second, Knomad and MC Lee finished the artwork for the album yesterday and sent it to our mass duplication company today. Here's what it looks like:

Here's the what the actual CD will look like. I'll show the rest as soon as I find out how to convert .tiff files to .gif files. Noah'll probably do a whole blog post on them (*hint, *hint, Noah).

Third, we booked our second show for the week that we will be in the Los Angeles area. Now, in addition to our show at the Majestic Ventura Theatre on 7/7/07, we will be opening up for Midnite Theory at the Malibu Inn Bar on July 11th. We'll be going on stage around 10ish. hit me up for tickets to either.

Lastly, Class Project's long-awaited trip on the 2007 Pursue the Passion Tour is only four days away. While it officially begins on July 2nd, we do not actually take off out of Phoenix until the 4th of July. This will be the beginning of a 3 month, 14,000 mile journey to document career stories and rock crowds all around the country. Truly a once in a lifetime opportunity that we will never forget.

What may seem like a lot to occur in a small amount of time is actually just our collaborative efforts coming to fruition all at once. I never thought that anything like these things were possible. Looking back on all of the hard work that went into all of it, I now see that we MADE these things happen. I believe that possibilities are only as limited as one allows them to be. All truisms aside, what is truly rewarding about my current situation is that I never really listened to anyone, myself included, that shot down the work that went into accomplishing these feats. I sincerely believe in everything that I am doing with myself right now. that might be the first time that I truly feel that way. And just like hearing Ryan's kind words earlier today, it feels good.

Rap Academic

2007-06-25T02:15:00.000-07:00

Does rap music have a place in the classroom? It's a valid question. The knee jerks toward no. Racist, misogynistic, violent and counter-cultural texts are rarely examined without vital context from a professor, and I dare not speculate as to the context in which MIMS(MUMS?) will someday be posthumously put.

I got to thinking about the legacy of my craft after reading an article in National Geographic, which is not exactly my default source of inspiration in hip-hop. I stared at the "Hip-Hop Planet, p.100" on the cover of the magazine, then read it with the suspicion of a particularly contentious auto mechanic reading a hyperbolic review of what he knows to be a lackluster Chrysler 300.

James McBride is a writer and jazz musician from NYC. He's also black, which I admit adds credibility to his voice. Having seen "Rapper's Delight" performed in a living room also qualifies him well. The tone of Hip-Hop Planet is apologetic. It is a fifty year old man coming to grips with the reality of a global movement that has passed him by, and even further, that he watched it as he went.

Four years after Mr. McBride received his master's in journalism from Columbia, I was born. In middle school I heard BIG, Nas, Jay, and Wu-Tang. High school brought alternative rap, in the form of living legends and Atmosphere. Now I choose music not by genre, but rather by the whimsical musing instant gratification so precious to this, the digital age of music and reason.

If rap is the soundtrack of my life, the viewer is experiencing serious cognitive dissonance. I do not look to music to embolden my struggle. The entire body of rap music says nothing about who I am, or where I came from. It the first, but not the only, musical genre to which I claim fan-ship. Yet even I know clear as day that at its roots, Hip-Hop is the most significant cultural movement of our time, but if it does not soon become popularly considered so we will lose our opportunity for first person perspective, and rely on hindsight some time down the road.

Does rap belong in the classroom? Yes, if only to teach rhythm, meter, rhyme, cadence, enjambment, etc. I do not, however, know a teacher, nor a textbook, who authoritatively places NWA in the framework of race tensions in Southern California during the 1980's. Many articles have been published, but they are often obscure. Hip-Hop histories teem with "beef 'tween east and west coast," but rarely examine the socio-economic conditions of the Bronx in 1980.

Yes rap belongs in the classroom. Rap music (DJ + MC) is a model of American ingenuity. Why throw out the old when it can be reused? DJs borrow the best from any song, which in turn creates not only a new song, but also a new identity (positive or negative) for the borrowed song. Rap invades, and it asks no permission to leave its footprints everywhere.

We stand on the edge of history, in the humble terms of hip-hop. If we do not consider literary hip-hop culture, it will cease to be something we can study. Rap has no identity, but rather affects and distorts the identity of its surroundings. It permeates everything. If we don't focus and notice it now, for what it has been, is, and will become, then we risk entering a Hip-Hop dark age devoid of a valuable history.

Thusly It Begins.

2007-06-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

One month ago I was stressing a paper titled "El Uso de las Formas de Tratamiento en la Telenovela Mexicana Marina" for my Spanish sociolinguistics class. Two weeks ago I was stressing the LSAT. Today, I find myself a professional musician. Oh the difference a month can make.

As Class Project prepares to embark on the 2007 Pursue the Passion tour I find myself reflecting upon exactly what has brought me to this point. Five years ago I'd never written a song. 12 months ago I'd never performed live. In two weeks I leave on a nation-wide tour. Of all the things that have passed between I can say only that they fundamentally shaped the person I am today, and who I will be in the future.

Goodbye is rough. D-Web left, after a half-decade under the Tucson sun, and the place is not the same. The dynamic nature of a place is never fully realized until the dynamic pieces start going instead of coming. It is one thing to deal with an influx of new people, but to watch their exodus is an entirely different beast altogether.

As I prepare to leave my home, my friends, my family and the city I have known for 23 years, I find solace in nos vemos. When I left Argentina after a six-month stay I was a wreck. Through mutual tears at the Ezeiza International Airport, my friend Julian said:
No hay adios ni hasta luego. Solo nos vemos. Nos vemos pronto.

There is no goodbye. Only we will see each other. We will see each other soon.
There are no goodbyes, only new hellos inspired by the greatness of every one that came before.

We'll see each other soon…

"Class Trip" Tour 2007 and Thank You's

2007-06-12T13:42:00.000-07:00

This summer, Class Project will be touring the country working as journalists for www.pursuethepassion.com, a motivational website for aspiring business professionals and people looking to make a career change. During our down time, we will (hopefully) be doing shows in many of the 25 cities that we will find ourselves in over our 90 day journey. The summer showcase entitled "The Class Trip Tour" will take us more than 14,000 miles across the country to promote our freshman album effort entitled, "The Rough Draft LP." Our tour starts off with a show on July 7th (7/7/07) at The Majestic Ventura Theatre in beautiful Ventura, California. From there......uh......I'm not reeeeally sure, but we've got some things in the works and hopefully a lot of things will just fall into position. I'm sure that they will. They have to, right? Guys? GUYS?

Luckily those who support Class Project (or just Noah and I) are amongst the most helpful and proactive people we'll ever meet. A far cry from the apathy which hangs over us with everything not involving recording or performing music (and writing for your website Mr. Farmiloe). That being said, we've got a show in the works with Hey Champ! an electronica fusion group based out of Chicago, Illinois....a hearty thank you to Mr. Hank Weber for that one. Christina Haynes has been working her ass off for us trying to not only get us shows, but also hooking us up with fans, and even a merch dealer who is willing to help us distribute Class Project t-shirts over the internet. For this will we forever be thankful of her. Equally notable are the efforts of my friends and family (and long-time supporters) selling tickets for me out there in Thousand Oaks. JV, Local Legend, Deezy, Momma, Bryan, Brunz Runz.....we couldn't do it without you. Literally. We won't even be getting into Ventura County until a couple of hours before show time and we have 60 pre-sale tickets to get rid of at $10 a piece. A hard sell I know, but its amazing how down you all are to help us out. It is extremely appreciated!!!

As for the rest of the tour, its all kind of up in the air. With all of the stuff that I've been doing to help out with and ensure the success of the Pursue the Passion 2007 Tour, Class Project has unfortunately taken a backseat as of late. With only 3 weeks left until we leave (we take off on July 2nd) we have our work cut out for ourselves. I've jokingly said this before, but "it wouldn't be a Class Project if it wasn't done last minute." I don't doubt that we will be able to pull it all together. We always do.

- J. Foxx