I achieved my meager resolution of reading ten books this year. I'm in the process of reading The Picture of Dorian Gray which didn't quite make the list. This year i must push it to twelve slightly more academic books. But here's for 2010.
1. Chasing Faith- David Baldacci
2. The Screwtape Letters- C.S. Lewis
3. Fast Facts on False Teachings- Carlson&Decker
4. The Shack- William P. Young
5. The Great Gatsby- F. Scott Fitzgerald
6. 1984- George Orwell
7. Calpton: The Autobiography- Eric Clapton
8. Blue Like Jazz- Donald Miller
9. Life-Keith Richards
10. John Lennon: In His Own Words-Ken Lawrence
1. Reading a David Baldacci book is like watching a movie. He usually writes about D.C. related happenings.
2. The first time i have read this in its entirety. Every christian likes to name drop C.S. Lewis, so just about every time i was reading this book publicly someone would come up to me and say. "I love C.S. Lewis," just to let me know.
3. Informative, yet insensitive, without the love for humanity that is needed if you are going to write a book like this. Focused on every religions problems besides protestantism. Probably because that needs it's own book.
4. It was laying around and i didn't feel like buying another book. What can you say that hasn't already been said? I enjoyed it.
5. I never read this in High School. I thoroughly regret this. Can American literature get any greater?
6. I would like to read Animal Farm this year. I don't like reading anti-Utopian novels, but this was an exception. George Orwell is a great, we all know that. I just like to believe that a Utopia can exist. Completely beside the point.
7. I'm glad i read this. A bit slower than other autobiographies i have read, but still a good read. Not really a bigger Clapton fan now, but a greater admirer maybe. He's been to hell and back.
8. When it was popular to read this i never read this book. I quite honestly thought it was a book for girls. I'm glad i read this book. It was recommended. Everyone should read this book.
9. The Holy Grail of autobiographies. Keith Richards says it best on the inside cover, "This is the life. Believe it or not I haven't forgotten any of it." -Keith Richards. I have never been so satisfied with a rock and roll autobiography. Once you've read this you will permanently adopt the Keith Richards outlook on life.
10. I asked for In His Own Write. Oh Christmas presents. A good read none the less.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Fear and Loathing In Tehachapi
What's the point of rain if it's not gonna snow this close to christmas? "You'd think that with this much damn rain it'd be cold enough to snow!" I said to myself as i arrived in town. Matthew Thomas Rockwell editor in chief of the Daily Vowel. Current where a bouts unknown, but for now i was in this miserably rainy but not in the english sense of the word, one horse town. The streets of which were as lonesome and forlorn as any Hank Williams song, and as it was nearly 7:00, they were about to be rolled up to protect it's way of life. Any establishment open any later would surely threaten the very moral fiber that had been its very foundation for the past 100 years. And who would dare threaten that? Not in this weather anyway.
My phone was vibrating off the hook, in the pocket of my trousers. Mary Magdalen wanted to meet for some imported coffee. And so away i went. After all who the hell was supposed to fill me in on who'd been running this three ring circus? coffee or not i needed to know.
As usual i was late. I came bearing the crucifix and not just one but three. If these people have a fear of anything, it's the fear of the almighty. I quickly calculated that three rosaries would equal one hundred and fifty hail marys. It would have to suffice.
After the pleasantries were exchanged like money from liar to a thief, she insisted we add a third member to our hunting party. the coffee was getting to her. i insisted she drive. I didn't know where to go. After all this was the wild frontier. And who would be the king now that we had lost Davey Crocket? It certainly wasn't going to be me. And just who was behind all of this hocus pocery? i demanded answers. she drove like hell.
My phone was vibrating off the hook, in the pocket of my trousers. Mary Magdalen wanted to meet for some imported coffee. And so away i went. After all who the hell was supposed to fill me in on who'd been running this three ring circus? coffee or not i needed to know.
As usual i was late. I came bearing the crucifix and not just one but three. If these people have a fear of anything, it's the fear of the almighty. I quickly calculated that three rosaries would equal one hundred and fifty hail marys. It would have to suffice.
After the pleasantries were exchanged like money from liar to a thief, she insisted we add a third member to our hunting party. the coffee was getting to her. i insisted she drive. I didn't know where to go. After all this was the wild frontier. And who would be the king now that we had lost Davey Crocket? It certainly wasn't going to be me. And just who was behind all of this hocus pocery? i demanded answers. she drove like hell.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
keith richards on boy scouts
taken from "life"
But i had other preoccupations. One of the best things that happened to me at that time, believe it or not, was joining the Boy Scouts. It's leader, Baden Powell, a genuinely nice man who was well tuned in to what small boys liked doing, did believe that without the scouts the empire would collapse. This is where i came in, as a member of the Seventh Dartford Scouts, Beaver Patrol, although the empire was showing signs of collapsing anyway for reasons that had nothing to do with character and tying knots. I think my foray into scouting must have happened just before the guitar really set in -or maybe before i owned one-because when i really started playing the guitar that was my other world.
Scouting was a separate thing from music. I wanted to know how to survive , and I'd read all of Baden Powell's books. And now I've got to learn all these tricks. I want to know how to find out where i am; I want to know how to cook something underground. For some reason i needed survival skills and i thought it was important to learn. I already had a tent in the back garden, where where i would sit for hours , eating raw potatoes and such. How to pluck a fowl. How to gut things. What bits to leave in and what bits to leave off. And whether to keep the skin or not. Is it any use? Nice pair of gloves? It was kind of miniature SAS training. It was mainly a chance to swagger around with a knife on your belt. That was the attraction for a lot of us. You didn't get the knife until you got a few badges.
Beaver Patrol had its own shed-one of the other dads' unused garden shed, which we took over and where we had planning meetings about what the patrol was going to do. You're good at that, you're good at that. We'd sit around and talk and have a smoke, and we went on field trips to Bexleyheath or Sevenoaks. Scout Leader Bass was the scoutmaster, who seemed ancient at the time but was probably only about twenty. He was a very encouraging guy. He'd say "All right, tonight is knotting. The sheepshank, the bowline, the running bowline." I had to practice at home. How to start a fire without smoke. I'd practice in the garden all week. Rubbing two sticks together-forget about it. Not in that climate. It might work in Africa or some other un-humid area. So it was basically the magnifying glass and dry twigs. Then suddenly, after only three or four months, I've got four or five badges and I'm promoted to patrol leader. I had badges all over the place, unbelievable! I don't know where my scout shirt is now, but it's adorned, stripes and strings and badges all over the place. Looked like i was into bondage.
All that boosted my confidence at a crucial moment, after my rejection from the choir, especially the fact that i promoted so fast. i think it was more important, that whole scouting period, than I've ever realized. I had a good team. I knew my guys and we were pretty solid. Discipline was a little lax, i must admit, but when it came to "This is the task for today," we did it. There was the big summer camp at Crowborough. We'd just won the bridge building competition. That night we drank whiskey and had a fight in the bell tent. It's pitch-black, there's no light, everybody's just swinging, breaking things, especially themselves-first bone i ever broke was hitting the tent pole in the middle of the night.
The only time i pulled rank was when my scouting career came to an end. I had a new recruit, and he was such a prick, he couldn't get along with anybody. And it was like "I've got an elite patrol here and I've got to take this bum in? I'm not here to wipe snot. Why'd you dump him on me?" He did something, and i just gave him a whack. Bang, you cunt. Nest thing i know I'm up before the disciplinary board. On the carpet. "officers do not slap" and all that bullshit.
I was in my hotel room in Saint Petersburg, on tour with the Stones, when i found myself watching the ceremony commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the Boy Scouts. It was at Brownsea Island, where Baden-Powell started his first camp. All alone in my room, I stood up, made the three-fingered salute and said, "Patrol leader, Beaver Patrol, Seventh Dartford Scouts, sir." I felt i had to report.
But i had other preoccupations. One of the best things that happened to me at that time, believe it or not, was joining the Boy Scouts. It's leader, Baden Powell, a genuinely nice man who was well tuned in to what small boys liked doing, did believe that without the scouts the empire would collapse. This is where i came in, as a member of the Seventh Dartford Scouts, Beaver Patrol, although the empire was showing signs of collapsing anyway for reasons that had nothing to do with character and tying knots. I think my foray into scouting must have happened just before the guitar really set in -or maybe before i owned one-because when i really started playing the guitar that was my other world.
Scouting was a separate thing from music. I wanted to know how to survive , and I'd read all of Baden Powell's books. And now I've got to learn all these tricks. I want to know how to find out where i am; I want to know how to cook something underground. For some reason i needed survival skills and i thought it was important to learn. I already had a tent in the back garden, where where i would sit for hours , eating raw potatoes and such. How to pluck a fowl. How to gut things. What bits to leave in and what bits to leave off. And whether to keep the skin or not. Is it any use? Nice pair of gloves? It was kind of miniature SAS training. It was mainly a chance to swagger around with a knife on your belt. That was the attraction for a lot of us. You didn't get the knife until you got a few badges.
Beaver Patrol had its own shed-one of the other dads' unused garden shed, which we took over and where we had planning meetings about what the patrol was going to do. You're good at that, you're good at that. We'd sit around and talk and have a smoke, and we went on field trips to Bexleyheath or Sevenoaks. Scout Leader Bass was the scoutmaster, who seemed ancient at the time but was probably only about twenty. He was a very encouraging guy. He'd say "All right, tonight is knotting. The sheepshank, the bowline, the running bowline." I had to practice at home. How to start a fire without smoke. I'd practice in the garden all week. Rubbing two sticks together-forget about it. Not in that climate. It might work in Africa or some other un-humid area. So it was basically the magnifying glass and dry twigs. Then suddenly, after only three or four months, I've got four or five badges and I'm promoted to patrol leader. I had badges all over the place, unbelievable! I don't know where my scout shirt is now, but it's adorned, stripes and strings and badges all over the place. Looked like i was into bondage.
All that boosted my confidence at a crucial moment, after my rejection from the choir, especially the fact that i promoted so fast. i think it was more important, that whole scouting period, than I've ever realized. I had a good team. I knew my guys and we were pretty solid. Discipline was a little lax, i must admit, but when it came to "This is the task for today," we did it. There was the big summer camp at Crowborough. We'd just won the bridge building competition. That night we drank whiskey and had a fight in the bell tent. It's pitch-black, there's no light, everybody's just swinging, breaking things, especially themselves-first bone i ever broke was hitting the tent pole in the middle of the night.
The only time i pulled rank was when my scouting career came to an end. I had a new recruit, and he was such a prick, he couldn't get along with anybody. And it was like "I've got an elite patrol here and I've got to take this bum in? I'm not here to wipe snot. Why'd you dump him on me?" He did something, and i just gave him a whack. Bang, you cunt. Nest thing i know I'm up before the disciplinary board. On the carpet. "officers do not slap" and all that bullshit.
I was in my hotel room in Saint Petersburg, on tour with the Stones, when i found myself watching the ceremony commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the Boy Scouts. It was at Brownsea Island, where Baden-Powell started his first camp. All alone in my room, I stood up, made the three-fingered salute and said, "Patrol leader, Beaver Patrol, Seventh Dartford Scouts, sir." I felt i had to report.
back to basics
we've lost our touch. used to be you could be anyone you wanted on the internet. you could be creative with a myspace page. less with a xanga. oh yes you remember. less still as a lonely message board poster. the lost astronaut drifting alone in cyberspace. how do you express with facebook? i dont know. in the mean time i've been busy. always a candid sort of fellow when it comes to putting the finger to keyboard. here's to honesty. french philosophy. and old english. and hoping the yet to be christened ship makes it back to the egg. wherever it make port.
Matthew Allan
Azusa, November 2010
Matthew Allan
Azusa, November 2010
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