Am I not sexy?

I went out last night as Bob Barker to the Charm City Roller Girls party/fundraiser with roller girl Emily aka "Sister Midnight" and won the "Sluttiest/Sexiest" category against a bunch of scantily clad kitties, angels and french maids. I'll be looking forward to my hair being particularly silky and untangled as I use the variety of hair products I won. Special props to the Matthew Barney/Bjork couple and the guy being attacked by a vampire sock moneky.

Of course, the newly crowned manslut spent most of the rest of the night having polite, non-flirtatious conversation mostly with other people's girlfriends. Randy, I know. I guess it's the Eagle Scout/122 year-old game show host in me. Later on Mr. Barker demonstrated his skills at 1960's go-go dancing that he learned from his beach movie days early in his career.

Oh When the Skeletons Go Marching In

The best part of working on events like the Great Halloween Lantern Parade in Patterson Park last night?
Serious conversations like these:

"Should I take the arms off the skeletons?" "No, you don't have to take all the arm bones off the skeletons. But pile the other bones over there."
"Could somebody lash down the dragons. They're starting to blow away."
"Can you carry a ship?" "Maybe" "No worries. It's not that heavy. And you don't have to sing sea chanties with us, but it would be great if you did."
"Is that terradactyl over there made out of saran wrap?"
(Q from interviewer with Austrailian radio station): "Do you do this every year?" A:"I hope so."

This year's lantern parade was even better than last year. As it always is. I got to see the Pagoda from inside for the first time too. Too bad it's closing for the year today. Not really picnic weather anymore anyway. I'll have to clean up my seersucker suit and basket for that for next year. Now it's soup party season.

I noticed something new this year. Spending time with the history of the Battle of Baltmore every day (and being in an 1812 sailor costume) I was very aware that the shadow play at the end of the parade happened just underneath the cannons near the Pagoda that mark the top of Hamptead Hill. It's where people from all over the city dug trenches to hold back the British and keep them from burning the city down. It's a place where a lot of fear, hardship and anger was concenrated 200 years ago. I'm glad that the events and the whole park reclaimed that space with things so noisy, messy, fun and beautiful things, and I think it does no disrespect and only honors how hard those peole worked to save the city. In fact, I'm sure things like the parade are exactly why they did it.

Usually I would be sad to see everything from the parade get pulled apart, recycled and even thrown away. But the more that I do these enormous, ephemeral art projects, the more I realize the magic is in the fact (despite all the work) these things come in and then blow away just as quickly. Having something completely disappear into memory only makes space for more things. I'm getting a lot better at being excited for whatever comes next.

Thanks Molly, Annie, Jed and Adam, Scott, Justin, Ariel and everybody else for creating such an awesome parade. I can't wait until next year.

To be swellegant

So this year's Halloween will be another tribute to one of my dubious heroes, the ultimate MC, Bob Barker. Previous years have been dedicated to Evel Knievel and Eddie Munster. What is it about Bob: that he's tireless, unafraid to promote the causes he's passionate about, or that he's always surrounded by women? Perhaps it's because on one episode of the Price is Right in 1982, the entire cast including the Beauties was drunk, and Bob admitted onair at the beginning of the show that they'd been partying. So, Bob will be signing photographs at the Bruiser's Ball at the Ottobar on Sunday night. And of course, he'll happily accept hugs and kisses from ladies of all ages and sizes. And dont forget......help protect the pet population. Spay and neuter your animals!

P.S. Look at that picture.......he looks like a Bond villain.

Thanks to the Founding Mothers or My Bleeding Heart Runs Red White and Blue: A Patriotic Liberal Speaks

I was at a Sufjan Stevens concert in Washington a few weeks ago, where he played a version of the Star-Spangled Banner. The words were the same but tune was his own. So what does an employee of the Flag House do? - he hesitates and takes off his hat, feeling every hipster in the room's eyes on me, whether they were or not. Was this just 3 years of indoctrination as the curator of the Flag House? A full run of Boy Scouting? The more I think about it, the more I realize I really do love my country. So I'm not going to hesitate to tell my liberal friends where I work. I'm coming out of the closet. From now on I'm a proud patriot. In the meantime, I spent some time thinking about how I'd define my patriotism. I'd love to hear what other people think.

1. I believe patriotism is most meaningful when it is expressed collectively, so that people reflect on the fact that we're better together and that we appreciate each other's sacrifices. The national anthem, the pledge allegiance - they cost nothing for us to recite or sing, but personally I'm amazed how my heart still beats a little faster when people get quiet just before a sports game starts. I'm getting sick of the empty, show-off, one upmanship that's been on the rise the last four years. Flag and ribbon magnets and all the other red-white and blue stuff are just another reflection of the fact that most Americans express themselves too often with what the buy, and there are some very rich people with factories in China that are extremely aware of that.

2. On that note, I believe that I express my patriotism in the work, the volunteering, the educating and even saying thank you that I do every day. I'm not trying to toot my horn - I really don't do enough to help - but personally these things are the best expression of how I feel about my country.

3. With that in mind, why is it that patrioitism is always associated first with the military and its heroes? I am so proud and humbled by the people who protect us. But I also learn and take example from the people who are building and healing this country from the inside. Can we do more to recognize those people as patriots too? I really like the fact we all celebrate Matin Luther King's birthday. I think it's a patriotic holiday. Can we have some more like it?

4. Who likes to spend time with a cocky, self-righteous, show-off? Doesn't everybody want to spend time with the person who holds the door, helps out, doesn't always demand recognition, LISTENS? Anybody noticing that nobody wants to hang with the U.S. too much anymore? Wasn't something we all learned from our moms? Isn't time somebody's mother was President?

5. I hope our country never passes a flag burning amendment to the Constition. One of the best things about the Federal Flag Code that guides how the flag is treated is that it's not a law. People do all kinds of things that aren't up to code out of patriotism. Should they be prosecuted? Judges work hard to serve our country. We should not waste their time. The ultimate unpatriotic act in my book is actually hurting someone else. Flag burning doesn't hurt anyone, unless the burner is a klutz. Let's let our judiciary do the patriotic thing and focus on the real bad guys.

6. More than one person has snickered a little when I mentioned I'd just written a letter to my senator/representative. I've been trying to be less whiney in my life, but I won't back down on telling my government how I feel. When I hear about what it's like to live in other countries where people are persecuted for criticizing the government, that is when I feel the luckiest to be in America. I hope I can save up my energy by not complaining about the small stuff to focus on pushing the government to change the big things that make it harder for people to live a better life. I think that's the most patriotic thing I can do.

People of the book

Stephen Colbert, the "correspondent" on the Daily Show has his own show now. For one of his first shows he had a fantastic monologue that I think puts the finger on the why the hell I can't understand Republicans. I'm one of the book people.

"Anybody who knows me knows that I am no fan of dictionaries or reference books. They're elitist for constantly telling us what is or isn't true, what did or didn't happen...

I don't trust books. They're all fact and no heart. And that's exactly what's pulling our country apart today. Because face it, folks, we are a divided nation... We are divided by those who think with their head, and those who know with their heart.

Consider Harriett Miers. If you think about Harriett Miers, of course her nomination's absurd! But the President didn't say he thought about this selection, he said this:

President Bush: "I know her heart."

Notice that he didn't say anything about her brain? He didn't have to. He feels the truth about Harriett Miers. And what about Iraq? If you think about it, maybe there are a few missing pieces to the rationale for war. But doesn't taking Saddam out feel like the right thing...right here in the gut? Because that's where the truth comes from, ladies and gentlemen...the gut.

Did you know that you have more nerve endings in your stomach than in your head? Look it up. Now, somebody's gonna say `I did look that up and its wrong'. Well, Mister, that's because you looked it up in a book. Next time, try looking it up in your gut. I did. And my gut tells me that's how our nervous system works.

Now I know some of you may not trust your gut...yet. But with my help you will. The "truthiness" is, anyone can read the news to you. I promise to feel the news...at you."

So I finally understand. I partly read for a living. I look things up. I actually get excited about being stuck in line somewhere just so I can read for a while. I don't understand why most people don't bring books to stand in lines. I bought a satchel/shoulder bag/man-purse just so I could carry a book everywhere I go. So Mr. Colbert has finally helped me understand my self. I'm one of the book people.
S.C's monologue reminds me of a comic sketch where a guy was impersonating a police officer with a gun. He kept pointing the gun back and forth between his head and his chest saying "Ya know, some people think with thah head, some people think with thah haht. I don't think with my haht, I think wth my head." Blam.

Everybody now: "Sweet home.............."

Well somehow, despite both inner turmoil and outside nature, I made it to Chicago this weekend to celebrate my dad's birthday with my family. I missed my flight Friday, stuck in traffic in the rain, but it was a blessing because I got to see the Wallace and Gromit movie. So good. Did anybody else think it was actually magical to see the animator's thumbprints on Gromit's forehead? When did it become a virtue for artists to be invisible from art? I love seeing the process in the product. Okay, I'll shut up and get back to football. I wasn't looking forward to sitting out in Chicago October weather to see the Northwestern - Wisconsin game, but it turned out to be the exciting, all in good fun kind of game that only happens every once in a while. The final score was 51-48 - more like a basketball game than football. Back and forth - who ever said that soccer was more fun because there was more anticipation for scoring. Football's just too cold to be sitting all game, and it takes touchdowns to make alumni jump up and down. I'm sitting in the student section next time, even if I am an old fart now. So much unexpected fun.
The rest of the weekend was a meat eating frenzy that actually turned out all right for vegetarian me. We went to one of those Brazilian steakhouses on Saturday where they just bring around meat until you say uncle. But the salad bar was out of this world (no chocolate pudding though) and they had fried plaintains on the table. How can I stay mad at people that serve plaintains and whole artichoke hearts? The next day we went to the "White Fence Farm", owned by one of Dennis Hastert's relatives, to see my grandma. It's a big family-style chicken place. Once again, I was eating side-dishes, but once again I was a happy boy. And Jess - TWO kinds of birthday cake! This place is 30 miles out into rural Illinois, near where my grandma lives. It used to sit out in the middle of amber waves of grain. Now it's surrounded by truck depots and McMansions. I don't know whether to cheer for rising gas prices or not. Can I really fault people for wanting to live the good life out there? Just have to keep working on shaping up the city.
Got back to museum this morning and had ideas tumbling out of my head. Lots of program stuff. I need a team of oompa-loompas to do my bidding desperately. Anyone know some?

Rockin the free world

I jumped into a last second open mic night session with my friend Lee at Ryan's Daughter out near Belvedere Square. I've played with Lee in front of people only once before, and that was over at the Waverly Farmer's market where it was more of a walk-by, I'm thinking more about getting a mushroom sandwich and a zucchini, audience. He's a pretty experienced singer-songwriter and has a few albums of work he's put together. I just sang back up the other day for his newest compilation. The woman before us played some covers, mostly rock stuff, so we thought we'd be able to surprise people with more of the bluegrassy and original stuff. I felt like it went over like Peter Paul and Mary opening for Dokken. Performing live, especially with the mandolin, feels about the same as trying to teach a group of 3rd graders on the verge of ruler fighting chaos. My head suddenly felt like it was in one of the 1950's fishbowl astronaut helmets. I could barely hear myself or even Lee. Playing alone, you get inside your instrument, floating over your music and the world around you. In front of people, you feel every fumble like a pebble in your shoe, bigger than it really is. Acting in a play in high school and college seemed less nerve wracking, because you were isolated by the blazing stage lights into a sort of tent, where you were only aware of the audience when there was the occasional laugh or other reaction (never got high-pitched screaming, unfortunately) but you forgot about the people otherwise. In a bar, it's all right there, tripping some nerves I forgot I had. Not exactly crossing the Amazon, but I was definitely kicking in a few survival features of the brain(cue Eye of the Tiger). I could only count on what I remembered without thinking. That's something I've known since 5th grade piano recitals, but it's still easy to forget.
At one point somebody screamed "Yeah, bluegrass!" and there was at least more than one person clapping after every song, so I made it. I was a little sweaty. I wanna do it again.
In the meantime, I tried the curry sauce topped french fries. Maybe people in Ireland grow up with that stuff, but it was new to me. It's a new winner in the fou-fou french fry category, with the rosemary-garlic pile at Brewer's Art and the green chile cheese fry bowl at Golden West. Maybe it's for a Baltimore French Fry festival? Good thing I'm going to back the land of cheese sauce, Chicagoland, Illinois, this weekend. I need to return to the simpler pleasures of orange cheese on pre-frozen fries. This East Coast life is making me a little too high-falootin.

Popping out of my hole

This is so strange. As I wrote to someone in an e-mail not long ago, I remember having the internet described to me in my dorm lounge sometime in 1993 as this mystical electronic portal where I could find out information on things like the weather and recipes for oatmeal cookies. So now in 2005 shortly after firing up my Mac, checking my unfortunately low bank account balance, reading some fringe political media and downloading pictures of Bill Monroe and Mr. Rogers, I'm officially opening my blog door and turning on the neon open sign. I've never been able to dedicate myself to writing a journal. Why? Never seemed to have a purpose, and I was always worried that I would write something that I couldn't imagine historians looking at some day. Maybe with an audience I'll think a little more about what I'm tossing over the fence. Hope reading this blog after posting doesn't feel like walking out of the shower and realizing the curtain on the window is open. I already feel a little exposed. Time to get a bathrobe. Here I go!