Storytelling Greatness from "This American Life"

From time to time, I mention here about how I've gotten so disenchanted with the local radio stations (especially those controlled by Clear Channel), and have instead focused more on talk radio, public radio (such as NPR), and internet radio (although the latter is under attack on multiple fronts regarding royalties and the like). In a perfect world, someone would figure out how to stream online radio stations from around the world to a receiver you could have in your car or portable radio device...like XM Radio or Sirius do now here by satellite in North America, but just global...and then I think some real openings (and real choice) could happen in the marketplace. I'll just be patient, it will happen soon enough...Live365 is already attempting something similar to what I'm holding out for, with their Radio365-Mobile.

In the last two months, though, I have really latched onto a show that I only listened to occasionally before: NPR's "This American Life" with Ira Glass (who is the second cousin to composer to Philip Glass, in case any one out there is wondering). While NPR has a lot of serious-issue stuff during the week (and that also depends on the local channels doing the programming, too), on the weekends the local one here (WUNC) takes a much more laid-back, although engaging, tone. Intertwined with the folksy auditorium shows of "A Prairie Home Companion® with Garrison Keillor", and the very funny current events quiz show, "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me", there is the little gem that can called "This American Life". Although it took some time getting used to, I have now become a devoted fan and on Friday nights, while coming home from a long week's worth of work, it is nothing short of a pleasant, and frequently very poignant, reward.

©"This American Life" (with Ira Glass)

I will admit, though, that the program is certainly not for everyone. Glass and his reporters can sometimes be a little too long-winded (even for me), a bit too determined to leave no detail of the story untold. But it's the stories that they tell that frequently are those ones you hear about or think about in brief moments, and then somehow lost track of at a later time when you wanted to investigate further. Or maybe it's a job or a person or a situation you always wanted to ask that 'odd' or 'impolite' question to...and Glass & Co seem to be exceptionally adept at doing just that...but were always afraid of doing so. It's not for everyone, and some of the themes they cover are better than others, but it's an hour well spent if you can take the time to clear the 'noise' of the day and listen. It's not a show you 'come and go' from, though; one needs to pay attention.

The format is simple and straightforward: each show has a different theme, such as 'Man's Best Friend' or something, and then two to four different reports on that theme are developed from there. Sometimes Glass himself takes one of the stories; he always does the prologue that sets the whole show up. So, (thankfully when they miss), the listener knows what the entire show's subject matter is within the first five minutes of tuning in. It's not like the BBC World Service, say, who recap every known world conflict in detail three times over before getting to the exceptional interview with that 'eccentric' (the BBC seems quite taken with the word 'eccentric') so-and-so right before the news comes back with another current events recap. Fair warning, though: if you stay on for the first of 'the acts', as Glass refers to them, you're probably hooked for the rest of the show. When they 'nail a theme' of interest, they really do it well.

I was trying to best describe the growing appeal of the show here, but I just proceeded to write a lot in circles and never got around to make a concrete point (even more than usual, if you naysayers can believe that). Luckily, however, there is a website for the show, and better yet, a way to listen back to old shows for free and outright download them for a very small charge. (Additionally, unbeknownst to me until I found the site, they are doing this show on TV as well. I'm curious as to how that would work...I'm not sure the same delivery method would succeed, but I'd be curious to see it happen for myself.)

So, the above said, I'll give you some links from their site where you can go and investigate for yourself...some of the ones that I found quite memorable for me, anyway. Again, most of each of these run more than 10 minutes in length (and some can exceed 20), so take your time and listen to them when you can concentrate on them and listen in one setting. They're perfect for that mid-morning coffee/tea break, or when you're prepping dinner after work. Give the ones I link to below a shot first, but if none of these particularly work for you, go to this link and see if some other theme in the archive appeals to you more. The "This American Life" crew have even compiled a list of their favourite programs to start with, in case those may hit your fancy, too. Different strokes for different folks and all.

Helpful hints when listening: you do not have to pay to download these (although they are only 95 cents USD each). You have two additional options at the top of each page I'm linking to below. To the left of the description of the prologue and the acts, there are two 'listen now' icons in orange. One is for a '30-second Promo' (which never gives these shows their proper due); the other is for 'Full Episode'. Choose the 'Full Episode' if you possibly can...it takes very little time to download and the acts follow seamlessly, just like they appeared on the radio broadcast.

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"Accidental Documentaries"

One from last summer, broadcast here over the weekend of July 13, 2007, the one that really got me to pay attention to the show...This one holds an extreme emotional appeal to me, as my parents and I did something similar many years ago (but far shorter in duration for each message) over our respective answering machines...they still in the Midwest, me the newbie North Carolina resident. Sadly, I erased over and reused the tapes as I needed to, thereby erasing some wonderful messages from my now late father and one very comical one with he and my Mama arguing about if he had taken his medicine that day. I'd give damn near anything to have those back again, but somewhere I do have the last time he sang me "Happy Birthday" on tape. Sometimes I really miss my Daddy's voice.

"Home Alone"

This second one is far more recent, and appeared here right before the Christmas holiday week, around December 23, 2007...Actually, I found the timing of this broadcast (right around the holidays) not a particularly good idea, as I think the subject matter a bit depressing at times. (I'm actually hoping it was a repeat airing when I first heard it.) Still, I was captivated by it all, and all the acts on this theme are equally strong. And, after listening to Act I with some others from work, there was just a heartbreak at all the unknowns/unclaimed who now reside at Evergreen Cemetery...wonder if any volunteer laying flowers even knows the numbers involved. And the phone message at the end of that act, too. But the other two acts...geez. "The Man Who Came to Dinner" indeed.

"The Super"

And, finally, one that just got repeated earlier this month (January 11, 2008), that is an unqualified classic, just for Act I's 'Bob' character alone...and just when you think you know where one of these is going to end up, you end up instead getting quite the surprise. More to a book than its cover, perhaps?? And I thought my apartment situation two residences ago had some problems, little did I have any idea exactly what problems really can be, apparently. Some really great stuff can be found in this one, something typical of TAL.

Happy Australia Day 2008!!

For all my mates Down Under (and elsewhere)...cheers!!! And have one for me, too! Sooo wish I was there today, on my favourite little vantage spot near Sydney Harbour Bridge, having a Carlton and enjoying some seafood, watching the kids round around and play...

All together now...1...2...3:

"The National Anthem: Advance Australia Fair"
by Peter Dodds McCormick

Australians all let us rejoice,
For we are young and free,
We've golden soil and wealth for toil;
Our home is girt by sea;
Our land abounds in nature's gifts
Of beauty rich and rare,
In history's page, let every stage
Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross
We'll toil with hearts and hands;
To make this Commonwealth of ours
Renowned of all the lands;
For those who've come across the seas
We've boundless plains to share:
With courage let us all combine
To Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.

And let us not forget the sentimental one...and my personal fave

"I Still Call Australia Home"
by Peter Allen
(Lyrics courtesy of www.songlyrics.com)

I've been to cities that never close down,
From New York to Rio and old London town,
But no matter how far or how wide I roam,
I still call Australia home.

I'm always traveling, I love being free,
And so I keep leaving the sun and the sea,
But my heart lies waiting over the foam,
I still call Australia home.

All the sons and daughters spinning 'round the world,
Away from their family and friends,
But as the world gets older and colder,
It's good to know where your journey ends.

Someday we'll all be together once more,
When all of the ships come back to the shore,
I'll realise something I've always known,
I still call Australia home.

But no matter how far or wide I roam,
I still call Australia
I still call Australia
I still call Australia home.

But no matter how far or wide I roam,
I still call Australia
I still call Australia
I still call Australia home.

And, finally, the one that everyone outside of Oz just thinks should be the national anthem (and, no, fellow Yanks, it is NOT "Down Under" from the band Men At Work)...

"Waltzing Matilda"
by Banjo Paterson

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Down came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong,
Up got the swagman and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Down came the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred,
Up came the troopers, one, two, three,
"Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?"
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
"Who's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?",
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Up got the swaggy and jumped into the billabong,
"You'll never catch me alive," said he,
And his ghost may be heard as you passed by that billabong,
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me
And his ghost may be heard as you passed by that billabong,
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

In Rememberance of a Tortured Soul

Honestly, this post could not have come on a worse day, even though I'm been trying to get it edited and stylized before now. But the world works in strange...and sometimes very tragic...ways. The few similarities made here now to another Aussie, actor Heath Ledger who has died today at the age of 28, are not lost on me. Sad, horrible news regardless of the 'hows' or 'whys' that will eventually be determined. It's a grievous loss for the friends, family, and fans he left behind. Prayers go those effected...and to everyone else who lost someone dear to them today.

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Today is one of pause for me, as it makes me think of the loss of a fave entertainer of mine. A quiet, introspective, and peculiarly shy poet with a killer stage presence and talent in abundance. Today is not one to acknowledge his death (which, frankly, I've always found a bit morbid, even if one is an out of control Elvis fan, you know the types), but rather of his birth. I prefer to think of this day as a 'what a great deal was contributed', instead of 'what a great deal was lost when he died' kind of thing. I know I'm better to have been a fan of his, as his words and beliefs expanded my thinking and still influence me now.

He was tortured by demons that were self-made, but of such an intense nature that he could not extricate himself from...demons that, at the end, that would overwhelm him through his day to day. He was dogged by a variety of personal relationships, (most infamously his last one with a television celebrity), that became regular fodder for the newspapers and tabloids. He, at times, was distinctly uncomfortable 'being on display', yet he had chosen a very public life and career. And, being Australian, he had the additional pressure of knowing the thrasher was hot on his heels at any moment back home...because, of course, all tall poppies must be cut down. (Not to mention the other great Aussie celebrity past time of being in a very love/hate relationship status with the foreign press and photographers.) He died far too young, just when a new chapter of his creativity was to bloom. He left behind his last lover devastated, his friends and loved ones heartbroken, and his fans and colleagues angry and shocked. And he left behind a much-beloved and doted-upon daughter, who was just a toddler at his death.

His name was Michael Hutchence and he would have been 48 today.

Hutchence and the band he was the lead singer with, INXS, dovetails into one of those memories of a young adulthood now seemingly lost for me. You know those times when you look back at the favourite moments in your life, and find a 'soundtrack' (if you will) that can instantly call up those memories, no matter how distant and/or emotional? INXS always did (and still does) that for me. Indulge me a moment while I set the stage from where my devotion to this band began.

While the teens of the 1970s had a variety of heavy metal and guitar heroes to look up to admire, those of us in the 1980s yearned for (perhaps needed?) something different. We were the ones, after all, you really did want our MTV. (This, of course, was when MTV still new, still played music videos and still actually had relevant music-related interviews and the like, too.) It was a strange time to be a teen, as the optimism (and frankly some of it was just silly) in the music ran counter to the ever-changing political events we saw happen with the Reagan, Gorbachev, and Thatcher (among many other) administrations. In the face of the end of the Cold War and trickle down economics, those of us who came to age in the '80s, I think, wanted a little hope with our dancing, a little swagger with our sex (well, until the AIDS panic hit mainstream America), a little abandon with our rock n' roll, and maybe a little humility with our ballads. Some chose one genre or another, while some of us wanted a bit of it all. (At my high school, it was pretty much divided between the mainstream pop kids, the country-loving farm kids, and the Guitar Hero® wannabes in the heavy metal set. Those of us who even knew some of the lyrics from any Clash song was limited to about a dozen, sadly. And this was in 1988, for Pete's sake, so it's not like the Clash were an unknown band.)

I'm sure it has something to do with my age at the time and all, but it really felt like the world was expanding for everyone at that time, even if it was just a small measure. (And keep in mind I attended high school in a very small town, so expansion to the 'world' seemed a rather monumental and daunting possibility at the time.) I look back upon those times with embarrassment and dismay at some of my high school efforts (seriously, some of the fashions and hairstyles should never be resurrected), but I also look upon those times with pride and hope that some of things I did then...standing up for the things and people I believed in, whether it was 'cool' or not...made me a better person. And, consequently, helped make me the person that I am today. It was the last time I can really say I felt the need to devour the day's news and culture as much as I could, as quickly as I could. There was an urgency to grow and to become a different, and better, person. (This was...gasp...before the internet, after all.) Somewhere in there my love for global news got ignited, somewhere in there my fascination with all musical things British and Australian took hold. (God, I miss those days.) And, somewhere in there, between the Elvis Costello and the Huey Lewis & The News and the constant Madonna overexposure on the radio, I happened across a little song one very late night...no band name was mentioned...called "The Swing".

"The Swing", the first song to really get some airplay for INXS in the US, was not to be their best song ever, nor was it from their best album by any means (both IMHO). By the time it made it to my local radio station, it had been out for ages in other places. In comparison to some of its British cousins, the production values were uneven and Michael's vocals on the single (yes, folks, the 'old kind' of single) seemed to flutter in and out with intensity...but hey, I thought it was intended to be that way. My Mama, not understanding the whole semi New Wave kick I was on, refused to let me buy very much music those days (I think Boy George and Culture Club freaked out a lot of Midwestern mothers, thereby ruining it for other bands), so my earliest INXS musical memories are songs taped from the radio on cassette tapes or bootlegs from good friends such as the dear Amanda. During debate team outings, I remember passing such tapes up and down the bus aisle...exposing this great, vibrant, music-heavy band to as many people as I could. By the time INXS finally started to hit it big in the States, I admit I took some unnatural pride of being 'ahead of the curve' (for once)...LOL. It is by no accident that when myself and two friends went to compete in a state newspaper and yearbook competition my senior year our 'theme song' was "The Devil Inside", and not because our school were the Devils or anything. Rather, it was the popping rhythms and Michael's husky lyrics that we couldn't shake and would have rolling over...and over, and over...in our heads while we worked. The music of INXS at that time was fun, it was vibrant and distinctive from everything else on mainstream radio, and Michael and Andrew Farriss' lyrics (Andrew being the unheralded genius of the band, really) had messages of acceptance and love for one another. And, yes, you could dance and romance to it, too...LOL.

Fast forward to 1997, almost 10 years past those heady days of high school. By then, I'd moved to the right coast, we're deep in the Clinton administration, and grunge and whatever the hell post-grunge was called has taken over. The bright optimism forged with a longing to be connected with others of the '80s music has long since been killed off, and probably none too soon for those who had taken it to its over the top excess. A lot of good bands came into my life during that time...Nirvana (I still can remember the first time I heard "Smells Like Teen Spirit", as I actually stopped driving and pulled the car over to listen to the radio station play it 3 times in a row: it was like a musical atomic bomb had been dropped), Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Sublime and several others a bit later...and admittedly, I changed musical gears a bit. Shortly after my father died that spring, I went way into the original depressive music, and found (and still hold) my deep love of the blues. Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Robert Johnson...I have a deep and profound respect for their distinctive sounds now. My longtime faves, INXS, were still out there and still touring, but I had somehow shifted them to the back burner. It wasn't intentional at all, it just happened somehow. But I felt guilty about it, it was sort of like cheating on your first-ever real love. The Boys from Oz had been the soundtrack for my celebrations, for my angry fights with friends and family, for my tears and frustrations. Hell, when I described about wanting to go to Oz one day, images from INXS' song, "Johnson's Aeroplane", filled in the adjectives...

”Four long lines one darker than the rest
Each one has a purpose making borders on the land
Farmer's pride you know he works real hard
From a small aeroplane you can see the fields

Heart shaped hedges
Japanese gardens
Heart shaped hedges
Japanese gardens...”

(I've always liked their lesser-known songs such as this one the best, with ”Heaven Sent” being my all-time fave song, and ”Welcome to Wherever You Are” being my favourite album, even if some reviewers did savagely attack it. Sometimes their less commercially-successful work best showcased their musical and writing talents.)

Then, sometime in the late spring of 1997, I was home, in bed, and not feeling well. While I'm not really a TV watcher when I'm feeling ill, a relatively new show called ”The Rosie O'Donnell Show” was on (this is back when Rosie still appeared quite approachable and far less divisive than she sometimes does now) and I had yet to see a full telecast. To my surprise, INXS was on and was performing songs from their then-current album, ”Elegantly Wasted” (the last they would do with Hutchence). What I saw televised before me was definitely not the singer I had followed for so many years...but instead a soul that seemed a bit weary of the promotional campaign already, and the campaign had just begun. In some ways, it was the shell of the Hutchence I was used to seeing. While he talked adoringly of his young daughter by British TV personality Paula Yates (who was the ex-wife of Live Aid guru, Bob Geldof, and who came complete with very acrimonious and tabloid-fueled breakup with the same because of Hutchence), he seemed a bit weak and maybe even a bit subdued...or at least in comparison to what he had been the last US tours. I remember watching in quiet curiosity as to what was going on with Michael, thinking that perhaps he had just been on a bender or heavily jet-lagged, and it was just a really odd kind of interview for him. Something didn't seem right, really, but what they hell did I know? Never would I have guessed then that would be the last time I would see that charming, talented, thoughtful, yet introverted man interviewed on TV.

When Hutchence was found dead in a hotel room in Double Bay, Sydney, later that November, it hit most of us die hard fans like a ton of bricks. The 'information' that was dredged up about him made the loss even more difficult, as he clearly had been depressed, clearly had been overwhelmed with the whole Geldof/Yates affair, clearly was having problems after suffering a head injury a few years prior, clearly was wanting his music to go in a direction without INXS, and clearly had a whole host of issues we'll probably never know. No matter what what you eventually believe was the cause of Hutchence's death (and that has been a subject of much debate for more than 10 years now)...whether it was auto erotic asphyxiation (strangling himself during a sex act) or suicide by hanging...doesn't really matter in the end, as the light that was his spirit was extinguished still the same. The words and images and memories, thankfully, live on, but the spirit has went back into the ether...as it should be.

The downhill turn of developments since Michael's death...Yates' death by accidental heroin overdose (who was found by their child, no less), the complete disappearance of his extensive fortune, the infighting between his parents and siblings over book deals to personal possessions to movie rights (hell, even his ashes were even divided to keep the peace), to now the potential that his alleged arch-enemy Geldof wants to adopt Michael's daughter as his own (Geldof has raised the girl with her half-sisters since Yates' death in 2000)...just never seems to end. Almost eleven years on, and the drama still continues. For a man who penned countless lines (and I think also tried to live those words) about loving and finding personal acceptance with one another, the fact that his spirit can't be left to rest in peace is perhaps the most heartbreaking facet of this whole mess.

I do not wholly subsist on INXS music and nostalgic trips of my younger years, though. Instead, I have created a rather diverse musical collection, and it's something I take a bit of pride in. Guitarists from Spain, vocalists from Scotland and Ireland, sharecropper blues masters from the Mississippi Delta, bagpipers from Darwin, honky tonkers from the wilds of Tennessee and Texas...and all points and styles in between. Some of these performers I have admired for years, whereas some I have just discovered recently. If there is one thing, though, I take away from all music is at least I try to have an open mind: I'll give something a fair listen and then make a decision, and not toss something outright. And I really focus on the lyrics, as it's an absolute fundamental. But I realized some time back the reason I do this now is because at some point I really fell in love with music and all that it opened up to me. We all have that musical performer or band that opened our eyes a bit and made us search the world around us more...it may be the Police or U2 or Roy Orbison or Hank Williams for you; as you can tell, it was INXS for me. Bands or singers I would never have heard about...such as Jimmy Barnes and Cold Chisel for us Yanks...came from following INXS and their collaborations. And then I discovered more and more from Jimmy, and on and on and on, and it continues still today. You can never thank a musician properly for what emotions they communicated for you, nor for what their music has meant to you...but you can walk away still the same and be touched by it every time you hear it.

"Michael Hutchence" solo album cover, © V2 Records, 1999

Three days prior to his death, Hutchence was working on a solo album he had been toiling on for years. In the end, it still ended incomplete, and his good friend Bono from U2 came in and did some vocals on the tragically haunting "Slide Away". After some patience, I was able to get a copy of this album, which was finally released in 1999 under just his name. It is a difficult album to listen to at times, full of a lot of anger, and pain, and betrayal, and disappointment. Sections of it clearly were intended as a release to handle the pressure of the whole tabloid attack he shared with Yates. It is, however, brutally forthright and a triumph for a lyricist who prided himself on speaking from the heart. It is about as far as one can go from the patented hits of INXS without starting to turn back...and that's both painful and daring. Obviously, given the nature of his death, "Slide Away" is a particularly poignant track. However, the last song Hutchence recorded, "Possibilities", (which quizzically was inserted as the second song but the whole sequential play list is odd to me), is the one that haunts us fans still. It lumbers, it seduces, it contradicts, but, in the end, it tells the ultimate truth: he knew nothing about the people that he touched. And there were so, so many that he did.

"Possibilities" by Michael Hutchence and Danny Saber
lyrics taken from the liner notes and his memorial website of Michael Hutchence solo album, ©1999

It's so strange
How my life's changed
I know nothing
About the people that I touched

Heard a story
It sounded easy
If you don't care
Then you're lying through your teeth

I was shook up
Intoxicated
Drank the juices
Of the possibilities

I'm so alive

If you told me
Nothing's perfect
Hearts are broken
Nothing's free

I could show you
Why it's worth it
That's the way that it's meant to be

It's too strange
How your life's changed
You know nothing
About the people that you've touched

Someone told me
Life is easy
Hearts were bleeding and breaking
They were lying through their teeth

If you told me
Nothing's perfect
Hearts are broken
Nothing's free

I will show you
Why it's worth it
And that's the way that it's meant to be

If you told me
Nothing's perfect
Hearts are broken
Nothing's free

I could show you
Why it's worth it
That's the way that it's meant to be

Heard a story
It sounded easy
Got a new skin and
I'm lying through my teeth
I was shook up
Intoxicated
I drank the juices of the possibilities

Of the possibilities

UPDATE: There is a simply wonderful version of this song on the same memorial website, done by The Possibilities Project Team in honour of Michael's birthday. Exceptionally well done, and very soulful and heartfelt. Just like Michael did it.

If You Can't Buy It, Make It (and Pray)

As many of the faithful readers here know, I have a particular fondness for Australian beer. And, following that saga, many of the same know the utter exasperation that I feel in not being able to acquire any decent (stress the decent) Australian beer here on these far shores. And, no, Fosters® does not qualify. (The same dilemma plagues me to a lesser extent with the purchase of Tim Tams®.)

For the life of me, and as some horrible beer God joke on me, my favourite all-time brew, Carlton Crown®, cannot be imported into the state of North Carolina for legal sale. (And, yes, I do know that my beloved Crown is brewed alongside the aforementioned Aussie non-beer.) Nor any of the surrounding states (and, yes, I check on this with some regularity) for that matter. Apparently it can be imported and purchased in Canada (eh), but not then brought across this country's border from there (and not that my fellow beer-lovers and Canadian folk would want to have Australian beer brought over their borders to the US). Even the Aussie-themed Outback Steakhouse® does not serve Carlton (but does now serve other Aussie beers on their menu). Even The Flying Saucer in Raleigh (with its more than 250 beers available option and a menu over 4 pages long), is sadly, sadly lacking in their Aussie beer varieties. This is highly, highly vexing to me.

So, for better or for worse, friends, I have taken matters into my own hands. Yours truly is now a home brewer of beer. Or, rather, a home brewer of pre-mixed ‘Australian style’ beer.

Sadly, I did not pop my brewing cherry with some wonderful Carlton® variation. I did, however, (with the wonderful assistance of constant companion and partner in crime, WR), start my first entree into beer making using a Cooper®'s draught mix. After some exhaustive work online by Ricky and an almost heavenly shopping excursion at the American Brewmaster store in Raleigh on Saturday, we decided on a draught mix (versus the bitter and dark beer varieties also available from Cooper®). I honestly have no idea what one of those 'medical marijuana' stores in California or Amsterdam must be like, but for a beer aficionado such as myself, smelling different kinds of hops and the like for home brewing, this may be as close as I can get. Perhaps if I could get most Americans into those stores instead of following like lemmings to the commercialized beer sea, American beer would have a far better reputation worldwide. We, as consumers, would know what good beer was really like and would demand better from our brewers...like a nice hefeweisen, like a good German lager, like even some of the other great Aussie beers...for a change. If you have to get a license to drive a car, you should also have to get a training and tasting class on good beer before you can legally drink. I'm just saying...

So, as my impatience for (possibly) good Aussie beer builds...and, as I soon discovered, it's good to have a fellow would-be brewer to help, as making beer from a mix is not the same as making a cake from a mix, say...I have two large plastic barrels bubbling away in my newly-super useful and dark laundry room. Maybe by this weekend...maybe. In some sort of bizarre encouragement, I check in on the progress before and after work and whistle a few bars of "Waltzing Matilda" (can't hurt, right??) I'm hopeful for the best, but I'm not overly optimistic...it is the first attempt, after all. Today Cooper®, soon Carlton® (providing I can find a knock-off recipe). This all could have been avoided, though, if the Aussies would just sell the damn goods.

Social Blogger Butterfly Calendar, 2008: First Week

A quick note as I'm listening to the naysayers talk about how the predictions for an Obama blowout (just hours old now) were totally 'inaccurate', but how "this now creates a race for The White House." Drudge is now predicting a winning night for McCain and Clinton...this could be interesting after all. God, I love it when the press tries to cover their collective ass, after they've really got less of an idea than we do. Fabulous to see such a high voter turn-out, though, maybe that bodes well for the election day later this year.

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Tomorrow night, at The Hibernian in Cary, our good friends in person and Friends of Blog in general, Hercules Mulligan, takes stage at about 8pm. The weather should still be unseasonably warm and it's their first show of the new year, so come on out. It's just weeks, after all, until St. Patrick's Day, so let the alcoholic singalong training begin.

This weekend, starting on Friday, in celebration of the birth of The King (Elvis Presley), Elvisfest will take place at its new digs at Time Out bar at The Holiday Inn in Chapel Hill. Approximately 20 bands will have a go on at least 2 Elvis songs (and then also including their own sets) over Friday and Saturday nights. Musical ranges will include Punk and your trusty blogger's fave, Psychobilly. Ironically, two of Elvis' favourite genres, opera (Elvis' "It's Now or Never" was directly lifted from his fondness of opera and its "O Sole Mio") and gospel, seemingly are not represented.

"Landscapes from the Age of Impressionism", at the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh. Features some Monet, Sargent and a host of others. If I can talk the WR into going with me, this should be a pleasant break and tour. Always good for a cultural learning moment (feel good on the brain) and also for a laugh (feel good for the funny bone), as WR and I are always asked if we're married as (a) I'm the only one who doesn't seem to notice he wears his kilt to these kinds of things, and (b) we seem to finish each other's descriptions of the art we're viewing. A lot of guys would rather go to the dentist than the art museum, but luckily WR isn't one of them and I always learn a bit from him at these things. He has far more patience with art than I do.

The first ever WR&M Wine Tasting Tour of eastern North Carolina (although with an acronym like 'WR&M', one would think it would be a tequila...and tequila worm...tasting tour, but no). While NC will never be confused with Italy, France, California or the Hunter Valley in Oz for its wine notoriety, it still has a developing wine production sector still the same. The itinerary is still a bit up in the air and will probably be on a separate day from the Museum foray, but we plan to see about three local wineries. With any luck, we may actually find one we both can agree upon. And, if not, I've promised Ricky to not constantly brag about the Crossings production in New Zealand (which contributes a very stellar dry white wine) or of the rose from the Raleigh Winery in New South Wales.

So, yes, this would happen to be the year Social Blogger Butterfly finds (or rather attempts to learn, embrace and find) culture.

Changes in Latitude...An Ode to Wishful Happenstance

I'm back, and so is the blog. (Consider yourself warned now.)

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I've finally finished the move to the new digs, which would have been a tad bit more enjoyable the last two days of the move had I not been marred by a heavy and a cold rain and also (in my stubborn and impatient manner) had I not sprained the lower side of my forearm and thumb. The latter has been problematic even until this weekend, as the numbing and then the throbbing comes and goes with some vehemence. The fact that this is also on the primary hand (and the hand, wrist and forearm which led me to give up dreams of being a guitar hero years ago) has just been icing on the cake. Literally, it's been all I can do lately to even hold a fork halfway correctly.

The new digs themselves are in a state of process, both in the unpacking and in the acclimation to its new tenant. The new place is the bottom part of a secondary farm house, built half into a hill and with energy savings in spades, surrounded on three sides by trees. It's taken a small act of Congress to get Internet connections set up (as only new customers can get dial-up right now), phone (which still is problematic with my existing cell phone carrier), and TV (had to get satellite as cable has not come out here as of yet). I went cheaper as far as rent, but I also apparently went back in time a bit, too, in exchange for the new space. I've felt I'm in slow-mo recently, and I'm not sure exactly why.

My new blessings:

I wanted quiet and a place to relax... I've got almost deafening quiet now, save a reading-inclined, and silence appreciative, professor as an upstairs neighbour.

I wanted birds to watch and enjoy outside...I have what seems like entire species come through still and forage for something outside my main windows.

I wanted an area to garden this spring and summer...I will soon be able to garden to my heart's content and have several 'wild' things already around, including some very pleasing 'wild' mint at the front door.

I wanted a screened in porch with a tin roof to enjoy the sounds of the rain...I have not only that but also a door to it (and the woods it overlooks for almost a half mile) straight from my bedroom.

I wanted wild animals to sometimes surprise me and come trot through the yard...I have so far met more than a half dozen persistent possums, a raccoon, and a couple of fearless deer all of which seem to like looking in on me as much as I do looking out at them. All of us are quite uncertain as to whom is exactly in charge.

I wanted to enjoy some country living where I could see the sunrise and sunset every day...and so far, I've missed almost all of them due to work, catch-up sleep from moving exhaustion, or pain from just moving the arm. (But I have come close, and there's hopefully always tomorrow.)

And it could go on and on. The home 'checklist', so to speak, is almost completely ticked off. It feels eerie, though, sorta like a dream.

I'll get adjusted, it's just taking me a bit as I've obviously went the complete opposite of what I had. I finally got what I've hoped for all these recent years...well, except I wanted all of the above in Australia, complete with a nearby beach and/or vineyard, overgrown dog, yapping kookaburras, and a loving and joking husband, all of which are still missing from this current picture...and I'm not really sure how to react to it all.

Be careful (and specific) in what you wish for, folks...you just may get it. Cheers and best wishes to you all on the beginning of this new year.