New domains

July 31, 2008


It’s been busy around the office and at home, and it doesn’t look like things are letting up.

With that, a quick note. I have been sitting on two domains - mrvilhauer.com and coreyvilhauer.com - for a few months now. I’ve finally gotten around to activating them and sending them here.

So go ahead. Now you have three ways to get a hold of me! HOORAY!

More real BMOWP goodness to come. Eventually. I think.

Tags: Blogging, Meta, Random |

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Steinbeck on Steroids

July 29, 2008


I’m back on the workout wagon again, frantically trying to curb the oncoming weight of turning 30 in October.

I’ve tried and failed at some kind of workout/diet regiment about, oh, I don’t know, six or seven times in the past two years. Unfortunately, I don’t really know what to do – I have a weak disposition, and when the bagels and donuts show up at work, I certainly have my share.

I realize that one of the few things that will motivate me to work out regularily is my iPod – Steinbeck, as you might recall – and that the idea of music fueling my desire to lose weight can be a strong motivation.

Today’s workout was the tip of the iceberg. And all I could think about was that I had a great playlist, randomized on the Indie Rock genre.

“Grounds for Divorce” – Wolf Parade
“Live at Dominoes” – The Avalanches
“The Farewell Party” - Cursive
“Modesto” - Beck
“Busy with Other Things” - Office
“Poor Places” - Wilco
“The Crystal Lake” - Grandaddy
“300 MHz” – At the Drive-In
“Going On” – Gnarls Barkley

This should be a regular feature. So you can see what’s driving me to work out. And so you can see what I’m currently rocking.

Tags: Music, Steinbeck on Random |

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The CSA: Week 9

July 29, 2008


Deane from Gadgetopia send me an article the other day from the New York Times online, about a new trend in gardening – hiring an organic gardener to plant, maintain and harvest your garden for you.

At first it seemed nearly sacrilegious. Lazy. Elitist. Like hiring a maid. Or a chauffeur. I mean, if you’re going to go to the trouble of having a garden, why wouldn’t you do it yourself? Didn’t this defeat the purpose of a garden?

But I realized that, really, it’s not that different from, say, hiring a landscaper, or having someone mow your lawn. It’s all in the perspective. It’s something that those with money can enjoy – the fruits of a garden without the pain of gardening; the time weeding, the digging, the forgetfulness and subsequent failure.

(And trust me – as much as I enjoy getting out and picking weeds and digging in the dirt, it’s not something I drive myself to do every night. It’s one of those jobs that are surprisingly enjoyable once you’ve gotten yourself into the mood, but will sit dormant for weeks while you work up the nerve to get started. Time is an issue, yes. But so is desire.)

Even more, I realized that this organic gardening, while pretty cool, also creates summer jobs, lends itself to a greener city community and supports the organic movement. It is also pretty common. The only difference between the people featured in this article and, say, Kerrie and myself is that we don’t have the garden on our premises. Instead, it’s on a farm, several miles away.

We pay to have someone grow vegetables for us. Everyone who purchases a tomato in a grocery store pays to have someone grow vegetables for them, too. It seems like we’re doing them a favor, that we’re making their farm successful, that we’re the ones doing them a service. But it’s not. They’re doing us a service, we’re paying for it, and both sides benefit.

Just like these people who have organic gardeners. It’s not elitist or lazy or anything like that. It’s a pretty good idea, if you have the money.

Our haul was pretty good this week, and we went right to work using roughly two pounds of onions (unwillingly saved over the past two weeks) to make some delicious French onion soup. Delicious, as in, the best I’d ever tasted. Apparently, I can cook, if so driven.

(To be honest, it wasn’t French onion soup, but English onion soup with sage and cheddar, from Jamie Oliver’s new Food Network program Jamie at Home.)

In addition to the onions, we received.
Tomatoes
Beets
Potatoes
Carrots
Various peppers
Cucumbers
Cabbage
Green beans

Now, if only I could find someone who would cook the vegetables as well. We’d be in perfect shape.

Tags: Food, Outdoors, Sioux Falls |

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On inclusion

July 28, 2008


Michel Gondry’s Be Kind Rewind is clever, integrating a series of movies into a movie. It’s the story of sweding. It’s got Mos Def and Jack Black. It’s not brilliant - it has it’s flaws. It’s exactly what you’d think it would be – creative, fun, at times subtle, completely off kilter.

And to me, it was touching.

The word doesn’t seem to fit. Touching? In a movie starring Jack Black? In a movie about re-recording video tapes because they’ve all been magnetized by some idiot in a junkyard?

Yes. Touching.

Be Kind Rewind’s premise is that an entire video store of VHS tapes has been ruined. Erased. And in order to keep the business afloat, a couple of guys take a camera and start remaking the movies. In order to fool the customers, they think.

What happens, though, is that people enjoy the remakes for what they are. They become very popular. They see the power of what they’re doing, and they start offering their customers a part in the process.

This is where it gets touching. This is where the true story is. The heart of the film isn’t a group of zany antics and goofy spoofs. Be Kind Rewind is about inclusion, about being a part of the scene. About not settling for what the biggest entities give you – about carving out your own little niche.

It’s what strikes all of those who strive to be creative, who embrace an art form and want to make it theirs. They want to be part of the fun. They don’t just want to watch movies –they want to be in them. To see them as real. To influence the direction, to cater to themselves and people like them.

It’s what has led to the blossoming of user-generated content. Blogs allow those of us who love reading the published word to become published. Just as video cameras allowed us to make our own films, just as affordable cameras allowed us to become photographers.

Because at one point, it was impossible to be part of the scene without extraordinary talent, without the right connections and knowledge and schooling and tools. Over time, the line between production and audience has blurred. To the detriment of the art, I’m sure some would say. To the benefit of everyone involved, I’d argue.

In the end, we all want to be included. We have the urge to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. It’s a desire that wrenches our guts, that leaves us wanting, grasping for a place. Most of us would gladly do it without much credit, without much notice.

We’d know. That for one moment, we could touch the silver screen. For one moment, we could smell the chemicals from the dark room, the dust from the printing press, the sounds of the editing room. We could make our mark, be noticed, leave a legacy, leave anything.

That’s community. Everyone involved. At once. In harmony. Included in the process. Amazed by the product.

Tags: Blogging, Movies, On... |

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Shaking clean the roots

July 25, 2008


When she left me to myself in the pakasandra I would sit on the mat she would give me – an old car floormat – and I would see the pakasandra and see the weeds among them and I would drift.

My hands would reach for the neck of a weed and I would pull, slowly, feeling the base, taking the soil with it, the gentlest of pulls, causing the faint snipping sound of the roots breaking; then it would come completely, I would fall back the smallest amount, the weed would bring soil with it and shower the pakasandra with black as I shook clean its roots. Then I’d toss it into the pile and move to the next weed.

Some required two hands. Sometimes I could do two at once. I was being paid by the hour and wanted to be in the pakasandra indefinitely. I was more thorough than I needed to be. By the end I was spending five minutes hunting for weeds remaining. I parted the pakasandra leaves to see of there were weeds beginning underneath. The dirt was so black and most. She watered it often.

And all the while I was caressing every wall of my head. I was wandering around my head, teary with joy, wistful even, loving the surfaces, the many rooms, the old rooms, and empty rooms.

–An excerpt from You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers

I always think of this excerpt when I’m weeding.

And then, I realize how much I enjoy weeding.

Sick, eh?

(Note: the proper spelling is Pachysandra. It’s a type of plant. No idea why Eggers spelled it that way.)

Tags: Literature, Outdoors |

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My emo is not your emo

July 24, 2008


A post by Jen at Jen-Sized reminded me of something that has bothered me.

What the kids call “emo” today is not at all what I called “emo.”

Emo wasn’t a clothing style. It was a music style. It hadn’t crossed from headphones to mockery. It was just good music; music that some thought was awful, but music that had a loyal following of sane, level-headed fans.

To me, emo was punk with a box of tissues; complicated, emotional, thoughtful and introspective music that meshed well with competing branches of the decade’s punk movement. There was hardcore punk. There was straight pop-punk. And there was post-hardcore – the branch that led into emo, that told everyone it’s alright to add a little bit of personal feeling to your music.

Today’s emo isn’t my emo.

My emo, and the emo of my peers, was Sunny Day Real Estate. Mineral. Texas is the Reason and The Promise Ring were nearly there. Screamy stuff like At the Drive In and Cursive was on the border. It was fun, yet thoughtful. It was perfect for the literary sector of the scene, for those that thought too hard, took things to heart too much.

Today’s emo is a clothing style. A dab of eyeliner and pinstripes. It’s died hair and TRL and meticulously placed clothespins. It’s a look. A club. A way to be different by being the same. Like every other trend.

For me, the clothing wasn’t important. It was hoodies and t-shirts. Just like the kids that listened to Snapcase and Coalesce. Just like the kids that listened to Jawbreaker and NOFX.

Hell, Coalesce was best friends with one of the most popular emo bands of the time, The Get Up Kids.

In Sioux Falls, whether it was for lack of venues or lack of shows, we all went to the same shows. We were all part of the same group. We were fans of music, of punk and emo and hardcore and the screamy stuff too.

I should apologize. I hate to sound pretentious, to sound so “nothing is as good as what I like,” to even hint that I had anything to do with the scene or that my opinion is important. Maybe I’m old. Jen touched on this in her post as well.

But something changed, and only the name held on for the ride. Today’s emo is commercialized, strewn with product placement and unoriginal. Yesterday’s emo? It wasn’t as groundbreaking as a lot of us would have thought.

But at least it wasn’t what it is today.

Tags: Music |

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One laugh to rule them all

July 22, 2008


When Sierra laughs, it’s like the perfect idea. A brilliant brainstorm, where everything else clears out and the sure answer stands right there, waving at you, asking you where you’ve been and why you’ve been hanging out with those other losers.

It’s like that first flicker of a fluorescent bulb, those tenths of seconds that lead to illumination, the pre-dawning of white light.

It’s like a good cup of coffee from a gas station, a pure surprise, the best thing that could possibly happen to the 85 cents you just scrounged out of the glove compartment.

I spend nearly every day worried about something, and many of you are probably in the same boat. Not ulcer-inducing worry, but slight worry, about inconsequential things, and sometimes about important things, but constant, all the time.

I worry about whether Sierra is getting the right foods to eat, whether she’s going to learn her words at the right time, about the sun, about the cement, about her feet, about her hair, everything about her.

Because I’m so filled with love that I can’t help it. I want life to be perfect for her. Of course I do.

And then she laughs.

Game over. Show’s ending, folks, so head down the aisle and stop worrying about the credits. When Sierra laughs, it’s like a string has been pulled, tightening the knot inside my heart. There’s nothing else I can do except make her laugh. There’s nothing more enjoyable at that point, and there’s nothing more for me to do.

The worry stops. I turn her over, start tickling, and give myself an extra helping of therapy.

That’s all I should be doing now. No worry. No fatigue. No anticipation. No annoyance.

Just laughter.

Tags: Sierra |

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