When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school.

I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from high school. Not my high school, anyway – my wife and I still keep in touch with some of her classmates. And I am friends with some people I knew/worked with when I was in high school, although we’re not as close as we used to be.

At any rate, a few months ago I clicked on a link in one of the tumblr blogs written by amusing girls that I follow – it was a link to the blog of a former co-worker (or boss, maybe) of the blogger. Anyway, it turned out that he was a guy from my high school class. I’ll call him Ted, because that’s his name. I didn’t know Ted well, although we were both on the student newspaper. I was only at the school my junior and senior years, it was a somewhat clique-y place, and he was much higher in the campus food chain. I didn’t dislike him, really. I may have thought that he didn’t deserve his smart and funny girlfriend, but does one hate Dario Franchitti just because he’s with Ashley Judd? (Yes!) (Ok, bad example.)

Anyway, I noodled around his site a bit, learned that his life back in the day wasn’t quite the golden boy adventure that I imagined it was. I also learned that he’s pretty funny. I went back and looked at his site a couple of times, but since he writes about a topic that isn’t all that interesting to me, I stopped checking in regularly.

Fast forward to yesterday. My wife is going to her [redacted] high school reunion, and I got curious about mine. I decided to Google “name of Jackson’s high school plus year of graduation.” One of the first links was to one of Ted’s blog entries. I learned that Ted didn’t take his smart and funny girlfriend to prom (we’ll call her Sue), and that Sue had brought a revenge date, who got arrested. I was reminded of the fact that the prom king and queen were also involved in a scandal, which led to them almost getting expelled, which led to another scandal because they did not, in fact, actually get expelled. Ted posted a few pictures from said prom. Sadly, Sue was not pictured.

So, I did what any normal, bored, heterosexual male would do – I amended to include Sue in the search. Yes, I Googled Sue. No luck, alas – she had a relatively common name, and who knows if she’s married, changed it, etc. However, I did find a result that led to another classmate with a similar first name -- Susanna.

Susanna and I were friends. We hung out during lunch at the same table, and although I didn't go to prom, earlier in the year I had actually gone to the Winter Semi-Formal with her (in the same car, not as dates – I was dating a junior, and she was seeing another guy in our crowd). She was smart, reasonably attractive, quirky, and -- best of all -- she laughed at my jokes. So, intrigued, I followed the Google trail, and found myself at her “mommy and me” blog. Happily married to a brain surgeon, mother of wonderful twin girls who are reading Proust at age 4, blah blah blah.

So, what’s the relevance of this to your life? None, I suspect. Anyway, part of me is tempted to send an email to Ted, and I probably will at some point. I mean, he seems like a Not Jerk, and we all need more of those from our pasts, right? (I just hope that I can resist the effort to ask him about Sue.)

It’s a wonder I can think at all.

A scout from the Flames came down from Saskatoon.

So, my poor Rangers lost a heartbreaker last night when Sergei “I’m So Old That I Played In The Miracle On Ice Game -- For The Commies” Fedorov scored a goal late in the third period. I console myself with the fact that the Devils lost, too.

Ah, hockey. I played it in the frozen backyard of Jimmy Stevens as a lad in The Ancestral Homeland, cheered as new Ranger Phil Esposito battled his old teammate Bobby Orr on TV, and pretended I was Rocket Richard on the rare occasions when my older brothers allowed me to play as the Canadiens on the slot-hockey game we had in the basement. (Being stuck playing the Maple Leafs gave me a degree of sympathy for the white and blue that remains to this day.)

I drifted away from the game, though, after the move. The fact that hockey lost a national broadcast deal around the same time didn’t help. I rediscovered the game much later, when I was channel surfing and happened upon the playoffs one year on ESPN. It was 1993, the year that Montreal and Los Angeles battled for the Cup, and Patrick Roy hooked me. And the following year, my Rangers ended the “1940!” chants when Mark Messier picked them up and carried them into victory. Ever since, no matter who is in the playoffs, I love this time of year. I like it a lot better, of course, when a team (or player) I like wins, but the game itself makes up for the fact that the hated Red Wings win too often, or that the thuggish Devils seem to do well (but not this year!) in the playoffs.

At any rate, with the Rangers out, I need to find a new team to pull for. There are plenty of options, but I think that I am leaning towards the Blackhawks.

I was once lost, but now am found.

Hello.

So, it’s been a while. Longer than I had realized, in fact. One of my imaginary friends made a comment in passing about not seeing any new posts in some time, and when I checked, I was shocked to see how long it has been.

Anyway, spring has been a series of days in trial for me. Not that I haven’t had plenty of days where I just sit around the office Googling for information about “When Things Were Rotten” while the “Acoustic Estrogen” channel is playing on Pandora.com, but still.

I’ve also been writing a little bit, and maybe will post some more of The Other Great American Novel here for your amusement.

In other news, most of you probably already know this, but Alex Balk and Choire Sicha have started a new website – The Awl. If you aren’t familiar with these guys and their cast of talented friends and amusing commenters, go visit there now – we can wait for you.

Since we last spoke, I have continued my usual mildly manic-depressive mental health cycle, alternating between degrees of Angst-y Funk and Semi-Smug Satisfaction. The last couple of days have more on the funk side of the scale, but nothing too horrible. (Not that I ever really get too horrible, but you know what I mean.) I have, however, been pretty good about hitting the gym regularly for a little 30 minute cardio workout in the last two months, so (along with achieving total consciousness on my death bed) I got that going for me.

I saw a film today, oh boy.

Howdy, all. Happy New Year, etc.

I didn't realize how long it has been since my last post. While I wish that I could say that I was simply too busy to write something, it was really more a combination of (a) not being able to get on the web when I had something I thought was worth posting, and (b) not having anything worth posting when online. And now I am busy with work stuff, and here I am. Go figure. Anyway, a few quick things:

1. I finally bought and read Philalawyer's book. I had planned on doing a full post on it, and probably will, but just wanted to mention it since it's been several weeks already. Short version -- there are plenty of sex and drugs and rock and roll stories of the type on his website in there, but it also has an interesting discussion about the legal profession. I don't agree with all of my imaginary friend's conclusions (other than the fact that he is one cat remarkably unsuited for some of the places he's worked), but the book is more than just a mere collection of amusing anecdotes.

2. Go see Slumdog Millionaire. Great story. Much less sappy than I expected. You know what will happen at the end, but you will enjoy how the film gets there and what happens along the way.

3. Any New Years resolutions? I am still working on mine, but my perpetual one remains -- I want to be less of a procrastinator.

It's coming on Christmas.

While I noted in my last post that the soundtrack of A Charlie Brown Christmas is probably my favorite, I like some other songs as well. Here are a few -- I hope at least one is new to you. Enjoy.

1. Dar Williams, The Christians and the Pagans. Amusing little number from my favorite chick-with-a-guitar-singer-songwriter. I can just picture the poor, put-upon suburbanite uncle answering the phone at the beginning of the song, sighing at the prospect of explaining to his wife why his gay niece and her lesbian lov-ah are showing up at their McMansion on Christmas Eve. Still, all's well that ends well, and the song is all about the meaning of the season for both Pagans and Christians.




2. The Pogues with Kirsty MacColl, Fairytale of New York. Sweet, sad, and haunting. "I could have been someone," indeed. Shane and Kirsty sing of love, regret, nostalgia, hate, and all emotions in between as if they really were two old lovers at the end of their drink-addled lives. The fact that Shane has outlived Kirsty is one of the truest proofs that The Universe has an odd sense of humor.




3. Robert Earl Keen's Merry Christmas From The Family. The modern American family, warts and all. How can you not love a song that includes AA, xenophobia converted by song, and feminine hygenie products?

But you don't care that much for music, do you?

As I have mentioned here before, I am a big Peanuts fan. And tonight, ABC is showing my favorite bit of holiday tradition -- not Rudolph, Frosty, or even the Who's Roast Beast. No, my friends, I speak of "A Charlie Brown Christmas." It could never be made today -- too anti-commercial, too sad, too (gasp!) religious.*

And even if it could be made today, it couldn't use the same music -- it's too sophisticated, too adult, too Not Saccharine. Listening to "Christmastime is Here" is a somewhat heartache-inducing experience for me -- it really captures the bittersweet tang of the holiday (here's the instrumental version). The entire Vince Guaraldi soundtrack is in endless rotation in my car starting the day after Thanksgiving. Who doesn't love a little "Linus and Lucy"?

*When I was a wee lad in The Ancestral Homeland, my CCD (a/k/a Sunday school for Catholic kids who went to public school) class did a stage version of it one year for the Christmas program at Our Lady of Perpetual Motion. I played Snoopy, which was cool because it meant I had no lines to memorize.

You said you'd stand by me, in the middle of Chapter Three.

Apparently I now have two Great American Novels in my head. The Muse paid me a visit the other night and I now have a second fully formed opus floating around. Now, if I could just get it on paper (as Jimmy Buffett sang), I will be rich and famous. Right?

Anyhoo, I did get the beginning done, and here it is. Please give me your thoughts/comments/suggestions/rotten tomatoes/etc. If you prefer not to hurt my feelings in public, email me. I'll probably delete it after a few days, so if you come by next week and only see a blank post, and are interested in reading it, let me know.

Enjoy. Or, uh, whatever.

EDITED/UPDATED 12/15/08: And the snippet is down. Thanks to the New Diarist for his kind words in the comments and to those who responded via email. If you missed it, and really want to read it, shoot me an email