Rest Assured

I know I shouldn't do this, but I am giving you all a heads up that there will be wonderful amounts of new content tonight. For the first time in quite a while, I will be home in the evening with no drinks, a chapter of my thesis turned in, and little else to do.

Also - I've added a new item on the right hand side of the page with links to other parts of my life on the 'net including (but not limited to) the blog I write for work, my twitter, facebook, myspace, etc. It's lame, but there are some of you out there who love me that much, and I love ya right back.

PSA

I want you all to know, gentle readers, that I am not abandoning the blog, nor am I being lame and forgetting to write blogs. Unfortunately, at the moment, my life is being consumed by work on my thesis. Ideally, once I finish this chapter, I will be wary enough to pace myself a bit more the rest of the way so I don't feel like I'm constantly working from behind and being much more of an anti-social hermit than usual.

Your patience is appreciated.

That's gross, MUNI rider. Volume 1

Roughly 5:45. Outbound L going towards West Portal. I am standing in the aisle because my usual mid-bus safe haven was already spoken for. I notice a woman a few feet from me, seated, but her head is moving around in a weird way.

At first I think "Hm, she must be cracking her neck or something."

I look a little closer, and what's going on?

She's flossing.

On the bus.

I can't say how gross this is and at how many levels of gross this hits on.

Number one: no one should ever, EVER floss in public.

Number two: I hesitate to even touch my face after being on MUNI for long, and I sure as hell never eat without washing my hands first, so putting your bus-soiled hands directly into your mouth is disgusting and unsanitary.

Finally, number three: have you seen many people's bathroom mirrors after they floss? There's all sorts of tartar and food chunks and saliva that has popped from the floss onto the mirror. There was no mirror to catch this woman's mouth-generated trash, just the pantleg of whomever happened to have the misfortune of standing up in front of her.

Just thinking about this makes me want to throw my clothes in the wash and hop into a giant tub filled with Purell.

Unfortunately, I'm sure if I peek up from my book frequently enough, I'll have plenty of these to post as the days go on. Therefore I'll end this as plan to end all of these stomach-churning episodes; by saying "That's gross, MUNI rider!"

Ouch.

Costume SuperCenter can kiss my ass.

http://www.costumesupercenter.com/csc/product/popupLargeImage.web?imageUrl=61910.jpg&productCategory=NaN&productName=CostumeSuperCenter.com

I demand satisfaction.

Twitter.

In case anyone wants to follow...

http://twitter.com/billbergstrom

It might not be as funny or clever as the blog, but it does get updated on a more regular basis, since I can update at work without feeling guilt.

Happy Monday.

A master of form.

I've been spending a lot of time on literary pursuits this weekend, the main one of those has been getting a start on my thesis. But instead of boring you all with those more academic pursuits, I want to discuss briefly what has been more a matter of pleasure reading in the past week.

I have been reading in those few random moments of spare time, a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami. "But Bill," you all say, "Murakami is a gimme hipster pick. Everyone loves Murakami." I am no exception to this statement. I loves me some Murakami, but I take a little minor exception to something I read in the introduction to his book. I realize that when you are writing an introduction to a book, you want to speak highly of its author. I also realize that Murakami is one of the greatest literary talents to come out of Japan. However, I take exception to the use of the term "master of form" when it comes to the short story.

Now, I fully admit, I have not read a ton of his shorter works. I am about a third of the way through the collection at the time I am writing this. Still, the person who wrote the introduction brought up the name of the one writer whom I find to be the hands-down master of the short story form, and that's Raymond Carver. I know that I have a deep-seated love for Carver that many of my contemporaries don't share. I also know that after reading essentially Carver's whole oeuvre over the course of last semester, that I'm just silly with his work, but still, I'm going to be so bold as to say it here:

Haruki Murakami is not the short storyist that Raymond Carver is.

Call me a jerk if you must, but I feel that way. I will also balance it by saying that Murakami is one of the better double-threat writers I've seen, in that he is ridiculously talented at writing both short stories as well as novels. I'd love to go on some manner of long-running rave about Carver's work, but all I will say is read it for yourself. Do yourself a favor, pick up any collection of his (Cathedral is always a great starting point) and treat yourself to a great read. I am ever-so curious to see what would have happened were he to have written a novel, but that's one of those great secrets that's probably better left unknown. To do one of those wonderful pop culture comparisons that you love to get from me, I fear that if Carver were to try to put all of his efforts into writing a novel at some point in time before his untimely death, it might be as big of a letdown as Michael Jordan leaving the NBA to attempt a career in major league baseball, where all we learned was that arguably the greatest player in the history of the NBA couldn't hit a curve ball. Just remember: It's better be known as a master of whatever it is that you do, rather than great at your one thing than to prove to everyone why it is that you went in that direction in the first place.








On a very unrelated note........


Jon, start blogging again. We all miss you.

That One Perfect Song.

I've been listening to a lot of music lately (which isn't terribly out of the ordinary or anything) and more specifically, I have been making a point to listen to whole albums all the way through. In this listening, I have realized the importance of having at least one patently "great" song on an album, and how it can make an entire album more listenable. I'm trying to figure out exactly why that is, or at least how it relates to my mindset when listening to music. I'll use three examples, and I don't know if any will be immediately recognized by any of you, but they still are all proven examples in my book. In each case, the entire disc is solid from top to bottom, but there's something about one specific song that keeps me coming back.

Band: The Blow
Album: Paper Television
Song: True Affection
Position on album: track 10 of 10
I can't say exactly why I like this song as much as I do, but there's something about it that absolutely floats my boat. Interestingly enough, this is the last song on the album, but I think the fact that the album is short enough (roughly 30-35 minutes as memory serves) to listen through quickly, I will often listen to the whole thing again in the anticipation of reaching that song yet again. It helps that the track "Parentheses", which is the second track on the album, is also phenomenal, so it helps. Still, if it weren't for "True Affection", would I like The Blow as much as I do? Not necessarily.


Band: Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin
Album: Pershing
Song: I Think I Wanna Die
Position on album: track 7 of 11
This song is what introduced me to SSLBY. It might be one of the best indie/pop songs written in the last five years. It's clever, it's catchy, and it's the fillet of the album. I like the band, and appreciate their work as a whole, but this song stands out far above the rest. Chances are it's because the song is the most "pop" cut on the album, in addition to the fact that it is the song that the band chose for its hilarious video. Still, the placement just past the midway point has a similar effect: I spend a decent amount of time anticipating the song's arrival, and as soon as it's over, I'm ready to listen to the album again to get to it.


Band: Geographer
Album: Innocent Ghosts
Song: Each Other's Ghost
Position on album: track 5 of 11
I love the hell out of this band. They're local, they're talented, and they put on a hell of a live show. The CD is great, even if it does get stuck in my car's CD player any time I listen to it. Still, there is one song, again nearly at the midpoint of the album, that stands out above the rest. The song "Each Other's Ghost" is a shining achievement of indie rock for the Bay Area, and it's one of those tracks that even gets me reaching for the "repeat" button when I listen to the album in my car. I think this one has an affect as The Blow, in that the song "Asleep" is another stellar track that keeps me wanting more.


What is the secret? How do they do it? How do you produce albums with enough good songs to make it constantly listenable, while still having that one song that will make it on mix tapes for years to come? One day I'll figure it out...

A quick one before bed.

No, not like that you sickos. Get your mind out of the toilet.

Rather, tonight's post is quite the opposite. See, I ride the bus on average ten hours a week these days. Fifteen when MUNI is being MUNI and the trains I'm on sit idly by in the tunnel. Anyhow, I'm not going to lie, one of the highlights of being on a crowded MUNI bus is the chance to eyeball attractive girls with the hopes that maybe they might either notice me and give a smile, or at least not notice as long as I have a good clear view of them. This doesn't make me a pervert or anything, it makes me a male. A very single male.

However, I have noticed in the last few days that there are many instances of men just being gross or wrong to female MUNI passengers. Guys who will bypass rows of empty seats to squeeze in next to a woman. Guys who stand just a little too close or even ogle from afar a little too long. Then finally, yesterday, I witnessed the last straw: some dickwad (who seemed to have some sort of mental issues, so I can't be completely appalled) passed by a very distinguished and attractive woman sitting by the door. On his way out of the door, as she was applying chapstick, he leans close to her and says something to the effect of "ooh, yeah, I like that, you're so sexy" and continued walking. Bothersome as much as that may have been, he made matters work by promptly walking IN the back door of the bus again and continuing another three or four stops.

If it weren't almost a form of rubbing it in, I almost would have gone up to her and apologized on behalf of testicled Americans from coast to coast. Instead, I figure I'll issue this statement:

Public transit riding females the world over, I'd like to apologize on behalf of all mankind for the times guys have been rude or gross to you. I realize you can't return the favor, because most men would enjoy being objectified like they do to you. Rather, I apologize most for the fact that relatively good and upright men (as I usually strive to be) must stand idly by as this happens. See, getting into a fight on the bus is not an accepted excuse for being late to work or arrested. Just know that my heart, and the heart of like-minded males all go out to you. Please, continue to look as attractive as you naturally are. Buy a nice pair of noise cancelling headphones, and hell, I won't even blame you for wearing sunglasses when riding the trains underground. Keep fighting the hot fight. And maybe while you're at it, make a guy's day by smiling at him on the bus from time to time. Especially if you ride the K/T line and there's a guy standing in the middle of your train with a black hoodie and a messenger bag. He's really nice. And single.


Stay classy!

Blog Rule: Don't Write Checks Your Fingers Can't Cash.

So I wake up today, roll out of bed just slightly later than usual, and get moving. The bus ran pretty much on time, I'm almost done reading my current literary selection, and the weather has gotten pleasantly cool. I get off work smoothly, start walking up Second street towards the office, all the while thinking these deeply literary thoughts, and as soon as I turn the corner to get to the office it hits me: I didn't blog last night.

Now I can make up excuses all over the place as to why. I can blame it on my old friend, Anchor Steam. I can blame it on the fact that I was tired. I can blame it on the fact that I had to get up and go to work. All of these claims hold some amount of merit. Instead, what I think I will do is say this: it completely slipped my mind. I came home tired after a long day and a long night, and the call of my bed was louder than the voices I hear in my head that tell me to blog. (Not in a schizophrenic way or anything like that. Really it's what most people would call "memory") Still, here I am. I am considering this exercise in blogging, done at work, "on-the-job practice". I'm selling this blog as the trial run for the blog I have to write later.

This blog, however, will be about pick-up lines. Some of you who know me are aware of the fact that I used to bribe my English students with pick-up lines. No, not that way you dirty, dirty people. Here's how it worked: every Friday, if my senior Lit classes could stay focused and remain relatively on point most of the class period, (a HARD thing to do after lunch on Friday afternoons) I would reward them with a few choice hideous pickup lines that I have accrued over the years. This became a smash hit, and my students loved me forever. I don't know how I feel about the fact that some kids from other classes would "go to the bathroom" a few minutes before the end of class to stick their head in my doorway minutes before the bell, but that's all in the past.

Anyhow, I was at the bar last night with my friend Iain, and since it was a slow night because the Raiders were getting trounced by the Broncos, we began making idle chatter with the bartendress. It wasn't in a particularly flirtatious manner, really more just us two lads being the charming and witty chaps that we are, so we couldn't help but being heard. Either way, we were discussing Joe Namath's drunken antics of a few years back in trying to kiss Suzy Kolber:


The question was: does drunkenly leaning in and saying "I wanna kiss you" pass as a pickup line if you're one of the NFL's more storied quarterbacks? Lord knows it won't work for everyday schlubs like myself and my friends. At least most of the time. So this lead to the larger discussion of if pick-up lines work at all. I personally think if they're lighthearted enough and delivered with just the right amount of silliness, they can work wonders. I won't get into listing funny ones, because I'd be here all morning coming up with zinger after zinger. Instead, I turn to you, dear readers, to let me know: have you had great success with one? Girls, has a guy used a pick-up line that actually made you consider wanting to talk to him more?

Our research last night reinforced the fact that I have been well aware of for some time now: the best thing any male can do is buy a girl a drink, keep your distance, and let her come to you. It may be a little passive-aggressive, but it shows that you're open to seeing if they're actually interested, and not forcing yourself into a situation that will be uncomfortable for all parties involved.

Then again, I have been single damn near forever now...

New Banner

I know, I know, I'm horrible. I don't blog nearly as often as I used to. I agree. I am horrible. The problem is that my life has become somewhat monotonous, and I don't get out as much as I used to, so I don't have the external stimuli that I used to enjoy in my days of unemployed grad-studenting.

As a way of making it up to you, I have added a banner at at the bottom of my page. It's for Diesel Sweeties, the webcomic I love so dear. R Stevens, the author, is far better than me about keeping fresh content (and fresh tee designs, yo) on his site.

I will write tonight. Mark my words. In the meantime, scroll to the bottom of the page for the newest addition to the "Bar Flies Like the Wind Family".

New Link

Hey folks,
You'll notice I've added a new blog link over to the left. The blog is called "Indexed" and it's an interesting hybrid of blog and web comic.

I have no idea who the blogger is outside of her name, but she does a daily doodle on an index card and posts it to her blog. They're all either Venn Diagrams or Plot Graphs, so it appeals to the geek in me, yet they're also all hilarious, which appeals to the kid in me.

Check it out, and await more for me now that I've re-claimed my life from the great iTunes migration of '08.

Good morning.

A little line that I wanted to get out for public consumption (and for trademark issues if need be - check my date stamp, you plagarists). It's mostly in jest, but you know...

"I'm so lonely these days, even my Rice Krispies won't talk to me."

A random smattering.

First things first: I found a new favorite cocktail, the Sazerac. It's much like my beloved Manhattan, but there are a few subtle differences: instead of bourbon, they use rye whiskey, and instead of vermouth, they use absinthe or some related derivative. Imagine it: rye, absinthe, bitters... all with a little twist of orange.

Computers are wonderful things but they also possess the power to make you a mindless drone to its vast superiority. Nate, if you're reading this, I'd look over your shoulder; I think the machines are inching closer to a hostile takeover. When you get back from China, you might find your office taken over by a charming MacBook Pro named "Hal."

I'm not saying it's set in stone, but the way things are looking at the moment right now, I may have just put my guitar on mothballs until 2009. The Lava Rats have finished their obligations, and everyone is busy. Taylor has a baby, Rodd is working all the time, and I have a thesis to write. It's bittersweet, but duty calls.

As I was being subjugated by my computer over the weekend, I snuck in some time to re-watch the full series of Freaks and Geeks. It's a wonderful show, and every time I see any episodes, I remember why I like it so much. However, every time I watch it, my blood boils at the ending. I won't ruin it for those of you who've never seen it, but I will say this much: damn hippies are even ruining the plots of my favorite TV shows.

Finally, I implore those of you who have the chance to this week, go out and enjoy the weather. Here in SF it's been clear and warm most of the weekend, and I was reminded on Sunday what a great concoction it is to have the right balance of friends & well-wishers, alcohol, and sunshine to make for a great afternoon spent outdoors. Take advantage of it while you can since while you can, since we should theoretically have a very wet fall and winter starting before we know it (Lord knows that I'm looking forward to that - it's been far too long).