Archive for June, 2010

Nice story about PowderKeg Live…

Here’s a good piece from Andi McDaniel and a new publication called The Line. Take a look at the pictures… I do not feel so great in real life.

PowderKeg: A Prairie Home for the Cool Kids

Another Home

Although I will continue to call Minneapolis home, it is true that I am teaching at Mankato and will spend a great deal of time here (in Mankato — Steph and I are in Mankato).

A look of happy...

Ah, the Coffee Hag.  This place reminds me of the sweet-ass Lesbian-owned, crunchy, hard-edged, veggie-sucking, excellent little coffee shops I once attended in my sepia youth in Madison, Wisconsin.   The following veggie breakfast enchilada is both colorful and giant.  It came out of the kitchen as a big as a baked pumpkin.

Small towns with amenities… I am very much in favor of these places.

Daughter’s Birthday

Guided by a naturalist (not a naturist), we walked through the rain and looked at slime in a dank Minnesota marsh.  There were snails and bug larvae and tiny creatures related to shrimp.  The third-grade girls at the party were seriously psyched to be digging around in the muck.  I enjoyed it, too.  Likely these girls, smart all of them, will go through a large portion of their lives when muck digging is of no interest (or is actually repugnant to them).  I hope not.  What a waste of time (I spent easily twenty years missing out).

Muck Stalking

I Feel Tight

About a year ago, John Akre of Sloppy Films did an animation of a song, I Feel Tight, Dave Salmela and I wrote (me lyrics, him music) for our musical Don’t Crush Our Heart! (Andy Sturdevant and Steph Ash also wrote the show.) Mary Everest and I sing it.  It just won a Hometown Award for best animated short.   Way to go, John!

Worth mentioning…

Because much of the content of this blog has revolved around various physical injuries I’ve incurred while trying to figure out how to be both an older fucker (I am that) and also a fit motherscruffer (I’m heavy as a small piano, but I can run), many of the viewers of this blog have internet searched for terms such as sore tendon near buttocks, fat man calf injury, bulging disc above buttocks, intestinal distress after mac and cheese, fraying hammy string, etc. to arrive here.

For those of you who have, I want you to know, I am not a medical professional. Nor am I a fitness professional.   I hurt myself often running and also sometimes weight lifting, and also one time doing yoga.

Failure Pose #2

Do I have any insights for not-so-young fitness people?  Oh, many.  Or, perhaps one.  Here it is: Like all things worth doing, achieving a reasonable level of fitness, which perhaps I have — I can comfortably run many miles when I am not injured, which I am right now (calf pain) (I can only, rather uncomfortably, run 3 miles currently) — takes patience and steady effort across stretches of time we of the information age can barely fathom (I’m talking months, years).  It is a practice.  One must remind oneself most days, mantra like, that doing the business doesn’t hurt as much as you fear doing the business will. (mantra: it won’t, it doesn’t, it won’t, it doesn’t, I feel better when I am done.)  That one day doing the damn duty improves the chances the duty will be done again, damn it.  And, at that moment the little squeaky shivering flab stabbing voice in the back of your head says no, you must say yes, for saying yes is where the action happens. And that is why I often look like Tom Hanks in Castaway. (Perfection.) See this?

Steely Mr. Herbach

Steely Mr. Hanks

Don’t worry about your sore tendon just below your sore buttocks.  Don’t worry if you’ve eaten peas bobbing in cheese and macaroni.  Your calf muscle will get better or it won’t.  Only continued action matters.  No matter what, you must still say yes, internet health surfer.

Happy. Disheveled.

This guy is pretty dang happy this morning.  Check it!

Birchwood Cafe

I began this internet document to track my own movement from being a damned mess physically — I smoked about 30 cigarettes a day in 2008 when I first attended to the effort — financially — I really didn’t have much of a job then — emotionally — actually, I’ve generally been vaguely optimistic, sort of happy, in the face of serious financial and physical ruin, which is good –spiritually, socially, academically, philosophically, chemically, environmentally, etc. to a better state (maybe Utah).

Has that movement happened?  Well, maybe it sort of did.  Okay, it did to a large extent, but somehow not at all.  No.  No go.  What?

I realized at some point that the whole point of the blog was essentially the whole point of the entire walnut, if you catch my drift.  You, stupid-ass internet blog, you are my everything.

The mess is in a very clean, healthy spot this morning.  Mr. Clean.  And, by the way, it’s sunny outside like a television commercial for good smelling product.

And, here it is!  Granola at the Birchwood Cafe, which I find puts me and my walnut into an entirely better place, emotionally, physically (although not financially) than Denny’s did, yesterday (Moons Over My Hammy is a brilliantly conceived breakfast sandwich — both in content and name — that makes me feel like hell, because it is meant to kill a person with flavor — butter flavor).  My granola has yogurt and fruit added to it. Such healthy ramifications.

Yogurt and Fruit, Etc.

Here’s what’s not happening: good work.  Why am I out for breakfast alone?  I don’t know. Do I sit at my computer and work?  No.

Instead, I float around my apartment, in my big-assed house, staring at other peoples’ books or messing with gadgets that have no batteries.  Instead, I go to the gym, where I cannot exercise hard, due to an injury to my lower leg (recurring, gazelle impeding).  Instead, I stare out the window and think about the sharp grass and the unfinished fence and the strewn red-hot Cheet-o trash and the smoking fire pit and the packed parking lot and the browning tree and the giant, empty flower pots that sit under bushes on one side of the property.

Herbach is more disheveled.  Not so much a mess.

Disheveled.

Summer Cow Lick

Won't sit down.

Life is not controllable.  For instance, since Memorial Day morning, the beginning of summer, I have had this cow lick in the front of my hair.  It’s a reverse Alfalfa.   It is a Tin Tin.

The opposite of Alfalfa

Similar to Tin Tin.

I have tried various methods for the knocking down of this hair aberration: showering, gel, wax, water, egg white, meditation.  But, it (the hair) does what it wants.  It reminds me of Reinhold Niebuhr’s serenity prayer, which was adapted by Alcoholics Anonymous and put to wonderful use in Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five (it, in fact, sets up the theme of the entire book, I think).

God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed…

Hairdo.

I suppose I could cut the hair.

Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Hairdo.

I think I’ll take a long hot shower.  See what happens.