Mr. Thomas Doesn't Go To Washington

My favorite right as an American is my ability to express myself freely without being censored, abridged, or suppressed. I dig living in a country where everything is on the table to discuss.

However, the freedom to say whatever you want does NOT give you the right to be a douche.

Tim Thomas is perfectly within his right to disagree with the Federal Government. I don't disrespect him for that. What I do disrespect him for is his lack of tact.

It was simply the wrong forum. The emphasis of the event and the President's speech was on teamwork, and Thomas is an amazing teammate. The President was honoring the Boston Bruins, not Tim Thomas, Zdeno Chara, Patrice Bergeron, et. al.

I think a better example to talk about other than the Theo Epstein comparison is the Beatles in 1965 when they were honored with the MBE medal. John Lennon didn't believe in receiving the award and ended up returning his medal as an act of protest in 1969. BUT he still went with the other lads to Buckingham Palace and thanked the Queen and enjoyed the day...with a "little help from his friends"...

But that's just the point. You're being honored as a whole, not as individuals. Take up your beefs elsewhere.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Thomas now. I love him. As I've said before on this blog, I live through this team and this event is no different. There have been times recently where I've refused to even be in the same room as certain people I don't like and that's pretty immature. In fact, it's wildly childish. So the next time these opportunities arise, I'm going to straighten my tie and keep my head high. No need to build walls and burn bridges.

Now let's get to the two things we should really talk about.
1) Why the hell does Obama get Campbell's number? Then again if you did 44, Seidenberg would have something to say too.
2) Start Timmy tonight. Let's beat the hell out of the Caps and go into the All Star Break at #1. GO BRUINS.

Dwindle to Static

Now that I work in radio (work in the loosest sense of the word) I listen to it more than I already did. It's benefiting me seemingly no end. Before I started here, the classical station we produce barely came in back home on Parker. Now, it comes in crystal clear. I mostly listen at work now. It is, after all, a good policy not to bring the office home with you. Sadly, public radio can get a little mundane before 1 o'clock so I often find myself listening to WBZ 1030.

"Commercial radio."

It's like a slur around here. There's normal guys then there's "commercial guys." Commercial guys are apparently very loud, abrasive and want money more than anything. It sort of hurts when I hear people say it. They're slandering my warm wake-up call. They're demonizing my favorite non-human co-pilot. When I hear them talking this way, I usually lower my head past my cubicle walls and turn down my streamer. I know I'm wearing headphones, but what if they can still here the cheesy theme for Traffic on the 3s buzzing out of my ears.

WBZ was all I had first semester of freshman year. I didn't have a TV until December so my ancient clock radio was my real roommate. On my really low days, I'd lay in bed far after the alarm went off and just listen to the news reports until they switched anchors mid-day.

The traffic report always gets me. It makes me feel like I should be driving. No matter how horrible the traffic is on Rt. 3 or 93 north, I wish I was either in the thick of it and groaning or somewhere far off thinking "Thank goodness I'm not in that mess!" or "Man, I'm making great time."

Eventually, in this imaginary drive, I go too far north and start to lose the signal. It gets me every time. "I thought every one got 'BZ!" I'll shout at my radio. As the signal dwindles to static, I feel far from home. I sigh to myself, then scan the dial...trying to find the local NPR affiliate...

Victory

The Cup was always a thing of the past to me. The last time I cared about the quest for it was after Ray Bourque's bitter-sweet trade to Colorado in 2001. My dad was excited. I was excited too. The only thing that prevented full-out celebration was the jersey- a giant A where a giant B once was.

I still watched, halfheartedly so. The Sox win defined a new era, the Patriots started a new love of football, and even the Celtics got to have their say too. But I still thought of the Bruins. I thought of the Bobby Orr t-shirts that started to appear in Newbury Comic stores. I thought of the renaming of that area off Causeway back to the Gahhhden. When was it gonna be the B's turn? Has to happen sometime.

'09 looked good. '10 looked even better. '11 had to be the year.

And so it is. Tim Thomas giving a performance I'm going to tell my kids about. The sheer joy exhibited by Chara and Recchi. The disbelief on Seugin's face. The fireworks shot outside my friend's apartment window. Whether you're a hockey fan or not, this was a night for Boston. This was a night for us all.

Right in the Beans

On one level, Ballet for Tape Music (new title) is done. I videotaped it. I edited it. Exporting is another story. I want to bounce it BACK to videotape then re-upload it to the computer for a QT file. The finished product will be both a physical tape and a QT file.

Sadly, that's not as easy as Joe made it sound last night. Especially when you're working with patch bays that date back to the 1980s and a computer that's obnoxiously up-to-date. Today, I went back to the school to work on it but the studio was all tied up trying to show off for Accepted Students Day. I think the last thing parents want to see is a hung over video artist, wearing a "Disco Sucks" t-shirt, cursing at a VHS deck. Hey, kids gotta learn the reality about art school some day.

Speaking of, I love Accepted Students Day. It's the day that art kid stereotypes shine. The goth girls who have probably screamed "No Mom! I'm going to ART SCHOOL" a lot in the past few days. The dorks who wear blazers over ironic t-shirts...oh wait...that one hits too close to home. Suddenly this bit isn't funny anymore.

Today is also opening day at Fenway- one of my favorite sporting events of the year. In fact, let's look at my top five sporting events-

1. Souper Bowl
2. Opening Day at Fenway
3. Wrestlemania
4. Kentucky Derby
5. Ultimate Fighter Finale

The city is humming. The Blue Angels set off car alarms all across the hill. The cheers from Pedroya's home run could be heard allllll the way back at 774. That being said, I hate baseball. So many games, so few well-payed players giving a shit.

Let's talk hawkey. Boston/Montreal. Washington/NYR. Vancouver/Chicago. These first round games aren't even fair. So yeah, I'll enjoy this Sox game today, but tomorrow, my stick is back on the ice.

While You Were Art I

What a wonderfully unproductive semester.

Well, that's a bit hyperbolic. Unproductive as in no actual finished products. Last night's filming of Slip Conway completely fell through. Thankfully the cast is still on board with doing it so it'll be rescheduled soon.

Hopefully by the end of the week I'll have my first video of 2011 done. It's called Ballet for Audio Tape. It's another exploration of romantic reductionism. I'm going to condense several albums into three brief movements (the emotional essentials of the records) on a cassette tape. My dancer will then try to move to this new sound and I'll take the footage and try editing that to the cassette. It's a very bizarre process and it's hard to describe.

In anticipation of this project (and do act as a prequel), I'm going to upload my Introduction to Romantic Reductionism on my Vimeo site. It's so much fun to have an -ism. He filled his head with notions, seemingly.

Oh man, I'm sitting in the library, looking over the Fenway, and I see the tests of the new HD jumbo-screens at Fenway Park. Unnecessary? Yes. Crystal clear in the rain and half a mile away? Yes. I'm actually in awe of the quality.

Man, the city looks cooler in the rain whilst listening to Miles Davis.