Monument Valley, AZ

You know what, whenever you see me, have me show you the pictures from this place because whatever babbling I might do here won't do it justice. It's the most astoundingly gorgeous scenery literally ever. Way to go, geology!

Godspeed, Gentleman Jim

Hi ho readers, just checking in from Rio Rancho, NM, an hour or so away from eating turkey with some old friends. I will resume updates from the road later, but I wanted to check in to say a few words about my friend and yours, Jim Thome. First of all, I'm very excited about the trade. Gillick solved four problems with this deal:

1. The Thome/Howard dilemma is no more. Thome gets a fresh start with a team in need of a DH, Howard is our first baseman.
2. We get a new centerfielder. (I will miss Kenny terribly, but this'll work too.)
3. Endy Chavez won't be our centerfielder.
4. We won't have Endy Chavez in centerfield.

In fact, in many ways this solves a fifth problem as well, in that Manuel won't be tempted to put Endy Chavez in center. And in addition to all of these positives, let's not forget that Endy Chavez won't be playing centerfield, because we found a centerfielder. Not Endy Chavez.

Anyway, I love Jim Thome. I loved him in '95 and '97 when I watched him in the World Series and was mesmerized by his pointing bat. I loved him when he signed here. He was supposed to be the savior of the franchise, and indeed he brought us respectability and reminded people that there is a baseball team in Philly. I saw his first home run in the Vet, I saw his first home run at the Bank, and I saw innumerable others and went crazy after them all. I saw him shake Mike Schmidt's hand at the Vet closing ceremony. I love how cool he is, how down to earth, how normal; I love his high socks.

Jim Thome will always be a Phillie and I'll always be his fan. I'm glad he's going to a team I actually like, so I can keep rooting for him. I'll wear my #25 shirt proudly now and forever. You're the man, big guy. Go White Sox, go Phils.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Day 4: The Very Serious Day

Crystal C. (Philadelphia, PA) asks: Will we visit the [Barry] Manilow store [in Las Vegas]? Well Crystal, we hope to do so, but our Vegas plans are up in the air at the moment and will likely be made up as we go along.

Today's events: Mostly the startlingly long drive from Kansas City to Amarillo. Kansas and Oklahoma are flat and kinda boring but a little more beautiful than I expected. The Texas Panhandle is some astounding countryside - low rolling hills, endless stretches of plains. Leftover ribs from KC for lunch. Numerous stops for gas. Today was the Very Serious Day because we were quiet for long stretches and not as silly as before. The initial excitement and giddiness has worn off and now we are determined to see this thing through. We have had time (really, lots of time) to think things over. Jon is realizing the full reality of life in L.A. He's still psyched, but also more realistic. Me, I've realized that major life changes need to occur, because I'm 29 and this has gotta stop. Sorry to be vague but I'm on vacation and I don't want to get into it.

Anyway, Amarillo appears to be the world's largest tourist trap. Maybe there's an actual residential area out there somewhere but all I've seen is a bunch of hotels and restaurants clustered around a short stretch of I-40. But it's okay. The Big Texan rules. I had a 12 oz. filet which I managed to finish and I feel great. Jon saved half of his 20 oz. sirloin for later. Now, we've discovered that there's little to do in Amarillo when you're done eating steaks, so we're in the motel room watching Seinfeld. Hope all is well back home or wherever you are. More later...

IRRELEVANT SEINFELD QUOTE OF THE DAY:
George: Oh it's got cachet baby! Cachet up the ying yang!

Jon picks his teeth clean of his 20 oz. steak, which was carved from the self-regenerating flanks of the freakish Monster Cow that stands guard outside the Big Texan's gaudy walls. To get inside, we had to answer three of the cow's riddles.

Big Texan, Amarillo, TX

(l. to r.) My beer, me, Jon's beer.

Days 2-3: The ol' Bristow Birdseye

Enough of that baby silliness.

"Blogging" is neither a legitimate verb nor easy to do from the road. Eventually you reach a point where you'd rather be doing things - including sleeping or eating mounds of snack mix - than trying desperately to get your wireless card working in the hotel lobby. So forgive me if this post isn't terribly well written. We have to get an early start tomorrow and I need my sleep.

I'm in Kansas City, within spitting distance of Kauffman Stadium, at 10:22 pm CST. Here, in a roughly correct order, are some of the things that have happened:

a. We had to leave Columbus around noon so I missed all of this week's Eagles extravaganza. Before leaving we heard a rumor that the Birds were looking to pick up Kordell Stewart. Is this happening? I'm too lazy to look it up so can some Philly people please let me know if I have indeed entered a parallel dimension of evil and pain? Anyway, while heading down to Louisville we passed Paul Brown Stadium in Cincy and saw the fans filing inside. The Bengals lost, but it must still be fun to know your team will likely make the playoffs and is getting better by the day. SIGH.

b. Saw my assorted cousins in Louisville and ate giant burgers at the aptly named W.W. Cousins. Due to a series of complex incidents largely involving flying squirrels, Jon and I spent the night at the Manor House, a picture of which I need to post soon. A little family history is in order: in 1983 my grandmother remarried and moved from Philly back to Louisville, where she had grown up. She lived in a condo which featured this spooky guest house where I and my family and cousins stayed when we went to visit in 1985. At the time the Manor House seemed like the most impossibly massive Gothic Southern mansion, filled with labyrinthine hallways, rooms terrifyingly overdecorated with vases and statues of dogs and things, a huge spiraling staircase, and the overpowering smell of disinfectant or carpeting or whatever that was. During the week we were there, there was this colossal electrical storm that knocked out all the power. I was only 9 and my brother was 5 so we bawled like infants while the house shook with thunder and lightning and my cousins Adam and Brett laughed at us. At some point during that evening somebody thought to open the mysterious door that was poised directly at the top of the steps, which revealed another, completely terrifying staircase that led up into nothingness. This was simultaneously so frightening and so hilarious that we all promptly went insane. I stayed in the Manor House again in 1992, 1996, and 2003, and it still carried a kind of dark and scary energy for me, though this was punctuated somewhat in '96 when I found a cabinet filled with rather graphic and sordid romance novels. When my grandmother's husband passed away in 2003 and we moved her back to PA, I thought that I would never enter the Manor House again and prepared myself accordingly, i.e. I quickly forgot that it existed. So I was very surprised when it was arranged for us to stay there again when my dad's cousin discovered he couldn't put us up as we had planned. It's not so scary anymore. It's not really all that large, the beds are reasonably comfortable, there was a TV and we watched Family Guy. It wasn't so bad at all. It was nice to have that unexpected detour.

c. Today's events: Waffle House. Indiana. Illinois. Brief stop in St. Louis, but there was no free parking near the Arch so we bailed. Lunch at Cracker Barrel (St. Charles, MO, home of the UHL River Otters). Trip across Missouri. Arrival in KC. "Jack Stack Steakhouse": awesome. Blue Moon jazz club: even more awesome. Writing this. Posting of photos of infants. Enjoy them. Good night.

IRRELEVANT SEINFELD QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Riley: Hey George, the ocean called, they're running out of shrimp.
George: Oh yeah Riley? Well the jerk store called - they're running out of YOU!
Riley: What's the difference? You're their biggest seller!
George: Yeah, well, I slept with your wife!
(long awkward pause)
Another Guy: His wife's in a coma.

Transparent attempt #2



The baby-visiting tour continues. (l. to r.) My second cousin once removed Lily, me, a roll of paper towels, my second cousin Nikki.

A transparent attempt to cater to people who like ogling pictures of babies



(l. to r.) My first cousin once removed Rebecca, me, Jon, a roll of paper towels.

Day 1: Oh my god! Fish sticks! Aaaaaaah!

I find myself in the delicate position of having told everybody I was going to do this throughout the week, and now I have to be interesting and witty, when really nothing has happened that is so exponentially more interesting than anything you probably did yesterday yourself. This is a terrible way to begin, isn't it? With an apology? Let's start over.

We'll begin at the beginning. It is currently Sunday morning and I am in Columbus, OH, recently awoken and nursing a wicked charlie horse I suffered during the night. The series of events that brought me here has been labyrinthine and puzzling, involving but not limited to my brother's impending move to Los Angeles. We embarked yesterday morning at roughly 9 am. The night before, Jon and I found ourselves rather jittery and unable to sleep. Defying all conventional wisdom about getting a good night's sleep before a trip I stayed up past midnight to catch the new South Park while Jon didn't get to sleep until 4:30 am in a last minute push to copy all of his CDs onto his mp3 player, a project that was in many ways more important to him than actually packing his possessions in an intelligent way. Indeed, a giant, ill-advised cardboard box filled with books and DVDs did not fit in the car and had to be abandoned.

I feel like there's little to tell about the trip from home to Columbus as it's one I've made before. If you've driven across the PA turnpike you're familiar with the scenery and the tunnels. Our lack of sleep caught up with us in the late afternoon. To keep myself awake while driving I found myself thinking a lot of crazy and absurd thoughts that I won't get into. We rolled up to my cousin's house around 6 pm, met his newborn daughter, and enjoyed some pizza and beer. This is the second house I've been to in a week with a giant room filled with books and I'm alarmingly jealous. Tim took us to a bar out in OSU country. Everybody inside - please don't misunderstand me, literally everybody - wore Ohio State shirts and all were apparently happy because apparently Ohio State beat Michigan earlier in the day. They were also all watching another game and applauded when Georgia Tech won later in the evening, for some obscure college football reason or something because I guess that helps Ohio State somehow. I honestly don't know. It's bizarre to be in a place that actually follows college football so passionately. I come from a place that has, you know, real teams. They might as well be watching hurling or something. I don't get it. Also, when we arrived I got to catch the end of the Sixers game because they were playing Cleveland... some dudes in Buckeyes jerseys applauded the Cavs' win. Respecting my presence in an enemy bar, and knowing that Jon and Tim were unlikely to back me up, I decided not to openly express my sudden anger and hate. Flyers won though, that's something.

We returned home and watched a bit of Star Blazers from Tim and Susan's expansive DVD collection. Star Blazers, I discovered, is considerably more entertaining when it's 1983 and you're 7. For future reference.

I'm going to shower now. More stuff later and also perhaps pictures. Send in your questions now for the upcoming Road Trip Diary Mailbag!

IRRELEVANT SEINFELD QUOTE OF THE DAY:
George: I went to see Titanic. So that old lady... she's just a liar, isn't she?
Jerry: Yeah. And a bit of a tramp, if you ask me.

I give up

Well, not really, but unofficially I'm thinking of bagging Nanowrimo this year. I knew I wouldn't hit 50K this time anyway, since I'm going on a road trip in a week (more about that later), but even so, I'm thinking I might just take a break. The initial excitement has sort of worn off, and even though I'm happy with what I've got so far, it's not really going anywhere and I don't know what to do with it. The glaring problems I was able to ignore last week are now incredibly obvious: namely, that I shouldn't be writing a book filled with characters I came up with eight years ago. I'm a very different person from what I was then, and I just don't feel those feelings or think that way anymore, and it just feels sort of tired and stiff. I'm happy with the characters and the world they're in, but you need more than characters and a world, you need a plot, and the plot I've come up with is the same derivative sci-fi junk I tried and failed to write five years ago. Plus it all just feels like sort of a chore - I'm not all that excited about working on it, not like last year, when I was so amped about the book I was writing that ideas were coming out of me faster than I could write them down. I love these characters too much to give up on them just yet, but I need to rather intensely rethink them and what I want them to do, because right now it's all kind of dumb and weak.

I need a break. Gotta clear my head and not put so much pressure on myself. The road trip should help - that's right, Jon and I are finally driving to LA. I'll be bringing the laptop along, so check this blog for LIVE UPDATES!

But what then? Do I really just want to stop writing for a while? Maybe so. It's a time of tumultuous change around here: everyone's moving, quitting their jobs, getting married, having kids, getting cut from their teams for detrimental conduct. I don't want to quit my job, and I love Philly too much to move, but maybe I need some sort of giant life change. Maybe I just need time to read books, watch movies, and just generally try to figure out what in the world it is I want to say. Maybe Jon's right, and novels just aren't my form, and I should try short stories. Maybe I should start drawing again and do a cartoon. Maybe photography or painting is more my speed. The Count of Monte Cristo sits on top of a stack of unread books in my room; maybe I should read that. Maybe a 1,200 page novel is just what I need. Maybe I should buy a house, a many months-long project that will consume all of my time and energy... nah.

Maybe I should work on this blog exclusively for a while. Every other man, woman, and child on the face of the planet keeps a daily blog, why shouldn't I?

Or maybe I just need to drive in a car to Amarillo, TX and eat a gigantic slab of beef. That sounds pretty nice.

A great day for Philly

On Saturday, the Flyers won (Gagne has 15 goals in 12 games... gadzooks!), the Sixers won (blew a 20 point lead evidently, but I'll take a win over the Pacers any way I can get it), and the Eagles suspended T.O. indefinitely. (Maybe they read my last post?) Andrew disagrees, but I really think this will improve the team in the long run. T.O. is undeniably awesome, and we don't have any other WRs close to his level, but at this point, he's so distracting, so sickeningly selfish and anti-team, that I really feel like it was outweighing his talent. I can't imagine that his teammates don't just flat-out hate him at this point. I'm surprised Dawk hasn't kicked his ass. Best case scenario, this re-energizes the team and they finish strong. Who knows? The bottom line is that even if they're now worse, the Eagles just simply haven't been much fun to follow this year, and now that the guy is gone, I feel this very palpable sense of relief. They can get back to football, and that ain't bad no matter how you look at it.

My Nanowrimo book is going great. I'm at 11,021 words as of this moment, a little ahead of the pace. It's turning into the most personal thing I've ever written. I've been telling people I'm writing "a parody of melodramatic college stories", the joke being that there's just a lot of college/twentysomething angst in the beginning, and then suddenly there's all this crazy sci-fi stuff out of nowhere. However, while I'm happy with the stuff so far, and it is indeed incredibly angst-y (and surprisingly frank), it's just not all that funny so far, and funny is what I was shooting for the most. We'll see how it develops...

From the jaws of victory

Absolutely atrocious loss for the Sixers in their season opener on Tuesday night, blowing a seven point lead with 1:10 or so left and then getting creamed in overtime. Following that was a blowout loss in Detroit (to be expected, I guess) and I just returned home from a night of blissfully not thinking about sports at all to discover that they got crushed by the Charlotte Bobcats, who are barely a real team. Very depressing stuff, considering that I had reasonably high hopes for the guys this year. They won't win or even get to the Finals, but I thought they'd be fairly competitive... and 2-1 by now. They're 0-3, they can't defend, they don't rebound, they foul too much, and according to ESPN there were no more than 10,000 fans in the Wach tonight. I'm sad. It's only November, right?

Also: very, very worried about the Birds. The distractions continue from the Overperformer himself, Mr. T. Owens, Mensa member and Eagles wide receiver. This time he says that the Eagles would be better with Brett Favre. He conveniently forgets that Favre is like 84 years old, but the bigger issue here is his transparent contempt for all humans who aren't Terrell Owens. First of all there's his year-long attempt to get more money: last year, he bitched and moaned about how he didn't want to be a 49er or Raven, and how much he wanted to be an Eagle and play with his favorite QB Donovan McNabb. This year, he loathes McNabb and wants extra cash in exchange for the selfless service of gracing our city with his presence. This proves he was lying all along and never really wanted to play for a winning team like the Birds but instead just wants to get paid. Maybe that's okay and he's a genius after all, who knows. The other thing is this: I can see criticizing the organization for disrespecting you. I can even see, sort of, criticizing the fans for booing you or being boorish drunks or whatever. I can see that. And I've never played organized football, I will freely admit that, but what I simply cannot see is trashing your teammates the way T.O. has all year. They're your teammates, for crying out loud. The guys you go into battle with every week (I apologize for using a war metaphor there, I find that incredibly tacky, but athletes seem to like it). And especially not #5. I am a loyal Eagles fan who has had the pleasure of watching McNabb play for the last 5+ years, and have never thought him to be anything but a consumate professional, a true team player, a brilliant athlete and QB, in short, a MAN, whereas T.O. is a selfish, hate-filled little boy. T.O. is undeniably fun to watch, and you can argue all you want that he deserves the money or is a brilliant tactician, and you might even be right, but the bottom line is that he's kind of an asshole and I'm sick of him.

Oh yeah, and T.O.'s agent Drew Rosenhaus is pond scum who very badly needs to be punched.

The Flyers are playing too; they'll be fine.

We're in a very rare and very odd position: the Phils might actually be the best team in town right now. Depends on if the big, slow Flyers can compete in a league that has changed to favor faster teams. We'll see. If not, I've got a long winter ahead of me.

And I really should be working on my Nanowrimo novel right now...