I love yoga class. It's the only workout I do where my heart rate goes up, I break a sweat, but I walk away feeling long, lean, energized, and serene (rhyme unintentional). There's just a couple of problems with my yoga class. The first is the yoga room is right next to the nursery. Now it's frustrating for me, but I can't imagine what's going through the minds of the mothers in the room when you're trying to mellow out for final relaxation and some kid (who could be yours) is shrieking next door. The other issue is that we have a heavy breather in our class. Now in yoga, you're not supposed to do any breathing through your mouth, so your breathing is deep, but quiet. But there's this one guy that sounds like he just had a few beers and conked out in the lazy boy. It makes it tough to focus. And it's difficult to relax when I'm imagining myself smothering a guy with his own yoga mat.

I had started drafting a viscerating post inspired (or more acurately, incited) by Jerry Falwell's appearance on "Meet the Press" yesterday. But now that I've cooled down and run out of steam, I don't think I'll publish it. But who knows, maybe I'll see him again and get inspired to finish it.

For some reason I always walk into a grocery store and think I can get away with just using a basket. (I only need a couple of things!) But it never fails. I always end up scuffling to the checkout, sliding the overstuffed basket on the floor with an item tucked under each arm.

I always miss out on all the excitement. Since I left Butler, they have begun construction on a new monument in Diamond Square.

Very impressive. Not sure who the monument is for, but it must be John something or other. (hahahaha)

Thanks to Mike B. for the photo.

The whole poncho trend needs to die a long, painful death. Not because it's an awful idea, but because it's being so horribly executed by so many people.

Tonight on the way home from the gym I saw a vanity plate that read: "ANIM8TOR". This really bothered me. I mean, what's up with the "8"? It's not like he's saving any space by using it. He's showing absolutely no economy of characters. Why not just do "ANIMATOR"? Or if he wants to go shorter, "ANIM8OR"? I just don't get it...

Okay, I know the blogging has been infrequent lately. I have to admit that I'm struggling with my schedule and where exactly to fit blogging in. So I'm attempting to multi-task. Right now I'm eating my chorizo and zuccini dinner, blogging, and trolling for music downloads all at the same time while I cool down from my spinning class. I honestly don't know how people with kids do it.

This has got to be the longest...afternoon...ever.

In case you're wondering why the barrage of posts, I finally got cable internet hooked up at home. Let the fun begin....

I've been meaning to post about a concert of sorts that I went to a few weeks ago. It was the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players at the George Eastman House.

The Trachtenburgs, two parents and their daughter who write songs about slides purchased from estate sales, describe themselves as an "indie-vaudeville conceptual art-rock pop band" and they're not far off the mark. It's tough to even know where to begin to describe the act, except to say that they are vastly entertaining. They're certainly unlike anything I've ever seen. The draw is not so much the music as the stories told by the collections of slides and the interplay of the family onstage.

Jason, the husband, father, and bandleader prattles on between songs like your typical brainy, acerbic, neurotic computer science major might. ("You don't think that joke's funny? I'd laugh at it. Really. I would. I'd laugh my ass off. And then I'd get up and run to back of the theater and buy some merchandise. Definitely.")

But with 10-year-old daughter Rachel on drums and vocals, the Trachtenburgs add an even more entertaining element to their show. As Jason says, "Having our 10-year-old daughter playing drums isn't exploitation. It's just our reality." And putting a 10-year-old on stage is a fascinating reality to behold. For instance, Rachel would stop a couple of bars into a song, wave her father over, and whisper, "Dad, I want to play the new song. When do we get to play the new song?" Or when she broke a drum muter by playing with it:

"Psst. Dad! I need a new one." (waves muter)
"What? You busted another one! Those are expensive.... I don't think you should get another one."
"But, Dad!" (pouts)
"Oh, okay." (trudges over to guitar case)
"No, Jason. Tough love." (mom Tina from her perch behind the slide projector in the back of the auditorium)
"I think we should do 'tough love' tomorrow."

Highlight: I'm not sure. Besides the watching the family interplay, I like the "6-song rock opera" based on slides from a 1978 McDonald's internal marketing seminar which included the song "Let's Not Have the Same Weight in 1978--Let's Have More".

This isn't something I would recommend for everyone. But if you're looking for something fun and unique, I'd recommend The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. No staging or posturing, just a refreshingly real glimpse into one kooky family's unusual artistic world.

I have found the most underrated Bob Dylan album. It is New Morning. Everybody always talks about Freewheelin', Highway 61, Blonde on Blonde, Blood on the Tracks, and to a lesser degree Bringing It All Back Home (possibly the second most underrated Bob Dylan album), John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline, Desire, and the new stuff (Time Out of Mind and Love & Theft). But nobody breathes a word about New Morning, a delightful little album I've fallen completely in love with. It's not just "The Man in Me", which was used wonderfully throughout the tale of "the laziest man in Los Ang-guh-les County", The Big Lebowski. The whole album is a wonderful blend of songs touching on a variety of styles. They all come together perfectly. I wouldn't say the album packs the same punch as Freewheelin' or Highway 61, but it's an enjoyable listen in a way that some of his more powerful releases are not. I'd suggest you give New Morning a spin.

This weekend I found this great little theater only a mile from my house that shows independent and foreign films. And I went and saw I Heart Huckabees. But neither of these things is what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the preview I saw for a new movie called The Machinist. And more specifically, Christian Bale playing the lead roll in this film. If you look at these images here and here, you'll likely have the same reaction I did: HOLY CRAP! Is this this the same Christian Bale who was in Empire of the Sun, Little Women, and American Psycho? As intense and dedicated to his craft as this guy is, I figured he had to have a little bit of CGI help looking this emaciated. So I did some research and according to interviews, there are no special effects. This 6'-2" guy dropped 60 pounds for this role. He says he wanted to get down to 110 lbs, but the producers made him stop at 130 because they were worried about his health. I mean this guy makes Tom Hank's weight loss, for whatever that cheesey Oscar bait movie was where he was stranded on an island a spent the whole movie talking to a volleyball, look like child's play. Apparently he was living off a can of tuna and an apple a day. Yikes.