Return of the Raison D'Etre!!

After an absence of 18 months, tonight I return to the pitch in the role I was born to play: goalkeeper.

The needle on my butterflies meter is pinned to the right. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Funny how things work out. Within a week of moving to New York last May I tracked down a team claiming to need a 'keeper. I had my brother overnight my gear from Los Angeles just so I could play. Man, I could not believe my good fortune! Not so fast--those fuckers gave me the run-around and it didn't work out.  They were just scrambling to find some last-second warm bodies.  I stood on the sideline as their backup keeper--clad in a longsleeve t-shit, the fucking hack--allowed goal after goal, succumbing to a loss of about 7-0 if memory serves. So they missed a perfect opportunity to see what I was made of--throw me out there in front of a team that was kicking their ass and putting a lot of shots on goal.  Fuck 'em. Joke's on them.

This time around, the team that came knocking is located in Brooklyn and named after the famed London club Arsenal, to whom I have a powerful allegiance. Also important, unlike those Central Park Rangers (if only the guy in charge of their over-30s was as nice as their website), they seem to be run by some sharp dudes. Even better, this time I'm bringing with me a powerful 27-year-old striker from Benin by way of Ghana, S. Africa, England, France and Atlanta. And possibly his compatriot, a two-footed midfield playmaker, who, I'm reliably informed, delivers creamy passes right to strikers' feet.

This league plays on a full-size pitch, and I'm told its teams field dudes who have played professionally at various levels. Right now the Brooklyn Gunners' young-dudes squad needs a replacement for their awesome but aging and increasingly injured netminder.  Tonight I make sure that's gonna be me. The Gunners also have an over-30 team, which I originally thought would be my fate, now that I'm 35. But fuck that! (Though I must say, the Rangers brought me out for their over-30 team, so I wouldn't mind facing them and dealing out a bit of the ol' (perfectly legal) ultra-violence.

I'm old, rusty, and nervous as hell. Am I in over my head? Is form temporary but class permanent? Will I impress or fall flat on my face?

Stay tuned to this space to find out!
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Trapped In Time, And I Don't Know What To Do*

My philosophical and metaphysical inquiries over the past few years have led me down a path that, at the moment, appears to be at best a dead end and at worst a bottomless pit.

I'm pretty sure I understand the undivided wholeness that is the universe and all matter within it.

I'm pretty sure that over the millennia the sages of the East have achieved a rigorous and peer-reviewable body of knowledge that can guide one to this understanding.

I'm pretty sure I understand that the apparent reality we see, in all its shapes, sizes, kinds and types is part of that undivided One despite a fractured appearance.

I'm pretty sure I understand that logic, the most powerful tool in man's toolbox, inherited from the ancient Greeks and perfected over the millennia, has sliced our apparent reality into ever-thinner slices to be labeled, compared, measured and fit within grander and grander theories...every single one of which turns out, over time, to be incomplete.

I know for damn sure sure that our modern world sees this tool as the expression of the very meaning of the universe. "If we can just slam these subatomic particles together at even greater speed, I just know we'll find the new subatomic particle that will prove the theory of everything!" Science uber alles!

I know that logic requires that something, anything, so labeled A cannot also be B. A does not equal B. Nothing can be two things at the same time. That's illogical. Ours is a binary world of 1's and 0's, ons and offs, Republicans and Democrats, rights and wrongs, wins and losses. I know those things merely reflect our apparent reality, though they are NOT reality itself.

Though above I mocked quantum mechanics, I know it revealed to us, via logic and science, that sometimes A does equal B. An electron is in two places at once. Light is both a particle and a wave. Something understood by mystics long before atoms were split, long before Aristotle invented logic.

The conclusion I've drawn is that the human race largely operates well below its capacity. But I'm no utopian (though I sympathize with that impulse). I know that base desires and instincts are hardwired into us. But I know that humans have dragged themselves up from the mud despite such hardwiring.

Seen from the perspective of a few centuries, or maybe a few millennia, in the future, I believe that we are on the cusp of a leap in understanding. I believe that many of the tensions and battlegrounds we face, whether social, economic or geopolitical, are outgrowths of mankind pushing to smash through this barrier.

Smashing through this barrier requires that a new understanding spread far and wide. Computers that count not just in 1's and 0's but also in 1/0's. People that understand we are all made of the same stuff, and that there is only Stuff, and that we are One.

Make no mistake; though unseen, there is a barrier. A barrier just like the edge of a flat earth sailors feared. It wasn't real, but it represented a very real limitation in human understanding. And beyond it was a very real New World.



*What does the title of this post mean?

Well, I only feel trapped to the extent I haven't figured out my very own metaphysical Capt. Kirk Kobayashi Maru moment.

Also, Phish played Mike's Song this past weekend, so that lyric was in my head.
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I Strongly Recommend Benji Hughes' "A Love Extreme"

There used to be a time when you couldn't shut me up about recommending music. Then I realized most people don't give a shit what other people think about stuff, except when they shouldn't give a shit but do.

Which brings me to my new rule: I'll only recommend an album if I've listened to it non-stop for a month. Yes, that's gonna be a short list, and yes, Mr. Hughes' A Love Extreme has passed this test. Hell, it created this test.

I just thought of another rule: I actually bought this album. In a day and age when I download for free--without compunction--any and all media, if I do purchase something, then I feel compelled to recommend it.

I know, I know.  A beefy, bearded, longhaired songsmith with idiosyncratic lyrics, simple-yet-funky dance beats, and soothing ballads--obviously the icecreammang can dig it. But to the svelte, the non-hirsute, the tonsorially challenged--don't worry, you can dig it, too.

Additional info: He co-wrote a song on the Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story soundtrack (that movie is underrated, but you didn't hear it from me). Although A Love Extreme is his debut, it's a 25-song double album.

So, if you already happen to be digging it, then kudos to you.  If you listened to it once and dismissed it, then fuck you.

Normally, this is the spot where I'd put up a couple songs via Grooveshark. Not this time. I'm going to test your mettle, see what you're made of. Go buy it. Now.
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