Grandpa's Brain is in a Metal Cannister

Before I lay me down to sleep, I have to refer you to this.

Boy, do I wish that Blogger had some form of password protection feature. There are a lot of stray free radical thoughts bouncing around my skull, and I'm not quite free to expound publically quite yet. Sigh.

I'm pretty speechless about the whole government deal, but with everything that's come out about the amoral, shameless bulldozing of the foundations of our society that's been going on, this bursts the seams of irony (listen to "Imagine.") DICK IS A KILLER!

Son of Sam Adams

Just bottled my pale ale last night, and now I'm trying to think of a clever-clever name for my most recent brew. My favorites so far include the entry title (perhaps a mock-up of the Sam Adams label with Berkowitz's head pasted onto Sam's shoulders) and "(Oh, am I) Still Ale," complete with a wistful (or inebriated, if I can find one) shot of Moz in the background.

Others:

Jagged Little Pale Ale
18th Ale Descendant
What the Ale?
Wallace Beery
al-Aqsa Brewers Brigade Presents "Ale Qaida"
Hopped-up Chinaman
Ale Gore
Call Me Morbid, Call Me Pale Ale (yes, yet another Smiths allusion)
None the Weiser

That's all I got for now. Ideas very, very welcome.

Meanwhile, Janine's finally got her own blog! Do go read!

Oh yes, and read this, too.

Update: My first label! Very, very clever if you're a hardcore Smiths fan.

Happy, the End

Just mixed up a big batch of homebrew pale ale, which is cooling in a bucket in the bathtub so I can add the yeast and starting waiting for it to gestate into beer. That, and I recently caved into my creeping sense of apathy and let my gym membership lapse, saving me $50 a month and leaving me to my own devices, fitness-wise. Which is probably for the best -- toward the end, I was getting horribly bored with the weight machines, and started doing lunges and push-ups. Which require no weights and no machines and no gym. I resolved to stay in some semblance of "shape" anyway, but the Italian soup Janine whipped up tonight (of which I devoured two enormous bowls) bodes ill. Good thing the New Year isn't far away -- I had a good resolution a couple of years back, maybe I can make another one.

Doesn't look good, though -- I'm slipping into that awful, no-pressure, carefree comfort zone in which I don't even feel like keeping in shape's that big a deal, but damned if anything's going to keep me from this book! Something about an briar patch...

Tomorrow on the Freeway

Picking up where I left off with one of the worst weeks in recent memory, revolving mainly around the continual success of my Metro to get me to work followed by its continual failure to get me back home. There's still something wrong with the alternator belt, which I'll have to work out sometime tomorrow between five and six in the morning. It'd be smart to figure it out now, but I'm sleepy.

This, paired up with my work situation, in which I'm "monitoring" construction activity to guard against violation of pristine archaeological resources. A worthwhile endeavor, although the construction is taking place in an area that's been previously churned up numerous times before. Which means I'm watching men dig holes for eight (and this week 10!) hours a day. It's actually a pretty good opportunity to scribble some chapters in my Nanowrimo work, but writing fiction while standing or while perched on an I-beam is oddly uninspiring.

Place of my birth, I'm a-comin'.

Sing My Life

In the same vein as Stacy's type-your-name-into-Google idea (which gave me a bit of a shock initially -- the first thing my eyes landed on when I saw that post for the first time was, "Stacy is pregnant!" Then I saw, "Stacy is a schizophrenic film," and thought maybe she was going all Dada on her posts. And then I got it.), I tried typing my name into Rhapsody's song browser to see what songsmiths over the ages have been writing about me.

1. "Andy" -- Indigo Girls. How sweet. They must have seen me in the audience during that show in Columbus in '92.
2. "Andy" -- Frank Zappa
3. "Andy Gets Fired" -- R.E.M. Guess Stipe got mad I never came to see them. I feel bad about that too, Michael. Everyone needs to vent, I understand.
4. "Andy, Who Are You?" -- The Way It Is. Afriad I'll have to return the question.
5. "Andy in the City" -- Kaley Willow
6. "Andy Always Dreamed of Wrestling" -- The Bobs
7. "Andy You'll Be Alone in Heaven" -- Carrigan. How creepily nice of them to say.
8. "Remembering Andy" -- Clare Cooper
9. "Desperate Andy" -- the Cranberries. Hell hath no fury like Dolores O'Riorden.
10. "Call Me Andy" -- Marc Shaiman. Please, do.
11. "The Summer of Andy" -- The Cancer Conspiracy. Eek. A song about '98...

And then we have "Me and Little Andy," "Jim and Andy," "Fred and Andy," "Elvis and Andy," like I'm always somebody's fucking sidekick. Anyway, there were 116 hits -- talk about a really freakin' narcissistic mix cd...

Change of Plans

Things have altered somewhat over the past month and half since I last posted -- not necessarily bad things; it's one of those situations in which the good and bad come in pretty equal measures, and the bottom line looks like it might turn out better than I would have expected. And everyone likes lists, so:

1. Remember that house we were going to buy? We're not going to buy it. The builder and the associated mortgage company we were going through turned out to be supremely unreliable and inept enough to assume the problems we were having as we got closer and closer to the closing date weren't going to be the last problems we were going to have with them.

2. We've been in very close contact with my mom back on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and will probably be paying her a visit next month.

3. Meanwhile, not blowing a ton of cash on a house means we have more left over for things like a badly-needed computer and cable modem. Probably the main reason I haven't been posting much of late is that I've been subscribing to NetZero dial-up. No, wait, that's accelerated dial-up -- I wasn't supposed to be able to tell the difference between that and broadband. It turned out to be the internet equivalent of the Chinese postal system. One of the most satisfying things I've done all week was to call NetZero and cancel my subscription. The new Dell's on its way. Expect more posts when it gets here.

4. The job at ACS is coming along just fine -- I'm still (and shall remain for a while longer) the new guy, but I've got some writing credits under my belt, some small projects I'm in charge of, some newbies to boss around every now and then. Life's a piece of cake, archaeologically. Wow, how's that for a contrast from a couple of years ago...

5. I freaking loved New Orleans. I spent New Years of '97 there, walked Carter around the French Quarter, had my first mufaletta... Yet another of the many, many instances in which I ask myself, "What if Gore had won..." In this specific case, I'd wage the answer would be, "Fewer people would have died." That might actually be the answer to to every instance.

That's it for now -- I've got to take a shower and step out for a while -- Phoenix is still largely an unexplored country, although I do know where all the good brew pubs are... E-mail me to request a special Director's Cut edition of this post!

Shiver in My Bones Just Thinking About That Heather

Happy birthday to everybody's favorite Heather! I trust she (definitely) had a blast, and may this whole year in the Big Apple be hugely cool. Maybe I should introduce you to the Marthas...


Heather the Bedouin

Guilty Pleasures

I know I shouldn't get my hopes up about Karl Rove being tried and "rendered" to Egypt for treason (re the Valerie Plame affair). Until the day that I can, I always enjoy some well-written sniping.

Breathe, My Pasty Friend

For Your Buds

Sorry in Advance

Bent Offerings

In the Middle of Our Street

Our house.
In the middle of construction.

Bockhorst Fields Forever

I present to you season 3 of the Bockhorst Fields scented candle line, imagined by Janine and me over a couple of pints and some artichoke dip (click here for our retired scents).

Burning Cottage
Clam
Atomic Wind
Clove Cigarettes
Air Pollution
Popped Cherry
Sinusitis
Yuppie Ecstasy
Martyr
Nuclear Winter
Population Control
Detritus
Mustard Gas
Citronella
Abandonment
Pirate
Catch of the Day
Flatulent Uncle (with thanks to Stefano!)

Kelli asked for some more visuals, so I'll be back on Photoshop probably tomorrow to mock up a few. "Golden Shower" is already almost in the can!

From the Bottom of a Mine Shaft

Sorry for the radio silence (not to be read as an apology for Boris Grebenshikov, who's pretty good) -- time seems to be evaporating right out from under me, and hitching posts to the vapors has been a tricky exercise. It's freakin' bedtime AGAIN, but I'll make it a point to roll out something more substantial after I drag my fried carcass home from work tomorrow (survey+116 degree heat+mountains = archaeology of the ninth circle. We just completed a dig in the Forest of the Suicides). And we have found several small mines in our survey area, so technically we are a little closer to hell here.

An unjustly quick shout out to my cousine Maureen, who just graduated from high school in Virginia, and will be hopping off to college in North Carolina in August. She was involved in a horrific car accident just before Christmas last year, and suffered some very serious injuries, but from all reports appears to be recovering well. The Bishops, the same that hosted my wedding last August, are some of the best people I know, and it's one of those head-hanging iniquities of life that they're having to endure what they've had to over the past half-year. If you're the praying sort, do put in a good word for them.

And I've subscribed to RealRhapsody, an internet music jukebox/warehouse that lets you listen to pretty much anything for $10 a month. Among other worthwhile causes I've come across (one being Anne Dudley's orchestral remake of the Art of Noise's "Moments in Love") was the Innocense Mission, an incredibly good band that I've somehow missed since 19freakin'87! Their latest was basically a lullaby album, with Karen Peris's voice skimming over the likes of "Moon River" and "What a Wonderful World." I do need more of that.

...But It Goes On

I'm back in Tucson for the evening -- it's a two-hour drive from my office in Tempe to my Tucson base, in which everything appears to be heading for the door (we've been using the living room as a central packing area). Meanwhile, I've been spending a lot of the past couple of weeks in a mostly empty apartment in the nicely landscaped and fun-to-say suburb of Phoenix, Ahwatukee, reading and listening to the local bastion of Air America. I stopped by the construction ste of our new house last night, still a little freaked out by the concept of "our house," and still a little miffed that the construction workers persist in throwing empty water bottles and construction debris all over my lawn. And yes, I am being unreasonable.

Anyway, it's a nice night -- placid traffic noise from the window commingles with the newly-appreciated Vauxhall and I selection. Just a highball of Petron away from a perfect evening.

The Story is Old, I Know

It's four something on a Tuesday morning -- I drove down from our new apartment in Phoenix last night to stay with Janine in our old apartment here in Tucson. The transition is happeneing, though. I've got a host of other very cool things to impart, but now I have to drive back, go to work, and maybe look around Phoenix tonight. My new playground...

And how cool is it that I can now call myself a Phoenician? It's like I should be wearing a purple cloak in Tyre or something.

Unless I find an internet cafe, this will be my last post for a couple of days, as all I have populating my apartment besides myself is a futon (no frame yet), a lamp, a suitcase, and a box o' books (mostly non-fiction). So, I'll probably try to find that internet cafe.

One last thing -- had a superb visit with Dan & Stacy (and finally saw their new lair), and finally met Miss Mita, all over a heap of Janine's dreamy manicotti. It was almost "good shit" overload.

Hi all,

I'm spending this week in Globe, Arizona, on a pretty minor project. Next Monday, I'll be back in Tucson for the week, and then Janine and I are off to Baltimore for five days. After that, I'm not really sure what's going on.

We do, apparently, have a house on hold for us, which should be good to move into by the end of July or so. Two story. Weird. It's going to be odd living in a place where there are areas in which you can't hear the TV.

I'm typing from an enviable Dell in the lobby of a Days Inn, and I'm in need of dinner, so I'll put off elaborating on current events for another day or two...

Hate to just post photos, but damn, I really must post this one.

My buddy, Arizona Diamondback Luis Gonzalez yesterday at a Shell station off of I-10. Guy is famous among baseball players for being incredibly nice. No lie. He posed for this photo, and I got the feeling that he would have sat with me while Janine drew a still life of us in charcoal. He said he felt fine for this upcoming year, sports fans, so expect the D-backs to lose fewer than 100 games this year!

Nearer My Dog to Thee


Janine's first crochet project: dog bonnet.

RAAAAAARGH!


(please note: this is a posed phot, taken by Ms. Kelli Newton, in good humor. Janine is not a barbarian maiden in real life).

In other news, we're off to Phoenix, folks -- in a month or so, Janine and I will be official Phoenicians, or whatever they call themselves. I received a plum job offer from Archaeological Consulting Services, Inc. (with... I can barely form the words... benefits!), with a tacit agreement to involve me in any historical projects they come across. Janine's already been offered a position at the Bayada Nurses branch in Tempe (just south of Phoenix), just a few blocks from ACS headquarters, and she's got any number of mindbending schemes in the works. All we need now is a place to live...

And no, I haven't waivered from my Eastward ambitions -- I'll still be moving back there in good time. A year or two with assistant crew chief (or more; you never know) and historical research and excavation credits on my resume will probably give me a better chance of landing a better position back there than, say, what that Joe guy was offering.

I've been wrestling with a chest cold for most of this weekend, which I've resented -- Janine and I were batting around ideas of either going winery hopping or maybe skiing up in the White Mountains or maybe something besides staying home, drinking tea, and coughing up goop. It appears to be subsiding now, but I'm hoping that another 40 hours of romping around in the dirt this week doesn't leave me with a couple of lungs full of mucusy mud next weekend.

And now I must sleep.

And we're back.

Sorry for the silence and all, but for some reason I've been feeling a bit non-verbal for the past few weeks. There has been quite a lot brewing, and I've been taking some time to process it all before I go spewing it all over the internet and such. Don't tell me you haven't been catching all of my psychic memoranda, though -- if not, put your fingers to your temples and sign up for the mailing list.

I'll start with the latest and work backwards and forwards over the next few days -- unfortuantely, I've only got a few minutes before my bedtime. Currently, I'm waiting for a response from the archaeology firm I'm working with right now. A tentative offer was made for mid-term (2 years) employment in Phoenix, and I'm anxious to learn what sort of position they see me filling before I consider perhaps delaying my Eastward plans for a short while (relatively) and lord it over a few other greenie archaeologists. Part of me hopes they make me a killer deal and Janine and I wind up in Phoenix (good pizza, bad traffic, good airfare deals, hellish summers) as soon as next month; part of me hopes they don't offer me anything I couldn't as easily get around here and I'm back to planning my Eastwardly exodus.

Either way, I should be seeing more of those back in the Eastern parts -- I'll be in my old stomping grounds of Baltimore at the end of April/beginning of May (I HAVE the tickets, and I WILL be there), and I'm hoping Dan & Stacy aren't going to be in Fiji at that time. I've got a few other trips scheduled for the Spring, including, I hope, my cousin's wedding. AND Heather may be swinging through the Southwest on her prospective spiritual awakening at the end of this month. Shaping up to be a decent year so far for me -- 10 years ago, I met Janine. A decade later, fate's going to have to do something brilliant for an encore.

And watch this space for an upcoming true confession!

Will the Real Andrew Bockhorst Please Grow Up?

Yes, it's been a while, and things have been happening, but I haven't felt all that verbose recently. Most has been good, although as I've just gotten back from monitoring the beer quality at Thunder Canyon brewery, I can't get into it just now...

Love to you all (and not in a drunken, "I LOVE YOU GUYSH" kinda way. I only had two).

Like a bad letter writer,
I will definitely write a long, long something
tomorrow.