Nick Carraway Day

"No . . . I just remembered that to-day's my birthday."

I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade.

-The Great Gatsby

An Inventory of Failed Attempts to Become a Man of Letters

Attempt #1: Adventure Story – Third Grade

The main character was named Thelonius after Thelonius Monk. Most other details have been lost, although an actual copy is probably located in a garage in Friend, Nebraska. I seem to recall Thelonius climbing over a wall and finding the sought-after object just sitting there unprotected. I guess one could charitably say I was aiming to turn the well-worn concept of the long quest against impossible odds on its head, but I lean toward the explanation that I was not creative. Ultimately, it just was not very good.

Attempt #2: The Little Rascals – a German playlet – Ninth Grade

Though it did allow me to play my dream role of Alfalfa – complete with natural cowlick – this stage production was not ready for off-off-off Broadway. Nabokov could write beautifully in multiple languages, but my feeble attempts to turn terrible English wordplay into German succeeded about as well as you would imagine. At least I learned to stick to the native tongue. Ultimately, it just was not very good.

Attempt #3: Dirt Track Racing Novel – Title Unknown – age 20

This was written during my days reporting on dirt track racing and was the first of many subsequent attempts to follow the maxim to “write what you know.” This particular story was rather “themey.” It focused on issues of race and class, two words that are racing terms that just happen to also have double meanings! If you don’t think I ran that particular conceit into the ground then you really don’t know much about me. The central conflict of this story centered around a plan to build a dirt racetrack – a place of joy for the common folk! – that was being held up by a zoning dispute orchestrated by the idle and evil rich who run government and like refined things that don’t involve cars going around endlessly in a circle. Budding writers remember this: a zoning dispute is always a great concept for a story. I’m pretty sure Macbeth was about a zoning dispute.

I wrote this story out in longhand, which was a terrible idea because it was quite long. I wrote it out on reporter’s notebooks, and by the end there were so many that I had to hold it together with a rubber band. I enjoyed writing it, and I have no idea where it is now. Ultimately, it just was not very good.

Attempt #4: One-Act Play About Technology, Humanity, and a Struggling Economy – age 21

This was written during my “I’m pretending I’m an anti-materialist because I secretly want a better car and CD collection” phase. The absolute worst thing about this particular play was that I wrote it for a class in college, so I actually showed it to other people and thought it was good. It did have a lot of bad language because I’m an adult now and I can say what I want! It did not work out quite as I had hoped. Ultimately, it just was not very good.

Attempt #5: True Crime Story – “Six on La Mesa” – age 25

Continuing my “write what you know” concept – which is really a thin disguise for my complete lack of creativity – I wrote this true crime nonfiction story about a sextuple homicide that I covered while I was a newspaper reporter. Unlike my actual news stories, which I knew were not good, I thought I could fill in the blanks with my own theories and create an arresting narrative. The story suffered from a lack of information, but I don’t think the police knew a whole lot more than I did. I believe the murders remain unsolved.

I still have the computer, I believe, that contains the explosive first draft of “Six on La Mesa,” but I don’t know if I can actually get the computer to turn on. And that might be for the best. Ultimately, it just was not very good.

Attempt #6: Law School Novel I Never Even Bothered to Write

I did not write this, but it was not for a lack of thinking about doing it. Once again, I was going to write what I knew and become the next Scott Turow, but I tried to focus on studying instead. I often wanted to write a spec screenplay of Legally Blonde 3, but LB1 and LB2 were so good, that I just knew I could not follow that! And, of course, I knew that ultimately it would not be very good.

Attempt #7: Essay About Past Failures

The idea was to collect all of my terrible past writing attempts in one essay and use humor to write something that a reader might actually enjoy. My hope was that such an essay could be both funny and wistful and lead the reader to think: I might like to read some of those things he wrote. My hope was that this would then lead the essay to get published, and then I would finally and truly become a man of letters. But alas, well, ultimately this essay is not very good.

Real Books That I Wish My Writing Could Be Like and Ultimately Are Very Good:

Dirt Track Racing (and somewhat similar sports that have rabid fanbases): Sunday Money by Jeff MacGregor; Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer by Warren St. John; To Hate Like This Is to Be Happy Forever by Will Blythe

Technology, Humanity, and a Struggling Economy: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

True Crime: My Dark Places by James Ellroy; The Corpse Had a Familiar Face by Edna Buchanan

Essay About Past Failures: Zombie Spaceship Wasteland by Patton Oswalt; How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley

Try Not to Hurt Anybody I Like*

An enormous box of infant clothes found its way to 4242 this week. It has dozens and dozens and dozens of little outfits and they are all adorable and pretty and precious. Baby clothes can really only be one adjective: the four-letter c-word, but I try to keep it out of my writing for obvious reasons.

It’s pretty cliché to say that looking at those clothes, which all are for boys but great nonetheless, made this whole baby thing “real,” but that was sort of how it felt. [1] Obviously, it is both exciting and scary to contemplate caring for this little life yadda yadda yadda [2], but what interests me most -- other than what (spoiler alert Terrence!) this little girl is going to be like -- is whether I will really change all that much. I have been the same person for almost 30 years, and while I have literally grown quite a bit, I don’t see myself as all that different from a younger version of me. I think the same things are funny, I spend way too much time thinking about sports, and I like reading books. I fully expect this kid will change me greatly; that is undeniable. But I am interested to find out in what way. I am more interested in meeting the little person, but, in a nod to the self-interest we all have but conceal with varying degrees of success, I want to know what it will mean for me! [3]

People I know with offspring warn me about how many Disney movies I will watch and how conversant I will become regarding the minutiae of princesses, but I have a hard time envisioning that. However, I remember being younger and having a hard time envisioning having two dogs and an iPhone (obviously, this is not too surprising considering dogs hadn’t been invented yet!). But what I really mean is this: can I hijack this child’s life to teach it to like only things I like? And, if yes, is that a good idea? The likely answers are no and no, and that is probably for the best.

Today, Kat and I were discussing whether you could keep a little girl from liking pink. She said it was not possible, and I agreed. Unless you resort to offensive scare tactics or manufacture childhood trauma [4], I think there is nothing you can do. But I guess what makes it exciting is that you get to watch as a little person becomes who she is. That seems wonderful to me, but I also know she has to overcome her DNA. However, I think she can do it.

In addition to this pile of baby clothes, Kat bought a car seat, which I guess means the kid will be quickly shepherded into our brave new world of frightening motility and devastation of natural resources in the name of “being somewhere.” [5] It just means the kid can ride in the car -- apparently, as a baby this was the only way to make Kat fall asleep, so hours of driving around aimlessly may be in our future -- and be safe while doing it. Kat’s mom also sent a very nice dress for the kid. It seems so small, but I guess she will be able to wear it for up to a week. That will be a very pretty week.

I don’t know anything about childen. I don’t know anything about girls. I don’t know anything about girl children. But I’m very excited to be a part of this project! [6] I hope to catalog how it goes. In thinking about what is to come, I lean on the mantra from The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit:

It doesn’t really matter.
Here goes nothing.
It will be interesting to see what happens.

While I don’t know if I always agree with the first part (rather than child-raising, the titular character would say his mantra before jumping out of a plane as a paratrooper in WWII), I definitely agree with the last two. I do have a good attitude toward the baby, and it definitely will be interesting to see what happens!

* As a bit of an occupational hazard, I now cannot operate without footnotes. Blogger does not really support them, so I made my own. Yay footnotes!

[1] I think personal blogs exist solely for the creation of clichéd writing. After all, things only become cliché because they are universal. S o, the moral is: just because something is cliché doesn’t mean it cannot have meaning or be resonant. Anyway, back to the clichéd stuff.

[2] This is just too cliché to even discuss. In its place, I give you this great Paul F. Tompkins joke about people who say that they know the first time they hold their child that they will do anything for her:

“Let’s say you know 100% beyond the shadow of a doubt that you’d take a bullet for your child. Let me ask you this: why are so many people trying to assassinate your baby?

[3] My mother will probably use this as further proof of my -- and this is a direct quote -- “bad attitude towards this baby.” I think I have a more realistic attitude than some others, but per usual, we agree to disagree.

[4] “That’s why you always leave a note!”

[5] This sentence actually was stolen from Noam Chomsky’s blog about his grandkids: “NoamPa.”

[6] Similar to Dr. Peter Venkman.

Nerd Helmets Engage!

(That is normally the type of expression Kat has on her face any time that I am involved in what we are doing. It perfectly encapsulates what it is like to live with me on a daily basis)

Kat and I returned to our former bicycling ways today with our first ride with our new bicycles. It was a lot of fun, and I’m glad that I only dragged my feet for a few months before getting my bicycle.

We went about eight miles along the Grand Canal from our house to Tempe for a round trip ride of sixteen miles. We wanted to go all the way to Papago Park, but we didn’t quite make it. But it was a lot of fun.

Here was the route.

Not a whole lot else is going on. But I do have a bicycle and a helmet and a light and a bike lock, so I hope to do some more bicycling. It also means that we are actually using the garage for something because it is where we keep our bicycles.

We already have a route planned for next weekend. If it does not deliver more interesting tidbits than this week, I probably won't blog about it.

I Do Declare

My extensive readership is calling for me to regale them with the news of my life. And when they want blog, I give them blog.

Impressive hailstorm on Tuesday here in the Greater Phoenix Metropolitan Area. Since it was finally cool enough to go outside, I was enjoying my luncheon on the veranda when I do declare, such a conflagration of breeze and rain presented itself without the briefest warning so that I was forced to scurry back inside the protection of structure while clutching my picnic basket tight to my bosom. (It’s a somewhat oxymoronic unwritten writing rule that any mention of a veranda requires the author to write the entire sentence as though he or she were a Southern belle in the 19th Century. If patio is used, the writing can continue normally, however, any mention of the v-word requires gentility and an immediate case of the vapors)

So anyway, I had to run inside before I was finished with my lunch. That particular squall, however, was not the one that really did the damage here. Later that afternoon it turned quite black and the hail was impressive. There are few more discordant sights than a cactus covered with hailstones, and I saw this sight many times!

The commute home was quite long but uneventful. While Midwesterners tend to drive too fast in poor weather – I can recall many times I have driven or ridden through borderline apocalyptic blizzards only to be passed at an alarmingly high rate of speed by a Chevy Tahoe with Colorado license plates. These neighbors to the west (now northeast!) always appeared to believe it sensible to drive as though on the Autobahn on a clear summer day because “I’ve lived my whole life in the snow, brah!” – the people of Phoenix seem to drive far too slow for far too long after the danger has passed. Admittedly, Phoenix streets do not drain too well since this is a desert, but I do not know that some water on the street requires quite the concern that was raised. Nevertheless, as a law school graduate and noted pansy, I appreciate the abundance of caution in place of recklessness.

There was no damage at our house, although rain storms always mean muddy dog feet and a dirty house. There were a lot of tree limbs, signs, and power lines knocked down, but they were not near us. Basically, what I used to sleep through in the summer in Nebraska is a cause of great consternation here. Ah well, the only constant is change.

In other news, I am traveling on a secret mission to our nation’s capitol later this month. Details are sketchy and current operations are need to know.

In other “secret meeting” news happening in October – this of much greater interest and importance – one week from today Kat and I are going to see The National at Tempe’s Marquee Theatre. Will it be awesome? Yes. Will it be transformative? Likely not. But the awesomeness is a definite. I promise a full report afterward.

As for sports news, Joe Buck’s involvement in playoff baseball and the fact that I can’t sit still long enough to actually watch an entire game tempers my interest in the October excitement. As for football, well, I am not super excited about either college or pro at the current time, although I keep watching both anyway. Our own Arizona Cardinals are looking much like the Cardinals of the past. Last Sunday, I went to the gym during the Cardinals game because I figured it would be less busy and because I could not watch a better game. As I was ellipticaling – that’s a thing, right? – this dude walked up to glance at the score just as Antonio Gates caught his eleventh touchdown pass (I’m guesstimating) of the game. The dude let out a long sigh born of years as a Cardinals fan. A sigh that said, “Oh, Buzzsaw, is it back to mediocrity then, back to whence you came?” To that dude I say, I’m afraid it is.

Also football-related, the AP poll has Nebraska at number seven and Arizona at number nine. I think that probably guarantees that of all the poodles in this country that have two sports snuggies in their crates (an extensive list, I promise you), no poodle other than our little Lily has Snuggies for two teams so highly rated. If I’m wrong, I will provide a mea culpa, but you must provide photographic evidence!



Nebraska does look pretty good, although some of the teams - most notably those with a large amount of purple in their particular color schemes - may just be terrible. Still, a defense like that and a quarterback like that are good steps toward a successful team.

But all of this sports talk was really so I could get to what I’m excited about: the NBA. I’ve already been watching preseason highlights, which probably says something about the depth of my mental illness. But nevertheless, I think it will be an exciting season. One sad note is perfectly encapsulated here. That is both sadly awesome and all too true. Agent Zero is no more. His depression, scraggly beard and hobo tendencies are making me depressed. In happier Wizards news, John Wall seems pretty awesome and incredibly fast. However, this Wall quote about Arenas confused me:

"You never can judge nobody off something that happened. Everybody makes mistakes. ... He's a great guy to me. I can't control what happened last year."

What do you mean you can’t judge someone by something that happened? I think it is wrong to judge someone by something that did not happen, but I think our system of justice is premised on finding facts so that we can judge people based on things that happened. Regardless, I let it slide because of things like this.

In other NBA news, the Big Shaqrock looks like a giant fridge Oprah would give away for free. In some highlights I saw, Shaq had two plays where he made soft little lay-ins. At 7’1” and 470 pounds, I’m not sure that he can still dunk. But I like seeing him in green because, well, it’s something. And, oh yeah, Delonte!

In sum, I guess, Ball!

(I know this deteriorated quickly. My NBA talk is not particularly coherent, or, I guess, is any of this. Right now, I’m reading Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. It is quite good so far. I am very impressed by how he can include so many seeming unrelated digressions and yet maintain such an excellent flow in the writing. I do not have this ability. That is why he is paid to write things and I blog for free. Well, I guess that’s life in a meritocracy. OK, good night and good luck.)

4242

That's the new house number here in Phoenix. While in the past I have changed the blog name to correlate to my city of residence, I think I am going to stick with Tucsonic Boom since people have set up bookmarks and such and because I can't think of a good Phoenix name. (I was considering "Valley of the Son of Dad" - you know, sort of a catch-all - but I am going to stay with things as they are.)

So now a virtual tour of the new house:

This is the front. There is a carport on the south side and a lawn. The trees are pretty low, so tall people should be aware. (If you look closely at this picture, you can see me!)


Kat at work. This is her new office where she does her job. It is working out pretty well so far. The four photos on the wall are Eric Krouse originals and are pretty amazing. They must be seen in person to be fully appreciated.

This is my desk in the guest bedroom. It isn't really a bedroom yet, so we need to work on that.

This is the poodle laying on a dog bed next to Kat's desk. She lays here all day while Kat works. This dog bed was purchased for Lucy, but she rejected it. Lucy also rejected another dog bed that we purchased...

...because Lucy prefers that her dog beds come from IKEA and cost hundreds of dollars. This used to be a living room couch, but it is not that anymore.

This is the backyard patio where we put the new grill. We also have a covered patio area by the backdoor, two sheds, and a giant garage for storage. We have three fruit trees in the backyard and plenty of room for the dogs to roam around - although they are always pretty intent on getting back to the house and resuming laying around.

Kat and her mom did basically everything getting the house in order, and it was quite impressive. I really like it here, and I think Kat does too. Just about everything a person could possibly need, and hundreds of things they could not possibly ever need, are available in a one-mile radius. Phoenix never lacks for stuff.

I hope to blog much more regularly now that the bar exam is over. I have a lot of books I want to read, movies to see, albums to listen to, and cable television to watch. I will let you know how that goes.

On Monday I am taking my talents to the Arizona Court of Appeals, and I'll let you know how that goes as well (at least what I can discuss, that is). I'm excited to get started and hope that it is fun. Take care.

Sometimes you eat the bar...

and sometimes, well, he eats you.

The Stranger
--The Big Lebowski

That quote isn't entirely accurate since Sam Elliott apparently is saying bear, but you can forgive me if I seemed to have misheard him. I seem to think of little else than the bar and whether or not he is going to eat me. But I am trying to just keep working, and I think it is helping. If I still have time to blog, the reader says, then you must not be too worried. Well, I counter that this is merely procrasti-blogging because I don't want to do the essays and questions that I must. But I didn't really want to talk about the bar, so I'll try to steer the discussion somewhere else.


Kat and I have been packing up the house so some interesting things have been found. This was in some old photos. While it is only five years old, in some ways it feels like a long time ago. Looking at this photo makes me a little sad but mostly happy, although some people may have an inverse reaction. But I'm happy that that day happened. I was happy then and I am happy now, although a whole lot has changed.

I think studying for the bar exam makes me contemplative because being contemplative is less work and stress than studying. But I am feeling good. This summer is probably going to be the worst one of my life - at least I hope it is - but when it is over, it will be over. Unless it is not, a possibility which is scarier than Joan Rivers' face.

I have not been blogging because I have not been doing anything of interest other than listening to lectures, making notecards, and surfing the Internet when I was supposed to be studying. I hope everyone else is having a good summer.

One nice thing about the Arizona summer bar exam is that it is too hot to go outside anyway so it is relatively easy to stay inside and study. But it is also easy to stay inside and listen to podcasts, daydream, or just organize a sock drawer. I have done all of these things and more than once.

But looking at this photo reminds me that it is just a test that I am taking. It is just another thing. It is nothing more. It can't change the people in that photo, all of whom I love dearly, and it can't change me, regardless of what happens.

And with that, I return to the depths of the law.