How the Red Wings can win the cup.
I just read John Buccigross’s new mailbag, and a few Michiganders are wondering out loud whether the Wings have a legitimate shot at the cup this year. Bucci says no. I tend to disagree; part naïvety and part honesty.
He is a little right. It’s hard to believe the big bad Red Wings just aren’t as scary anymore. That said, they know how to win cups; the potential is there. It’s just a matter of getting the pieces in place come playoff time.
If Little John and Kronkite come back soon, then we have a defence that is Stanley Cup caliber, at least for one last run: these two, plus Lidstrom, Rafalski, Stuart, and Ericsson. Granted, the four that have been healthy need to improve their play (especially Stuart and Ericsson), but when they are at the top of their game, they are more than capable.
Osgood or Howard? If Howard is able to put up the same numbers in the playoffs as he has in the regular season, I have no worries about our goaltending. If Osgood can again rise from the ashes like a phoenix and summon the spirit of Terry Sawchuk for a few rounds, that would be even better. It’s always scary using a rookie goaltender in the playoffs (See Osgood in the 1994 playoffs against the Sharks).
The most important piece to a legitimate Stanley Cup run is the Mule, Franny Perkins. Having him in the lineup allows more space for Zetty Tenetti and Daddy. Without him, teams can shut down those two and force our remaining average forwards to produce, which has not happened very often this year. Without another goal-scorer, we are doomed. Datsyuk’s and Zetterberg’s numbers are down this season, but I feel as though pressure will be relieved with the addition of a guy who finds ways to score like Franzen.
In addition (and with any Stanley Cup winner), we need a little luck. Looks like we will have to play either Chicago or San Jose first round. Either will be a great series, but to have a chance in the second and third round, both of those teams need to be ousted in the first round.
Defence tightens up, Howard wins playoff mvp, Franzen returns better than before, San Jose and Chicago don’t make it past the first round. It can happen, right?
Guitar improvements
Today I found reason to believe I am still getting better at guitar; in the six years it has been out, I have never been able to correctly fingerpick “Naked as we Came” by Iron and Wine. Until today. So, if you did not get a ticket to tonite’s show, come over and I will play that song for 90 minutes.
Matt LeBlanc dream; vermin in my attic.
I had a nice, straightforward dream that involved Matt LeBlanc.
I was at the Sliva’s, and we needed a movie. I volunteered to go to Family Video to pick one out. Sure enough, Matt LeBlanc was there, working as a greeter. I said hi, and proceeded to find a movie. I went back over to Matt and asked, “do you guys have that dolphin movie you were in?”
“LeBlanc and the Dolphin, you mean,” he replies. “This way.”
I ask, “what type of movie is this? Docudrama, bromance?”
Matt replies, “Porno… yeah, hardcore porn.”
He then takes me to the video game section, hands me a rental copy of NCAA Football 2k4, autographs it, and says, “here ya go; enjoy!”
He was not trying to be funny, either. Not about the porn comment, or about the video game.
So after this dream, I woke up. And since I sleep under the upstairs attic, I heard things. Things that go bump in the night. Needless to say, there are creatures traipsing and stomping around in our attic, and it is more than a little upsetting. I am sure I will wake up one morning to find a opossum in my bed who I mistake for Lisa Kudrow in a dream. But we will cross that bridge when we get there.
I’m 23.
This last year was a doozy. This time a year ago, I was in sleepy Ormskirk, England, carving another memory out of the bar of soap we call life.
I learned one very important thing in the past year: Love, in the broadest sense of the word, is the most important thing life has to offer, and I need to seek it out always.
My three goals upon turning 22 were to: 1. Floss regularly, 2. Dunk a basketball, 3. Begin work on a foreign language. 1 and 3 have both been accomplished. 2 carries over to this year. So, my goals for my 23rd year are as follows:
1. Dunk a basketball
2. Graduate college
3. Do many things I am scared to do
Bonus: WWOOF.
I’m shaking.
I am shaking for several reasons.
I do not have my moccasins on my bare feet.
I recently drank a cold glass of water.
I had too many cookies.
I hurt my hard drive somehow. Or it hurt itself. Either way, it is not healthy now, and could be lost forever.
I am in awe of the sleek aptitude that a loaned MacBook carries with it. First of all, it’s a wonderful machine. In addition, loaning it from someone makes me feel like I am using the company car or something along those lines. I feel like George Clooney when he gets to borrow a Mac whilst on the set.
I have an interview tomorrow to be a Big Brother. The obstacle course I have to complete is daunting.
Stories v. Real Life
I’ve read 2.5 books in 2.5 days. First was The Life You Save by Peter Singer. Being a philospher, he presents a cogent and sound argument on why it is our moral and ethical obligation, as affulent citizens of the developed world, to donate our wealth to save those that are dying in other countries. Needlessly dying.
If you know people are dying in Africa, Asia, and the like, and you have the power to prevent the death of human life, should you not be doing everything in your power to stop these deaths?
After that, I plowed through The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. A modern day Robinson Crusoe, only written ten times better and with a far more meaningful ending. I won’t give anything away, but the “moral” of that story, for me anyway, ties in with the third book I began tonite.
In A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Don Miller talks a lot about stories. Basically, our life is our story, and he asks an overarching question throughout the book: Would we want to watch a movie of our story?
To me, Miller has been this big brother that moved to Portland and writes me 300-page letters every so often. It’s like he is a few steps ahead of me in his story compared to mine, and every step he takes and writes about is one I am either going through or one I see in my future.
Miller doesn’t carry with him the starched intellectualism of Singer or the dreamy fantasy world of Martel. But, so far, he has been able to connect all three books into one cohesive unit.
… I have been trying to write a blog entry or some sort for a few days now. Each time, it has sputtered out. This one did, too. What I am trying to say is, I think I just need to shut-up and stop writing, pontificating, theorizing–and just do something. That’s what all these books are about: the story. As cheesy as it sounds, you are the writer, director, actor, key grip, etc. Just do something. Stop looking at the TV and do something. Stop staring at Facebook and do something. Do something you’re a little afraid of doing. Then, do something you’re a lot afraid of doing.
The other blog I was going to toss up was about how we always take the easy way out. I know I do. The easy way is a lot of things: going to get drunk, going to the movies, going to the TV, going to sleep for too long, going to cheat on your wife, going to pick the safe major, the safe job, and all of that. If I have learned anything, it’s that nothing I have truly enjoyed in my life has come easy. I just hope I remember this lesson and abide by it.
Welcome, New Year.
I believe in the healing power of tea. Especially the green variety. It’s a pleasant pick-me-up after a night of festivities.
Last night was the first time I spent New Years in a bar. It was a nice distraction from the whole event. As far back as I can remember, New Years always made me depressed. Even when I was young, I would think “Wow, another year I will never have back.” But a bar night seemed to be the great equalizer. It was a night out with friends that happened to fall on the end of the year. I only saw a glimpse of Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark. This morning, I am thouroughly optimistic about the new year. I love the crisp air in Grand Rapids on a sunny winter day, because sunny days are the best thing you could ask for during winter. I am also loving this green tea in a mug which says “Terminal Madness” on the front, printed in a 1984-esque font. Probably because it was made in 1984.
A New Year’s resolution: Write every day.
I have a song for the New Year. It’s from the moving picture Up in the Air, which has a great soundtrack. It’s by an unknown artist named Sad Brad Smith, and it is called Help Yourself.
Top ten albums of the decade.
For once I choose not to make any excuses for this list. These are the best albums that I heard in the 2000s.
10. Stephen Malkmus – Stephen Malkmus (2001). The merits of this album are in its timelessness; it will positively be enjoyed years down the road. While Radiohead produces what will eventually become dated material, Malkmus sits in his cave, churning out rock songs rooted in the popular music of the past 50 years. I consider this the best collection of songs from the legendary songwriter.
9. Sufjan Stevens – Illinois (2005). Originality prevails on this top ten list. The fact that Sufjan said he would make an album for every state is funny. The fact that people believed him is funnier. No one was making orchestra-infused concept albums in 2005. That said, these songs can work completely “unplugged,” with a simple banjo or guitar cradling Sufjan’s introverted lyrical strength.
8. Ambulance LTD – LP (2004). One of the great albums of the decade, and sadly, one which will probably forever be overlooked. Shimmering pop music is delivered with a New York sheen as post-Beatles John Lennon and The Velvet Underground are channeled. Do not let this album pass you by.
7. Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism (2003). The preeminent indie band at the peak of their career, just before taking the leap into major label-dom. Everything this band put out following Transatlanticism is erroneous; this is all we need. Cleverly produced pop songs wrapped up in a heart-warming autumn-like glow.
6. The Shins – Chutes too Narrow (2003). Both Oh, Inverted World and Wincing the Night Away have their exceptional moments, but neither do it as consistently as Chutes. This is the type of album that has you ready for another listen as soon as the last track whispers away. All we need from you, Mr. Mercer and Co., is concise, unassuming songs. The Shins ability to weave together intricate lyrics with radio-ready hooks is unparalleled.
5. The White Stripes – Elephant (2003). One could argue the artist, album, and song of the decade, simply by pulling out Elephant. Seven Nation Army was covered by aspiring Jack White’s worldwide, and we all wondered if they were really brother and sister. They led a garage-rock revival as the White’s struggled with their instruments, succeeding in doing the most with the least.
4. The Strokes – Is This It? (2001). We could have called the decade as soon as this album was put out. In a world of Hanging by a Moment’s and Drops of Jupiter’s, The Strokes said no. This album set the stage for a lot of bands; often imitated, never duplicated. It’s concise and drastic all in one. Whatever happens in the 30+ minutes they offer on Is This It, you know you are ready to start all over again upon its conclusion; a mark of a brilliant album.
3. Of Montreal - Satanic Panic in the Attic (2004). Song for song, this album can compete with any other. It is interesting to watch Kevin Barnes transition from a lo-fi 60s songster to a psychedelic, scattered cross-dresser. The nexus of these two extremes came in 2004 on this instant classic. Barnes channels all the good bits of 60s and 70s pop–the “tongue-in-cheek” guitars, the infectiously catchy melodies and harmonies–while at the same time infusing it with his own quirky creative prowess.
2. Wilco – Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002). This is rock music at the turn of a new millennium. Folky songs spliced with new age technology. While the acoustic guitars may evoke Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan, the sonic elements wake each of us up to the realization that an entirely new age is upon us. Beautiful sequencing, beautiful mixing, beautiful album artwork; its a masterpiece from start to finish.
1. Wilco – A Ghost is Born (2004). To many, this is the depressing step-child of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot; a move sideways instead of forward. To me, Yankee was merely the warm-up, while Ghost is the final step towards perfection. Where Yankee is a lesson in the merits of sonic landscape, Ghost is a lesson in stripping all of that away, playing instruments, and singing incredibly well-written songs. Not only that, but Tweedy shines on guitar, evoking emotion rarely heard through an instrument. It weeps, it moans, it laughs. The variety of emotions felt on the album is a testament to the power that Wilco possess. Not only this, but the sound and production quality is the best I have ever heard: ever. It is a test of endurance in many ways to listen to an album that takes you through starkly contrasting emotions, atypical production, and even a twelve-minute drone; but when you finish, you are a better human for doing so.
Giving some love to Michigan winters.
I am loving some things right now.
- My 1994 black Ford Ranger. Seriously. She’s awesome. Most consistent thing in my life.
- The snow. I saw maybe one inch of snow all winter whilst in Europe. Not this winter, baby! There is something so refreshing about the bitter cold. Something about the snow brings about peace and a feeling of restarting, refreshing, etc.
- Michiganders. We are badasses for living in this stuff.
- The fact that I am nearly done with the semester. I spent the past 24 hours either in a computer lab or a classroom, and I am a better person for it. I am a doubly better person because I took a nap on the heated floor in Padnos.
EDIT: You know what I hate about Michigan winters? Coming home after a day spent at GVSU to find your bedroom window is frozen completely open. Snow in your room. No way to fix it. It happened.
