Unseasonable Sunshine and Slow Beginnings....

As it turns out, it was a mistake to have started this blog when I did, at the footstep of a series of shockingly warm, sunny mid-March days in Chicago (as well as the start of my favorite sporting event of the year, March Madness). As a result, the blog was put on hold as my random stumbling took a backseat to long bike rides, morning jogs and sun-soaked, aimless wanderings. Chicago is just a completely different city when the weather is temperate, when the roads are traversable on bicycle, when winter jackets and water-resistant boots are pushed to the back of the closet. It is a happier place, a better place. Its residents, who have for so many months been forced to stare at the sidewalks while walking outside to prevent their faces from the frigid, whipping wind, are finally able to look up and acknowledge the existence of one another, to smile, to exchange a friendly nod or harmless salutation and actually mean it.

Hopefully, for the sake of Chicagoans deserving of such beautiful weather, my lack of production will continue for months and months, all the way through a Cubs' World Series Title (which, of course, would mean an eternity of beautiful days).

But, without further ado, let's start stumbling…

http://www.thisdayinmusic.com/birthdayno1

This site provides you with a remarkably simple way to waste your time. You simply enter a date and it tells you what song was No. 1 on the charts on that date.
On the day I was born, Art Garfunkel’s “Bright Eyes,” was the British favorite du jour, which is embarrassing for the Brits. I’m actually rather fond of the U.S. and Australian number ones on April 9th, 1979: “What a Fool Believes” by the Doobie Bros., and Blondie’s “Heart of Glass,” respectively. A year later in the States, “Another Brick in the Wall” was number one, leading me to believe that, perhaps, Americans’ collective taste in music is particularly strong in early April (which would in turn explain my impeccable taste in music). I was disappointed to discover that the following year, Hall and Oates’ “Kiss on My List” held the top spot.

Regardless, fun way to procrastinate. Incidentally, there is a killer cover of “What a Fool Believes” available for free on the interwebs. A band called Self, whose work I’m otherwise unfamiliar with, recorded the song entirely on children’s instruments. Check it out here: (caveat: the song will be stuck in your head for approximately thirteen hours)
http://parrishioner.vox.com/library/audio/6a00c22523d34e549d00c22529fa49604a.html

Set of Stumbles, the First

Before I even press the button, I want to relay a conversation that just occurred between a latte(I'm assuming it's half-caf and soy)-drinking man and green-tea woman with whom I'm sharing my table.

Woman (reaching right hand out to touch the neck of man's navy, gold-trimmed cardigan): I love that sweater!
Man: Yes. It was twelve hundred dollars.
Me ˆ(look of horror and disbelief, fighting urge to address the insanity of what I had just heard...quickly losing fight): You've gotta be kidding, right.
Man (lowering brow): This is real gold.

And...scene.

Anyway, let's start stumbling.

First stumble
www.flickr.com/photos/23522703@N06/4427285705/

I suppose this is moderately funny in a sort of contrived, no-way-an-actual-kid-really-drew-that-and-gave-it-to-a-teacher sort way. But isn't it pretty to think so?

Next stumble
www.planetebook.com/

Amazing site if you're a Kindler, which I am not. I'm still in the (apparent) minority that still enjoys picking up an actual book with actual pages. Interestingly enough, I had this very conversation last night while tending bar. A woman, who I will refer to as Jill (because it is her name) sat down at the bar, ordered a glass of wine and pulled out a book, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. She became instantly more attractive to me (went from a six to a 7.4, a marked improvement), not because I had read the book or knew anything about it, but simply because it had a cover and a series of ink-filled pages. Naturally, I interrupted her reading to discuss, well, reading. We agreed that the Kindle was a pretty cool gadget, but there's really no substitute for a real book. It has a smell and a feel that simply can't be replicated by something that requires a rechargeable battery. There's something about turning those pages, your fingers slowly, almost unnoticeably darkening, the suspense building as you see the number of remaining pages diminish. Not to mention the fact that they look pretty cool, standing in rows on shelves. On the Kindle, they're just...files.

Anyway, pretty cool collection of classics on planetebook. I looked up and down the list for a lemon, but I can't disagree with a single one of the selections (even those that bored the living hell out me. I'm looking at you, "Moby Dick.").

Mission Statement

Sitting here in Café Intelligentsia (its aesthetic approaches the pretentions conveyed by its name, but it really is the best fucking coffee in the city of Chicago) on Broadway, attempting to write something of personal value (a short story with turtle’s legs and tsetse’s brain, fueled by a caffeinated and highly distracted letter-tapper).
It’s been quite some time since I’ve written anything I’ve been even minutely proud of; as a point of fact, it’s been close to a month since I last wrote anything at all, save some half-drunk ramblings in a pocket moleskin and on a handful of cocktail napkins, one marked with an ominous, triply-reinforced asterisk (*WORK ON THIS TOMORROW). Well, tomorrow was supposed to be today, and the “this” isn’t working.
I’ve spent so much time with my nose in sample business plans that I may very well have forgotten how to write at all. Now on my second 16 oz. Ethiopian blend and my focus drifting alternately from the open document on my computer, the toe-tapper to the left of me, the throat-clearer to my right, and the incredibly cute, tattooed barista so gracefully foaming milk behind the counter (I swear she’s been making eyes at me), I have decided, logically, to start a blog detailing an obsession that fuels my unchecked ADHD: The Stumble Button.

The idea was conceived while I was vacationing in New Orleans. My buddy Wheaties told me all about the Stumble Button, a procrastinator’s dream. For those of you not in the know, the Stumble Button can be downloaded at www.stumbleupon.com as an add-on to your web-browser. You essentially check off on things in which you’re interested – sports, literature, baking, world music, Scientology, whatever – press the Button and it takes you to a random website that The Internet thinks you might like.

It is crystal meth without the tooth decay.

So ends my advertisement.

But the idea behind the blog is this: I hit the stumble button, it takes me to the page, and I report on it. It’s as simple as that. I sit here, drinking this black water, pressing a button and then pressing more buttons, telling you where the first button took me. There must be a worse way to waste my time.