JoshCast #14 - Weight of the World

One of my recent favorites, from Howl, by Black Rebel Motorocycle Club:



Howl, by the way, was a pleasant surprise for me. I had bought Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's previous album, Take Them On, On Your Own, which was nice and edgy. You know, the stuff you'd expect from a bunch of rebellious guys in a motorcycle club who wear black. Howl goes in a different direction. I was at first disappointed, but upon later review and hearing them incorporate heavy doses of folk and gospel influences, I came to appreciate the diversion.

"Weight of the World", "Fault Line", and "Shuffle Your Feet" are the standouts to me. By the way, The Daily Vault has a great review of this album.

Back to work...*sigh*.

The Wisdom of John Wooden

Every morning, while I eat my bowl of Wheaties, I watch "Mike and Mike in the Morning" on ESPN2 (simulcast on ESPN Radio). Normally, I've only been awake for about 30 minutes (75 if you count snooze time), so I'm pretty much staring blankly at the TV as they interview some relevant sports figure or talk about Mike Golic's weight. But on the occasion, I'll wake myself out of my early-morning stupor and actually pay close attention. Anytime Bill Walton appears, I'm sure to open my ears, because his controlled ramblings are simply priceless to listen to.

John Wooden, the greatest basketball coach ever (most would say), turned 99 today. Who better to converse with on the life and personality of Wooden than the legendary Bill Walton, who played for him at UCLA in the early 70's? (Entire interview available here -- at least for now.)

Walton had nothing but the highest praise for the man. One thing he said in particular really struck a chord with me: "He never spoke about basketball; he always talked about life."

To him, teaching basketball took a back seat to teaching about life, but as it turns out, when you learn about life, you're learning about basketball. It seems like this was Wooden's approach. You certainly can't argue with 10 national championships in 12 years, and it seems like his teachings could be applied long after his players cut down the nets.

Some nuggets of wisdom he has imparted:

"Be quick, but don't hurry."

"It's the things you learn after you know it all that count."

"Happiness begins when selfishness ends."

"Be at your best when your best is needed."

And Walton points out, it's so easy to say these things. But consider them for longer than five seconds, and actually think about how to put them into practice, especially when you're at life's extremes (the highest highs, or the lowest lows). It ain't easy. But it's worth it.

I am too young to appreciate what you've done, Mr. Wooden. But I'll do my best to learn someday. Happy 99, sir.

The Muddy Blues

Austin City Limits music festival is one of "those" experiences. Not sure how else to describe it. Right at the end of summer each year, probably 200,000 strong invade Zilker Park for three days, deep in the heart of the Live Music Capital of the World, to bathe in a 150-decibel ocean of rock, reggae, alternative, hip-hop, and blues.

This year was different: (1) we also had Irish drinking music -- thank you, Flogging Molly -- and (2) all us music enthusiasts were bathing in mud, too.

Let me set the scene for you: I make the trek from Dallas to Austin late Friday morning, with visions of Eddie Vedder, Jack White, Dave Matthews, and Dave King on my mind (full line-up here). I park my car and begin what seems like a 39-mile journey on foot to the park, and am greeted with this pristine picture:


Mmmmm, just look at that blue sky. And that green grass! Don't you just want to roll around shamelessly in that beautiful Bermuda? In prior years, a lack of adequate ground cover combined with bone dry weather caused the crowds to kick up tons of dust that would get EVERYWHERE, with the most unpleasant side effect being dusty, gray snot. No more this year, after the city of Austin spent $2.5 million and multiple months renovating Zilker Park by laying down grass and a better irrigation system. Money well spent, I'd say.

Until it rained on Saturday, that is. And then the skies opened up:


And I don't mean a passing shower. I mean a downpour. I mean a monsoon. You know when Forrest Gump is talking about Vietnam ("Lil' bitty stingin rain ... big ol' FAT rain ... rain blowin' sideways ...")? I mean that kind of rain. I think 3-5 inches of rain fell over the course of about as many hours. Which is OK on its own, but you combine that with the huge throngs of people in attendance? Well, this is what the scene looked like on Sunday:


How about a close-up?


And it smelled about as good as it looked, too. It took about four times longer to walk anywhere than it normally would, just to avoid slipping, falling, and eating that soupy, delicious mud. I tell you, we all complained at least once about how much it sucked. (I think our exact words were, "Man, this sucks!") But the whole time, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that after a day or two passed, I'd look back on what an awesome experience it was.

I'm glad I went. And I'm glad it rained 5 inches. And I'm glad I had to slog through one and a half inches of mud everywhere I went. To cap it all off, Eddie Vedder (lead singer for the headliner Pearl Jam), after finishing off "Corduroy", proclaimed to the crowd, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm personally not leaving until I'm covered in dirt."

Cheers.