A flash back to the 1980s, The Lite Brite, has made an appearance in The David Crowder Band's newest video, SMS Shine.  It's a tear jerker, so be warned.

I heard and interview with him today that said they used something like 700,000 of those little lights to make this stop motion video.  He recruited multiple members of his church to help with this project.  Imagine the amount of for thought and planning that went in to this video.  It's well worth watching at least twice.

The stress is pouring in.  It's starting to fill up and is taking my positive attitude with it.  I just found out a video project I am working on is due a week EARLIER than I had expected.  We were going to be pushing it close with the extra week, now, it will be some long nights ahead.  Too much juggling with peoples schedules. 

Also learned today I have the wonderful opportunity to cover someone Else's territory while they go on Vacation.  But, do they get to cover mine when I go on vacation, do they ever step foot in Louisiana?  That's a great big, resounding no.  And guess how much extra I am compensated for that....a whole lot of nada. 

That's OK (get ready for positive spin).  At least my stress will decrease and I can spread it out over a couple of weeks instead of having all come to head on one day.  Whooo Flipping Hooo.  Looks like that bike will not be done any time soon. 

I got work to do, I'm out.

Oops I pulled a Mike!

From what I have been told, and the little bit I have seen, my Uncle Mike has a propensity to take things apart.  Getting them back together again is a different story.  He usually succeeds in this endeavor...my track record is not as stellar.  But this never keeps me from trying.

Elizabeth and I have recently come in the possession of a tandem bike.  I 1970s Schwinn, Red Tandem Bike.  It is a pretty amazing little mode of transportation.  But, it has been sitting in someone's house for a long time, so it is full up on gunk, dirt, and what I can only hope is not cat feces.  So it needs a little work.  What am I to do? 

I took it completely apart.  Over  couple of days I broke it down into as many pieces as I could.  My plan is to fix it up, piece by piece.  That way eventually Eliz and I can be known as that cute couple riding around on the shiny red Schwinn.  Ultimately we plan on throwing a Seersucker Social (idea total ripped off of a D.C. group) here in town.  Tell me how cute would we be in seersucker and on a tandem. 

The problem comes in the pieces.  I hope I have the ability to put it back together again.  Uncle Mike almost always could, so if I mess it up, he's the one I'm calling to fix it up.  Shh, don't tell him, I want to keep it a surprise. 

This bad boy bike has front and rear chrome fenders a sweet chain guard, and original two-toned fake leather seats.  It weighs about 45 pounds and is a beast, but will be fun to put together. 

Also, for an idea of the Seersucker Social we are going to attempt to recreate, check out this video.


The Seersucker Social from ReadysetDC on Vimeo.

There is no honor there. None to be seen or won.  None to be earned or bartered, none at all.  I look to you not as the victor, but with pity as one who is missing the essence of self.  You may prance around with a smile on your face and a flare in you eye, but the truth of the matter is you are hollow.  You scratch the surface of a man with no honor and see the real vestibules of fear and insecurity.  And for that, you sir, are nothing to me. 

Where is the integrity? Where is the trust?  Why do we live in fear of another man? Though I've never lived the times of white picket fences, unlocked doors, and pies cooling on the window, I lament the loss of this era.  Replaced now by pit bulls, bars on windows, and refusals to share, even a buck.  I myself am both guilty and convicted.  I look at myself and wonder where has the integrity gone.  What are my expectations and intentions or better yet my responsibilities?


(my notes:  first paragraph was in reference to a soccer game I played tonight.  I came away with a bum knee, a loss of respect, two goals, and a huge loss for the records-about par for the course with this place.  The second paragraph is what I affectionately call verbal expulsion...I know not why or how)

Reach Deep, find that Man Card

So I walked into the bathroom today at Michael's Arts and Crafts store.  I was picking up a framed thingy I had done about two months ago (needless to say, I was WAY over due picking it up and I'm surprised they hadn't sold it to the lowest bidder).  My first thoughts as I entered the bathroom were "man, this is a nice bathroom, clean, bright, and smells nice."  All three of these traits I admittedly desire in my choice for the "Not Your Own" toilet.  As I was standing there letting my mind wander and generally getting a good calm about myself it hits me, BAM, the bathroom is so nice cause I doubt it gets many visitors.   After all, how many dudes do you actually see in Michael's?  And the ones you do see are usually painstakingly following some over energetic member of the opposite sex, all the while sporting a face that says...Is this relationship really worth being subjected to this arts and craft hell, or worse, Dear God, please let her find what she wants here so we don't have to go to Hobby Lobby.  Either way, it's never a joyous occasion in a man's day when he steps through those automatic doors, definitely not something brought up later with guys over beer and darts.  Moral of the story, if you are driving around when nature calls, and have a strong stomach for fake flowers and old lady perfume, Michael's is top notch water closet.

Also, I, for reasons I can't seem to remember now, was going through my text messages yesterday.  The use of emoticons caught my eye.  Emoticons are those smiley face or frowning, criey, whining whatever faces used to insinuate emotion.  I was fortunate to see the only ones used in my contacts were by woman.  Which brings me to my most important thought of the week.  GUYS DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, USE EMOTICONS.  Stand up for your masculinity.  If you read this, and you are an avid injector of the as of now "unmentionables," you are presented a crossroads.  You can continue their use, but be ready to turn in your man card, or you can turn over a new leaf of ambiguous emotional standings.  Come on, you're a dude, a bro, a homie, you don't even know what your emotions are, how are you suppose to convey these to others with syntax.  Stand up for stereotypes and be emotionless in your non-verbal discussions, not like you are expected to be William Freaking Shakespeare.  This is all.

Revel Art time

Every October, there is a festival that comes to Shreveport.  It is the Red River Revel.  It is one of, in not, the best festivals that Shreveport facilitates.  They bring in music from all over, big names and some great local acts too.  This year the headliners were the Band Perry, Steel Magnolias, and Sister Hazel.  Now I'm not saying big as in Dave Matthews or anything, but not bad for an outdoor show with a $10 ticket.

But more than just the musical entertainment, they have food booths with some quite tasty fare.  You have you choice of the standard sausuage on a stick, meat pies, and funnel cakes.  Then you have my favorites.  Muffaleta pizza, crab cakes over shrimp and eggplant jambalaya with a cream sauce, and dipped cheese cake on a stick.  Thrown in roasted corn and you almost have a balanced meal.

Both the music and the food is reason enough to go to the revel.  However, Eliz and I really like to go for the art booths.  There have been artist from as far off as the Jewerly Makers of Whitefish, MT to the painters of Downtown Shreveport.  This year there is a large local presence, but they have brought in some goodies from Utah, Texas, and other far reaching places.

Last year Eliz and I purchased a couple pieces of art.  Our first piece was a painting of poppies in trees.  Eliz actually had the artist paint this one specifically for her.  She loved the painting but wanted red flowers instead of blue ones, which the original had.  So we gave the artist, Monica Fallini, MF Fine Art a sum of money in return for a promise she would mail it to us when it was done.  It took a few months, but it finally showed up on our door step and we have been quite happy with it.

The other piece we purchased was from a very popular artist in this regions.  Her name is Candice Alexander.  She is known for her interpretations of Flur-de-Lis.  She has one for all types of professions and situations.  Personally I think the Flur-De-Lis is EVERYWHERE and the novelty has worn off for me.  Eliz found a wonder print of a tree, actually two trees intertwined, that she really, really liked.  So we got this one too. When we told her we wanted it, she informed us she needed it for a show and couldn't let us have it just yet.  But, she said she would mail it it us.  So we paid her too, and ended up leaving the Revel with a lot less cash and nothing to show for it.  Fortunately, everyone was true to their word and we recieved our art like little presents, just went the newness of buying had worn off.  So we were able to get excited all over again.

This years Revel, although a little smaller, was good too.  We spent last night getting a piece of Pizza, Corn, and cold Abita and browsing the booths.  The jewelry was interesting, I guess, but Eliz said the greatest thing..."I have enough jewelry for now."  So that was wonder!  We looked at the art booths and nothing really spoke to us again this year, except for one.  Monica Fallini was back with some great new pieces.  She even branched out to mix media on some of her artwork.  What Eliz and I really like about her is the Texture of the poppies and the colors she uses.  We looked at her booth, thought for a while, then walked away.  We walked the rest of the booths and found ourselves pulled back to her booth.  This time with consideration of places, we walked away with two new paintings!  I guess we are not official collectors of Monica Fallini, not that I have any problem with that.  Here are the newest Paintings.

For the Kitchen

In the Living Room

But, in God's fun way of keeping things even, we found out yesterday we have  gas leak in our pipes.  The City Man came out, took good look, and found a leak in a pipe that is pushing 80 years old.  The joys of owning an old house.  So, he took our meter, which means no hot-water or heat ( thank goodness it's still a Louisiana Fall) and told us to call a plumber.  The plumber charges a $350 fee just to come out and test the line, not to mention the labor or parts needed for the repair.  And in true plumber fashion, he's late. This reminds me of a show theme song..."You take the good, you take the bad and then you have The Facts of Life, The Facts of Life..."  A positive attitude is easier typed than believed. 

"Toasted Skin Syndrome"

Are you kidding me? Has our world and existence become so sedentary that we now have a condition that is brought about by extended exposure to your laptop. Really, parents, kids, friends, rise up and fight the evil mechanical empire that takes away your life. Read a book, ride a bike, take a hike or a stroll, but don't develop "toasted skin syndrome." I just don't get it.


I'm not advocating a complete purging of your technology, far from it. I love my iphone, my mac, my ease and comfort afforded to me by these and other computer based and processed machines. Don't even try and take away my ipod from me, lest you loose your fingers, but really, there is a limit.

I was reading in the The Shreveport Times, online mind you, about This Article and I about fell out of my chair with aggravation.

I just can't see how the situation can get to the point it would cause permanent skin damage and even cancer. Guess this is another instance how our "freedoms" allow us to do negative things to our body, like McDonald's food or Jerry Springer. Parents, Grandparents, concerned friends, it is your duty to kick those booties out of the chair, off the couch and into the world at-large. Do something about it.

The Ghost Buck's Lament

A slight rustle of the brittle, fall leaves that carpet the earth, the bite of cool as the wind noisily whips through the trees around bushes and through fields, each breath materializing in a rhythmic fashion of natural peace. Rise and fall, rise and fall, a scent attaches itself to the newest gust off the pond.  A sudden realization of not being alone, but friend or foe is unknown.  The next movement is of utmost importance.  Flight? A quick run to freedom and safety with nothing but a white flash to signal the escape.  Fight?  head bowed, eyes peeled and ready to embrace the future in an animalistic urge to defend the ground gained.  Decision time.   

Will the rancher win the war...or will the Ghost Buck prevail?  What about the ponds, the ducks, the dogs, the fires.  What about the grandchildren, the brothers, the sisters, the mothers. What part do they play in the saga of the Ghost Buck Ranch? The Mule, the great white truck, what about that Straw Cowboy Hat that rest comfortably on the table by the door.  The hat that longs to fulfill it's purpose of both sun protection and style.  A functional statement that describes who you are and why you are here.  How about the peace of the sunset and the anticipation of the sunrise.  We may never know.

A request, neigh, a plea, where has the The Ghost Buck Ranch Journal disappeared to?  Am I the only one who laments in it's absence?  I daresay "No." But what shall be done; what shall be done?