The Importance of Being Earnest

My friend Jay Odenbaugh blew back through town earlier this week. I was able to catch him for breakfast and a hike on Tuesday. As we crested the Mossy Ridge at Percy Warner Park, he informed me that he had recently attained tenure at Lewis and Clark University. I was damn near misty-eyed as I contemplated the ramifications and the long road to his achievement: At the age of 15, when I had known him for three or four years, Jay stated his desire to become a Doctor of Philosophy, a feat he achieved quite handily in the subsequent decade. After countless exhibitions of pride and determination, I can't say that I was surprised to find out that he had finally grabbed tenure out of the hands of defeat; I just wish I could remember more of the details about his rise to the top.

This morning I met my father for breakfast at the Pancake Pantry. I had not seen him for a month or so and there was plenty to catch up on. He and Vicki have sold their house, not before winning a Nashville Historical Society Preservation Award for their fine renovation/restoration efforts. They are soon moving into another house that Dad has renovated, a Cape Cod that was on the verge of collapse this time last year. We went to look at it this morning, and I was truly stunned. It is one of the finest home renovations I have ever seen anywhere; the floor plan flows beautifully and old and new aesthetic details have been married with nary a flaw. It is the seventh house my dad has renovated in my lifetime, and by far his crowning achievement. I am looking forward to visiting and, as always, very happy to have such a sweet place to hit rock bottom, should the need ever arise again.

I went straight from Dad's house to Bill DeMain's apartment, where we wrote a new song called "Philosopher Dog," recorded the two remaining demos for 1908 Division and then mixed all of the demos. Listening back, I am pleasantly surprised. The songs are alternately more complex and deconstructed than most previous efforts. The implied apartment building narrative allowed for the use of various styles and dynamics that I would normally not include on one album, but all in all it holds together pretty well. Then again, what wouldn't sound good to ears tweaked on high-grade organic peyote? Before the carpet began slithering up my ankles I was able to detect a few arrangement issues here and there, but nothing major, nothing that won't be easily dealt with the minute these goddamn fruit bats stop flying out of my nostrils.

Word on the street is that I have my third home-cooked supper of the week to look forward to this evening. Liz is on a real culinary tear and I am supremely grateful. Tonight is Quinoa and vegetables, I believe. I would like to go for bike ride in the meantime, but feel obligated to hang with Stan for a bit; he endured a terrible thunderstorm today alone. He seems shaken but did managed to avoid relieving himself on the floor, which is certainly what I would have done in his position.