I'm still totally fine with playing shows for Church youth groups.

Quiet Company has fans. Not a lot of fans, in the grand scheme of things, but a handful of devotees, nonetheless. And that is amazing to me. I try and do a good job of stopping and taking stock of the progress that we've made, periodically. I think it's healthy to look back and remember when I had no fans, and the lessons I learned when I was only a fan of music, myself, and not an artist.

I've been listening to a band called Stavesacre today. Unless you were into Christian music in the late 90's, you probably don't know who they are. But since I did, I do. I don't listen to them very often. Partly just because I've outgrown bands that try to sound like Tool, but mainly because I can't listen to them without reliving the experience of meeting them.

It was the summer of 1997 and Tooth and Nail records had almost single handedly saved and revolutionized Christian music. That label has put out some pure unadulterated shit, don't get me wrong, but they're also responsible for some of my favorite records of all time (Luxury, Starflyer 59, Bleach, mewithoutYou, etc). My brother and I were obsessed with the whole scene and spent all our money and time going to shows and festivals, buying cds, videos, and t-shirts. If it had a Tooth and Nail logo on it, it was worth checking out.

My brother and I grew up in a huge, east Texas, Baptist church called Mobberly Baptist. It was big then, it's a damn mega church now. Anyway, church was always the biggest, lamest, pain in my ass until 7th grade. In 7th grade, you became part of the youth group. Youth group was fun. I feel like that was about all we did, have fun. We went to camps and mission trips and bible studies too, of course, but even those things were a lot of fun. Because of the youth group, I met Jacob Bailey, one of the most ruthlessly talented, and good natured evil geniuses you're likely to meet. Jacob played guitar and he's largely responsible for me knowing how to play guitar, as I learned most of what I know from him, rather than my actual guitar teachers. So we started a band, or rather I joined a band that he and his cousin had started. 20 Watt Shed was our name and we were probably about as good as our name would suggest. Anyway, we were young, we were loud, we were in a band, and we had a demo tape.

So because my youth group was so cool, we brought in bands. And we actually brought in some good ones. The first one was Bleach. Strange that I would meet them as a 15 year old fan boy, and they would later become some of my better friends in Nashville. But in 1997 we brought in a tour featuring The Supertones, Ghoti Hook, and Stavesacre. Everyone was out of control excited about the Supertones and Ghoti Hook. Everyone but me. As far as I was concerned, the only band that mattered was Stavesacre, and I even liked the Supertones a lot. Their second record had just come out and I was obsessed, feeling like it really ministered and connected to me in a deeply personal way.

Jacob and I, being naive young musicians, had deluded ourselves into the idea that if we gave Stavesacre our demo tape, they would like it (we liked them so why wouldn't they like us, right?), and they would give it to Brandon Ebel, the owner of Tooth and Nail, and he would make all of our teenage rock star dreams come true.

Needless to say, that isn't what happened. Mark Saloman, Stavesacre's singer, manned the merch table for the band after their show, and Jacob and I hung around like flies on a carcass. I don't remember exactly everything that Mark said to us, but very quickly things weren't going our way. Here's what I remember.
1. He was annoyed at the gift of a demo tape, and obviously so, though he did take it.
2. He made it abundantly clear that they would listen to it but that they probably wouldn't like it and it would "hit the highway" because "Hey man, sometimes brutal truth is the only truth."
3. Almost everything he said was jaded beyond belief and when he wasn't being condescending or belittling, he was being dismissive.
4. By the end of it, I really felt like he was mad at me for liking his band.
5. He wouldn't sign an autograph (though the rest of the band did) and his reason was that he didn't think it would be important enough to me.

Now for self awareness:
1. I'm sure we were annoying to a degree, being awkward youngsters meeting their idol.
2. I'm sure we asked the questions that he got asked all the time.
3. I'm abundantly sure that the demo tape was, in fact, awful.

The experience shook me. When Tom Fest came around months later, I was scared to meet another T&N favorite, Jason Martin, from Starflyer 59, but I'm glad I did because it helped me get over the Stavesacre debacle. Jason was the epitome of "nice guy." He was appreciative of my adoration and was so encouraging when I asked him about music and his gear. It was the opposite of arrogance, cynicism, or any kind of rock star cliche', and I'm sure it plays a big part in why I still buy every Starflyer 59 record that comes out but I haven't bought another Stavesacre record since 1997.

I made up my mind then, however, that if I was ever fortunate enough to have fans, I would do my best to appreciate them and treat them like equals because that's what they are. Because I can string some chords and a melody together doesn't give me the right to belittle anyone, even obnoxious 15 year old fanboys. I hope to god that there's not someone somewhere blogging about the time they met that asshole from Quiet Company, right now.

Interestingly enough, Brandon Ebel eventually did learn that I existed and came to scout one of my last band, the Connotations', shows in Nashville in 2002. Unfortunately, it was in one of his "T&N is a really Christian label" phases, and Cameron had talked us into putting the lyrics "Shit happens" in one of our songs. It was apparently some sort of deal breaker. My foul mouth actually cost The Connotations more than one Christian record deal in Nashville. Maybe if I'd kept it shut, I could be having dinner with the Gaithers now or touring with Stryper.

So it goes.

You really do have to be a pretty confident ninja to justify wearing white.

I figure that if everything goes according to plan, I've got another 50 or so years of life left. If I could go that entire time and never hear the word "Gosselin" again, that would be fantastic. My beautiful bride used to watch Jon and Kate before they became the spectacle that they are now and occasionally, I would witness bits and pieces of that abomination. I remember thinking/saying that Kate was the biggest bitch I'd ever seen and that Jon constantly looked run down and emasculated. The nation pitied him. All he had to do to keep looking like the victim was "nothing" but he would not be out-douched. Now we know way too much about how horrible two completely mediocre people (who's only known achievement is to breed somewhat irresponsibly) can be to one another.

How is it that Jay-Z and Beyonce, two of the most famous people in the world, manage to keep their private life private, yet two regular schmucks who's talent apparently lies with their tolerance for voyeurism can't somehow manage to return to a life of normalcy? So while I realize the hypocrisy in posting a blog about how I wish people would stop talking about the Gosselins, its no secret that those two are attention whores. So I know you read this, Jon and Kate Gosselin. So please, just go the hell away.



Anyway, I've recently bought comic books for the first time in a few years. I'm trying to finish out the GI Joe series that was going when I stopped collecting. I only have one issue left to find but I've gone ahead and read all the other ones and I realized something that I think I've known deep down all along...(and yes, I know no one's going to care about this)...but, to me at least, Storm Shadow really is way more badass than Snake Eyes. I know he's all mysterious with his mangled face and lack of functioning vocal chords, but who had the badass water tower hide out? Storm Shadow. Who almost single handedly (Stalker was there too) killed about 100 Night Creepers on the rooftops of New York(#107)? Storm Shadow. Who scaled the outside of Cobra tower without a rope and rescued Snake Eyes from the Baroness(#96)? Storm Shadow. Maybe I just love Storm Shadow and I'm not saying Snake Eyes isn't extremely badass but I just feel like everyone just takes it for granted that Snake Eyes is a better Ninja and they're equals at least.

Maybe one day I'll talk about religion again and get a lot of comments.

She said "I could tell you stories that will make you cry, what about you?" I said "Me Too. I could tell you a story that will make you cry."

This day is starting to drag. For lunch, everyone in the office went to eat at the Deluxe Chinese Buffet and thus we all made the worst decision that any of us will probably make today. I'm miraculously unaffected but I've watched all my other coworkers make trip after trip the the bathroom, all returning to regale me with stories of different odors and feelings. So it goes.

Tonight, one of my oldest friends, Casey, is in town and will be joining us for dinner at the house. Chicken, Sausage, and vegetables on the grill with cheesecake for dessert, it will be good times. Casey and I became friends in 5th grade and if I can say anything about him, its that he made my youth a lot more interesting than it would've been without him.

I set him on fire once.

It was his idea. We were in 8th grade and his brother was in high school where there was a chemistry teacher with a love of explosions and flames. Apparently, Casey's brother had come home once and shown Casey a trick where he applied a mixture of Ethyl alcohol and water to his arm and then set it on fire. The water keeps the fire from reaching your skin somehow, I don't know, I never took the class. His brother neglected to share the part about the water with Casey and so one day he grabbed some alcohol and some matches and told me he wanted to show me something. He poured alcohol all over his arm and handed me the match.

I said, "What are we doing?"
He said, "You, my friend, are going to light me on fire."

I said that I certainly wasn't going to do that and we argued for a minute or two before he had me convinced. So I lit him on fire. When he yelled "Fuck" and doubled over I got the impression that things hadn't gone according to his plan. He had huge blisters all over his arm for a while. They were pretty gross.

Despite how that story makes him seem, he's easily one of the smartest people I've ever known. He actually teaches a Sunday school class at the church we grew up in and a buddy of mine says its pretty interesting to hear your Sunday school teacher talk about how much he loves marijuana and advocate its legalization. Its just not what you expect in an East Texas Sunday school, you know? I think the next time I'm in East Texas on a Sunday I'm going to try and witness this spectacle.

What exactly are we supposed to be learning from The Learning Channel?

Just about every show on TLC makes me want to vomit, but currently on my television I have discovered a new low. I don't know why Leah hasn't changed the channel even though I asked her to but we're watching a show about stage moms and pageant children.

If you're dressing your children up like tiny painted whores and parading them around out of some misplaced sense of achievement then you are an awful parent. I protest you. You are a disgusting human being.

People say we monkey around...

Leah and I had a great weekend. Took it easy, cooked a lot, had friends over. Jen and Jarrod came over for dinner on Saturday and Leah and I made fettuccine Alfredo and some sort of baked tomato with bread crumbs and cheese all over it. Last night Paul and Gina brought over more ribs than I could possibly eat and then we all played with their two year old son, Ryan, in the sprinkler. It occurred to me that if there hadn't been a toddler in the mix, no one would've had a clue how to have fun with a sprinkler. Its weird to think about how you see things as a kid that you just don't see as an adult. I look at a sprinkler and can't fathom on my own how you could possibly derive fun from running through it. To me, it gets you just wet enough to be annoying, but Ryan obviously looks at it and sees a miraculous invention that simply must exist for his enjoyment and no other purpose. But when we watched him playing in the water we found ourselves remembering, at least a little, how sprinklers can be fun and everyone got pretty soaked.

When I was a kid, I'd see a tree and the only thoughts that occurred to me were about how amazing it would be to climb it and all the ways to go about doing so. Now, I still think those things but my thoughts of adventure are more often than not strangled by thoughts of all the different ways I could bust my ass, doing irreparable damage to my body and/or dignity. Maybe its because as a kid you have less invested in the world. As an adult I am conscious of the fear at all times. I can't let anything happen to me because I've got people that count on me and tons of shit I need to get done. Aside from leaving my loved ones, my greatest fear about death is dying before I get to accomplish everything I want to. I would be so pissed if I died in the middle of making a record. Timing is everything.

Harper is pretty much sleeping through the night now, so I'm feeling better rested than I have in about 2 months, which is nice. She loves her mother so much. Leah doesn't agree but I think she smiles way more at Leah than she does at me. I don't mind so much, Leah's pretty great and I certainly understand why someone would prefer her.

Leah and I watched our wedding video yesterday and it was pretty awful. So boring and my brother in law, who filmed it, shot the floor as often as he shot anything else. When it got to the part where Leah was telling me her vows I started tearing up. I didn't cry at the actual wedding, mind you, just while watching a horrible video of it. What is that?!? That was a great day, though. I had so much fun at our wedding and I remember exactly how I felt about my wife on that day. I remember it so well because its still the way I feel about her today, only now I think I respect her a lot more. Not that I didn't respect her then, but watching your wife through pregnancy allows you to see her in a different light, and its a beautiful thing.

OK but this is seriously the last one...

PZ Meyers posted this and I just thought it was so appropriate that I decided to repost it here. Enjoy.

Hurry up and get the Zeitgeist in the car before Ann and Pat realize that we've left...

I've often wondered, and for that matter, continue to wonder what happens in a person's life that fills them full of poison, the way that people like Ann Coulter are full of poison. Its one thing to passionately disagree and another thing entirely to seemingly devote your life to being the most malicious, mean, and thoroughly bad person you can possibly be, short of committing genocide or molesting children. At least with Ann, you get the impression that deep down she knows what a snake she is (my apologies to snakes), while Pat Robertson's deluded senility seems to run rampant under a guise of "good, Christian morality."


Spend some time here if you want to have your stomach turned. I found this collection this morning and it makes me physically ill that not only do these people exist, but several of them have positions of power (political or otherwise), in our country.

"Why can't everyone just be cool?" or "Basketball Diaries"

I grew up in east Texas in a really small town called White Oak and I have a lot of memories of good times and great friends from White Oak that I wouldn't trade for the world. That being said, I also have a lot of horrible memories of awful people saying and doing awful things to and around me and that's why I left as soon as I graduated. White Oak High School was full of bullies, both physical and verbal, and being remotely different from their redneck view of "normal" was sure to make you a target. It probably goes without saying, but my best friend Jeremy and I walked around with what seemed like large red targets painted on our backs. I won't go into details about what it was like but I do want to use it as a jumping off point for a question. Why can't people just be cool?

I've never understood it. What character trait must you possess that makes it seem rational to torment someone you don't really know, who has never done anything to you? White Oak is a tiny town, so I used to hypothesize that it was boredom that must be the culprit. In the past year I've substitute taught in a lot of high schools in the area and I'm pleased to say that I never saw the kind of thing that Jeremy and I dealt with in the schools that our children will go to. So maybe there is a direct correlation between size of the town and amount of crap kids have to deal with. I also think that bigger schools allow for bigger cliques and that's a good thing. When Jeremy and I were given shit, we had no one but each other (and a small handful of others) to turn to. In a bigger school, we might've had some strength in numbers. I wonder what that would have felt like.

The Internet has become just one more place for assholes to fester. Last night someone tried to comment on Leah's blog saying that whoever they are and I slept together during Leah and I's relationship. Obviously, its not true. Not that its any one's business, but I've never had sex with anyone other than my wife nor have I ever cheated on her in any way. And just as importantly, I never will. I love my wife more today than when we first fell in love, and I'm sure that in ten years time, I'll say I love her even more. I've never felt, in any way, discontent with our relationship to the point that selfish men often justify looking around. When she read it, my mind started going through the list of band mates that I've shared a bed with on tour over the years and which ones might be stupid enough to think that this would be a fun joke with semantics. Anyway, the point is not to defend myself against a ridiculous claim, the point is to say, "WTF!?!" What does someone gain with this sort of behaviour. Leah, obviously, didn't believe it for a second but its still upset her, and therefore, upset me. Leah's been blogging for a long time, so, she has a lot of readers. Most of them are really sweet people, but some of them are just human garbage, so this wasn't altogether shocking.

Still, why can't people just be nice? Why does North Korea have to keep testing nuclear weapons when they know it makes everyone sad?

Inevitably, Harper will have to deal with undesirable people at some point and when she does I plan on telling her this story:

I've never been really into sports. True, I did go to state for tennis, but if we're being honest, it was kind of a fluke. I did play basketball in middle school, though, and every summer our school would have basketball camps that lasted about a week. I don't remember ever wanting to go to the camps but somehow I ended up there more often than not. The highlight of the camps, for people who actually wanted to be there, was the one on one tournament that they held on the last day. I never liked competition or confrontation and even more, I dreaded embarrassment, so to me, the tournament was the worst part of the camp.

In my school, there was a guy named Josh Verhoeff. He was really tall, regarded as a tough kid, and always reminded me of Vanilla Ice. I'm going to use some strong language now so if that's not your cup o' tea, you'd best skip ahead. I hated that guy. He was the biggest prick I've ever met and seemed to only exist to pick on kids smaller than him. He had nothing real to offer the world as people like him often do, and he's probably dead or in jail now. And if he is dead, then the world is better off.

My dad was a coach at the time and the morning of the one on one tournament, I asked my father, with butterflies in my stomach, who I was facing first. Of course, it was Verhoeff, so I begged my dad to let me stay home. I think Dad knew I was dreading it by the way he told me who my first opponent would be. I don't remember if Dad gave me any kind of pep talk but he might've. All that's really important is that he didn't let me stay home.

So when I walked into the gym that day, Verhoeff was already waiting for me with a group of boys who had all clearly decided my fate before my arrival. Verhoeff told me, among other things, that if I beat him, he would cry. He said it really loud so that everyone in the camp would be sure to associate embarrassment with a loss to me because, apparently, what could be more preposterous than me beating anyone.

The rules of the tournament were simple enough. Basic basketball rules, make it take it, first to 5 (win by 2). And so the tournament began.

I'd felt sick with nervousness all day leading up to this. In my head, I was cursing my dad for making me come, and thinking about how I never really even liked basketball. But all that aside, the truth was... I'm actually pretty good at basketball. A truth that Verhoeff didn't know or was happy to deny. Not only did I beat him, but I beat the shit out of him. He managed to throw up one lucky shot but didn't touch the ball again after that. He became so frustrated by the way things were going that he stormed off the court in a huff when I was one point away from victory and only came back when the coach sat him down and forced him to play. As soon as he came back, though, I threw the ball up for the final time and the game was over.

True to his word, Josh Verhoeff cried when I beat him.

Now, I'm glad my dad made me go face him and I think I learned something about myself that day. We are all as strong as we want to be.

72 hours left...approximately.

We're now about 3 days away from, hopefully, being able to induce labor if we haven't arrived there naturally already. Only 3 small days stand between life as I know it and fatherhood. Shit. This is surreal. I'm not scared of fatherhood though, honestly, I'm not. If I can just get past the fragile infant part without breaking her I know I'll be fine. I know this because I believe that I understand what it means and what it takes to be a good dad, largely because I, personally, had a good dad. Still do, in fact. My parents taught me morality, responsibility, self awareness, and compassion. They weren't perfect and never tried to convince me that they were or that they always had the answer, instead they endeavored tirelessly to convince me that whatever happened, they would always love me. My brother is also a dad now, and he's doing his part to prove that the Muse men make for great dads. I have no reason to think that I'll break this tradition.

Leah told me that my blog today should be about how I wanted a boy and now I'm really glad to be having a girl. Its true, I really wanted a boy. Mostly, because I felt like a boy would be so much less work and no matter what life stage he was at, I'd be able to relate, having been there myself. Also, my greatest fear is that my precious baby girl would turn out like this:

or even worse, like this:


But I guess those fears are somewhat irrational. I'm sure the parents that produced those two monsters knew that the apples wouldn't fall far from the trees. Leah and I are both loving, intelligent and responsible people and my only hope is that Harper is kind, wise, creative, and as happy as she can be. I don't think that's asking too much. The best possible senario is that she ends up like this: