» Fringe Blog – Writing on Film, Culture, and Things on the Fringe

The Thing About Colorado

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 04:39:11 +0000

What is it about Colorado that gets me all hot and bothered? Is it the lovely Rocky Mountains and their Alpine jealousy? Is it the squeaky clean John Elway (not to be confused with Elton John) and his once thriving Broncos of Denver? Is it Boulder real estate and the mounds upon mounds of hippie communes that drive housing prices through the roof?
No, it’s none of those, though I could easily say it is. The fact is, Colorado gets me hot and bothered because it’s the one state where you can’t imagine anyone doing anything except skiing. Name any other state, and you have at least gainful employment as a possibility. But Colorado is like the Death Valley of job markets, as evidenced by my friend Evil Rainey’s inability to get a job after being out there a month. He’s an engineer, people, with a degree! That’s gotta be worth some kind of get out of poverty free card. Instead, he’s looking at the upcoming ski season with nary a job in sight.
But somehow, I imagine he’ll find a way to rent a cabin and ski at least four times this winter. No doubt he’ll have a job by then. Though I’m not sure you can consider snow bunny a job. And while he may have the body for it, is it really what an engineer from Virginia Tech should be doing? Have some pride in yourself. Get a real job.
Go freelance.

10 Cities I Wouldn’t Mind Living In

jelewis8 — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 14:31:35 +0000

Okay, Jeremiah. Name the top ten places you could see yourself living in the next ten years. You can’t include Los Angeles, since that is where you currently live. These should be places that appeal to you on an emotional basis, or would have benefits for your career, or would be a comfortable compromise between the two.
10. Washington D.C. – Believe it or not, I rather like the DC/Beltway/Arlington area. I’m not a fan of Northern Virginia, which skirts pretty close to DC. Despite the humid summers and fatcat politics, I think cherry blossoms in Spring and Georgetown brownstones are quite appealing.
9. Boston – I love New England, I like the Red Sox, I tolerate liberals. What’s not appealing about this trifecta of high-gloss lifestyle mixed with homegrown, colonial appeal?
8. Denver – The Rockies, despite being great places to commit cannibalism, are also great for driving and skiing. Denver real estate seems to be worth checking into, and the city is picturesque, yet doesn’t carry the stench of hippie/New Age culture that Boulder has.
7. New York – I would love to live in New York, but only if I was super wealthy and had publishing connections. Since my window for living there is quickly running out due to my girlfriend Emily finishing school and wanting to move away forever, I don’t see this happening anytime soon.
6. San Juan – It’s a charming town marked each year by the passing of swallows of Capistrano. It’s got an old-school Spanish feel that translates well for an uppercrust yuppie type. I could see myself in that mode twenty years from now.
5. Savannah – Who can resist hanging moss, four hundred year old trees, southern accents that defy normal mockery, and Confederate ideals, without the slavery? This guy, that’s who.
4. Seattle – It rains here. A lot. I have about an 85% tolerance for extended rains, so it would be a bit of a stretch to live here year round, but the quality lifestyle, the under-the-surface conservative movement, and West Coast laid-back lifestyle is a pleasure not easily dismissed.
3. Madison – Wisconsin, that is. Living inside the city might be fun, though I would actually enjoy living in a smaller town outside Madison more. The university there makes for a fun college environment, and with family and a first-rate coffee company operating right in town, there isn’t too much I can say against this option.
2. Asheville, NC – A small town, quaint, energetic, and folksy, but not “My mother named me Moonstone because I have a healing aura of Mother Earth and the song of the tides” folksy. Decent music scene, believe it or not, and nestled in the hills of North Carolina. Rustic, far from the madding crowds, and sometimes, that seems the most appealing.
1. San Francisco – Believe it or not, I think this city’s got a lot of things going for it. I like the art and design culture, the big city vibe mixed with the small town wharf appeal, its proximity to the water, the street trolley thing and the giant hills (making for great movie chase scene settings), and Dirty Harry love are only the beginnings of this city’s appeal.
Well, there you have it. I know the list could be refined if I had the moxie, but I just finished reflections on death. I’m not sure a list like this requires too much introspection.

Ski(K)ing

jelewis8 — Mon, 07 Feb 2005 01:41:40 +0000

Today, the ski trip, chapped lips, the Stupid Bowl. If you’re good. We’ll see.
I just returned from a two day love-hate relationship with the West Virginia mountains. On the one hand, they provide pretty nice slopes for hosers like me who can only ski in the way you think of a ball rolling down a hill. On the other, the roads up to said slopes were apparently designed by a tape worm. I still feel nauseous from the trip back.
Skiing is definitely not my normal oeuvre, especially since that’s not even the right word I’m looking for. Something like…but not quite. It’s not unusual to see me bouncing, spinning, careening, and exploding in an flurry of powder, small rocks, and the occasional body part whilst lift onlookers and small woodland animals laugh in barely constrained squeaks. My attraction to skiing is akin to trying to breathe underwater; at first it seems like a great idea, but then when I get on the mountain, I realize that my abilities don’t match my aspirations.
I content myself with hitting all the little kids who can out-ski me with my poles. I get three points for every one I trip up, two for a stumble, and five points if they fall and then apologize to me. Heh. Silly kids with their manners…
Two days of gravity-induced suicide is quite enough for me. Not only did I get “funned out” (you know, from all the near-death power slides), but my thighs and calves kept hammering “95 Theses” parchments all over the place, trying to enact a kind of Reformation of physical activity.
To compensate for my stupidity, my body went into super hydro preservation mode, whereby all the moisture in and around your mouth is drawn into your bladder, whereupon you pee waterfalls whilst your lips grow cacti and shelter coyotes. My lips aren’t so much chapped as they are barren. We’re talking drought affliction here…
And the joke has officially worn out its welcome.
It’s Super Bowl time again, and once again, I can’t quite bring myself to care. Even the commercial potential has been squandered by last year’s debacle. No, not “Nipplegate”. I’m talking about the quality of advertisements, which ranged from fart jokes to blow jobs–not exactly high class material. And definitely not worth the facial muscles required to force a grin.
So, I may or may not watch, depending on how quickly I get this post up. In all seriousness, I do hold some love for the New England Patriots, mostly based on my lineage. I consider the vast number of relatives I have who live “up there”: they’re clannish and chowder chomping, and may have a few ties to the Rhode Island mafia, but they’re good people, and as such, their team deserves my support.
I guess I’ll medicate my lips with balm and try and catch the game, maybe whilst nursing my sore muscles and a Guinness. If there’s one thing I can be thankful for, it’s that: at least I have a Guinness.