Most sportswriters suck. They’re either dumb ex-jocks or stat-happy geeks–both groups of people who are inherently incapable of writing. Perhaps the greatest exception to that rule is the hilarious Bill Simmons. He’s a Boston guy, too, Dave, you’d love him.
Anyway, one of Bill’s trademarks is doing running diaries of big games, drafts (including yesterday’s NBA draft), etc. Thanks to Bill, you guys now get “A Day at an Indie CD Store,” the unnamed record store I work at. Now a day at an independent record store may not feature as much dashing attire as the NBA Draft, but I’m working the store by myself all day, so I need something to entertain me.
10:52 – Open the store. A woman immediately pokes her head in to complain that the doggie water bowl we keep in front of the store is empty. She didn’t have a dog with her, but I manage to fight the urge to tell her that she can come in and drink from our water fountain if she wants.
11:03 – Fill the doggie water bowl begrudgingly (more…)
A woman with a big flowery, vaguely tangka-esque tattoo on her right arm just walked into the coffee shop where I’m working. It said a ma lags in the middle (sorry for the Wiley…my computer apparently can’t handle vowels in unicode Tibetan). I wanted to ask her su the a ma lags was. But I didn’t, of course.
I went to the bar last night at like 11, after a late game of rec league ultimate, and THEY DIDN’T HAVE ANY HAMBURGERS. How the hell do you run a college town bar & grille (yes grille) and run out of goddam hamburgers?
On the second day of his teachings in Seattle, the Karmapa (who turns 23 tomorrow) was introduced by some Nobel-Prize-winning scientist as “His Holiness Krampapa.” Pretty embarrassing for all involved, but rather funny. You should have seen all the shocked hippies. They looked like a fur-wearing arms salesman had stolen their collective incense and stomped on it with a leather cowboy boot…while eating a hamburger, with bacon on it. The woman next to me, who nearly flattened me in her rush to prostrate to HHK, whispered to me, “How could he!” She spent the rest of the teachings sitting gap-jawed and utterly motionless, apparently due the misnomer. I cannot substantiate the rumors that she has remained in that seat for the past month.
The whole experience got me thinking, though. “The Krampapa” is far too cool a name to be left only to under-informed Nobel Prize Winners. I did some research (i.e. I looked at first page of google results) and found only this weird Russian(?) thing, so I figure the title is up for grabs.So who should the Krampapa be? It sounds kind of like Big Papi, but more crochety and less exotic.
A couple of people that just scream “Krampapa” to me. Rod Stewart. Hank Steinbrenner. Rick Wakemen (of Yes). But, in my eyes, there is only one choice for the 1st Gyalwang Krampapa. Any other suggestions?
And because I have perfect taste in everything… New Record of the Week: Pumice – Quo, New Zealand’s finest one-man-band returns with another noise pop gem. New Comic of the Week: Madame Xanadu #1, reminding us all that fantasy comics don’t have to be the dorkiest thing ever
Check out this short interview with Tendzin Choegyal, HHDL’s youngest brother, via Tokyomango via BoingBoing. He seems like a pretty cool guy, “a rebellious soul who dropped out of college, spent a couple of years as a paratrooper in the Tibetan contingency of the Indian army, survived alcoholism,and found peace through a blend of Buddhism, lithium, and reading the news on the Internet.” Sounds a lot like people I know. Except for the whole paratrooper thing, and the alcoholism. And the lithium. So, just reading the news online, and, sometimes, Buddhism.
Anyway. Here’s my favorite part of the interview. Should sound kind of familiar after a semester of making fun of Steven Seagal and going to culture class…
GR: Have you met a lot of the celebrities who stop through Dharamsala to meet the Dalai Lama?
TC: Celebrities? They’re all human beings, what’s the big deal? You sit down with them, you start talking, and it’s the same thing. Richard Gere is a wonderful person—very simple, modest, and natural with whomever he meets. He’s done a lot for the Tibetan community. And then, on the other side of the scale, there’s Steven Seagal. Oh my god. I met him when he came here. He was wearing a funny coat, a Chinese brocade, funny trousers, and funny shoes with that ponytail. I asked him, “Why do you dress in such a peculiar manner?” He didn’t say anything. He’s arrogant, and pretends to be a Tibetan reincarnate. But why? He’s a strange man.
GR: What do you think about the preservation of Tibetan culture in Dharamsala?
TC: I think we’re losing it. Culture is not about dancing; it’s not about the songs you sing. I think we are starting to go mainstream here—people are wearing baseball caps and baggy pants. Human culture keeps on changing—it’s constantly being modified. There’s no such thing as the “original culture”—we are always in a state of flux. So it depends on how you look at it. But no matter how you dress or what kind of song you sing, as long as you can relate with other people, I think it’s okay. Any trend that is based on the mistaken view that freedom under democracy is a license to do anything is dangerous. You’ll destroy yourself, your family, and your community, because it’s based on selfishness. Say somebody is very angry, and he just can’t listen to reason. That person’s reason for not restraining himself is, I’m free.I can to whatever I want. The restraining factor is becoming smaller and smaller. We are becoming noble savages.
Elizabeth, you will also probably appreciate this advice about how to How to Cure Constipation with the Push of a Finger, also via Tokyomango. Apparently it has something to do with a pressure point between the thumb and index finger of your right hand.
