matthearn.com

So I bought the recent Norah Jones album. It’s got some absolutely incredible songs on it, and some okay ones; this is unlike the first album, which was pretty much good from beginning to end. Still, well worth the money, if only for the vast array of instruments. Here’s a short list of some of the weird things that are played on the CD:

• Slit Drum: Sounds kinda like a euphemism for doing the horizontal mambo, if you catch my drift, but it’s kinda slick. Sounds like rain drops, from what I can tell, or people of every shape and size doing the “S. S. Lollipop” thing with the finger in the mouth. You know what I mean? I’ll demonstrate next time I see you.
• Banjolin: Either a banjo-sized instrument that lacks a banjo’s drumhead body, or a mandolin-sized instrument that includes the drumhead body. I think it’s the latter, but it’s hard to tell. You’d think they’d’ve just, ya know, picked a mandolin or banjo, one or the other. MAKE UP YOUR MINDS!
• Resonator Guitar: I think it’s basically a dobro without the raised strings. Like, a regular acoustic, but with that weird metal thing in the body that makes all the strings sound like they’re mounted on rattly springs. Somehow it works.
• Foot Tapping: Really. It’s listed as an instrument played by Kevin Breit on “Above Ground.”
• Box: I’d like to pretend that this is some kind of neat name for a percussion instrument with all kinds of sticks and drumheads and electronic doohickeys, but from what I can tell Andrew Borger just tapped on a cardboard box with his fingers. Seriously.
• Norah Farting Into An SM58: Just kidding. But after the Foot Tapping and Box, I wouldn’t’ve been too surprised.

Anyhoo, if you get a chance to pick it up, you’ll find your foot tapping along nicely with track 1, “Sunrise,” which you may have seen videos for on VH1 or CMT. Most of the next 7 are unremarkable, but I’ve listened to track 9, “Humble Me,” approximately 1,348,487 times in the last 3 days. A tasty morsel of the lyrics:

What do you say when it’s all gone away?
Baby, I didn’t meant to hurt you.
Truth spoke in whispers will tear you apart,
No matter how hard you resist it.
It never rains when you want it to . . .

You humble me Lord
Humble me Lord
I’m on me knees empty
You humble me Lord
You humble me Lord
Please, please, please forgive me

The verses are even better, but it’s getting a little dusty here in the Hearn-cube, and the last time my coworkers saw me crying they staged this whole intervention and gave me a tshirt that said “Here comes a special boy!” It sucked.

All right, I guess I better go home and practice my box. I think I’m ready to go into the studio with it, but I wanna make sure I’m playing with feeling. (I’m working my way up to cowbell.)

Things I’ve been a-pondering:

• Daddy, why did God take an hour of sleep from me this weekend? I needed that hour. I WANTED that hour. It went to October, you say? Those damn commies don’t need my sleep! Slimy fascists!
• Dr. Charles Atkins, despite having keeled over a few years ago with enough grease in his aorta to lube a Hemi, developed one tasty diet. I think I’ve lost 10 pounds or so, and I’m definitely back down to wearing 38×34 pants, which is nice since 40x34s are about as common as a Welsh-speaking Indian. All I eat is meat. Meat, meat, wonderful meat, all the livelong day. Also: cheese.
  • Subtopic: Went to Casablanca for dinner on Saturday, which is probably not on the Atkins plan, despite my eating only two pieces of pita. I sucked down enough eggplant salad that I’m sure an evil carb or two entered my body, where it immediately set to work reinflating my paunch. I also drank a great deal of wine. Oh, Ernest Gallo, you are KILLING me. And I love you for it.
• Baseball season has begun! There were, of course, those two Yankees/Devil Rays games last week that they played in Zimbabwe or Jakarta or something like that, but nobody paid any attention to those. As usual, baseball continues to destroy one of the few remaining interesting things about it: tradition. For something like 8 generations, the Cincinnati Reds opened the season, but no more. Next they’ll do something like say that the American League teams should get to play some National League teams outside of the World Series, or they’ll make a rule that says pitchers no longer have to bat. What a bunch of schmucks we’ve got running America’s Pastime. When I get elected commissioner…well, that’s a whole column, for another time.
  Last night I got to watch the Orioles (the freakin’ ORIOLES?!?!?) demolish the Red Sox, 7-2. Pedro managed to get out of the second, having given up three runs, which was surprising since his ability to throw 98mph fireballs seems greatly diminished. His was definitely at the top of his game when it came to hitting batters in the ribs, though, so at least he’s got that going for him, which is nice.
• I just crossed paths with our diminutive office cleaning lady, and noticed that her Big Rolling Rig of Formula 409 had a large bag of (unused, thank heavens) Tampax-Brand Anti-Leakage Sticks hanging off the side. What’s this all about? The chicks get name-brand menstrual products in their john, and all the guys get is this horribly unabsorbent, gritty toilet paper? I go in there to deliver the Parcel Post, end up having to sand my rectum 11 times, and come out feeling like my gentleness is on fire, walking back to my cubicle like I just got a Tabasco enema. THIS IS SO NOT COOL.
• My inability to awake in the morning has been getting really, really bad lately. Last night we hit the sack at around 10pm; I watched baseball for a while, but finally turned off the TV around 10:30 and rolled over. I actually fell asleep pretty quickly, and was looking forward to getting a solid 8 hours, getting up at 7, and then actually making it in to work by 8 am for the first time in, I think, EVER. What time did I wake up? Around 8, and only because Sarah was freaking out because our psycho-hose-beast cat peed all over the bathroom floor again. I’m going to try and get to bed early again tonight, but unfortunately there’s an NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship game on tonight that I probably shouldn’t miss if I want to continue being considered marginally male. I predict I’ll be up by around noon tomorrow, just in time to take a nap and call it a day. I work hard, after all.
• Tonight Sarah and I are planning to clean the dining room (still filled with junk since we moved in almost 4 months ago). Hopefully I won’t be terribly injured, but no guarantees; cleaning and I are diametrically opposed to one another, and tragedy often occurs, usually when I get tired and retire to the TV room with a beer, and Sarah finds me down there and goes upside the head with a broomhandle. Assuming I’m not dead, I’ll be back here later in the week.

Woo! Man, did I get YOU guys! Hahahahahaha!

Okay, I apparently got NOBODY. Lesson learned: do all April Fool’s jokes on October 13th or something. My boy Corey did a hell of better job with his gag, which was convincing everybody that the Harrington Theatre Arts Company was shutting its doors after 30 years.

Oh well. (Note that if young driver Matt Hearn did offer me a lapload of cash for my domain name, I’d sell in a heartbeat. Don’t believe for a minute that just because I seem like such an ethical guy that I’m not, at heart, a gamey manwhore who’d sell his grandmother for 50 grand. (Just kidding, Gam-Gam!)) Hopefully I’ll have time for a nice update this afternoon, but today’s schedule is heavy:

• 11am: meeting.
• Noon: Run over to the Amy E. Dupont Building to see the Brandywine High Blazers (jazz band) play.
• 1pm: meeting until 3 FREAKING O’CLOCK.
• 5-7: drinking. Heavily.
• 7-whenever: Del A Cappella.
• Whenever-whenever: bowling.

I’ll try and write my Atkins Diet column at some point, but no promises! I’m free all weekend, though, so you should expect a quality update (with pictures!) on Monday. Have a superb weekend.

So, um, interesting news. Apparently there’s this guy, also named Matt Hearn, who’s some kind of superstar kid auto racing champion or something. So his dad wants to give him a better website, and he’s sparing no expense, meaning I’m getting enough cash to pay off all my debts and buy a new Harley Sportster 1200 to give up my domain name.

I imagine I could just move all my files to a NEW site, but it seems like a decent time to retire, ya know? I’ll probably keep updating over at Free Range Human, but maybe not. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and this is just stress I don’t really need. Anyway, they’re not scheduled to take over the domain for another couple weeks, so I’ll just leave this up here by way of thanking my few readers, and wishing them well. Maybe we’ll meet online again someday…maybe not.

Thanks, everybody!

Okay, my bad, it’s been like 3 days since I was done with all the busy crap that’s kept me away from you. But now I’m back – to let you know: I can really shake ’em down.

Anyway, the show went great (I have some pictures of it that I’ll try and get up this week), and the performances on Sunday went really really well. Despite feeling a little dry and allergenic, I managed to get through a Fauré Requiem, and then an entire Bach St. John Passion (I played Pilate and sang the last bass aria). Then I found a bottle of single malt scotch.

The next few weeks should be a breeze compared to the last month (in March, except for the road trip, I basically worked 16 hour days every day of the week), even with Easter coming up. I suppose I should look at the schedule and find out what all I have to do Easter weekend, but I don’t think I have anything more than a good Friday service, and an Easter morning service. I might have to do Maundy Thursday, but I’m not sure.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten the “Matt’s Life Update (Not That You Care)” portion of the column out of the way, I’d like to discuss why my pee smells. I can’t figure it out. I assume it must have SOMETHING to do with the fact that I ate asparagus last night, but I’ve eaten asparagus in the past and haven’t had this happen. Perhaps coupled with the Atkins diet (I’ve been doing pretty well, I think I’m down to about 240), asparagus enzymes in my whizz just really reek. For a while I thought I was just smelling remnants of hair colorant and conditioner, but I’m not sure. It definitely gets stronger in the bathroom (and lingers on me, much to the endless joy of my coworkers).

Hair colorant? Yes, I dyed my hair. And without Sarah’s help! Which is why it doesn’t look quite like I’d hoped, although it’s not bad. It’s a little more “golden” than “blond,” unfortunately, and it’s not really “highlights” like I wanted. It’s still highly rad, though. I’m so pretty. It’s like being Goldilocks, except without the curls, and my job lost me my girlish laughter eons ago.

Next time: why Charles Atkins is my real dad. Or would be, if I didn’t already have a real dad. And if Dr. Atkins wasn’t, ya know, dead.

Here they are! The pictures from our Atlanta trip are up, hot, and ready to be examined and commented upon by all humanity. Check it out . . . check it out, I’m incredible, check it out . . .

I guess I should apologize for disappearing off the face of the earth for almost 2 weeks, but the Brandywine High School production of South Pacific is all kinds of geared up and ready to go. Opening night is Thursday, March 25th, at 7pm. Be there, and probably be square! Starting next week I should be able to get back to weekly (or more often) updates.

Wednesday is Zoo day! We went to the Atlanta Zoo and had us a righteous time antagonizing the animals, at least until the elephant picked me up with her trunk and flung me into the tiger den. They were able to reattach my foot, and they say I’ll eventually get 50-60% use of it again, although I got an infection and they had to amputate my left buttock.

Hobbes stretches out for a nap; awakes to feast on the flesh of his human masters

We saw many critters, and took pictures of same, including some truly sweet ones of the pandas (I got a pic of the female from about 6″ away, it’s totally hot); I’m adding them to the total “Road Trip Gallery” that I plan to put up when I get back next week.

After that, around 1pm, we headed north. We got about an hour north when I saw the signs: Iron Skillet . . . 20 oz. T-bone . . . 9.99. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. So we stopped. Here’s the down-low: if you are ever in the mood for a steak, you need to drive to Carnesville, GA, to the Petro truckstop there, and get the 9.99 20oz t-bone, dude. It was the best steak I’ve had in months, and that includes multiple trips to Lone Star, who wouldn’t know a decent cut of meat if leapt onto their face while they were sleeping. Tender…juicy…so delicious. I’m nearly weeping.

Then we continued north, stopping at the outlet mall in Gaffney, where my frustrations at being able to find pants had steam coming out off my ass. (Although that also might have been the 20 oz. t-bone reacting badly with my colon, as sometimes happens.) Sarah found a few things, and we went into the Levi’s store thinking they’ve GOTTA have a pair of jeans that fit me!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Their jeans went up to 38×34, and 40×32. No 40×34 to be found, at least in the 505 section, which is the style I like. I did see a decent jean jacket (they’re back in style…who knew!), but it was $50, and I just couldn’t justify it. And then….Haggar.

Oh, Haggar…how do I love thee? Let me count the ways: 1, 2, 3 . . . $108.64 ways, to be exact. For that fairly minimal amount of cash, I got a polo shirt, 2 pairs of flat-front khakis, and a totally money sport coat. I was almost giggling with joy at finding clothes that fit. I haven’t felt like that since I was in prison in Hungary a few years back! (There was this girl, and a llama…nevermind.)

We got to Charlotte and found a hotel, went to a bar and had crablegs, and passed out around midnight. (Luckily Milo’s not with us, since there was a girl at the bar that he would have simply clubbed over the head with a barstool and dragged out by her hair.) Plan for Thursday: hit up Kannapolis for a Dale Earnhardt memorial, go to JR and buy brassieres and chandeliers (remind me to tell you later), get into Richmond sometime in the early evening, and commence drinking heavily with Kyrone and Kritdy. Update tomorrow!

What an amusing day. We’re still in Atlanta, of course; we got up around 9, showered, rolled out. We went to Underground Atlanta, a sort of underground mall kind of place with some shops and small exhibits and restaurants. Ate at Mick’s. Food was good, service was decent, prices were okay, entire staff was black. I’m not saying there’s anything WRONG with that, but it was kinda strange to see a place that was ENTIRELY staffed by African-Americans. It was affirmative action gone amuck! Somehow it kinda turned me on.

HW with her true love. He’s HUGE.

After that, we went through “World of Coca Cola,” or “Coke World,” or “House of Overpriced Marketing Gimmicks,” or something like that. $7 to be subjected to 90 minutes of “Drink Coke! It’s delicious AND refreshing! And heals the hiv! And it took this boil right off my ass!” I rather enjoyed the video of “Coke Commercials Over the Years,” including the “I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke” commercial, and the “77% Less Cocaine!” marketing campaign from the early 30s. But I fail to understand how they can charge money to see all that mess, even with the free samples at the end, and still expect to get into heaven after they die. Of course, this didn’t stop us from buying a Coke shot-glass and bottle opener, and taking hot pictures of Hearnwife with the massive Coke Polar Bear. We’re such suckers for capitalism.

After that, we headed back to Danielle and John’s apartment, sat around, and then went to Mellow Mushroom for dinner. Delicious pizza, although I had a “Lo-carb Cheese-Steak” (no bun). Those of you who bother to click that link will probably notice the odd similarity to Homestar Runner; I’m pretty sure the same group of guys does each website. I always wondered how they paid the bills.

Right now, we’re hanging around, drinking beer, watching Danielle get highly retarded. Good times. Tomorrow: Atlanta Zoo, drive back up towards Charlotte. BTW: I’m taking pictures all over the place, and intend to gather them together into a loverly photo essay in which I will make fun of Southerners.

I’m hell of in Hotlanta! Except that it’s not hot. It’s like 54 degrees. Admittedly, that’s about 20 degrees better than at home, but when I come to a place with a nickname including the word “Hot” I expect to have my piss boiling within my bladder. Instead, if I were to step outside in the nude (which happens more than you’d dare hope), my wank would immediately retreat into my torso, NEVER TO RETURN.

Anyway, the drive was nice. We stopped off in Durham (home of the Durham “Sellout” Bulls) for the night, and took the opportunity to drink some Heinekins and enjoy a breakfast buffet. We did one before bed, and one after. I’ll leave it to you to decide which was when.

We’ll be here for a couple days, and then we’ll be driving back north, stopping off at another hotel on the way home, possibly a battlefield or Dale Earnhardt memorial or three. We’ll hit up Kyle and Kris in Richmond for a day or two, and then “Jodd” (Jodi and Todd) in DC, and then home.

Now you know our itinerary! If anything is missing from my house, I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU.

Okay, sorry. I haven’t been here for you. I’ve been, uh, busy. I know, that’s a poor excuse. You need the fix only I can provide. Well, I’m here to make it all better, baby. Just lay back, and let The Hearn take you higher than you’ve ever been before. The Hearn will rock you like it ain’t no thang.

Uh…let’s pretend that paragraph didn’t happen.

Here’s the short list of what’s been going on over at Hearndom:

• “South Pacific” – Spring musical over at Brandywine High School. Once again, Sarah’s doing choreography, I’m doing vocal direction. As an added twist, this year I’m conducting the pit band! We’ll see how that goes, since my conducting experience consists mostly of air drumming to Pat Boone albums. Side note: I tried to get them to do “Hair,” but the idea of a bunch of 14-18 year olds running around on stage naked set of some kind of “prude” alarms in the Powers-That-Be. So much for freedom, huh?
• St. John Passion – Long oratorio-type thing by J.S. Bach. Getting performed the day after “South Pacific” closes. Rehearsals every Monday. I just remembered I have to learn a solo.
• Work getting hectic. We’ve basically reached the point at work where everybody’s working 50+ hours a week, just putting out fires. We’re completely event driven at this point. I’ll let whole projects sit and fester for weeks because I’m working 9-10 hour days just responding to people calling me and asking about something they need. If they lay anybody else off the whole place will simply collapse. I’m raving again.

Between all that and the usual stuff (church choir, etc.), I’m out of the house 11-12 hours every day of the week, including weekends. But you don’t wanna read my whining. You wanna read some funny stuff!

I just have a few comments about the Oscars, nothing major. It was nice to see so many people show up in costume; Liv Tyler came as Lisa Loeb, and Charlize Theron came in the makeup she wore in “Monster.” It was pretty neat to see that, since the odds of me ever, EVER sitting down to watch a movie about a lesbian serial killer are similar to the odds of Rick Springfield answering my love letters.

Uh…forget I said that, too.

The guy that won the Animated Short Film award brought along Pixanne! It was nice to see her. I always thought she was dead.

I’d like to point out that Alison Krauss had TWO songs nominated for Oscars, and one of them involved Sting. Usually, doing a movie song with Sting is an absolute Oscar-lock, but somehow she managed to lose. I’m willing to ignore the fact that the Academy could pass over Sting (maybe they were drunk), but to give an award to Annie Lennox??? Sting even played a Hurdy Gurdy! What the hell, man! How can you turn him down?

Okay, last thing: a fellow named Kevin Brofsky wrote a play about Claymont, Delaware. This intrigues me, particularly since it involves a young gay man in the late 60s. I didn’t know that Delaware HAD gay folks in the 60s. And I didn’t think Claymont had any NOW. Anyway, the play appeared in NY for about a month and then closed. Anybody that actually SAW it, shoot me an email at spam |at| matthearn.com and let me know what it was like, and how it compares to “Wicked,” which apparently is the “in” Broadway show right now, despite not being about AIDS or vaginas.