Gonna rise up
Burning black holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
-Today I went onto the Star Tribune website which I tend to do about 3 times an hour and I found this man on the front page. I knew that guy from somewhere and it didn't take me long to figure out where it was.
I took one Bill Holm's classes at SSU (now southwest Minnesota State...or something) and he taught some early level literature class. I knew he was an author himself but I didn't know he was that renown. In fact I would actually read some of his stuff if I didn't know it would be about the prairie and life in southwest Minnesota. No offense to SW Minnesotans but I would have to be incredibly bored to read something about the prairie. You would have to enter me in a Russian roulette competition and only after the 4th successful round would I read a book like that.
Anyway I thought I should write a bit about him because I always respected him as a professor. He was one of the few profs that actually cared about his students and showed a considerable amount of passion towards his teaching. He would read various books to us and you could tell that he was having fun. He would constantly interject commentary and quips during the book and it was always enjoyable to listen to him.
One time he was talking to the class about how title doesn't dictate behavior. He proved this by taking a cigarette out and smoking it in front of the class. This was probably the norm in the 70's but in the late 90's this was a bit shocking and hilarious because he was enjoying the whole cig in front of the class. I also remember him always talking about the character of Falstaff. He was very funny and we often described him as Santa Claus
I can't help but to think that someone of his caliber teaching at a bigger university would probably only show up 25% of the time while his servant/TA would teach the other 75%.
-I met up with some old coworkers from my liquor store days the other weekend. It was really amazing how we all remembered different bits from 8 years ago. We certainly had a bunch of characters for customers such as:
- The bike lady: She would show up at the liquor store on some schwinn from 1976 and buy a case of Budwieser bottles. She then would try to balance the case from her bike and it was always funny to watch her fail.
- The hairy mole lady: This lady had this hairy mole on her wrist and it looked fucking nasty. There were these blond hairs coming from said mole and we couldn't stop looking at it from the register. We would constantly make barfing noises and tell how the mole nearly talked to us after she left. I know, we were really nice workers.
- The dude that would pull up in his POS car: He obviously had some terrible medical conditions and so we would deliver a jug of vodka and a small bottle of whiskey to his car. He was very nice and he tipped.
- The blatz and vodka guy: Basically says it all, he would buy two 12's of Blatz and a jug of cheap vodka.
-It's been about a 10 days and I'm already sick of spring training. I enjoy about one inning of spring training a year and it's always the first inning I watch just to make sure that it's really happening. After that I find myself looking for NBA basketball...hahahah just kidding, I would never watch NBA regular season basketball.
-Speaking of books, I just raced through The Kite Runner and I've never had such a run of emotions while reading a book before. It's excellent and it's the only time where I've had the urge to read something and at the same time not want to know what happens next. It's heartbreaking at times and makes you want to shake your head at times at how people think.
-I remember a year ago when I was talking to someone off of Match.com. I asked them the random question of song of the year, they didn't know but asked me in return. I answered with three songs, one of which was "Please Read the Letter" by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant. Sure enough at the worthless Grammys (redundant) it received record of the year.
-If I'm 97 and in a nursing home, I can think of no better way than to be body slammed by Verne Gagne. After the age of 90, I don't really care how I die so the more extravagant, the better.