Rob Lifford

Finished Goblet of Fire a few days ago. A big fat bravo to J.K. Rowling; what an imagination that lady has. Can’t wait to read book five. Now, in a shocking change of pace, I’ve moved on to Dave Pelz’s Short Game Bible. “Thou shalt not neglect thy wedges, chips, and bunker shots,” I suppose.

There’s nothing much I can say about September 11th that hasn’t been said already, so let’s just leave it at this: I count myself very fortunate not to have lost any loved ones, friends, or even casual acquaintances two years ago today, and I feel bottomless compassion for all those who did. It seems impossible at times (or even most of the time), but I can’t stop daydreaming that someday all people everywhere in the world will be able to live in an atmosphere of tolerance, understanding, cooperation, peace, and love. It won’t happen in my lifetime, but let it be in my children’s or grandchildren’s lifetimes. Please.

My recently-rekindled interest in (OK, “obsession with”) golf continues to grow unabated despite a truly awful round on Austin’s Jimmy Clay municipal course this morning. I was out on the driving range Thursday night with my buddies Kyle and Emil, and Emil’s mini-swing-clinic had me hitting the ball like I never thought possible. My confidence was sky-high and I was so very, very, very sure I’d made that major breakthrough that would slash dozens of strokes off my game and bring my handicap down to weekend-warrior respectability. And of course, once I got out on the course today, nothing was working like it did at the range. Didn’t shoot par on a single hole. Hell, I shot only one actual bogey – everything else was double bogey or worse (sometimes much worse).

But hey, that’s what golf is. Just an expensive 4-hour walk into the depths of insanity in funny-looking shoes.

So, basically, I can’t wait to play again. Emil, outstanding gentleman that he is, swung by the house this afternoon to drop off a chipping net and a big ol’ box of old balls for a little backyard practice, and not one but two extra sets of clubs for me to try out – thanks, buddy!

My so-called musical life: Ty Hager is taking a month off to get himself sorted out. This is very good news, but it’ll be odd to not have a Friday happy hour gig for the next few weeks; I’d grown accustomed to that. Guess I’d better try to get some gigs for Lazy Fingers before the guys in the band forget who I am.

Around the house: Cheris and I finally started a long-put-off project, doing a broken-tile mosaic on an end table. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle with no box to show you how it’s supposed to fit together. And I thought golf would drive me insane.

Still reading children’s literature: time to go dig into Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (I’m one book behind the latest installment since we’re cheapskates who wait for the paperback editions). Goodnight.

Well, Labor Day weekend is drawing to a close. Saw 28 Days Later…, went to a great party, played some golf with a really nice Australian couple, and finally got our wedding pictures online.

Just watched the Animatrix. Wow, wow, and more wow. Bow freakin’ wow. Thanks Joe.

And that made me wonder why I’m not making much music lately. So if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go attend to that…

Back when we lived in Taejon, we went through a Hitchcock phase: the video store around the corner from our apartment had tons of his movies and, well, they’re just so damned good. Tonight we finally saw one that our store didn’t have in stock: To Catch a Thief. Not a lot of Al’s trademark suspense, but the banter between Cary Grant and Grace Kelly was just amazing. And all the location shots of the French Riviera… Wow.

Now it’s time to crawl into bed and read: I’m on book 8 (or Book the Eighth, as the author prefers), The Hostile Hospital, of Lemony Snicket‘s Series of Unfortunate Events. The books are a gas, a phrase which here means not that they exist in a vaporous state but rather that they are wholly enjoyable. If that last sentence isn’t at all funny to you, well, then, I guess you need to read the books.