Two Left Standing

About Us | Michelin Food & Travel | Culinary Travel, Culinary Tours, Cooking Travel

2011-02-06T11:45:00.001-06:00

About Us | Michelin Food & Travel | Culinary Travel, Culinary Tours, Cooking Travel

Are you Ascairt?

2010-11-19T12:16:00.007-06:00

I have a friend with a great new creative writing website out there called Ascairt. It is a website devoted to writing horror with a "southern sensibility". He invites you to comment on his stories, as well as follow him along his path of returning to WRITING after a career in the copy writing industry (which he still does, and quite successfully).

Send it Sistah

2010-11-19T12:12:00.001-06:00

Send it sistah ! from sébastien montaz-rosset on Vimeo.

Good article

2010-06-11T14:28:00.001-05:00

courtesy of flytrapping:

FlyTrapping salutes Abbey Sunderland
There has been a sudden rush of criticism as Abbey Sunderland’s rescue is under way in the Indian Ocean. Many are saying that a solo attempt to sail around the world is too dangerous for a 16 year old.

Dangerous? Sure. TOO dangerous? I don’t think so.

Sunderland grew up around boats and is an experienced sailor. If you have the knowledge, the skills and the gear to do something correctly, what you’re left with is a calculated risk.

“But—-” you might argue, “look, she DID have to be rescued!”

Sure. Because of technical problems with her boat and really rough seas. But she’s fine. She recognized when she needed help and signaled accordingly. Then she sat tight and waited. She kept her wits about her and she survived completely unscathed. Just, perhaps, a little disappointed.

I don’t understand the drive to remove all possible risk and danger from the world around us. Personally, I think it’s not only misguided, I think it’s downright irresponsible.

We are mortal creatures, made of flesh and blood. Danger exists in the world all around us. Things that bite and sting and cut and crush. There is danger in the kitchen, in the driveway, on the playground, in the water and in the sky above. True safety lies not in removing the dangers, but in developing the necessary skill sets to deal with them.

Pretending there is no danger is dangerous
When you try to remove every danger all you’re doing is robbing people of the ability to properly respond to difficult and dangerous circumstances quickly and with confidence.

Had Sunderland had only nominal boating experience, then, sure, a solo trek to circumnavigate the globe would have been irresponsible.

This summer, I’m giving my oldest son his first pocketknife. He’s eight. Now, am I going to simply toss it to him and say “have fun?” Hell no. That would be irresponsible. He’s going to have to commit some rules to memory. I’m going to show him how to use it responsibly, and he’s going to have to demonstrate that he understands why the rules and methods are there.

Then I’m going to give him a stick that is about an inch in diameter and 12 inches long. And when he can whittle it down to a toothpick for me (under close supervision, of course) without cutting himself, then the knife is his.

What if he cuts himself?
Then he’ll get a band-aid and a memorable lesson in knife safety. He’ll never forget why the rules are there and that there are repercussions of misuse. And we’ll start over again with a new stick.

Honestly, I expect it to take most of the summer. By the time he gets his knife, he’ll probably have a solid month or two of experience handling the blade. In addition to being comfortable with and knowledgeable about the knife, he’s also getting a lesson in patience, dedication and start to develop a solid work ethic.

But I Digress…
So rock on, Abbey, for getting off your butt and having the guts to take on an adventure most adults wouldn’t have the guts to attempt. And to all of those who have nothing better to do than focus on the dangers of such an endeavor, all I can say is I pity you and I feel sorry for your children.

Methodist church 20th St. Birmingham

2010-03-02T22:21:00.002-06:00

Nuit Blanche

2010-02-28T11:03:00.001-06:00

Nuit Blanche from Spy Films on Vimeo.

This is an amazing video from Vimeo. A digital creation with a feeling of film noir.

What I'm Listening to

2010-02-27T22:58:00.002-06:00

This is an absolutely stunning work. It is, as much of Uncle Tupelo's work reminiscent of the old depression-era songs. The soulful vocals on "Moonshiner" make you belive the line:
"if whiskey don't kill me, lord, I don't know what will."

Greatest single comic strip ever.

2010-02-06T23:06:00.003-06:00

Here: http://xkcd.com/552/

2010-01-29T10:26:00.002-06:00

Nothing much to say today, as all the political rhetoric surrounding me today has clogged up my think-box. I will, therefore leave you with a couple of qiuotes that have been on my mind today:

Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.
- Mark Twain

and this one:

Rome did not create a great empire by having meetings, they did it by killing all those who opposed them.

Maybe quote #2 is the answer to quote #1, maybe not. But something has to change.

Head Cold

2010-01-20T13:59:00.001-06:00

Gasping for every rancid breath
I try to learn from my mistakes.
Sleep will come quickly,
But it will not stay.
Heat and cold are my enemies,
Each is a pariah to me.
My head swirls with faded visions
When not blurred, pain.
I cannot think, I cannot live,
I wish for better time,
And a promise to utilize it more fully.

New Video Art

2010-01-17T08:48:00.004-06:00

By Alex Roman. Amazinng composition here. I will let the work speak for itself.

The Third & The Seventh from Alex Roman on Vimeo.

Wordle

2009-07-01T10:38:00.006-05:00

If you haven't checked out wordle, you owe it to yourself. It is a neat little program where you type (or paste) in text, and it makes a word picture. The words used most often appear larger, and you can edit the font, color, leave out things such as common words and numbers if you wish. Above is the picture created from notes from one of my classes in law school.

Check it out: http://www.wordle.net/.

Brannon's: A Public House

2009-06-26T10:28:00.002-05:00

Brannon's: A Public House

1931 3rd Ave. North

Birmingham, Alabama

ph 205.326.8820

If you ever get to Birmingham, Alabama plese treat your mouth to the flavors of Ireland, southern style. Brannon's has just opened recently (Spring 2009), but they have already garnered somewhat of a following. With dishes like the Darby O' Gill, a leg of lamb sandwich with a special homemade au jou. The Merrows is also quite favored which is baked cod and Irish cheddar cheese on a yeast bun. As soon as the powers that be will give them their liquor license, they will start opening on Friday nights I am told, and will serve beer. This Irishman only hopes they have enough Guiness on hand when that day finally arrives. Be warned: if you are planning on going, their sandwiches are served by the day of the week, so each day is a different offering. For a menu: http://www.brannonspublichouse.com/

"spring break" 2009

2009-04-12T09:25:00.004-05:00

It seems a little odd writing about my trip for spring break as I have recently turned 37 years old. I decided to give up a nice paying job and devote my time to a dream of my past: law school. I knew it was a risk, and one that would take not only most of my free time as well as a considerable effort, but would deplete my savings to boot. After a year of hard work, spring break came, and I just had to let myself go. I decided on a 5 day Turkey hunting/camping/ fly fishing trip. It started out as one of those epic trips complete with all of the requisite planning. I was to leave Birmingham, travel to a national forest in the center of the state to set up camp. The thunderstorms that had set in were to be a bad omen. My trip was to be plagued with bad weather. But I had to go, there was no other time that would be available to me. The first night wasn't too bad, but it would get worse. The reports coming across the weather radio had severe thunderstorms predicted, as well as tornadoes.

After getting my second camp set, I decided to guy out the tent a little more securely than usual. As the night approached I realized I had made a good decision. The problem lie in the fact that I forgot to seam seal the rain fly! After a few hours of what seemed like Chinese water-torture, I decided to move camp to the cab of my Tacoma. This is a smallish cab with bucket seats, but it was going to have to do. Three days of driving forest roads and calling down into the hollows drew me down into the lowlands after some gobblers who seemed resigned to getting me to go on a long hike. They became silent however, right after I had made the long trek down the hill, thus ending my hunt. By the third day, I was satisfied with packing up my gear, and heading north two hours to meet up with a friend to go after trout and bass on the Sipsey river. When I arrived, I began to set up camp and wait for his arrival. Coming in, he got stuck in the mud left from the harsh storms, so we spent the better part of the early afternoon dragging his vehicle from the bog.

On the fishing leg of my trip, the weather was no more forgiving. High winds made fly fishing nearly impossible, but we came prepared with our spinning reels. After landing a couple of decent stripers, the fishing was off as well. We had some venison generously donated by another friend, and decided to make the most of the trip with good camp food and a little merriment. The weather cleared a little, but the fishing remained poor, so the trip was finished off with good food, good companionship, a roaring fire, and relaxation. Still, I wouldn't trade it for anything. All of my work, all of my schooling, has come to but one end, to provide me with more opportunities to do things like this. LONG LIVE SPRING BREAK, no matter what your age.

Sipsey

2007-12-05T18:57:00.000-06:00

After a long drive home from my grandfather's funeral, I walked in the house that I was staying in. I was very close to my grandfather, and it had been a long week helping to make funeral arrangements, and pack up his belongings. I had just recently quit my stressed filled, 80 hour a week job, and moved back to Birmingham. My friend and his wife graciously put me up in the basement apartment of their house, and I swung by briefly on my way to Sipsey wilderness.

Sipsey holds fond memories for me. I have taken many backpacking trips to this area, and always had a rejuvenating, relaxing time. My friends might differ in that assessment, as I am considered to be somewhat of a masochist. I enjoy struggle, and particularly when it is participated in outdoors. I pride myself on my woodsmanship skills, as well as my knowledge of first aid. I believe I can be turned to by others during a crisis. Even if I am the one who might have brought the crisis to its apex; unknowingly of course. It seems that the more adversity I encounter (to a degree), the more cathartic the trip for me. Again this maybe what has driven some of my mates indoors permanently, only to screen my calls when the temperature drops, surely knowing what is to come.

Adam was to meet us the next day, but I was really needing to get out, as it had been a year since I had been camping because of the job I just left(is it any wonder that I left the job?). In addition, I was also dealing with some repressed feelings about the loss of a family member, so this was going to be VERY cathartic! I have to say knowing this, my buddy Adam still agreed to show up. Adam has had more than his share of 'refreshing" outings with me, and has returned battered and bruised at times.

During one such foray I was on to get rid of my angst over the loss of a girlfriend, he claims to have returned with walking pneumonia (in his defense it was raining and around seventeen degrees at the time of the ill-fated trip). He as well as myself and others on these trips have endured scrapes, bruises, sprains, and numerous other bacteriological and viral maladies. But we always return, just to see if it really was as bad as we remembered. Luckily, memories fade, and the camaraderie and the warm campfires always seem to win out over the nuisances that accompanied us on these trips.

As I had mentioned, Adam was to follow a day later. I was headed out that night to meet another friend, Daniel who has also accompanied me on many outdoor pursuits. Daniel is different, because very little affects his mood. His response to a marauding bear headed toward us is something like:

"Bet this is gonna hurt."

He is a good guy, just needs a little MORE panic in his life, by my assessment. I usually try to do my best to fit the bill. Problem is, if you are the third in this party of whiskey-swilling, bushwhacking (usually with some part of our anatomy) bunch, you can kind of start to get the feeling you are the "fifth man" on Captain Kirk's away team. I am always walking just one step too far on the knife edge of sanity, and my buddy Daniel is plodding along saying in a reassuring tone:

"everything will probably be alright, don't worry"

The trip was rather uneventful this time, however it did have a few memorable moments. There was the arrival. Daniel had arrived ahead of me, and was unloading what I considered to be two people's packs. Did he bring a friend along? No, he is just really prepared. The trip in he figured was only a few miles, and since we were not considering this an ultralight trip (safari expeditions are lighter) he would bring along some creature comforts. I have to say being a life long backpacking enthusiast I was a little impressed when I saw him load his 5000 cubic inch pack on his back, and then strap an army surplus pack to his chest. Especially since we both knew there was a river crossing ahead of us at about mile 1.0. I load my single pack on my back (what a weenie was the look I saw in Daniel's eyes as I grabbed my hiking stick), and get ready to set off. Right about then, my friend poses a request:

"Could you grab that little waterproof bag for me? it isn't that heavy."

With this sort of challenge to my manhood, how could I say no? I grabbed the little pack which felt to weigh about twenty pounds, and we headed off. the stream crossing is always interesting on the Sipsey; I have crossed at this spot when it was dry as a bone, and I have crossed it in 40 degree weather when it was chest deep (the best way to cross in this extreme is to strip down to your underwear, as to try to prevent the rest of your clothes getting wet, but that initial plunge can wake a dead man!). This time it was only thigh deep, and it was a considerably warmer 60 degrees.

Then there is the problem of climbing the other side, a very steep, very slick mud bank rising about twenty feet from the river to the trail. Many a time one has spent over a half an hour squirming and trudging his way to the top. It was tiring this time as well, but we made it with relative ease. The extra packs were taking their toll, however, and we weren't halfway to camp. another mile would find Daniel dropping the Alice pack for a return trip, and since it was pitch black outside, we weren't too worried about theft. We were more than a little worried that WE might not find the pack either. We finally made it along to camp, which ends with about a 60 foot scramble up the side of a cliff, to reach utopia.

Utopia is not used sarcastically as the camp site is coveted by many, as evidenced by the number of people who frequent it. It sits atop a cliff, a small flat mesa right next to a stream as it plunges over said cliff, about fifty feet below. The waterfall provides a buffer from the noise of any nearby campers, and a short hop to the stream below camp provides us with all the water we need. A nice fire ring is bordered by large "sittin" logs, and there are plentiful spaces for our tents.

We begin to set up camp, and Daniel mentions he wants a frosty cold one after that hike. I think yes that would be nice, but I guess a little bourbon and water will have to suffice. Ahh, but no Daniel mentions, as the "little" bag I have been dragging along has a twelve pack of beer in it! And beer is no good to a southern boy hot, so he was thoughtful enough to also pack it with enough ice to keep the beer cold! Now at this point I should mention that I am no minimalist camper myself, but I do not like to have anything I cannot carry in my pack with me, and I abhor cell phones, radios, and the like in the woods. I can stay home and play Nintendo if I need that many electronics. Coolers also fit into this category, so needless to say Daniel was very close to becoming the first casualty on this trip. And to the naysayers out there who say I should carry a cell phone in case of emergency, I say this:

You carry your cellphone out into the wilderness miles from any cellphone towers, and I will carry my first aid kit, and we will see which of us fares better with a broken leg, or a snakebite. Case closed.

So after I calmed down, and had a few beers (well of course I was gonna drink some, I carried them didn't I?), we had to go back after Daniel's pack that was M.I.A.. We finally made the trip to the pack, he picked it up, and we trudged back to camp yet again. It was then that he was unpacking the pack in camp when I realized that I had not paid my entrance fee and left it on my truck in the parking lot as required by the National Forest service. Now this can be looked upon as a minor thing, but I don't want to hike back with all this crap only to find my truck has been towed!

So after much discussion and a little imbibing, we decided that he NPS was to underfunded to have that many rangers patrolling about, and we would just wait and hike out in the morning and place the money in the box and the paper on the windshield.

Sleep came fitfully that night, and we arose sore and not to cheerful the next morning. After about my normal 4-5 cups of coffee to get get going, however, we made off for the truck, with a few of Daniel's supplies that we realized we wouldn't need. When we arrived at the parking lot, we found that all was well with our vehicles, and took care of the paperwork. It was about 9am. It was around this time that we realized that Adam wasn't scheduled to arrive for another 5 hours, and there was no way we were going to sit in the parking lot that long, so back to camp we plodded.

Just about the time we were good and relaxed, had cooked a nice meal (Daniel is an excellent outdoor chef, or an indoor one for that matter), we moseyed yet again to the trail head at the parking lot. Adam had a petty nice hike in, and for my sixth trip in two days, it wasn't so bad. No casualties so far, which was sure to break some record, if no one broke any bones. We arrive at camp, Adam sets up his tent and we begin the process of debauchery that is common in a male dominated campsite.

Things were swilled and eaten with our hands, and then the resulting gases that were built up by such mistreatment of our bodies would let loose. We all three come from different walks of life you could say, but we all three have a like-minded sense of humor, and that is all it takes for peace to reign in camp.

All told, there were no casualties on the trip, save one broken water filter that tumbled over the falls (I won't identify the offender, but lets just say he took it in stride), and about a cord of firewood Adam chopped at around 4am because he couldn't sleep, so why not chop some wood?

But through all the trudging through the woods back and forth, back and forth, the massive loads that were hauled, the hangovers, the flaring early morning tempers (that was mostly me), and the death of the water filter, I have never returned home more relaxed. I retold my favorite stories of my Grandfather, and being a prolific storyteller himself, I think he would have appreciated that. The moral of the story, is that I believe much to my companions chagrin, that you can enter the woods with an emotional wound, and return with a renewed sense of peace. The physical scars are just evidence of the emotional pain leaving you, and that is a small price to pay for a cleansed soul.

Ponderings

2007-10-11T20:56:00.001-05:00

I wonder if anyone sees the rest of the world as I do? An amalgam of beautiful women, fishing flies, green leaves, and distorted personalities? Blame it on the web, they say, blame it on television. But the planes, tanks, and ships were not to blame for Nazism; they were just the most effective means of transporting it quickly and efficiently. No, I think our problems are rooted in something more complex than technology (although the all consuming force in revelations is fire, and electricity is a sort of fire). Luddites had it wrong, as did Rousseau. Man is not corrupted by society nor technology. Man is the corrupter. While capable of acts of true kindness and products of great beauty, man is truly the most dangerous life form. The fer-de-lance is only a footnote in the annals of fear; it is man who brings cruelty and torture into the world.

Man is driven by desire. Desire for objects, desire for wealth. Desire for beauty and beautiful things. Desire to succeed, and be better. Desire for self-awareness. Let us also not forget desire for the forbidden. This sometimes is so strong of a drive, the pursuit of it can actually be detrimental to other drives; it can be maladaptive. The Buddhists believe by removing desire, we can truly be free. But remember also mentioned self-awareness as a desire.

Many learned men have surmised that knowledge is they key to enlightenment. I would add the caveat that enlightenment can be attained through the acquisition of the proper knowledge. I mean we can know many things about evil, but that will not propel us into enlightenment. So too, will vast knowledge of the trivial and the mundane lead into a cul-de-sac of spiritual nothingness. No, we must seek knowledge that will create a sense of purpose, of betterment not only of ourselves, but of society at large.

“Truth is beauty, beauty truth….” Keats must have been a lonely man indeed.

I long for a sense of something real. Something that will make me want to wake in the morning, something that will keep my slumber at bay, even when utterly exhausted. Passion. Man needs passion to thrive. Notice I did not say survive. One can survive on water and sprouts, but will he be his most high self? Or will he become more through his search for other morsels? Many of us eat the sprouts and wish we had something more, but take no action to change the menu.

Pain is a tool. We learn from pain to avoid dangerous situations, and habits; we can use it to grow stronger.. One can use pain to help them grow much as a plant uses water to grow. As in all things, the key is moderation. A plant can be killed by too much water.

Much can be learned through reading. For all my research on the desert, I can become very knowledgeable about such arid environments. But until I have stepped foot in the wasteland, tasted the pain of parched lips and dry heat, until I have felt the sand abuse my skin, I know less of the desert than the poorest most illiterate Bedouin child.

Halloween with the Rainbow Trout

2007-10-11T20:15:00.000-05:00

Halloween 2006 brought a crisp clear morning to the Smoky Mountains . I was at Little River Outfitters, awaiting my guide, Dave Carson. I had hired Dave not so much to guide me to where the fish were on this trip, as to how to fish for them when I found them. I have fly fished for trout in easier waters, and for black bass all over the south. I have taken excursions to the Smokies waters for years on end with not much success. Today I hoped would be a new beginning for me, and a new relationship with the denizens of the cold, almost mirror-like streams and rivers of the Appalachian mountains.

The trout here are always described with terms like “spooky”, “wary” and “clever”. I am more at home with fish that are careless, dumb, and hungry, so I decided I needed a little help. I had met Dave on a couple of occasions, and he seemed a nice enough fellow. He had the required look of a guide. The wrinkled smile, white beard, and physique that is needed to keep all of us rookies from drowning in the somewhat difficult to maneuver boulders and moss covered rocks. What I didn’t expect was cosmic good fortune. I am always on the lookout for luck, as it seems to preclude any success I have happened on in the past. I had just been reminded that David Carson is the name of one of my cousins on my father’s side of the family, so I took that as a good sign. Then I started to ponder my cousin’s side of the family.

David Carson is my Dad’s first cousin, and about the same age. He and I never did “hang out” as such when I was young, but I do remember him, and I especially remember his father, my great uncle Gene. Although I didn’t get to visit Uncle Gene very often, but he was sort of legendary to me. I learned how to fish from my dad, and he pretty much learned from uncle Gene. So the first time I met uncle Gene, all there was to think about, talk about, and do to my way of thinking was FISH. Now of course, family likes to sit and visit, but that can be done just as easily on a boat as it can in a rocking chair right? So after (not too much) whining on my part, uncle Gene took us fishing. We were at beaver lake in Arkansas, and we were bass fishing. Now I don’t exactly remember how many or how big the fish were that we caught but lets just say it was hundreds, and they were all over 10lbs a piece (at least that is what my 12 yr old brain remembers). The legend of Gene Carson was secured, and the fish mounted on his wall didn’t hurt the legend either. The way I saw it, I was part of the bloodline of fishing greatness. Unfortunately, my prowess as an angler has not totally secured my place in the fishing hall of fame. But hope was on the rise, because as I said fishing and mysticism go hand in hand, and I could connect the name of my fishing guide with a relative that was an angling god!

Two Left Standing

About Us | Michelin Food & Travel | Culinary Travel, Culinary Tours, Cooking Travel

Are you Ascairt?

Send it Sistah

Good article

Methodist church 20th St. Birmingham

Nuit Blanche

What I'm Listening to

Greatest single comic strip ever.

Head Cold

New Video Art

Wordle

Brannon's: A Public House

"spring break" 2009

Recommended Reading:

Sipsey

Ponderings

Halloween with the Rainbow Trout