It's Easter, Let's Party?

The blink of an eye that was Easter break came and went all too quickly, but not without it's fair share of memorable moments. I played some good ball with Jay and Roo with young fans who longed for nothing more than to play some 21 with the friendly giants before them. We played some 3 on 3 with them and as one of them time and time again claimed to never miss a shot and time and time again did, indeed, miss a shot, the other lofted many a pass to the middle of nowhere, expecting a teammate to materialize and put the rock in the rim, to no avail. A memorable moment was this six year old shouting, "C'mon Tom!" after such a pass resulted in a turnover. I admire his desire to win at all costs. We run a tight ship at Brenton Woods.

In addition to an impromptu trim of the locks, catching up with good friends, working on a new poem for May 2nd's poetry night, a full stomach, and gathering up some epic large hats for this Sunday's Rhapsody show, another highlight was unquestionably the Easter Sunday service. While it seemed near impossible to top last year's Ozzy-Osbourne's-Crazy-Train- interrupting-the-sermon incident, I do believe that overall, the bar was once again raised. A moment of reflection on Easter Sunday: The closest you'll ever get to tailgating before church being acceptable. It would seem as though a few people didn't exactly find this all too inappropriate. There were a lot of random "woos" and cheering. It was pretty darn ruckus for a church service. I felt like a should have brought a Packer Cheesehead and painted a giant "J" on my chest. Maybe that's a little much, but at least some thunder sticks or a towel to wave or something. It's bizarre to me as we walk around to greet each other how many people take the time to say, "He is risen." It makes me feel like saying either, "I know, it's the basis of this entire religion," or "Who is?" However, at the risk of being accused of pregaming myself, I smile, nod, and try to stay as still as possible to not draw attention to myself.

It's always interesting to see the kids you grew up with and don't know from anywhere else but church. The ones who show up on the major holidays and mail it in every other week. A group that I might actually now be a part of. I shoot the breeze with most of them. One always makes sure to mention that he's hungover. I imagine he does this to prove that his social life is an active one. Either that or it's a desperate cry for help, but for the sake of being able to sleep at night, I'll assume it's the former.

The drains in the urinal at church are shaped like crosses. Either this is the most cruel of coincidences, or someone has a twisted sense of humor. It makes me feel like I'm going to hell whenever I take a piss, no matter how much time I spend in the sanctuary three doors down.

I'm not a fan of the guy who shouts, "One more time!" at the end of every hymn. You just get through seven gruelling verses of a song that recycles the same essential point in seven different ways and see the light at the end of the tunnel. (Perhaps that's not the best analogy in this particular instance.) However, every congregation has the one cat who feels moved by the Spirit enough to speak on behalf of the rest of group and sing it one more time. I say the next time someone asks that we make them sing it alone in front of us. I'm sure that person will be afforded no shortage of "woos" and thunder sticks. I feel pretty safe in saying that God tunes it out after a verse and a half and checks back in during the sermon. But hey, who am I to speak for a deity?

Song of the Day: "Carvel"-John Frusciante
Jazz Song of the Day: "Silence Is The Question"-The Bad Plus

"Me and Harpua Couldn't Care Fewer"

Labels are starting to wear me thin, man. I think labels of any kind, whether dourogatory not, are incredibly limiting. I feel like once someone is labeled one thing it prevents them from being something else in another person's eyes due to the connotations of that label. For instance, politically, if you're labled a Republican, you may be inclined to automatically be against Democratic ideas. Labels don't even have to be that obvious. I'm not too fond of defining myself as a "Christian" because, honestly, while I believe in God and Jesus and whatnot, I find myself time and time again frustrated with the idea of organized religion and people who use their religion as an excuse to "speak on behalf of God" and push ideas on and/or harm others verbally and physically. I feel like my faith is stronger than ever, but no longer has too much to do with a church. To each their own. Recently, I was labeled a sportswriter. This was meant to be a compliment, (and explain why I knew such NBA news and notes for the past ten years so casually off the top of my head) but while not offended, I didn't really take it as such a compliment. It automatically implies that my fiction and academic writing is not worth note. Our interests, skills, passions and values go so far beyond what we do and what we believe in. I define myself as Tom Policastro, a man who happens to be American, with an interest in writing, music, radio, and basketball. Everything else is strictly subjective, and that's what defines me. I suggest you do the same (with your own name, of course). Song of the Day: Uncle-Xavier Rudd Jazz Song of the Day: Play-Paul Motian Trio

Thirsting For A Battle Of The Sexes

Stopping in the bookstore for a hot dog (not as much of a regret as you might initially assume) a young woman quite authoritatively tells this dude that she's with to grab her a smartwater (one word?). The cat struggles to find the water as he is searching in the wrong fridge. (He is surrounded by about three, not the hardest mistake to make.) Ever domineering, the young lady proceeds to haughtily make a big fuss about grabbing the water for herself. "Men are retarded," she says with much disdain. At this point, my "bitch-o-meter" is at about an 11. "That's a hell of a generalization," I say coolly, or what I imagine was coolly. She insists upon the truthfulness of her statement. I point out that she's the one paying three extra dollars for bottled water with an adjective in front of it. She says nothing, but her eyes pretty much tell me where she'd like to not so gently place her smartwater. I look around and receive bro-nods of unity from two other dudes in the store. I've won this battle. Something tells me I won't be invited to her end of semester party. Then again, given the ineptitude of my gender, I probably wouldn't have been able to find her house anyway. Maybe I should be drinking smartwater. Song of the Day: Nobody Weird Like Me-Red Hot Chili Peppers Jazz Song of the Day: E.S.P.- Miles Davis

To Be Still Nothing

I've been reading a good bit of David Shields lately. Being that I've recently met the man and he wrote a great book about race in the NBA, I've been testing out his flavors, so to speak. I'm struck by his reaction to what Dr. K said to him a couple weeks ago. Only now do I realize its significance. Dr. K told Shields about this poetry he'd been writing with quotes from graphic novels. His response was initially similar to my own: "That's cool, man..." awkward silence because I don't think bringing up that 'Batman's freakin' awesome' is an academically appropriate follow up to what the man clearly takes great pride in. Shields eventually asks whether or not Dr. K cites his sources in the poetry. Dr. K says no and instantly Shields is all ears and dying to see it. The revelation is this, sometimes the only solace you have in a life full of unyielding work, issues, and challenges is finding your favorite rule and breaking it... time and time again. Ah, the subtle charm of disobedience. Song of the Day- Sight to Behold-Devandra Banhart, Jazz Song of the Day- Mami Gato- Medeski, Martin, and Wood

Look How Far You've Come

This past weekend, a good friend of mine for a longer time than I'd like to admit at this point, Steve Murillo, gave his senior recital as a vocal performance major here at York College. He was nothing short of awesome and it has been a pleasure to know him all these years and see him grow as a musician since Ms. Stead's select chorus. His performance had me thinking about both my own college education, and college education as a whole. I won't use the word "jealous" because I feel like that implies that Steve is undeserving of his success. Nothing could be further from the truth. Steve worked his rear off to deliver a great performance and he is worthy of the praise and admiration he received for that and then some. With that said, I was still a bit envious of not Steve as person, but of his opportunity. What I mean to say is that Steve worked incredibly hard for four years to become a very talented musician and finally, this past weekend, his hard work had a chance to culminate, in a sense, in his senior recital. What I envy is Steve's chance to gather the people he cares about most in the world in one place and say to them, "Look how far I've come." I think of my own accomplishments here at York. Rhapsody President has been a difficult and humbling position, as well as a positive experience, and I'm beyond fortunate to have been as successful with radio as I have been with, if you think about it, how brief a period of time I've been involved with it. I think of my writing, both creatively, technically, sports writing, etc. and I take great pride in the strides I've made to find my own voice as a writer in different mediums. I suppose it's the nature of the professional writer to be somewhat introverted, and there is some sort of mystique to doing a good work for your own satisfaction, knowing that people will only see your work if they happen to stumble upon it, rather than needing the attention and fanfare of a public recital. I realize that life doesn't often give you those metaphorical "recitals" to showcase your growth. I suppose that's why you try with all of your might to get involved with things you love. If you're doing something you love, the only approval you need is your own. The bottom line is that life doesn't give out a lot of pats on the head, but if you stay true to yourself and motivate yourself to your own incarnation of greatness, life will take care of itself and before you know it, you're looking back on your life and saying, "Look at how far I've come." At the end of the day, that's enough. Song of the Day: Bag It Up-Oasis Jazz Song of the Day: Pretty Eyes-Horace Silver

Archie Bunker Teaches A Lesson On What It Means To Be Politically Correct

On yesterday's "All In The Family", everyone's favorite bigot, Archie Bunker, asked Mike's help in his shaving of the bathroom door to make sure it fit properly. Struggle as he might, Archie could not get the shaver he was using to cut through the wood. Later in the episode, George, a lovable, developmentally challenged grocer's delivery man drops in with Gloria to help her unload her groceries. True to his form, Archie is condescending and (for once) unwittingly disrespectful. In his efforts to treat George with baby gloves, he makes George feel inferior and assumes that George is oblivious to even the most obvious of social cues and norms. Ever the liberals, Mike and Gloria scold Archie for being so narrow-minded. In so many words, Mike and Gloria deplore Archie's treatment of George, and assure him that George is not as dumb as he thinks. What strikes me is this: Archie, the antagonist reflected in this satirical mirror is nothing short of boorish towards George, yet he, no matter how mispronounced they may be, uses almost exclusively politically correct words to describe George such as "mentally challenged" and "slow". (In the context of the 70's, "slow" was pretty darn tame.) Meanwhile, Mike and Gloria, who care genuinely for George and want him to be treated as an equal, refer to him time and time again as "retarded." My point is this, in my experience, it is not words that are offensive, but the manner and context in which they are said. This is not to say that suddenly using the n-word should be okay simply because it is not said with malice, but in a world where more and more words and topics are being considered "not PC", we are losing certain freedoms of expression in an attempt to preserve feelings and make everyone equal. We have become a country walking on eggshells. "Mongoloid" was once a medical term; how long until "developmentally challenged" becomes unacceptable simply because of the manner in which people say it? The "All in the Family" episode ends on a rather charmingly righteous note as George points out to Archie that the razor of his wood shaver is in backwards and fixes the rather simple problem for him. With the ease and grace of a MENSA-child, the lovable oaf, George rectifies what Archie could not understand for the entire episode. Poetic justice at it's finest. Sometimes it seems like America's blade is in backwards. With a blunt blade, how can you expect anything to be fixed? Without the courage to make the first cut, life and the freedom of speech can become an exercise just as futile as trying to shave a door without a razor. . Song of the Day: Innuendo-Queen Jazz Song of the Day: I Cover The Waterfront-Billie Holiday

Accolades, Equality, and the Lies of ZZ Top

At long last, the Rhapsody Concert has been scheduled. It was bit more of a strenuous process than it usually has been, but it's scheduled and I can look back upon those hoops and hurdles jumped with the fondness of a child remembering their first visit to the dentist.

Speaking of Rhapsody, we're blowing the dust off a few old songs as well polishing up some new tracks this semester which is always really cool. We're even giving former member and good friend of mine, Dennis "Gloves" Madden an impromptu and super mysterious solo. The suspense appears to be killing him. Apparently, he's not as excited by the idea as I am. I don't doubt the experience will culminate into my perfect Rhapsody send-off and a regrettable, but worthwhile end to a four year friendship. The juice is worth the squeeze.

Final Rhapsody note: I'm in the process of setting up our yearly baseball fundraiser with the Revs. The actual implementation of this community service takes place predominantly next semester. Also, shrinking space here at YCP have forced Rhapsody to book its concert dates a year in advance. I'm currently working on that paperwork, having already selected the dates for next fall and spring respectively. I get a chuckle that in my last year of presidency, I'm indirectly completing the dirty work for a group I won't actually be a part of by the time the dates themselves roll around. I'm considering putting Rhapsody President 08-12 on my resume.

Speaking of my resume, it appears I have a new accolade to add to it. I was selected by York's radio station WVYC to represent them as a nominee for "Most Creative Show Format" at the National IBS Conference in New York this year. It's a tremendous honor and I'm thrilled to be considered. It goes to show that not everyone can combine the NBA, jazz, and classic and folk rock as smoothly as I can.

In all seriousness, I'm super honored and I have to believe I have a shot. I think what my senior year is coming down to is the realization that no one else can do what I do, the way that I do it. Be that with radio, writing, the NBA, and various blends of the three aspects of my life. I'm beginning to realize just how unique my skills set is, and the potential I have as a person. I apologize if I sound a little arrogant, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm on the verge of self-actualization in the professional world, and that's a feeling that's exciting, scary, and powerful.

Anyway, I'll be recording my next few shows and between those and the couple I already have archived, my friends will help me edit the piece down to a five minute segment that will showcase the flavor of my show that will be submitted. I'll keep you in the loop.

Advice of the Day: Unless you are blind, or very uncomfortable with the appearance of your eyes, never where sunglasses indoors. I promise you, you look like a fucking moron. (I don't swear very often.) No matter how cool you may feel, no matter how cool the world may look tinted, and no matter how big of a Corey Feldman fan you may be, you look like an idiot. I can rant all day and night about that but hopefully I've said enough. Fluorescent lights don't give off UV rays, you'll live.


Thought of the Day: Proof that we are all created equal can be found in the restroom. I'm not trying to gross anyone out, but today in the bathroom while I was washing my hands, a professor whom I hold in high regard walked in and greeted me with a warm nod. He then proceeded to enter a stall and take care of his business. In that moment, the admiration and revelry that I held towards this man briefly vanished. In that moment, he became a mere mortal, just like me, who happened to be making some strange noise that made me want to leave the room as quickly as possible. Whenever you're feeling down on yourself and inferior, take solace in this thought.


Song of the Day: Nobody's Child - Electric Light Orchestra
Jazz Song of the Day: El Bozo Pt. III - Chick Corea