&tc.

My old music ethnography teacher back in college once told our class a great story involving a group of ethnographers and an African tribal gentleman (Masai, maybe? I forget).

The ethnographers took the tribesman to a symphony. He had never heard Western music before, so they were curious to find out what he thought of it. When they asked him after the concert, the tribesman said that he had enjoyed it very much. When they inquired what his favorite part of the performance was, he said “the very beginning.” They asked if he meant the overture, and he said “no, no, the VERY beginning.” The ethnographers realized that what the tribesman had enjoyed the most was listening to the orchestra tuning their instruments.

If there are seven in the vase and one dies, I take it out and throw it away so I can carry on enjoying the other six.

I wouldn’t throw away the whole bunch because one was ruined would I?

In the same way, if I have a bad day I write it off as a failure at the end, but I don’t give up on the rest of the week. That would be like throwing out all seven flowers at once, wouldn’t it?

One day, my brother and I were in the machine shed when we heard a rattlesnake above us. We didn’t think about running for my grandfather — we ran for Grandma. She came, grabbed a shovel, poked the snake off the rafter, and chopped its head off. This was a big snake. And she said, “You could’ve done that.”

It wasn’t like she was trying to give us some big life lesson. She just walked away, and that’s the way it was.

So I go online and see Einstein. They had a whole film about him. It was actually really sweet. You see him all beat up and shit in the shelter, and they show how they cleaned him up. God, I love this dog. So I called and said, “I like Einstein!”

The woman goes, “Well, we don’t know if Einstein will like you.”

“Well, can I meet with Einstein?”

“Yes, we’ll bring him to your house, but if he doesn’t like you, he can’t stay. We have to have good homes for these dogs.” She sounded very serious.

Okay. I have this really long driveway, and I open the gate for them, and I start to panic that Einstein is not going to like me. So I run into the kitchen, where I have these turkey meatballs, and I rub them all over my shoes.

This woman opens the door, and who knew Einstein was such a food whore on top of everything? He throws himself at my feet.

She says, “I’ve never seen him react like that, ever!” And she left him with me on the spot. And forever, now, he just thinks of me as the guy with meatball feet. He loves me. I can do no wrong. He follows me everywhere.