frank is blogging...

The Hole Story

2008-02-11T00:59:00Z

If we all have one thing in common, we all have some empty spot(s) inside of us we’re trying to fill with all sorts of stuff. Too many try to satiate the vacancy with drink, drugs, shopping, food, gaming, gambling...I’m sure the list is goes on and on. But these pits in our gullets mess with us, and our judgment.

So many of the artists we elevate on Listen In recognize the hole story, for themselves and the world around them. Josey Scott/Saliva and Sean Danielson/Smile Empty Soul, to name a couple, have addressed these cavities in their music and on our interview page. In fact, I would say most all of the artists I’ve interviewed have never said that there’s an easy way address the hole story. Many are just like Jacoby Shaddix/Papa Roach who deals with his issues head-on.

I know my hole story is one of many craters, and I’ve tried to completely ignore them (doesn’t work) and I’ve attempted to blame others for them (doesn’t work). I think what’s work best for me is to talk with others about the emptiness river that ebbs and flows throughout my life. I’ve had people help me “size” my holes appropriately, because I’m pretty good at making big craters seem smaller than they are and small voids bigger than they are. I laugh at some things that hurt others, and scowl about stuff people are just kidding about... Perspective. I like perspective. I need perspective.

Yea, that’s it. We all have holes, but we don’t all have proper objectivity...or a support swat team to swoop in with some three-mile-high-glasses that help us see the whole hole picture.

And like my dentist has said to me a dozen times, “Open wide, while I fill this thing. It’ll be better for you in the long run. Now say ahhhhhhhhhhhh...”

From Shun Up To Shun Down

2007-10-09T19:04:00Z

Something weird has been happening over the past few years, I think people are getting less friendly. ...or maybe I’m getting more creepy. I think it’s the former, not the latter.

In our fear driven world, I sort of understand all this...and maybe that’s what sucks most. I understand. And I don’t want to understand.

Since forever, moms and dads tell their kids not to talk to strangers. I’ve even told my kids what to do when/if someone offers them candy or a ride or that they know me...run as fast as you can to an adult you know. So yes, I’m guilty of throwing down the terror threat to my kids. Even though, most strangers I’ve met in my life haven’t tried to do inappropriate things. Now, when I’m in a store or a baseball game and I see kids I usually smile and try to make them laugh. Unless the mother is around. I’ve gotten some frightful stares and some not so friendly, “Can I help you sir?” “Sir?” Whose she talking to?

Is that the way it’s going to be? I’m afraid most would rather consider me creepy...it’s just safer that way.

What happened to me at a gas station recently with a Harley rider, just bummed me out. I pull in to fill up, and this burly graying man was strapping on his helmet as I smiled and said, “Great day for a ride.” He looked at me and said nothing. “Really awesome to go for a ride today I bet,” I gave it one more shot. “Ummm, yea,” is all he could utter just before he pulled away. It could be he just isn’t a nice person. Could be he was shocked anybody would act kindly. Could be he didn’t hear me all that well. Whatever the case, it seems to me when someone smiles and offers a nicety it might be okay to acknowledge it fittingly. He seemed creeped out. I masked my sad face.

I am still willing to be outgoing and friendly toward people. People I know. People I don’t know. I don’t want to slip into the rut of figuring someone who’s being nice either wants something or is eerie. I know we can’t live pretending a stranger is a long-awaited friend, but if we can’t take a second to give a nod of the head or a mini wave or a crack of a smile... Kids do it because it's natural. We have to learn to when to shun up and when to shun down.

I think I’m getting shunburn. I’m afraid we’re all gonna shack ourselves up and read blogs all day.

The world is scary and not fair, but it’s also awesome and wonderful and hope-filled. Smile on purpose.

To Be Perfectly Honest, I’m A Straight Shooter

2007-08-04T23:13:00Z

When someone says this to you, watch out. Or rather, watch your wallet. Now I live wanting to believe people. Is that so wrong? For some reason every time in my life someone has uttered those words I used to title this blog, I’ve been stung. I haven’t declared bankruptcy, nor have I been pummeled emotionally. But it still hurts. And thank God that stinging feeling goes away. Too far away for my own good. So as you realists would guess, it’s happened to me again.

I don’t remember the time before last that a person “got me.” But who would you think I got pissed at this time? Me. I know better. Or, I should know better. I must have this Charlie Brown inside of me that thinks Lucy is going to hold the football for sure. I want to kick that pigskin. I want to believe people. Dang some people. Dang me.

I am mostly talking about business dealing, anything from top brass to just simple retail purchases. No wonder even when I buy eye drops it comes with a three page instruction manual/legal notice...because they need to make everything clear. All I want is my vision to be unclouded. I guess this all stems from the day of old when they sold “miracle elixirs” from town to town on wagons...”great for popping corn, prevent locust swarms for counties, and will regrow hair!”

Even when I began Listen In, I chose to trust radio stations would run the show based on our conversations and handshakes. As the Doobies Brothers once said, “What A Fools Believes...” We don’t do that anymore, we have a one page agreement with radio stations that is heavily favored for the station. Each one can pull out in 90 days, and if they dumped Listen In before that...well, let’s hope they don’t.

So I am making this commitment to myself, and to you. I will not live jaded and think everyone is out to do what will make them happy that particular day. I will believe people...unless they proclaim that they are the only ones to be believed. Once those who divulge that little tidbit, that nuance, I am afraid I will be slightly leery of proceeding much further without pulling out my microphone and recorder (for quality or training purposes).

Lastly, if you are one of those people who must preface your conversations by whispering, “to be real honest,” or something like that. Stop it. Don’t do it. Just do it without the scoreboard announcing your stats coming into the game. And lastly lastly, if you are going to deal with me, you just got a straight shot. Be real. Be honest. And don’t screw me over a little at a time. My antennae are up.

You’re Either Against Me Or Against Me

2007-07-13T10:51:00Z

This summer I’ve been biking more than ever on my new bike, so my brain is going to more places than I’m used to. The wind is all I was thinking about the other day. Here in Michigan, we (I, for sure) cherish the summers, and a nice breeze is always enjoyable. Unless you are me, on my bike, pedaling into it.

So I replaced a 15 year old bicycle earlier this summer. I rode sparingly for ten of those years, but the last five, my butt was on that saddle pretty regularly. I had maintenance to do, more and more. My gears jumped, it seemed harder and harder to climb on that bike...so I shopped for a good eight months until I chose my new hybrid. I’m not a maniac road bike guy, I just want to put in ten-ish miles when I ride.

You know how when you buy something new, you figure everything is going to be perfect. In this case, I thought I wouldn’t have to pedal so hard, the sun would always shine, and the wind would always be at my back. Some lessons are hard to learn for me. Life doesn’t automatically get wonderful when I buy something, duh!?! Know this, my bike has performed magnificently. I have no complaints (except for bending the double-walled rim (my fault)). But this wind thing, it got my gray matter mattering.

For me to offset some of the cost of this bike, I am more conscious of doing some errands with rather than keep filling up my car’s gas tank. Better for my wallet. Better for the environment. Better for my for my torso. Better for my cerebellum. So I’ve decided to deliver the CDs of Listen In directly to our flagship station personally, and kinda sweaty.

Oh, it was perfect weather out for my delivery ride; 75, sunny, and a beautiful ten m.p.h. breeze out of the southwest. Grab my iPod, phone, sunglasses, helmet, backpack and I’m off. Now, theoretically, I’m smart enough to know it’s gonna be more work heading into the wind. So I’m pedaling, super aware of traffic (which makes riding seem like less time), but all the bunny hills are not such a cinch...dang wind going against my personal chassis. Suffice to type, I made it to the station and felt good about the workout.

As I hop back on my bike, I took a look at my speedometer readings...I averaged 12.4 m.p.h. A little slower than I’d like, but I was going mostly into the wind. (So that’s like a 22.4 m.p.h. against me, right?) I decided to race myself, my time going vs. my time returning...because I’ll be going with the wind. Well, when I arrived back as the office/studio my stinking average was again, 12.4 m.p.h. How can this be? Was I dogging it? Didn’t seem like it. But it did seem like I was still going against the wind. The same question comes back to me, How can this be?

Now, here’s my brain on fried eggs, if there’s a 10 m.p.h. coming out of the southwest and I do a trip to and fro, shouldn’t I be getting something called “wind-aided return trip?” When I’m going downhill at 22 m.p.h. with a 10 m.p.h. wind at my back, I am, in essence, going against a 12 m.p.h. wind. What the...?!?! Something is not right. Is it the wind or is it my left hemisphere? I want some answers from the wind maker or my bicycle manufacturer. Seems like the wind is either against me or against me.

Settle...settle frank. Still, it is good to ride. It exercises my body and my brain. And the next time there’s some 40 m.p.h. gusts I’m going to ride one way, with it. Then have someone pick me up 20 miles down the road and bring me back. Environmentally speaking, that would be idiocy...but it would be wind-aided idiocy.

Secreatinely Principled

2007-07-05T15:05:00Z

I’m seriously bummed about athletes who don’t break the rules, yet push the ethical limits to gain an advantage. Just read my last blog. What is it with people who think it’s okay to put junk into their bodies? And worse, what is it with parents who pop stuff into their kids’ bodies because they think everyone else is doing it. That’s like watching tv and wondering why everyone else is having sex all the time and you’re the only one not getting any.

I bet most think they are doing something completely righteous; something that won’t harm the human body in the long run. Most people thought cigarettes were totally harmless in the 1800’s, but some knew it couldn’t be best for us (U.S.). And it’s easy to Blackle your preferred substance to find that you’ve chosen an appropriate organic concoction that will naturally help supply energy to muscle cells without hurting anything. Wasn’t there a song about too much oxygen? Plenty of people have lived to a ripe old age smoking two packs a day...and when I say plenty, I mean at least 14.

I don’t think it’s bad science, I just think it’s incomplete science. It takes time for the effects of what happens to peoples’ bodies after repeated consumption of advantage bending substances. Who would ever believe that a professional wrestler would go off the complete edge in ‘roid rage? Or that a 17-year-old track star's death was from the use of too much muscle cream? After all, most side effects are sporadic and on a case by case basis like diarrhea, abdominal cramping, and bloating. The other side effect that trumps all that is more muscle. Which, of course, leads to a college scholarship, and then straight to a sports agent that will help you sign that big contract (and a secret supply of “something legal, don’t worry about it”).

But what if? What if everyone starts pumping themselves full of junk so nobody has to pump serious iron? Okay, we lose a few health clubs. But what if that happens for real? Because what always happens is, it all trickles down to the lowest of the low. Now it’s an even playing field you say? Hold your creatine horses. Somebody else will be developing and experimenting with something more potent that will give them the advantage... I want to scream: When does it all stop?!?

When I was a kid I thought that someday people would stop smoking cigarettes. Now I’m not so sure. My mom smoked. My mom died. All the research that says cigarettes will kill you isn’t enough. I guess things have to kill us faster and make us hideous looking to get our attention (do I hear someone typing another screenplay?).

It still seems like this world is filled with “if we get ours, then we’ll worry about everyone else.” I can’t say that isn’t the way I think sometimes. But if I do get “mine,” I’d like to think I got there honestly. Now, let’s throw kids back into the equation. If we are doing it for our kids, that’s the best reason (read: excuse) ever. Nobody questions you when you say that you’re doing it for “family reasons.” (Didn’t Michael Jordan retire (the first time) to spend more time with his family? Only to play minor league baseball 1000 miles away for three years. How’s that family unit doing now?)

The last think I have to say is that when I’m around people (even parents) who are providing kids with the “best opportunity to help them on their path,” why do they have to speak quietly about “the stuff.” When I find something that makes life better I want the world to know. I don’t slightly cover my mouth and speak in code. Maybe I should so my family will have an advantage that yours won’t. Because I’m just a man doing it for family reasons. There, I feel better about me now. Too bad though, for my kids, they will be eeked out of NBA/WNBA because I didn’t “help them enough.”

Three Strikes And You’re Out

2007-06-15T13:19:00Z

I’ve got to tell you how much I don’t care about the “hallowed home run record.” That’s not exactly fair, I do care about it. I just don’t care about Barry Bonds. And I don’t think he cares about the record as much as he cares about himself getting all the attention for it. (Maybe that’s why his pace toward it recently slowed down; so he can extend the camera time.)

I’ve read the polls about how many blacks want him to do it and how many less whites want to see him do it. I don’t care what color Berry Bonds skin is, he just seems to be a jackhole (stolen term from my friend Dan). I loved the single season home run race between Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa in 1998, that is until the 2005 Senate Hearings on Steroids In Baseball, I throw both of those guys under the “jackhole” wheel. Hank Aaron, a classy and humble man who hit 755 homers, is who I’m a fan of.

Strike One: Where there’s smoke there’s steroids. I don’t care if what he used wasn’t illegal at the time. It’s decision time when you stick stuff into your body that could possibly give you an advantage. I know, I know, I know you still have to put the bat on the ball. Most athletes are pretty aware of every nutrient they digest within 24 hours before game time...I assume the same goes for any drugs they take. Currently, everything is in the allegation area for Benny Bonds, so he is safe. But this umpire already called it a strike...and you can’t argue with the ump on that.

Strike Two: Hey batta, batta, batta...swing! Babby Bonds isn’t the first MLB player to carry on secret relationships (hiding it from both his wives). Gads, he’s not the first professional athlete to do so. And to be fair (not foul), he’s not the first man to bed down with someone outside of his marriage. Well, I never used the word cheater in this blog yet, but I think it would be appropriate now. It’s hard for a young man with millions of dollars to turn down “performance enhancement” when you’ve been on the road for two or three days. It gets lonely in five star hotels. And what coach would say no to Brody Bonds if wanted to share the sweetest swing in baseball.

Steeerike Three: Warning track power. I watch the way Bevis Bonds struts around during whenever he’s caught on camera. This is probably to make sure we think all this doesn’t bother him. Okay, fine. All this doesn’t bother him. That swagger is so putoff-ish, it seems like he wants about a ten foot gravel swath around him so no one touches the merchandise (see Strike Two above). This guy has the power now, and everyone around him acts like it. The way someone uses this power is how I’m impressed. I’ve seen Bono with the same aura, but it isn’t the same. When Brutus Bonds decides he’s going to better the world for the sake of bettering the world, I will no longer think about all his strikeouts or walks or stolen bases or home runs. And will extend him some blog grace.

It may not be fair to Bella Bonds. But I wasted too much time in 1998 watching a home run record chase that I thought was fun. Fun. And turned out to be a couple of doctored-up men hitting the ball 5,000 feet. Pete Rose did it to me too. It will be tiring for, who knows how long, to have cutaways on TV to see all his ABs. I just struck Baby Bonds out with a spitter, here in this blog. I will be more impressed in five or ten years if he comes clean. And I can prove it, because I used to think Jose Conseco was a jackhole, but not so much anymore. Plus, I wouldn’t think it would be much fun the rest of his life defending his image, rather than being able to talk freely about his accomplishments.

Take a seat Beebe Bonds, you’re out in my scorebook.

Outside Or Not Outside

2007-06-10T10:25:00Z

I want to blame this on Howie Mandel. I want to, but I can’t. Maybe television executives? Nope. The internet? Well, that cuts pretty close to home (where are you reading this!?). Oh wait, I got it: video games. There. Now I can end this blog and get myself outside.

Dang it. Dang it. It just doesn’t ring true does it? I am the problem. I know it and I don’t even want to type it. Everyday, just before I get up I try to get my day laid out, everything I’ll be able to cross off my never ending list. And too many days, I walk by the television I can see from my kitchen and just maybe turn on ESPN. I wonder if the Tigers won last night? I don’t even want to know how many times I’ve watched the same SportsCenter back to back to back...and I’m a (pseudo) radio guy!

I know most of our jobs are inside, where it’s safe from the elements (is sunshine an element?). At least we are being productive and hopefully connecting with people. There used to be events people would gather around the water cooler to chat about, and those turned into rehashing Seinfeld bits...and now we network with each other texting or emailing. God help us if we have five minutes to interact with our fellow employees. I find myself jealous of people who smoke, because they get seven minutes (max) in the open-air to get their fix. I have a fix not being met, it’s called fresh air.

And let me go back to video games. Not all are inherently evil (like Bowser), but the hideous thing is the time we get stuck in front of the screen. Alone. I’ve said, out loud to myself, that I will quit in two hours, or once I get past this next level. Video games are like casinos, all of a sudden I can’t find a clock (or I don’t want to). It’s a sad day when you finally realize you only have 90 minutes to sleep before you have to get up. And if you’re like me, you’re PO’d at the game. I’ve always been good at avoiding mirrors.

I have to force myself out from under all these ceilings and roofs. I can’t believe I was created to not be outside or out with other people. I’ve wanted to stay home to watch Deal Or No Deal (another rerun? what the...) and not go hang out with some friends. I just wanted to lounge with my internal guide Mr. Cable TV and my temporary friend Mr. Bag Of Chips. Plus, on tonight’s show Howie might give away so much money it will change lives, and I want to be there for that contestant. Yea, me and him, we can win it all. Plus the babes on the show, I think #17 case holder likes me. And don’t get me started on porn...really, don’t get me started...I hear it’s a hard habit to break.

My interview with Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree was very inspiring (link to it here). Their most recent CD “Fear Of A Blank Planet” dives into the idea that we may be raising a generation of kids that are numb, apathetic, and isolated because of all the technological advances we’ve made. (When a kid told me he’s just got a new air cooled controller for his gaming system, he was ecstatic. I was not.) But it’s not just kids, the average gamer is 33 years old. Yes, we spend less time in front of the tv, but way more on the internet. What happened to biking and golfing and playing catch? What about just shooting the breeze with a neighbor? There’s lots of ways to get outside, but the hardest part is putting on your shoes to go do it.

Outside or not outside. It’s decision time right now.

Unless your goal is to have the longest fingernails in history, it’s time to get up. get started. get involved. ...and get outside.

I Deserve Better!

2007-05-31T10:00:00Z

Those three words are scary. For some reason this has been on my mind a lot lately. I hop on my bike and go for a ride. Earbuds in. iPod too loud. Can’t stop thinking about this. So why not make it my first blog at our new (better!) website.

There is something beautifully inherent about wanting more and things to be better...it keeps us moving, if not motivated. But where does it start?

When I was growing up, my mom and dad tussled about our family car. My mom always dreamed of a Cadillac, and dream is all she did. I don’t know if she thought she deserved better or wanted to show off or just wanted to be comfortable. I think my mom deserved better (but I’m not referring to cars). I remember begging my dad to buy us a Cadillac, “and it would make mom happy.” He never did. I’m wondering if her constant desire to find something truly fulfilling (but always settling for something temporary) seeped into me. How could I avoid it? Family. School. Media. If it wasn’t my family, it had to be kids at school who had cooler clothes than me...yea, it had to be them. Wait, let me blame my “deserving better” on the media. There, that was easy. Plus Mom and my friends are off the hook.

Hey, I love advertising. Advertising is a part of our world, and my world specifically. I create ads. I love creative ads. And without advertising, there would be no media as we know it. I’d like to think Listen In has taken a different approach. We only work with advertisers who offer goods or services that are meaningful to life. The other criteria is what they give back. I know that is so subjective, but if we don’t have some standards, we’ll have none. Advertising totally tells us we deserve better...and more...and less (calories). How we all let that to sink in is probably how we live. And malls aren’t getting any smaller (advertising works!).

I guess I’m looking for relative better. Is the world around me getting better? Am I? How about my family? It is a constant struggle to see what other people drive (all “Cadillacs” it seems) or how many movies they have on their iPod or lawn services... I want to simplify, and I look up to those who make wise choices (daily) because they are thinking big when they say, “I have a family to feed.” Except for former NBA dude Latrell Sprewell who said those exact words after he declined a three-year $21 million dollar offer.

If you look around, it’s easy to think “I deserve better,” and to start thinking about stuff you don’t have...but I believe if you Listen In (easy tie-in) you will know what is truly fulfilling for yourself and others. Check out some of the interviews or LiPodcasts here at listenin.org, for some reason, these artists have the gift to see outside of themselves easier than most of us. I wonder if there’s a $250 pair of sunglasses that will help us do that?! If there is, we would advertise them because...you deserve it!