meta-mustaches (writing is writing).

...so today, we're gonna deconstruct the content of context. not in some grad-school seminar way, either. i'm getting out the wrecking ball.

i've been mentally handcuffed for a year concerning this blog: what am i gonna write about? what is it gonna BE about? does it have to be about anything? should i keep things separate from each other -- music, writing itself, parenting, following Jesus, failing spectacularly at gainful employment, etc., etc.? should it be funny? should it be sincere? should it be intellectual? boxes upon boxes, within boxes, and no writing. a colombian drug lord's mansion's worth of rooms filled with context (and possible context) and no content.

i'm happy to say that i was saved by a mustache. (of course i was.) here's what happened:

i had a spirited exchange with my brother over the email this week about, among other, nerdier pursuits, mustaches. a little context first (but only a little): i am part of a group of guys that endeavors to take a yearly boys' weekend to balance out all the careening normalcy that tends to creep up as one approaches and enters one's thirties. standard boys' weekend rules apply -- lots of drinking and eating junk and sitting around, with the occasional ill-advised foray into physical activity, i.e. drunken football or, for the less adventurous, drunken billiards. i also think that mustaches are horribly, irreducibly funny. all the time. with no exceptions. naturally, i have for years been trying to organize a mass mustache event with any or all of these aforementioned guys. dinners out, amusement parks, baptisms -- you name it, i have tried to get a bunch of dudes with mustaches together to do it.

that sounded bad.

moving on, there always seems to be ample interest but little motivation for, say, Mustache Day at Sizzler, so i set my sights on Boys' Weekend. it would seem to be the perfect venue, no? i mean, how hard can it be? you grow your beard out for a while in advance of the event, you shave it down, and hilarity ensues. you've no-one to feel self-conscious around -- just the same bunch of dudes that haven't given a shit about what you look like for years. sadly, despite the seeming sartorial synergy, only two out of the 12-or-so attendees have committed (myself included), and we leave next weekend. so i've been recruiting. which leads me to my brother and the email exchange. here it is, edited for funny.

the players:
me -- me
shawn -- my brother and best editor
ben -- my co-conspirator and always the biggest supporter of Mustache Events.
Deep Creek -- Maryland, where most of these weekends take place
Kennywood -- legendary Pittsburgh amusement park

ME:
you should give further consideration to your participation
in Mustaches At Deep Creek In '07 (still working on the name...i know
it sounds a lot like Mustaches At Kennywood In '02. and '03. and
'04...you get the picture). now, ben and i are prepared to be alone
on this -- there's a lot of inherent "fuck you" in a mustache anyway,
and you gotta pay the cost to be the boss -- but at the end of the day
it's like the man say: "The Mo' Mustaches, The Mo' Better." there are
variations on it -- you may have heard it as "The Mo' Mustaches, The
Mo' Sammiches" or (of course) "The Mo' Mustaches, The Mo' Pony Rides."
when traveling europe, you may have heard, "The Mo' Mustaches, The Mo'
Unified Currency."

you get the picture. we're asking for your mustache.


SHAWN:
Mustaches. I don't know. Attitude toward the mustache has polarized the
house in recent days, and has captured far too many news cycles. Involving
the Europeans has only pissed them off. Except the Greeks, also known as
"The Guys That Invented the Mustache." They just snort and talk about how
they invented the mustache. I may just go centrist and avoid the situation
entirely while condemning both sides.

ME:
i am considering your global mustache concerns and will meet
with my staff to address them.

ME:
btw, you were right. the greek ambassador is gonna be a little bitch
on this mustache thing.

SHAWN:
I told you about the Greeks. Short bodies, long memories. And mustaches.

ME:
i tried the unified currency angle with those blasted hellenics, and
all they wanted to discuss was "moustaches" vs. "mustaches."
unbelievable.

SHAWN:
Yeah, bad tactical move with the currency. They INVENTED currency. And
democracy. And the gyro. The euro, feh. They wanted to call it the greeko,
but it turns out it infringed on some wrestling group's trademark.

ME:
i've decided i don't need greek support for Moustaches At Deep Creek In
'07 (they did have a good point with the "o," tho). the rest of the
world leaves them out of the decision-making; why should i be any
different? besides, we've got more than enough italian and french
support. say what you will about the frogs (hasn't everyone?), but
those testy gallic sons o' bitches know their way around a moustache.

let's leave the greeks to the goat meat.
(and...scene!)

so what? i had a vaguely vulgar, possibly-racist-although-admittedly-hilarious exchange about moustaches and now i'm saved? HALLELUJAH, everybody, i'm a-blogging? maybe. maybe not. maybe it just made me understand that no matter what i write about, it's still me writing about it. i don't have to narrow it down. people are at their best when they embrace their contradictions. life is just more interesting that way.

these things i know for sure:

1) it's hard as hell to raise kids right.
2) God is OK with it if music is your religion. if you think that's blasphemous, let's talk about it.
3) stephen colbert is a stone-cold, top-tier genius, and the fact that his faith informs his satire makes him not only borderline-revolutionary, but probably worthy of a CIA wiretap. or however else the government shows the love these days.

all the rest we'll figure out together. like the man say, we're looking for the baby Jesus under the trash.