Coffee Mug Theory

There was a song my elementary band teacher sang that went something like, "I'm a fine musician, I practice every day."

Anyone who plays an instrument knows the value of practice - that routine, that repetition, syncing the memory circuits with motor skills. You can practice thousands of hours over a lifetime, yet perfection is forever elusive.

I tried the whole rock band project in my 20s, and it's hard work. In the words of AC/DC, it's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.

Just like music, writing requires self-discipline in a relentless pursuit of improving the craft. In my day job as a newspaper reporter, I produce one or two stories per day. The more you write, the more automatic the muscle works.

I am itching to write more fiction in the evenings and resume the routine I had established in 2012-2013 when writing "Walter's Searchlight." However, the news writing muscle flexes much differently than fiction muscles - and my fiction muscles are downright flabby.

For another perspective on writing, let's digress a moment and consider the functional shape of a standard coffee mug. The mug is a vessel for hot liquid, and the handle belongs on the side of the mug so that you can hold the fucking thing while drinking.

If you were crafting a coffee mug, you wouldn't put the handle on the bottom or carve jagged edges around the rim. You would make a mug that allowed a human to drink from it, over and over.

Those who make enough mugs for enough years will be master mug makers.  If you can paint that functional coffee mug with green witches and mold a wart-covered handle, even better. Go ahead and dress up that mug. But if a person can't drink from the mug, then it is useless.

Which brings us back to writing. At its core, writing is the functional coffee mug that holds a message inside. That message might be a mind-blowing truth about the human condition. But if the reader can't consume the message, then it's time to make a new mug.

The same applies to music. Successful songs follow a formula because that blueprint is functional to an audience's enjoyment - and understanding - of the songs. A hit single has a hook and a catchy sing-along chorus. Without a hook and a catchy chorus, what do you have? Certainly not a functional vessel for delivering a musical message.

From music to writing to coffee mugs, it's all a matter of personal taste. But at the very core, these three things are vessels that carry something to consume. Build a solid vessel for your messages.

Meet the Mormons

Two young Mormon women in long dresses approached me in the driveway and complimented my VW bus.

I had just arrived home from work, and was hauling the trash cans back to their spot by the open garage, where the mustard-yellow camper lives. The women knocked on the neighbor's door before making their way to me. Their innocent baby faces twinkled from lack of sin. I was curious about their sales pitch, just to see how they'd do it.

"I like your bus," the tall blonde said first, disarming me with her smile.

They introduced themselves as missionaries, then skipped all the bullshit and went for the jugular with Jesus questions. When they walked away, I was holding a business card with links to a video. The women encouraged me to watch the video and said there were thought-provoking points on the link between Jesus and the Berlin Wall, for example.

On one side of the business card, there were three photos of people, each with a caption that said "I'm a Mormon." One of the humans pictured on the card was a black man, which contradicts the Mormon stereotype.

The missionaries impressed me with their confidence and kindness. They are trying to plant seeds - or perhaps hunt for souls? They wouldn't go door to door if the technique didn't work once in a while.

I discussed the surprisingly pleasant encounter with my wife, then tossed the card in the garbage.

Too hot to handle

I recently stepped a few million Scoville Units over the line and lived to tell about it.

I am a spice hound, chili fiend, habanero whore - whatever you want to call someone who likes food with a kick. I often tell the story of a Mexican restaurant in Arizona where the salsa was so hot, you left with a buzz.

Last weekend, I finally found my limit. At a novelty shop in Leavenworth, my sister and I ignored the warnings that were displayed next to a shot glass full of blood-red ass-kicking fire sauce. We nonchalantly dunked our pretzel twigs and chomped away. Within seconds, we had hiccups, tears and runny noses. We gulped water, gnawed on soft pretzels and wished we could take back the bullet.

About 15 minutes later, life returned to normal. I don't remember the sauce's brand, but it was a bottle of pure pain. I recall reading "6 million Scoville Units" on the label. Below is chart I stole off Google Images that illustrates a pepper's heat:

That's right. Those 6 million Scoville Units are akin to pepper spray, and all I ate was a few drops of that sauce. I have watched plenty of Travel Channel shows like "Man v. Food," in which the host eats the world's hottest wings, chicken curry, barbecue pork sandwiches, habanero fritters and more. In one episode, the host moaned and writhed in an alley with a jug of milk, and he wasn't acting for the cameras. No longer will I make fun of that host for quitting during a challenge or crying like a baby afterward.

The next George Carlin

"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." -- George Carlin

George Carlin left one big-ass footprint. His philosophy and observations about the human condition were gut-busting and spot on. Carlin played with the language like a toy. I always loved how he made fun of euphemisms and political correctness.

As I watched the most recent "Saturday Night Live," I saw the next George Carlin. That would be Louis C.K., who was hosting last weekend's episode. His monologue ventured into religion and walk-the-line territory that only Carlin could have touched - and still came across as funny.

So today, I chatted up an old hippie lady at the farmers market. She asked if I liked Bill Maher, and eventually she mentioned George Carlin. Then without prompting, she said Louis C.K. was the next George Carlin.

Carlin embodied that rebellious counterculture attitude. He could even be a godfather for libertarianism - so thick was his disdain for government and The Man.

If anyone can do it like Carlin, it's Louis C.K. I'm already a believer.