praise for
days of naze
pax nazana

days of  
n a z e  

 

 

 

 

 

 

strung out 
brush with greatness 
soul food  
 
 

A little audio gift (85 kb .wav)

for my Faithful readers on

the first anniversary (7/14/99) of

the site. Hand cranked to help

you on the long march.

 

An obnoxiously large

(101k .wav) audio greeting

from the Author.

August 17, 2000   

More '64 + Hope Survives?

I have been harboring some serious Survivor fantasies lately.  (Those of you who hate the show may immediately click to this evening's dessert: Spawn2.)

I started watching about 4 weeks into the whole thing at the recommendation of a friend.  The big rice pot, the beach, the goofy competitions, Jeff Probst's over the top solemnity, the Robinson Crusoe set of Tribal Council, and the horror of my favorite castaways getting voted off.  (A few weeks back, my son Jack was watching the show upstairs.  As the final vote was counted at Tribal Council, we heard the anguished cry "Nnnnoooooooooooo!!!" trail down the stairs as Gervase's torch was extinguished.)

I am absolutely helpless against it.

 

I hate camping.  I am not a huge outdoor guy.  I am city man.

I have three children under eight years old.

I have a natural distaste for scheming and plotting.

And I hate to lose.

So why in the world would I apply for Survivor II?

 

Because I'm hooked.  So I did.

It's lucky that it wasn't until a few days later I read that more than 6,000 people had auditioned for the first Survivor.  A show that no one had ever heard of.  Ulp.

I'm not sure what kind of ratings they are pulling, but let's just say they're getting 20,000,000 viewers.  If one out of a thousand viewers took the time to download the form, fill it out, shoot a 3 minute video of themselves and mail the damn thing in by the deadline, we're looking at 20,000 entries.

My original goal was to make it past the first screen to the second stage: the interview.  If they deem you worthy, they invite you to one of about 8 cities nationwide (at your own expense).  Evidently, the Pacific Northwest isn't whatever enough to merit a city, so anybody from here glides down to the City by the Bay.  I can't imagine they'll want to see any more than 100 at each city, so that whittles it down to about 800.

If you pass the second screen, they will actually pay (gasp!) for your airfare to L.A. and hotel expense.  I heard that last time the final cut started at 32 to get down to the 16 who got on the show.

 

Even though they said get creative, I didn't want to burn huge amounts of time on the video.  In fact, I took our 8mm cam, held it at arms length and with a few shots of printed paper for my name (and a certain URL), and did it in one take.  Two minutes, thirty seven seconds.

  

 

My Survivor II application picture, taken from a Seaside, Oregon photo booth image.  The whole family was jammed in there.

 

 

 

I was pretty much my charming self.  I'm not sure if telling the truth was exactly the best strategy, but I told them that I wanted to be on Survivor II because it would be one hell of an adventure and a story worth telling.  I talked a bit about some of the adventures you have read about here on the site.  For 10 seconds I did a really spastic simulation of Tribal Council using candles to some decent effect.  I closed with a list of my important connections to Australia (i.e. love Midnight Oil, have a pen pal in the Australian Bureau of Meteorology, my uncle owned a dingo).  Yes, I know.  Really compelling stuff.

Let's face it -- it just ain't gonna happen.

On the application, the Survivor II producers indicated that they want to be interviewing in the cities starting Monday.  So there are only a few more days until my fading hopes are crushed under the boot heel of reality.

Until then I can have my little fantasies. 

 

One club I don't have to worry about qualifying for is the Spawn of '64.  Yes, indeed Dear Readers, that portion of the site which gets fewer visits than any other.  Where I unearth the mysteries, the personalities, the incarnations and the edifices which have their roots in that fateful year of a bygone millenium: 1964.

I have returned to that lonely well and drawn you another draught of brackish water.  And I daresay that you will be surprised by some of what floats about therein.  

Spawn2 of '64: Party of the Second Part.

p.s.  The results are in from the First Annual Toutle Games, my brother's excuse for a bunch of guys to get out of town and have some fun.  I came in dead last in Archery (my first dance with a compound bow) and Lunar Croquet (lunar because of the landscape -- a significant layer of Mount Saint Helens ash remains 20 years later -- and because a fair amount of the game took place under moonlight).  The improvised Street Luge was epic and I did manage a second in Mountain Bike Sprint.  I opened the Games with a toast of beer poured onto the ground for my Step-Grandfather Al Peach who helped make that place very special to Craig and me.  I'll tell some of his stories here in the not too distant future.

p.p.s.  Pssst: new days notification

p.p.p.s.  I had an amazing time at fray3 last year.  I can't make it this year (and it's killing me) but I strongly recommend you make it to one of the two sites on September 22.

fray day 4

about

 

every

 

once

 

in

 

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while

       
 

last

next

 
previously on days of naze :


confessions of a web guy
the big fat pipe
a new life
rage
i am naze
the urge to merge
elegy for grandma
flame war in a can
before i die
sf part 3 - denouement
chiascuro
sf part 3 - fray3
sf part 2 - walkabout
sf part 1 - no rice-a-roni
threading the needle
hating life
what i learned on the web
the play's the thing
saving star wars - episode I
vegas, baby!
turned away at the church of elvis
dear mark
a night on the town
a lesson in humility
the longest mile
he plays one on t.v.
shat upon
coda
geek of the weak
pre-game stupid
my affair with a greek woman 
brain baker
occupational hazard
i blame them
brilliant mistake
pleasure victim 
the stupid rules 
driven to distraction 
my corner of the planet 
spawn apologist 
broken 
clench 
interview with a madman 
an introduction 
 launch

 

May you never be more active than  
when you are doing nothing.  

-Cato

 

They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.

-Carl W. Buehner

in the feedbag:

web: When I grow up, I want to be Steven Amaya.

tangled web: The internet relationship trainwreck is almost kind of a cliche, but it doesn't feel that way when it happens to you.  Especially when it is largely a product of your own failings.  That's about all I have to say on that subject here.

rock the vote: Important decisions in November?  How 'bout right now?  Halcyon needs your help to determine the destiny of... well, you take a look.  (Younger then 18 and the offendable should probably pass.)

listening: I know you all are afraid of Launchcast, but you are actually missing some pretty damn fine tunes - Laurie Anderson just a few minutes ago.  Give it a try:  radio days of naze .

     

   stupid    strung out   naze   brush   soul food 

     

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radio days of naze

you'll stop the world and melt with me

christopher naze

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