I’ve been a fan of the “Best American” series for quite some time and they always showcase wonderful work.

Well, that’s a bit of a lie.  I only read two of the ten in the series: The Best American Nonrequired Reading and The Best American Comics.  Although I’m sure the rest are great, and I’ve been meaning to tackle some of them, I like to stick on the fringes of the “scene” and check out the more obscure samplings.

The first time I picked up the BANR (I’m going to just type that from now on) was mainly because of it’s editor, David Eggers, who is one of my favourite writers.  Turns out, he is as awesome as I think he is.  Eggers has started a writing workshop for high school kids, some of means and some without, but all with loads of talent.  So, to give them even more experience, he lets them help decide what will be in the BANR! Fantastic.  From fiction and non-fiction to comics and charts, the entries are all fantastic and really do give an amazing cross section of the “other sides” of writing.  As well, he invites a celebrity to do a forward or introduction for each book.  A few years ago it was Beck, last year it was Sufjan Stevens.  This year, it was an interview with Judy Blume… how cool is that?  It’s pretty cool.  As well, the price of these books is pretty reasonable and you can always jump around, skim stuff and come back to it later, which is something I can’t really do if I’m nose deep in a novel.

The other best edition of the Best American series is the BAC.  This volume starts off with an amazing cover and it has to.  It is essentially a book of art and it delivers cover to cover.  Compiled inside are a collection of comics from well known, strip type authors to crazy, off-beat and mostly insane scribblers.  Yes, it is fantastic.

From this series, I’ve found other artists which I’ve become mildly obsessed with.  The most incredible of this list is easily Chris Ware.  I had seen his work before on posters, magazines and book covers but really noticed it at the Art Gallery of Ontario, and then it popped up again in BAC.  I was hooked and he delivers.

Check out the series or maybe branch out, as I haven’t done into The Best American Recipes, Mystery Stories, Sports Writing or Essays.  They are sure to please and you might just find something new to obsess over.

One Sentence
Sometimes serious, often humourous and always impressive. This site takes user-submitted stories consisting of just one sentence and one sentence only. I’m frequently surprised at how much story some people can cram into just a few words.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
SMBC is a web comic updated daily, and if you find that the internet can easily offend your delicate sensibilities, then this probably isn’t the site for you.  Most of the content is rated R or higher, so keep the kids away.  You can read it at work so long as no one is looking over your shoulder and they aren’t close enough to hear you erupting in laughter.

The Defective Yeti
I don’t even know how to begin describing this site.  I guess it’s a blog, and it’s written by a very talented and witty guy.  Just read it and you’ll be hooked.

The Sneeze
I’d put this site in the same category as Defective Yeti.  No summary needed.  Just read a few posts, and enjoy the audio clips as this guy tortures his kids with humour.

Now we move on to some sites that are less about the voyeurism that comes from looking into other people’s lives and minds.  These sites are about creativity, problem-solving and DIY-ness.  Even if you aren’t into soldering or building your own linux box, it’s inspiring to see what other people do with their free time, and can get ideas of your own off the ground.

Lifehacker
This site (updated frequently each day) does what it says; it hacks your life.  Focusing on self-improvement through efficiency, each post varies from software-use tips to social advice.  This site is best used with RSS to bypass posts that don’t interest you.

MakeZine’s MakeBlog
Although it’s targeted at the home-based d0-it-yourself enthusiast, even those of us with 10 thumbs and no drill press can enjoy seeing the fruits of other people’s labours.  At the very least, watching other people work can get your own creative juices flowing.

MakeUseOf
This is sort of like MakeZine, but instead of hardware and PVC, it’s internet, software and web.  I’ve installed at least a dozen apps after reading about them here and Iv’e never been disappointed.  The best part is that I never even knew I needed them until reading about them here, in a well-written review.  Like LifeHacker, this site is best used with RSS.

Surely you have some suggestions for sites that didn’t make this list.  Submit them in the comments.

It’s reassuring to hear him on the line, and that’s all I need from his calls.  It’s as though I’m saying to myself “Yup, he’s still alive” and I like to think that he gets as much from leaving a message on my machine as he gets when I actually answer and just grunt “uh huh” as he tells me the same stories time and time again.

One day, he will call with a real problem and I’ll hear the anxiety in his voice on the recording.  I’ll probably feel guilty for not answering (well, more guilty than I already feel) and I’ll call him right back.  I’ll lie and say that I was just coming into the house as we was leaving the message, and we’ll talk for hours.  He’ll know I was lying, but he won’t care because he got to talk to me in the end.  After all, the end justifies the means.  I read that in a book he got me for Christmas a few years ago.

One day, I hope he will call with really good news and I won’t feel guilty at all.  I’ll listen to the message over and over and over again until my machine is almost worn out, and then I’ll call him.  I’ll tell him the machine is broken and act like I didn’t hear the message at all just to hear him share his good news all over again… fresh.  He’ll know I was lying, but he won’t care because he got to talk to me in the end.  That will be a very good day.

Today is not that day.  A few minutes later, the phone rings again and his voice sounds shaky and upset through the hiss and static of the machine.  Today (like most days) he has a problem and his problems are mine.  In a few minutes, I’ll call him back and go through the routine of listening to him, offering some advice that he’ll ignore, and then listening to him again.  He just needs someone to listen.

So, for the few minutes I have before I call him back, I will collect my thoughts, relax and prepare myself.  This is never easy, but in the end I like that he needs me.  After all, the end justifies the means, or so I’ve read.

“Yeah,” Calvin responded casually, “I figured that might get back to you.”

“Isn’t there some kind of code preventing you from ratting me out.  We’re friends Calvin.  It’s pretty weak of you to badmouth me just to try to score with some girl.”

“I wasn’t trying to score with her John.”

“Don’t worry.  I wouldn’t blame you if you were, but trust me, that girl would not be worth the effort required.”

Calvin thought for a while before he responded.  “I used to believe in codes, and in unwritten understandings.  Then I got tired of covering for you.  You’re not just breaking hearts here John, at least when it comes to girls like Kerry, you’re also messing with their worldview.”

“You know as well as I do Calvin that her ‘worldview’ is garbage.”

“So now your job is to shake the faith of those you decide to be weak-minded?  That’s not what it says on the CD cover I was reading yesterday.”

“Screw the CD cover!”  This wasn’t the first time that Calvin had called John to task on his excessive lifestyle, but it was the first time that he contrasted it with the message his CDs and posters conveyed.  “I’m an artist Calvin!  My art, the music, the promotional stuff, that all has a purpose.  I’m not bound to live my life that way.  You know, my manager encourages me to do my own thing, as long as none of it becomes high profile.”

“Who’s your manager these days?”

“His name’s Joe L. Boisvert.  You might not remember him, but he went to college with us.  He didn’t like you all that much.  Anyway, he not only encourages it, he wants me to email him about it.  It creeps me out thinking about him sitting at his computer waiting to read about my sex life.”

After a short pause, Calvin switched the discussion back to Kerry.  “You know, to be honest, Kerry’s asking questions that would have come up pretty soon anyway, but you’ve still gotta be more sensitive about these things.”

“Since we’re being honest with each other Calvin,” John started.  The tension of the conversation had eased a bit,  “you may as well hear this from me.  Girls don’t want sensitivity; it’s a sign of weakness.  At least that’s been my experience.”

“It’s all I’ve got,” laughed Calvin.  “I don’t have your rock star good looks.”

The serious issues quickly passed as their conversation shifted back on to other issues.  The coffee shop had that affect on these old friends.

The next night, the same John Kraybill sat in an apartment at the other end of the city.  That night too he preferred to avoid any kind of serious issues.  He had something much more recreational in mind.  The girl who his arm was around was well aware of what he was thinking.  Over the past few weeks, she had been quite the willing participant in that particular activity.  She surprised even herself by resisting when he leaned in to kiss her.

“I don’t think we should,” she said pushing him back, “not tonight.”

This kind of hesitation was new to John, at least in this stage of relationships.  “What’s got into you?”  he asked.

“I just don’t think that we should be doing this.”

“Zoie,” he began, saying her name as though her were trying to bring back the girl he had been with the past few nights, “how about you let me worry about my own conscience?”

“That’s just it,” she exclaimed, “I think you stopped worrying about your own conscience a long time ago.  Girls like Kerry really look up to you, and when you act like this …”

“Have you told her about this?” he asked, interrupting her scolding.  His image could only be maintained if these secret sexual relationships were kept secret.  Girls like Kerry, though less physically involved, were too ashamed to tell anyone of any importance.

“Don’t worry, your dirty little secret is still safe,” she said, mocking his self-interest.  John was relieved, but was slightly troubled to realize something else.  Most of the girls he had this kind of short-lived fling with saw it as their dirty little secret too.  “But I have been talking to her,” Zoie continued, “and when you act like you do, it really messes a girl like her up.  Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It hasn’t seemed to bother you until now,” he said defensively.

“I’ll admit, this hasn’t been my finest moral moment either, but I’m not sure I want to be with someone who says one thing on the stage, and is a different animal in the bedroom.”

“So what do you want from me?” John asked.

“I want you to be honest about who are.”

“I’m a performing artist Zoie.  If I only sang about what I believed, I’d lose my whole fan base.  My honesty would cost me my job.”  It was an issue thought about before, but only because he was starting to really care for Zoie, and the fact that his arousal had worn off, that he could articulate it calmly.  “I’m creating a spiritual experience for these people.  Doesn’t that count for something?”

“But it’s fake,” she protested, “doesn’t that bother you?”

“It’s not entirely fake,” he said, “I do believe some of it.”

“Still, I think you should call off your next few shows, at least until we’ve worked some of this stuff out.”

“So what brought you to cancel your shows?” asked a bewildered Calvin as the two friends sat at their regular table at the coffee shop.

“Zoie’s got me thinking about being more honest with myself,” explained John, “but really, it’s stuff I’ve been thinking about for a while.  We’re going to sit down and work out some of this faith stuff together.”

“Zoie!” said Calvin.  A few weeks ago, this revelation would have been a lot more painful than it was now.  “Were you sleeping with her?”

John nodded his head.  “Bad idea, eh?”

“I don’t know, John.  It’s a bad idea that crossed my mind a few times.”  They laughed.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for this conversation process, but if you’re going to be distracted …”

“Don’t worry,” Calvin laughed.  “I’ll be fine, besides, things are moving along well with Kerry now.”  He hadn’t ever been in a position to tell John about his own relationships before, but strangely he didn’t feel like bragging.  “You know, this might be just the thing Kerry needs too.  Maybe the four of us could chat about this some time.”

That Sunday, the church bulletin announced that the John Kraybill concert had been cancelled.

“I wonder why it was cancelled,” asked a middle aged woman to her friend in the pew beside her.

“I hear he lost his faith,” came the reply.

“Isn’t that a shame.”

“Calvin?  Hi.  It’s Kerry.”  Her voice seemed hopeful and apologetic at the same time.

“Hi Kerry.  Good to hear from you again.”  He had tried calling her number once too, but he didn’t expect her to call him back.  He got the vibe that he wasn’t ‘saved’ enough to be worth her time.  Calvin knew that John was still in town, and the girls had given him their numbers as well.  There was no way that they would have waited this long to call John back.  Calvin couldn’t help but be suspicious of why she was calling, but he did mean what he said, it was good to hear back from her.

“Good to hear from you again too,” she said.  In a somewhat hesitant tone, she added, “we got your messages.  Sorry for not calling you back earlier.”  Calvin had gotten the brush-off before but something seemed different this time.  Was there a quiver in her voice?  Was there something else she wanted to say?  It felt like another one of those times where there was something he was supposed to have picked up.  Rather than guess what it was, he figured it was safer to remain clueless.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.  “Hey, I remember hearing John say that he was going to be in town for a few weeks.  Have you been able to meet up with him?”

“Yeah,” she began slowly, “yeah, we got together a few times.”  She paused.  Compared to her excitement at the concert and the coffee shop afterwards, Kerry’s ambivalence about John didn’t seem to fit.  She realized that she had just admitted to responding to John’s calls, and ignoring Calvin’s.  “They were kinda spur-of-the-moment things,” she added, hoping to comfort Calvin’s ego.  “We thought about calling you.”

Calvin didn’t need to be comforted.  He didn’t blame her for choosing to spend time with an attractive professional musician over him-any woman would-but why did she seem so apologetic?  Suddenly he understood what was going on, why she was upset and why she had called him of all people.

“Kerry did you want to talk in person?”  Usually he avoided saying things like this for fear that it would be viewed as a romantic advance.  In fact, she figured it probably was, but there were some things that she really wanted to talk to him about.

“It’s late,” she began.  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Not at all.  In fact, I was about to head out for my evening walk anyway.  Can you meet me at the entrance to Laurier park in ten minutes?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”  It wasn’t an area she would walk through alone, but with someone else she’d feel safer.  “I’ll see you in a bit Calvin.”

“Yup, bye.”  He hung up the phone feeling an unfamiliar rush.  It would be insensitive to consider this a date, but he still thought it’d be best to brush his teeth again.

Leaning on the gate at the entrance to the park, Calvin couldn’t help but notice that Kerry looked significantly less glamourous than he remembered.  Her loose fitting jeans and hoodie outfit complimented her much less than what she was wearing the first time Calvin saw her.  She also seemed to be a lot less comfortable in the park, than she had at the church.

“Hi Calvin,” she said as she met him at the gate.  “Thanks for meeting me like this.  I really need someone to talk to.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as they turned to walk into the park.  Looking at her up close, Calvin could also tell that she had been crying on her way over.

“I haven’t been in this area for a while,” Kerry said, looking around.  “This park looks kind of shady.  Are you sure this place is safe?”

“Don’t be fooled by appearance Kerry,” Calvin answered confidently.  “I go for walks here all the time.”

“If you say so,” Kerry responded carefully.  Still she decided that she would walk a little closer to him, making Calvin wonder if that strategy would work with other girls as well.

They had walked a little while before he finally asked, “so what’s on your mind Kerry?  I’m guessing it has something to do with John.”

“Yeah,” she started.  “You’re going to think I’m a pathetic little girl with the way I’m over-reacting to this.  You used to be friends with John.  I was hoping maybe you could help me understand what’s going on with that guy.”

Calvin wanted to be cautious, but this situation was frustratingly similar to other conversations he’d had.  “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea of what happened, but it’s probably best if I just stick to my general observances of John.”

Surprised by his confidence, Kerry responded, “I’m curious as to what you think happened.”

“I don’t think I want say it,” said Calvin, even more cautious than before, “and I’m quite sure you don’t want to hear me say it.”

“No really,” she insisted.  “I want you to tell me.”  She was quite sure that he wouldn’t know, and was curious where he was getting this confidence from.

“Okay,” he began.  “Well, it’s just a guess, but I’m thinking you went out together, and he got you naked on your first date.”

“Wow,” she exclaimed, surprised by his frankness and accuracy.  “That’s pretty much it.”

“And now you’re having a crisis of faith wondering why he, as an upstanding Christian guy would do that, and why you, as a decent Christian girl, would let him.”

Kerry took a moment to let his assessment soak in.  “I guess you know me better than I thought.”

“I’ve never pretended to understand how Christian girls work,” said Calvin, “but when you know John as well as I do, this kind of thing is frighteningly routine.”

“How did you know?” asked Zoie.  She may not have been his biggest fan, but his alluring voice and his rock star good looks were enough to even make a girl like her quiver at the chance of meeting him.
“I was the roommate” said Calvin as he got up to greet his old friend.  Meanwhile the girls tried discreetly to check if their hair and makeup looked right.
With the handshakes and pleasantries out of the way, John asked Calvin, “Who are the chicks?”
“Still the same old John.” laughed Calvin.  “They sat beside me at the concert.  I figured they’d like the chance to meet you.”
“I hope they want more than just an autograph.”
“Actually,” explained Calvin, “that’s how I convinced them to join me here.  One of them was filling in a ballot for one of your autographed posters, and I told them I’d get them one better.”
“‘Attaboy,” said John, giving Calvin a jovial shot in the arm.  “I’ll do my best.”
“Just try to share the spotlight a bit tonight John,”said Calvin, almost under his breath.  “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
When they arrived at the table with John’s coffee and donut, Calvin gave the formal introduction.  “John, this is Zoie and Kerry.”
“Wow,” said Kerry as they shook hands.  She was trying not to sound too overwhelmed by his presence, and trying to show a little of her own cleverness.  “You two were roommates and your names are John and Calvin?  You had the John Calvin room.  It’s like it was meant to be.”
Not sure if Kerry herself understood the irony of what she just said, Calvin prepared his response to the joke that had been pointed out more than once by their Bible college friends.  “We prefer to the term ‘predestined.’”
Calvin couldn’t help but chuckle at his own joke.  It was after all the last bright spot he would be allowed in the conversation.

Calvin wondered if that homeless man, maybe he should have asked him his name, would feel comforted at this benefit concert.  The poor guy could have at least made a meal out of the hor d’oeuvres that were being served in the church lobby.  A quick glance at the program reminded him that it was in fact a vestibule.  As much as he felt out of place, Calvin shook his head thinking about the irony of that bum not finding refuge at a benefit concert for a homeless shelter.

Looking at his ticket stub, a pang of conscience reminded him that his two dollars of charity didn’t make up for the twenty dollars he could have paid for his free ticket.  Fortunately for him, the program had a donation envelope for a free will offering to be taken at the end of the concert.  Calvin had just finished writing out his cheque for eighteen dollars when he was interrupted by a bright eyed brunette wearing blue jeans and a John Kraybill t-shirt.

“Are these seats taken?” she asked.

He had tried not to think of it as a rock concert, but his friend was now a celebrity, and he was just going to have to get used to the reality of it.

“They’re all yours,” smiled Calvin.  As much as he hated seeing John’s face on a t-shirt, at least she wore it well.

“Thanks,” beamed the brunette as she and a friend took off their jackets and lowered the cushion on the theater style seats..  “My name’s Kerry and this is my friend Zoie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking both their hands, “I’m Calvin.”  He was ready to set aside his cynicism for the rest of the evening.  John didn’t know it, but for the first time, he had helped Calvin meet a girl, let alone two cute girls.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” grinned Kerry as she looked around at the colourfully decorated walls of the sanctuary.  “And check out this church.  Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yeah,” nodded Calvin, hoping to hide his disdain for the glitz and glamour of this kind of mega-church, “it’s something else.”  Wanting to shift the conversation in other directions, he asked “so are you guys big fans of John?”

“Well, yeah.  I am.  Zoie notsomuch. I picked up his CD last year and I can’t get over his voice.  It’s like Burton Cummings meets Bill Gaither.”

Not sure which of the three men being connected would have been more offended by that comparison, Calvin turned his attention to Zoie.  “So I”m guessing this isn’t really your scene then?”

“No, sorry,” she started.  “I’m not really into the whole church thing.  I volunteer at the shelter, so I’m just here to support their work.”

“She’s the one that told me about the concert.  As soon as I heard, I insisted we buy tickets, and now here we are.”

“So where do you two know each other from then?” asked Calvin, sensing that these two beauties didn’t quite have everything in common.

“We work together at a bank downtown.”

They were cut off by the speaker who introduced himself as Pastor of Celebratory Worship.  He started by welcoming everyone to his church and went on to introduce John and his music.

After the concert, Kerry was filling out her ballot for an autographed poster, when Calvin got up the nerve to do something he wouldn’t normally do.  “You know, if you two are up for joining me for a coffee, I could help you out with that.”

“I think she’ll be able to fill out the form on her own.”

“What?!  You could get me an autographed poster of John Kraybill!”

“I can do you one better than that.”  Calvin spoke with a confidence he rarely experienced in the presence of attractive women, but he almost never had a card of this magnitude up his sleeve.  Sure his surprise might actually draw their attention away from him, but this was the closest thing he’d had to date in a very long time.

“Alright then, you’re on!”

“Hi there,” I greeted haphazardly, juggling my plastic container of clothes as I took small steps towards the door. He offered to open it for me.

“Ah, it’s OK. I’ve got it!” I went inside, dropping coins in two machines, organizing the loads. There was no one else in the laundromat.

I picked up a magazine from the rack, an old issue of People – good for the latest gossip on Paris and Britney – and headed outside for some fresh air. The two hours I spent at the laundromat were a welcome respite from my daily routine of deadlines, legal agreements, phone calls. I fell into a daydream of California.

The Cuban aroma permeated my space. The gentleman was engrossed in the Globe and Mail, but he somehow sensed that I had turned towards him. He lowered his newspaper.

“Nice day, eh?”

“Yeah,” I answered, still curious about why he was at the laundromat. I’d gone here for the past two years. I’d never seen him. He didn’t really belong. This was a zone for university students; twentysomethings whose apartments were lacking in some of life’s conveniences, and the occasional street folk.

“I just got back from a camping trip. We went up to Bon Echo Park. Ever bee there?”

This seemed to catch his attention. He put the newspaper down and looked straight at me.

“I haven’t gone camping in years. And no, I don’t think I’ve ever been to Bon Echo.” He paused, and then continued. “I just got back from a trip to Dubai. We only go to hotels – the nicest hotels. I don’t think I can ever go back to camping.”

“So, I’m just curious, and by the way, I’m Kenneth.” We shook hands and he introduced himself as Jim. “What are you doing here?”

Jim took a long drag from his cigar. I almost asked him if he had another Cohiba, but thought better of it.

“My son’s in university here. I don’t think he knows how to do laundry, or maybe he’s just too lazy. We spoiled him too much. His place is a total disaster. I spend an hour driving from Toronto to Waterloo every other Saturday because it’s the only time I ever get to see him.  So I do his laundry.” Jim fumbled in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a worn business card. I stared at it for a moment. I was talking to the owner of a yacht company.

“I’ve been all around the world, seen a lot. And you know what really matters?”

“No,” I responded, softly.

“I think about death sometimes. At the end of the day, when I’m on some bed in a hospital, and my face is turned to the guy beside me, I will not be talking about yachts, about money, or any of that shit.”

I looked across the street, witnessing all these students in line at the bus stop, waiting. We do so much waiting in life. And I was waiting for my load to finish.

Jim caught my distracted look and made a gesture with his hands, saying in a loud voice, “I will talk about my son. I think he’ll pull through and be a success. He just needs to grow up. And then I’ll talk about all my adventures, most of which happened around your age. And finally, I’ll talk about all the women I slept with.”

I burst out laughing.

Jim rubbed his wedding ring.

My cell phone started ringing. Time for the dryer.

“So why are you here?” Jim called as I got up and headed inside.

“I know this sounds crazy. I’ve got laundry at my apartment, but I still come here. I guess this is the one place where I don’t have interruptions, where I can just be free to think.”

I held the door open, recognizing my words.

This was an interruption. I’ll have to plan more of those.

I smiled back at Jim, as if to say thanks.