How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Blog

The Spanish word for "Aunt"

2012-02-08T11:56:00.000-08:00

"This is an unusual song, dedicated to an unusual person, who makes me feel... unusual." (Pump Up the Volume)

I have a secret. It isn't a secret that I can't tell, but a secret that I can't write. In the age of over-sharing, we've become accustomed to facebooking, tweeting, or blogging our lives for friends and/or strangers alike. "If it isn't on Facebook, it didn't happen." If that's the case, then I'm in a situation that isn't happening. Apparently, the anonymity factor is more or less vital to my mental well being, i.e., if the internet knew, I would become a target of envy for some, and derision for others. It sounds more like I'm in borderline witness protection status, than having become rather close to someone with a sizable (and potentially unstable) cult following. There are ironies on top of complications within Russian dolls, but none of it really matters, and there are really only two out of seven billion people that need to know.

Save it- put it in the bank.

2012-02-06T13:04:00.000-08:00

No, I haven't posted in millennia, and that's just how it is. I was under the impression that I'd been creatively bankrupt for a while, because things didn't flow the way they used to. The reality of the situation is, "if you don't use it, you lose it." Being preoccupied with other things gave me less time to do what I enjoy, or so I thought. Whoever came up with the Nike campaign of, "JUST DO IT," was a sage, and righteous individual, because things are easier to do when you do them, and harder to do when you don't. I have all the time in the world. We all do. WE are the ones who choose how to spend our time, and what we spend it on. It's all a matter of priority. If spending time with a lover is a priority, one finds time, one finds space (yes, I guess there is still a tiny kernel of bitterness). If creating art is a priority, choose a tool and get to work. If getting a six-pack is a priority, start crunching (or go to the LQ, depending on your definition of six-pack). If making money is a priority, find a job. Any job. Two. Three. In any case, I'm writing now, and maybe it will continue.

...Like now. You don't know it, but I just wrote pages and pages, then deleted it all because I didn't actually know what the hell I was typing about. This blog has a history of streamofconsciousitis and randomia, but that was some drunken acid flashback fuckery...

Back in a bit.

Exit Through the Whoopie Cushion

2010-07-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

I recently saw the Banksy film, "Exit Through The Gift Shop." A thought-provoking film, which left me wondering if it were a documentary, satire, or a clever prank. Given that Banksy is involved, I have to think the answer is "D," all of the above. The anti-hero of the film, a weird little Frenchman called Thierry Guerra, is also a subject of speculation. Did he really think that following artists around for 10 years gave him license to become an artist himself? Did he actually create any of the art in his monumentally vainglorious debut show? Does Thierry Guerra (aka Mr Brainwash, or MBW) even exist?

I've done a bit of intersnooping, and have come to the conclusion that, while Thierry Guerra is a real person, and really did film ten years of street artists, "Mr Brainwash" is a prank conceived by Banksy. In this article from 2008, there is a rather long comment from a guy named Juan Rodriguez, who was on site during the installation of MBW's big LA debut. He mentions rarely seeing MBW creating any art, and that very few crew members spent more than one day there during the entire install. However, there was one person there every day, who painted, screen-printed, and tagged constantly. His name was Roman Lefeburte. In Banksy's Wikipedia entry, there is speculation that his real name is Robert, Robden, Robin Gunningham or Robin Banks. Robert/Robden/Robin or Roman? Coincidence? I think not.

How I Started Worrying and Learned to Loathe Oil

2010-06-14T12:14:00.000-07:00

Last week, there was a group of protesters at the Arco gas station across the street from my house. The were urging the boycott of BP and it's subsidiaries, Arco being one. Problem is, there's a gas station around the corner, and another directly across the street. The oil spill that is replacing the Gulf of Mexico could have been caused by the parent companies of either of those stations, and surely the same vitriol would be spewed towards any company that was in the same situation. Blaming BP is not the answer- a systematic and fundamental shift in the lifestyles of every person in every Post Industrial country in the world is.

Weaning the planet off of oil will not be easy, or fast, or easily distillable (I made that word up) into 30 second soundbites to insure politicians can keep their jobs. On the other hand, JFK asked congress to put a man on the moon in '61, and 8 years later, Neil Armstrong was setting up Alan Shepard's lunar putt-putt course. Unfortunately, the pragmatism of the 60's has been replaced by 21st century duelism (made that one up, too). In our society, no one can say anything without someone else calling that person an idiot and starting a Facebook page, "One million strong against that one thing that somebody said which I don't actually know anything about but since (insert left or right wing mouthpiece) says it won't work I believe it." So, just like Live Strong bracelets, Obama's presidential campaign, and the concept that people pay attention to Lady Gaga because of her "music," change will have to start from the bottom up. But, how?

As I was considering the futility of protesting a gas station, I thought about my family in middle America. It takes half an hour to walk from their house to anywhere that isn't another house. Living as I do, in an urban city, it's easy to not rely on a car, but for them, it's not possible. Another thing to worry about is the city planning, infrastructure, and business that is based on having a car. Mass transit and bicycles are also not viable options for families, the elderly, and infirm. What we need, is to build a better engine. In about a hundred years, communication has gone from telegraphs to iPhones, but in about the same time, the automobile engine has gone from the combustible engine, to... the combustible engine.

...And We're Back With This Weekend's Box Office

2010-05-02T22:22:00.000-07:00

First off, I don't care how long it's been, I don't want to hear it. OK?

I was just reading the estimated box office receipts for this weekend in the NY Times, and was taken aback by the lackadaisical phrase, " In third place was "Date Night (Fox), with only $7.6 million."

Only.

I don't know about anyone else, but I can't imagine putting the word "only" in front of 7.6 million dollars. I get an unemployment check of 7.1 hundred dollars and get a little giddy- 7.6 MILLION AMERICAN DOLLARS IS NOT "ONLY."

Let's go a step further: "Date Night," after four weeks of release, has taken in $73.6 million. Where does that money go? The studio fronts the money to make the movie, so everyone from Tina Fey to the caterers has been paid months ago. So, the studio recoups it's investment, and then builds schools for underprivileged children in Darfur, right? OK, maybe not- but with a movie like "Avatar," which made 2.something BILLION dollars, I want to hear that something is being done with at least a little bit of that money that has nothing to do with any individual or corporate account.

I've had this pipe dream for years, that Hollywood would take a cue from the music industry and make a "We Are the World" style movie. The biggest actors, directors, producers, writers, cinematographers, FX houses, etcetera, would donate their efforts into making an epic film, with all the proceeds going to various charities, causes and relief efforts around the world. I admit to being a bit of a romantic, but how cool would it be to watch a movie that was literally saving the world?

If only a little bit.

Kool Aid in the Cult of Personality

2009-12-22T10:57:00.000-08:00

Hugh Grant, Bill Clinton, Eddie Murphy, Britney Spears, Michael Jackson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Christian Bale, Kobe Bryant, John Edwards, George Michael, Pitt & Jolie, Rihanna, Magic Johnson, Gary Hart, Charlie Sheen, Whitney Houston, Robert Downey Jr, and now Tiger Woods.

The list goes on and on and on. Not everyone on this list has acheicved the same level of scorn and/or righteous indignance of the masses, but this list still will continue in perpetuity, and five minutes later, no one will care. Right now, we're in the middle of a traffic jam, rubbernecking at a celebrity car wreck with Tiger Woods at the wheel. He can hit a little ball with a stick really well- is that any reason to hold him to a higher standard than any of the people I know that sleep around just as much? Since when did fame equal heroism? We no longer live in a culture that provides heroes for the masses to worship, only idols to be ogled. When those idols prove to be no more beatific than everyone else, they are torn down and either repaired or replaced, for no better reason than "yes, we can."

Behind the Music

2009-09-11T02:54:00.000-07:00

Last night, I made the trek out to Oakland (which has become an almost weekly thing) and went to my new favorite venue, the Fox Theatre. Last month, I had the pleasure of seeing Sonic Youth there, and found the place to be pretty damn decent. Quality, even, as they say inland. The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs were performing, and having heard good things about their live show, I had reasonable expectations. It's a funny thing, because I usually have no expectations. People tend to think that as a musician, I always want to go see live music, check out bands I've never heard of, and just generally hang out in the scene.

Nothing could be further from the truth. When I go to show, it tends to be work. Not that I have an agenda, but I can't help analyzing everything that happens from how efficient the tech crew is, to the lighting, stage presence, the flow of the setlist, audience reaction... How long do they wait between songs? Is the FOH actually paying attention? How would I do things different? It isn't easy to sit (stand) back and have a good time with a constant commentary in my head.

There were two openers: the first was totally forgettable ironic indie hipster noise that annoyed me for the entire twenty minutes I had to slog through. Next came a band that I'd recently read about in the Guardian. I probably read about three sentences before deciding that it was some sort of detached satirical tripe that writers working for independent weekly newspapers take for cool, and I find to be a steaming pile of koala crap, air-lifted fresh from down under.

I was right.

There's a quote from legendary journalist John Lawton, who said that the "irony of the information age is that it has given respectability to uninformed opinion." Well, modern technology has given respectability to the bedroom producers who shouldn't have gotten out the front door. Of course people should be able to pursue any hobby they like, but there is a sharp, clear line between hobby and career. Anybody who is computer saavy and not completely tone deaf can program something that sounds like music, and then can jump around pretending to sing to it. Those people are free to do it all they want, but I prefer they don't ask me to be around when it happens.

Enough about all that. My whole point of writing this post is to proclaim that Karen O has the potential to become the biggest star of her generation. When I watch a show, I pay attention to everything (see above), and it is truly rare to see someone play a crowd the way she does, and clearly enjoy it. It was obvious from the start that it was her show, that no matter what went into making the music, she was the focal point on stage. It was rock and roll at it's finest- majestic, dirty, grandiose, and in your face. My fear over the years has been that MTV would ruin the live show. That bands would either try to recreate their videos to the point that there would be no point in paying to see it done up close and personal, or the other extreme- they eschew any artifice and just stand there in t-shirts, staring sullenly and looking like they want to be anywhere other than on stage. Karen O struck the perfect balance, knowing that some things that happen on stage are stupid, but people pay to see SHOWS as opposed to performances.

Stunday, July 12, 2009

2009-07-13T00:29:00.000-07:00

I guess one could say that my uncle M was the gray sheep of the family. He wasn't the Crazy Uncle, or the Uncle In Jail, he just had bigger horizons than Louisville. Growing up, relatives would talk about how I seemed to take after him. How I would probably just up and leave when I grew up, just like M. I had always wanted to meet him, then one day out of the blue, he'd moved back to KY, gotten my number, and called me in SF. We talked for two hours. He told me about touring Europe, playing with Al Green, living the free life of an Artist. He'd returned after 20 some odd years with absolutely nothing to show for what he'd accomplished in life, and wouldn't have changed a thing. He told me not to let anyone tell me how to live, because anyone who isn't driven by the passions we share, won't understand. A couple years later, we finally met. There wasn't much talking this time, we just went into his studio and played for a couple hours. It was rough, sloppy, even cheesy at times, but there was more communication going on than anyone else who was watching would know. I'm glad we got to meet that one time. There won't be another, because my uncle died Saturday night.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Being the fan that I am of balance, there was a flip side to the loss of a kindred spirit. You, faithful reader, may remember R, the woman with whom I share a bond so strong that we allowed each other to live our passions separately, rather than compromise ourselves to be together. I haven't seen her in 11 years, or spoken to her in 6, and not for want of trying. Well, thanks to the addictive miracle of Facebook, I saw a picture of her, taken less than a week ago. Seeing that picture, and feeling what I felt- I truly understand love. Not the lusty giddiness of romance, not the dizzy, whirling dervish of a crush, not even the Emily Bronte thumping chest of unrequited love, but embracing the simple thought of another as the most important thing in the world. The problem with this, is that someday, somewhere, someone is going to read this, and think that she will have to compare. I have no illusions here; R has been happily married with a daughter for most of this decade. This is the totally selfless love that has nothing to do with attraction or even emotional attachment. It's what Rilke was talking about, the ultimate, perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough.

The United States in America

2009-07-05T23:36:00.000-07:00

I used to live on Dolores Street in a flat that had been rented by the same woman for 50 years. She grew up in Colombia, and came to the States in her 20's. We were talking one day, and she asked me what country I was from. When I told her I was American, she told me that she's American too, America is more than the United States.

I'm not big on holidays in general. For most of my adult life, I've been ambivalent about Independence Day, but after living in the Mission for 3 years, I had come to actively dislike it, and now, it actually scares me a little. The active dislike is because I live far enough from gang territory to not worry about it, but close enough that I hear "fireworks" year round. Nerve wracking.

Now here's the scary thing that I realized this weekend: this is a holiday to celebrate the psychotic, sociopathic, and immature nature of government. The idea that were the government a person, it would be institutionalized for life is lifted part and parcel from The Illuminatus Trilogy. I'm not just referring to the US government, in fact, I'm thinking of North Korea, Iran, The Xinjiang province in China, Honduras, Mexico, Darfur...

Anyway, when we have problems with other people, we're supposed to talk them out (at least that's what my parents taught me). Use logic, philosophy, humor, whatever is best in diffusing the situation. The governmental notion of humor is, "do what we say or we will execute you." (A Chinese official really did threaten execution to anyone who dared to protest). For logic: "We don't think you are right , and if you don't agree, we'll kick you out and not listen to you (see Honduras). You get the idea; the point is, every July 4th, we celebrate the fact that our government has been kicking other governments in the nuts and stealing their lunch money for two-hundred thirty-whatever years. Pretty sad, if you ask me.

Really?? I mean really?

2009-06-26T03:28:00.000-07:00

I've been on the lookout for a while now, if you take my meaning, and tonight was a good night. A really good night. Not in the "I had a good (nudge nudge wink wink) night" sort of way, but in the, "wow" sort of way.

She's half Belgian and half Spanish, a WTF combination that is right up my alley. There was no small talk, it was straight into philosophy, religion, European vs US culture, language and semantics, and Bucky Fuller. Everything I could possibly ask for. She has dark, Mediterranean looks, speaks French, and is almost six feet tall. How could anything possibly be wrong?

...she just turned twenty one.

She wasn't alive when 'Thriller" was released. She probably knows "Chocolate Rain" better than "Purple Rain." Say Johnny Depp, and '21 Jump Street' won't even be a possibility. F i f t e e n y e a r s separates our ages. She seems to be an old soul, and I am pretty young at heart (the Facebook quiz told me I'm still 27) but day-yum!

I-yi-yi...

UPDATE
I was chatting about last night's events with a friend, and she had something profound to say. It went something like this:

"so?"

Absolute genius. I'm always creating problems before things even get started. I'm picky as hell. No one is ever going to be perfect, so if 95% is there, why let 5% be the deciding factor?

Sometimes It's Nutty, Having Most Everything Said

2009-06-07T13:40:00.000-07:00

I just finished writing a new post. It was witty and inventive and told another chapter in a related story. Then I realized that the main thrust of this story divulges a secret that is not ready to be told. Granted, it is highly unlikely that the person who can't know about this secret is going to read my blog, or find out the secret from one of the five or six people who read it.

So, while I would love to tell you, I can't put it out there for the whole world to see. Suffice to say, someone whom I trusted implicitly took away something and someone who was precious to me. He lied to me, he hurt her, and betrayed us both. He was family to me, and I love him for all the things he did, but, knowing what I know now, I can never forgive him. On the other hand, the hurtful, cold, and even crazy things she did make so much more sense now, and while she went too far, I can start to forgive her.

Songs about F*cking

2009-06-05T16:52:00.000-07:00

I like sex.

You're probably wondering "who doesn't," and, "why does a declaration need to be made," but think honestly; could you say those three words to anyone, anywhere? In the United States, people are generally obsessed with sex, but hate and fear talking about it.

We have an increasingly agnostic and liberal population, regardless of whether you're in a red state or a blue state. Still, we're stuck in Puritanical views regarding sex. I'm thinking about this in light of the death of David Carradine. More details are coming out about the likelihood of his death being an accidental result of auto-erotic masturbation. So many comments on these news stories disparage him as creepy, deviant, even evil person. Yes, it is a high risk behavior, but so is mountain climbing, or skydiving, or owning a pet chimpanzee, all of which may be seen as a bit crazy, but not in a negative way. Yet somehow, when you bring sex into it, if it isn't straight, missionary style, and in a committed relationship, it's morally wrong all the way up to repugnant.

Does This Apartment Make Me Look Fat?

2009-06-03T23:37:00.000-07:00

Facebook is a great tool for sharing info and thoughts with immediate circles, old friends, relatives, celebrities, and their pets. I like reconnecting with old friends and classmates, or being reminded why they had been jettisoned like so much detritus. I recently heard from about the oldest friend I have, in a manner of speaking (we haven't seen one another in at least 25 years). Looking at his page, I saw that he was married with two children and seemingly settled into a happy family life.

Seeing how a sizable number of my friends are in long term relationships, or engaged, or married, or expecting kids, or have kids, this shouldn't have been a big deal. Thing is, I can remember when they met, had a one month anniversary (?) got engaged, etcetera, etcetera. With this guy, one minute he's ten, the next minute he's Bob Saget. It's like not noticing yourself in the mirror until one morning, you get into the shower, catch a glimpse of something and spin around into the Karate Kid pose before realizing that jiggly person in front of you is you.

The jiggly person I'm looking at in the mirror has no defined career path, still lives with housemates and hasn't had a proper date in about a year. On the other hand, while I may not be a rockstar, I've made music that I enjoy, met and worked with some of my heroes, played a few big stages, and been given some coins for doing it. There are no regrets in any of the decisions I've made in life- I know I was not cut out to be a 'picket fencer,' but I think I need to find a little more equilibrium in my life. It's time to go ahead and make a few changes that I've been considering, but for one reason or another, haven't done. There's never going to be a perfect time, so like the old man that kept a bee colony in a shoebox under his bed, 'f*ck 'em, I want the honey.'

Dragon Music

2009-05-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was kind of really amazing. More than 'kind of' in all reality.

OK, it was neat, really neat.

It was a performance with some moderately insane musicians, making not-so-easy listening music, and having a blast doing it. In truest improv fashion, not everyone in the ensemble had ever met each other before playing. C&M and N were really sweet to come show support, and seemed to ingratiate themselves with several of my other friends, whether they knew it or not ("who are the Brits? We LOVE them"). While they had some idea of what was going to happen, I don't think AD and AJ knew what they were in for, but they seemed to enjoy themselves anyway. I also enjoyed the little hello that made me remember that Rule #2 is no longer a factor (nudge-nudge, etcetera [I've become a fan of writing out 'etcetera', since I really can't come up with a good reason to abbreviate a word that isn't that long or difficult to spell]), but I have no mojo as of late, so it probably doesn't matter.

The trippy thing about the show was the family vibe. Remember, I have no mojo, let alone a preggers gf, toddlers, teenagers or otherwise. This made me feel very Donny (that's 'out of my element,' for those who don't speak Lebowskese). In an audience of a hundred twenty some odd people, there were at least half a dozen pregnant women (including the one on stage). Despite allergies to cuteness, I have to admit that the baby with shooting range ear protection didn't give me hives. There were also a couple of stories that gave me hope for the future (and might make me consider giving thought to the possibility of recuperative therapy on my baby making gene):

S is a phenomenal drummer with a huge range, but is primarily known for his jazz work. With characteristic non chalance, he mentioned how proud he was that his pre-school age son loves Iron Maiden. When he tried to play AC/DC, his son said, "no Daddy, I like the dragon music." This prompted P to tell how he had just celebrated his younger daughter's ninth birthday by giving her her first stereo system. One would imagine in most households, prepubescent girls are infatuated with whatever pop confection is on MTV or Nickelodeon or whatever the kids do these days- but not P's daughter. No, N loves the Residents. Of course, this reminded me of when P took his older daughter to see the White Stripes, and how after the show, he asked E how she liked it. She said they were ok, but the Ramones are better.

On being a rockstar

2009-04-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

"Smell that air... isn't it great to be young and insane?"

Last week, I put my bass in my indestructible Han Solo-in-carbonite case and got on a plane to Portland. The band was to play two shows in support of Thievery Corporation. It was the largest venue I've ever played, and both shows were sold out.

I've realized an odd contradiction about myself recently: I'm a musician and a performer, that is what defines me, but I HATE talking about it. I cringe when someone asks me what kind of music I like. Tell me how much you love the bass, and I'll want to curl up in a fetal position and suck my thumb. Yes, I can get in esoteric, philosophical discussions with other musicians, but for the most part, I would rather talk about unicorns or foot fungus than my favorite bands or what style of music I play.

After one of the shows last weekend, T and I found ourselves in the dressing room, trying, with limited success, to have a quiet moment to decompress. People were pulling us left and right, have a drink, meet this person, etcetera. From the audience perspective, performers are up on stage, having a great time and getting everyone else to join in. That gives the impression that we're all energizer bunnies who do nothing more than party non-stop. ...OK, fine, that image isn't totally unwarranted, but imagine this: You run into a good friend on the street, who introduces you to a new beau. In a brief amount of time, you put effort into shaking hands, making eye contact, and trying to generally make a good impression. Not too taxing, but say that couple gets married, you go to the wedding, and have to do that 50 or a hundred times. If you've done that before, you know how draining it can be by the end of the day. Now try doing it 1500 times in 45 minutes and you'll have an idea of what it's like to be a stage performer. It's pouring your entire being out to a group of strangers, connecting with each one of them and taking them on trip through your soul.

Taking a minute to regroup after that isn't asking too much, is it?

How can we be friends if we can't be lovers?

2009-04-08T15:59:00.000-07:00

Sorry to punish the earholes of your mind with a Michael Bolton reference, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and lately, if I think too much about what I'm going to post, I start thinking about something else.

As all five of my faithful readers know, I don't have the settle-down genome in my DNA. Having a career and a family is not something I have thought too much about. On the other hand, as I get further on with my life, I see people that I don't want to become...

-The 40 year-old dating a college student

-Dennis Hopper in 'River's Edge'

-One those people wearing clothes that are only hip on people half their age (or wears newer versions of the clothes that were hip when he was half his age)

-That guy at the bar whom everyone knows, but secretly wonders what he's still doing at the bar at his age when it's last call on a Monday night?

-Celibate

-Someone who shocks his entire social network by saying, "have you met my new girlfriend?"

Whatever

2009-04-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

I'm a follower of M's blog, but she hasn't posted in what seems like forever. I was going to mention this to her, but then I noticed that my last post was the same day as her last post. It isn't as if nothing has happened in the last 39 days, or my computer was broken, or I was in a hut in Borneo with no internet access. I just haven't been able to pull myself away from Color Junction on my iGoogle Homepage. Everybody (yes, I have asked the entire planet's population- thaaat's why I haven't posted) thinks I should get a crackberry or an iClone, but I know me- I'll miss my bus stop because of that ball rolling game, or I'll start sneaking off to the bathroom at dinner parties to post to Facebook.

The real reason I don't get one of those things is that they are too damned big and ugly. I want one that works like a Theremin. Sleek, compact, and with a soundtrack to 1950's horror films. No, there wouldn't be any email, gps mapping, or that ball rolling game, but that's what holograms are for.

The Black Community

2009-02-20T14:01:00.000-08:00

About a month or two ago, it was a rainy day, so I put out an umbrella stand at work. One of my coworkers walked by and said something about an umbrellaellaella, which I attributed to tourette's. Someone else walked by and said the same thing, and since you can't get tourette's from sharing the same glass, I asked what they were talking about. This was my introduction to the music of Rihanna. I still haven't heard the song, and I don't care. I actually knew who she was from my daily reading of dlisted.com, where she is known as Alien Princess RiRi. So when I heard about her getting beaten by her boyfriend, all I knew was that she sang a song that would probably annoy me, and that she looks a Caribbean "7 of 9."

ABC.COM published a story about the reaction of the "Black Community" to RiRi's incident. I can't be certain, but I don't think I ever received any membership information on joining the Black Community. I have no idea where the Black Community Centre is, and I've never been invited to any Black Community Meetings. Is there a Black Community Rep. Theater Company? How about the Black Community Credit Union? If I get a ticket, can I do Black Community Service?

I find it hard to believe that the writers at ABC news would be so obtuse as to think that all Black people share common experiences, values, morals, etcetera. If Anna Kournikova got beaten, would they ask the Russian Community about their view of domestic violence? If Skeletor- I mean Marc Anthony beat up J-Lo... if J-Lo beat up Marc Anthony, would ABC talk to leaders in the Puerto Rican Community? What about Britney Spears? If K-Fed had smacked her, would the reporters head down to the Trailer Park Community?

Beyond the fact that an all inclusive Black Community doesn't exist, who nominated nothing but raspy voiced pastors with questionable verbiage, and friends of Oprah to be the only spokespeople? If those are the leaders of the Black Community, then I'm glad I don't have a membership.

Danzon

2009-02-01T03:06:00.000-08:00

When I was pre-pubescent, I would watch Teletunes every Sunday morning with my brother. We spent hours over recordings of our favorite videos, learning dance moves from Malcom McLaren's "Buffalo Gals," and every move made by Prince and Michael Jackson. While other kids played kickball and four square at recess, I practiced breakdancing. I really loved dancing, and when I got older, I could be seen every Thursday at Club America, and when that closed, I spent Sundays at Synergy, and Tuesdays at the Snake Pit. Somewhere in between, I would put on my purple Cross-Colours jeans and go raving. Everywhere I went, I owned the dance floor, and everyone I danced with owned it as well. I wouldn't go near a dance floor unless everyone there was there to own the dance floor. No drinks allowed, and if you weren't dancing, and I mean shaking your ass, you were pushed to the side.

Tonight, I went to a dance party. I don't dance much anymore, but I got an invitation, which included an open bar and free food. Global financial retardation doesn't allow me to pass up "free" much anymore, so, despite my better judgement, I went. I say "despite my better judgement," because I found out it was a hippy party. I've gotten beyond the idea of hippies being mildly retarded kids with bad hygiene and even worse fashion sense, and grown to understand that modern hippies are pretentious would be artist-types who lack common sense and refuse to see the world for what it is. There's other stuff involved in their misguided communal psyche, but that is irrelevant to this particular post.

Simple fact of the matter is- hippies can't dance. This was the 5th anniversary of some Burning Man polyester bell bottom and sparkly feather boa b.s. that should have inspired serious freakiness, yet was the same "party like it's 1969" craptasticness that pervades San Francisco. Whatever it was that passed for dancing looked more like a bunch of people that needed to pee. Everyone shifted their weight from one foot to the other in a semblance of rhythm to the umptsee-umptsee fuckery coming out the speakers. I couple of women were really trying, but they looked more like they were allowing the spirit of the goddess to inspire their limbs to undulate in a manner evocative of femininity and sexual spirit-awakening while grounded to the earth mother sensuous Gaia Venus water air thing.

I didn't care about looking cool when I was in their place; I cared about tearing up the floor. I wanted to see everyone else tearing up the floor, and we knew we had done our jobs when we didn't know if we were covered in my sweat, your sweat, or the condensation dripping off of the ceiling. Another thing- people can't dance and drink at the same time. The two are mutually exclusive. If you are really dancing, you can't hold on to a drink. If you are really drinking, you can't dance. I'm not saying dancers must be straight edge, I'm just saying drinks have no place on a dance floor- or hippies.

No, Your Enemy

2009-01-10T15:29:00.000-08:00

I've been reading a book lately that has a cast of anti-heroes as protagonists. It reminded me of when I was a kid, and I had gone to a movie with my mom. We went to movies almost every week while I was in grade school, and this one was some ultra-violent post apocalyptic bubblegum that I don't even remember. What stuck in my mind, was the two of us getting in the car, and her asking if I thought I could ever kill anyone. Not the kind of mother-son conversation one is likely to forget. So there I was, 11 or so years old, and my mom is telling me how if there were any people trying to hurt me or anyone else in our family, she was pretty sure she would be capable of killing them. I imagine that would be true of most mothers, but it isn't something that is often discussed.

There are always going to be subtleties in morality. Your vices are my verses, vice versa and versa vice. Take the Israeli offensive going on right now. Opinion is likely split among those who support Israel, those who are outraged, and those that don't care because it isn't happening to them. This is a conflict that has, in one way or another, been going on for over a hundred years. There is no way of saying which side is right and which is wrong. How can there be any sense of morality in this situation?

On a more basic level, everyone has been through times when it was seemingly appropriate to be dishonest, cruel, or just plain wrong, but for the "right" reasons. What, though, are the "right" reasons? I'm inclined to think there are no "right" reasons, just as much as there are no "wrong" reasons. What it comes down to, is that everything is justifiable in one way or another. Not that I'm planning to do a Marquis de Sade and explore every possible depravity, I'm just saying that I can't judge anyone's actions, and no one can judge mine. Each of us has a biased perspective of our own worlds, where each of us are rulers of our domains. For instance, I don't have any interest in having a 9 to 5, coming home to a wife and kids for a night of TV and the occasional weekend getaway/ yearly trip Disneyworld. Some would say that not propagating the species is wrong, sinful, and just plain weird. I would say that there are enough people on the planet, and enough unwanted babies being born to fill all of Angelina Jolie's needs.

If there are no morals then there is no good or bad, just subjective levels of freedom. This is the true nature of anarchy. Say "anarchy," and most people will have visions of Mad Max style living, but anarchy just means, "one should do what one thinks is right at that moment in time." That is about the same thing as "do what thou wilt shall be the only law," the motto of Alistair Crowley, who cribbed the idea from Francois Rabelais (who was a Benedictine Monk, so let's skip over the satanic thing for now). There is an assumption that anarchy would lead to increased "criminal" behavior, but if there aren't laws, there can't be crime.

...OK, that was the flippant answer, the real one is that one is responsible for one's own behavior. Hopefully, as part of that responsibility, one is making decisions informed and infused with love of others and the self. We are a fallible race, so of course not everyone will be looking out for everyone or even anyone else, but that will happen whether or not there are laws in place to redress the minority of truly evil spirited people. There are not many Lex Luthors in the world- people who plan and act out ways to prey on others. Most crimes are crimes of opportunity, committed during a moment of desperation in the perpetrator and weakness in the victim. No, I'm not saying that the victim is asking for it, I'm saying that predators prey on the most vulnerable: it may be the hungry cheetah in the Serengeti who attacks the gazelle that wanders off alone, or it may be the crack addict that attacks the drunk who wanders off into a dark alley. The people in the center of the bell curve don't have much to worry about. No matter what laws are in place, or who is in charge, things don't really change for those being governed.

...but I won't grow a ponytail

2009-01-03T13:55:00.000-08:00

I've been geeking out pretty heavily lately. Photoshop is something that I like to fool around with, and I've been doing it for years without any real purpose. Now I feel like my experience is growing into a skill I could actually do something with. I know I just ended a sentence with a preposition, what are you going to do about it? To further my skills, I've been entering Photoshop contests online (where else?).

I told you- GEEK

I Smell A Rant

2008-12-29T20:46:00.000-08:00

My friend, "The Old Man," sent me an email today. It was an op-ed piece from the NY Times about some bourgeois twit (Stanley Fish) with two houses complaining about AT&T's poor customer service and lack of staff capable of speaking with proper grammar.

Really?

Really.

Considering the state of the world today, and in a pulpit with a congregation of millions, he wasted time with an "oh poor me" story? He even had the platinum-plated cojones to admit that he would probably offend the logic of a good portion of his readers with his inane-festering-boil-on-the-butt-of-a-grown-man-in-Pampers-crying-because-he-had-to-take-the-silver-spoon-out-of-his-mouth-while-he-flipped-his-legs-over-his-head-to-satisfy-himself (slapdick douche named Stanley Fish) of a blubberfest.

I have friends who have had their hours cut at work from 40 to 16. They don't know how long their savings will cover things like transportation, heat, rent, or food, and this slapdick douche is whining about being on hold because the phone company doesn't have all the services he wants at his second home and all the staff he spoke with didn't have a grasp of syntax that met his standards.

Blow your nose on your sleeve, Stanley Fish Slapdick Douche, because I won't even give you dirt so you can farmer's blow while you cry an ocean of Fiji Water tears, you sorry sad sack of smug.

Sure, I cringe at the redundancy of "Where you at?" The... ellipse... was... designed... to... give... the... reader... a... cue... to... pause...

The. Period. Was. Not.

"Having" or "getting" are plenty enough on their own; no need to "have got" as well.

I could go on, but I have already reached the point where I understand that language is fluid. I'm sure in the 17th century the educated-and-unemployed class were decrying the death of "thou" in common use, so nothing has really changed except... change. I don't tell people not end their sentences with prepositions anymore. Too many people today don't read books, or know who Descartes was, or understand the point of higher level mathematics for me to judge any one individual.

On the other hand, there is something out there in word land that makes my back itch in the one spot that I can't reach: improper antonyms.

I read an article yesterday about the Israeli offensive (pun intended) that started last week. The author was describing the general ebb and flow of tension throughout the years, claiming that violence would "escalate and then eventually de-escalate."

DE-ESCALATE?!?!? Not descend, ebb, fall, gravitate, lower, return to normal levels, not even chill out, but de-escalate.

I was in the BART station this evening, when an announcement was made about using caution when boarding and off-boarding. Not exiting, disembarking, leaving, getting off the godblessamericadamn train, but off-boarding.

Don't tell me, when a plane is about to take off, they'll start saying "final de-exiting call for flight 1518." Or when someone asks about the weather, the response will be, "it's an ex-dark, moon challenged, uncrappy, not-night!" "You look de-relaxed, why not un-stand yourself on that chair?"

Deity maledictive mass of XY chromosomed bovine excrement.

The Association for the Preservation of Unusual Activities*

2008-12-14T16:35:00.000-08:00

This past week, I have felt an underlying, pervasive sense of Donny-ness. I am, to an extent, out of my element. I am good at an awful lot of stuff. Some things useful, some pointless, and some that are entirely beside the point. The one thing that I'm probably best at, is figuring out how to do stuff.

Now I'm faced with a thing that I can't quite wrap my mind around. I've heard (and even witnessed) one person meet a complete stranger, comment to said stranger regarding the stranger's intelligence/wit/attractivocity/inebriation/etcetera, and after a favorable response, say something to the effect of, "Let's ____ (have dinner, see a movie, go for a drink, spin 'round in circles) some time." Then, within a few days (or hours) of this brief conversation, the two people involved actually do whatever mundane activity they have agreed upon. This, to me, is mind boggling.

If I want a to see a movie- I go, unless it happens to be something that someone else I know will particularly enjoy. Why would I want I want to sit in the dark staring at shadows and light with someone, and not know if that person enjoys those particular patterns of shadows and light? If this is someone I don't know, I don't want to be distracted by menus, previews, or breathtaking views.

I need a certain level of guaranteed, uninterrupted interactivity in a controlled setting. Something out of the ordinary enough that it won't be replicated by or with anyone else, but not so unusual as to be off-putting. Can I possibly be more clinical, intellectual and detached?

Yes, absolutely. However, this carefully crafted facade would shatter into millions of tiny reflective pieces. Each piece would, in turn, be it's own mini-big bang, releasing untold and incalculable amounts of energy into the known universe, turning into the unknown and unknowable universe, enabling children all over the globe to eat massive quantities of Snicker bars without getting a sugar high, and everything that Crispin Glover said would start to make sense.

In all abstract theoretical seriousness, dating- in the traditional sense- is totally lost on me. It isn't lost on me that the activities which I call mundane are those that allow two people to interact at the simplest of levels- the "getting to know you" stage. If two people can't enjoy each other while doing something average, they probably don't have what it takes to last romantically. I get that, but...

I'm going to pull a Palin and get back to you

Synchronicity 3

2008-12-12T18:48:00.001-08:00

Some say deja vu is really a form of prescience. Others say it is fate, destiny, past lives remembered or whatever godishness to which one may subscribe. I like the idea of it being a sign to let me know I'm on the right path. A couple of days ago, I saw a note from my old friend K (aka B), who lives in the same state as my old flame R. 'Old Flame' is a misnomer. She is past, present and future. That once in a lifetime soul that bonds and intertwines and even from thousands of miles away, never leaves.

So after seeing the note from K, I googled R, just like I've done a thousand times in the past 5-6 years, and got one of those reunion.com hits, which claimed to have recent contact info, but wants 700 billion dollars to give it away. Please feel free to assume that I did not provide credit card information. If that was the extent of it, I would think nothing more, but right after, I went to meet some friends at a bar, and R's favorite Tom Waits song was playing. Someone (I think it was Dr. Who) once said that if two separate events that are somehow related happen concurrently, pay attention.

Event number three: My phone rang, and for once, I considered answering it. I pulled it out of my pocket, looked at the incoming number, and nearly had a Daffy Duck style seizure. It was an unknown call from area code 505. My thumbs were shaking as I flipped open the phone and said 'hello.'

"Did you know that the factory warranty on your vehicle has almost expired!"

My superhero power will be the ability to reach through phone lines, cell transmissions, space, time, and recording devices in order to squeeze entire tubes of super glue between the butt cheeks of robocall telemarketers.

An odd obsession

2008-12-09T03:03:00.000-08:00

I know it's been a while since my last post, but those are the breaks.

Break it up break it up break it up, yo!

I just came home from playing capture the flag.

Yes, Capture The Flag. the same game played in junior high and elementary school gymnasiums for years before me. Yes, this game involved meeting at the bar and drinking shots of whiskey between rounds, but it is still the same in spirit (Spirits?). I haven't enjoyed myself like this in years. I want everyone to come and experience their childhoods mixed with adulthoods again.

Granted, I can barely type as I write this post, but that is also part of the fun (better living through chemicals).

I usually go to yoga on Monday nights, but this was J's night. the same J from this post. J and G are much better now. G's in Minnesota, J will be following behind by the time you read this. But, the night before, I was playing Capture the Flag with J, his brother, and several of our mutual friends.

So while I'm still smitten with R, who will always have a place in my heart (and who's place came to the forefront for some odd reason last week [more on that to come]) and I am also quite interested in A (whom I haven't mentioned before, but will also have a story soon), I want to play capture the flag as much as I can, with whomever will join me.

TP=WTF?

2008-11-16T19:27:00.000-08:00

I have questioned this from the moment I first left the nest.

I've attacked it morally, philosophically, and technically.

Surveys have been conducted, and pseudo-scientific studies have been carried out.

Still, after fifteen years, I do not fathom- cannot comprehend this issue:

Why do people put new rolls of toilet paper on top of the holder and leave the used piece of cardboard?

If one goes to the trouble of getting a fresh roll, why not go the extra foot and put it on the holder? Is the spring-loaded plastic thing too complex? Do people believe the toilet fairy will come and fix it?

This is change I don't believe in

2008-11-14T15:18:00.000-08:00

Yes, we did, I helped. It is change I can believe in, but really- Barack Obama is not the Messiah. This is a good start, but he's not paying my rent, or buying me an iPhone. I can't call him up when I need a wingman. He won't have the perfect chord when I get stuck writing a progression. The buses still won't run on time. He's not going to hook my housemate up with a cool girlfriend. He isn't interested in whether or not M can remain in a monogamous relationship. That one sock will still get lost in the wash. If you're stuck in traffic, he won't tell you where to turn. He's not going to un-crazy your job, and contrary to my photo manipulations, he can't walk on water.

Then again, I don't want my president to do any of that. A president should be too busy presidenting to deal with the everyday details of the rest of us. Which is where you come in. Bring "Yes, we can" to a personal level: "Yes, I can." I don't have to spell it out, do I?

Not Your Cheese

2008-11-11T21:27:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a bit, and I'm sure the 3 or 4 people who read this blog regularly have been devastated by my lack of consistency, however, there hasn't been much going on. Sure we have a president with an IQ above room temperature, and yes, the world has rejoiced, but I figure that is a reasonably well disseminated story. On the same day as the Rapture of the Messiah from Hawaii came the news that a slight majority of Californians believe that the government has the right to take away the rights of some of my friends, co-workers and neighbors to practice an archaic religious ceremony.

If I were so inclined, I could marry whomever I may choose, and it's none of my damn business whom anyone else chooses to marry. One of my co-workers, who is not a US citizen, told me that if he could vote, he would vote against gay marriage. He actually gave me the "Adam-&-Eve-not-Adam-&-Steve-god-will-punish-them" line and then:

K: Will god punish you?

O: Noooo, of course not. I will not marry a man!

K: Then what does it matter to you?

O: It doesn't matter. The Gay People can do what they want, but God won't be very happy with them

K: If it doesn't matter to you, then it's between them and god, so why should you tell them what to do?

O: I think you are right, but I don't want them to go to hell.

K: What if they don't believe in god, or they don't believe in heaven and hell?

O: OHH, some people do think that, don't they? Well, it is between them and god. I can't stop them from going to hell. You are right. Thank you.

Why can't it be that easy with anyone else?

So, there was the voting thing, and then I went to Indiana for my brother's surprise 45th birthday party.

Yeah, Indiana... I think this is where I'm supposed to spew elitist vitriol against my experience in this not quite blue, perhaps deep maroon-bordering-on-purplish state, but I can't.

I met a guy at the party who voted democrat for the first time not only in his life, but in generations of his family. His father called him an idiot, and he couldn't bring himself to tell his mother. If that had been the extent of it, I would have been kinda proud of him, but he started that line of the conversation by congratulating me and my mother personally on electing such an articulate African American into the highest office of the US.

So articulate and intelligent that he didn't think of Obama as a black person.

The fact that my mother was there prevented this guy from accidentally running his kidneys into my elbows. Twice.

As I was preventing him from becoming intimate with a dialysis machine, I remembered that we were in Ft Wayne, Indiana. Before my brother moved there, the only black people in Indiana were the Jackson 5 & family, and we know how they turned out. We're dealing with people who don't see the irony in saying "fine dining" and "Cracker Barrel" in the same sentence. The dialogue has to start somewhere- if people aren't willing to open their minds, no amount of prying will get it done for them. While I haven't grown any more fond of the nine to eleven hours of travel each way, and I still don't trust buying a burrito from a restaurant that doesn't call itself a taqueria and doesn't display it's menu in Spanish; while I don't feel comfortable in a place that doesn't appear to have taxicabs or even sidewalks (let alone a single Chinese video store with SECCAM dvd players), I'm going to give the heartland a break. My family's there, and they were cool enough to have me, so they must know what they're doing, right?

Right?

McCain Scores Major Endorsement

2008-10-31T11:01:00.000-07:00

The logic of al-Qaeda's McCain choice
30/10/2008 03:00:00 PM GMT from aljazeera.com

Al-Qaeda says it wants McCain to win because it thinks he is most likely to continue Bush’s ‘war on terror’.
By Ivan Eland

In the battle for endorsements in the presidential campaign, Barack Obama snared a strong nod from former Secretary of State Colin Powell – and John McCain received an equally strong recommendation from al-Qaeda.

Al-Qaeda? Yes, you read that right, al-Qaeda!

This endorsement indicates what has long been known: al-Qaeda is fairly sophisticated politically. And this doesn’t mean McCain is the more accomplished candidate — in fact, apparently the group believes he is the more gullible of the two men. Quite bluntly, al-Qaeda says it wants McCain to win essentially because it thinks he is most likely to continue Bush’s macho bull-in-the-China-shop “war on terror.” There has been a lot of bull in the China shop, and al-Qaeda wants to make sure it continues.

According to al-Hesbah Web site, which has close ties to the group, “Al-Qaeda will have to support McCain in the coming election.” The Web site was confident that McCain would continue the “failing march of his predecessor.” The site argued that a terrorist attack could push the election into McCain’s column, and thus lead to an expansion of U.S. military commitments in the Islamic world in an attempt take revenge on al-Qaeda.

The Web site already brags about having lured the Bush administration and the U.S. into a trap that has “exhausted its resources and bankrupted its economy” and expects that to accelerate if the even more hawkish McCain gets elected. Most terrorism analysts would agree that al-Qaeda has successfully duped the Bush administration. Al-Qaeda is betting that McCain is an even bigger stumbling cowboy than Bush.

With talk of terrorist strikes this close to the election, it is possible that al-Qaeda could be once again trying to influence the outcome. In late October 2004, bin Laden released a video tape several days before the U.S. presidential election that warned of an attack, which John Kerry’s campaign believed tipped the electoral balance against them. Let’s hope that the rhetoric on al-Qaeda’s Web site is just bluster, as in October 2004, rather than turning into an attack, as it did in Spain in March 2004. We want a fair election with no outside interference from evildoers.

Are You a McCain, or a McCaint?

2008-10-26T22:56:00.000-07:00

'Those polls have consistently shown me much farther behind then we actually are. We're doing fine.'

-John McCain, at a campaign stop in Waterloo.

Yes, Waterloo.

I Approved This Post

2008-10-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

"[Barack Obama] has both style and substance. I think he is a transformational figure. I come to the conclusion that because of his ability to inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his rhetorical abilities as well as his substance -- he has both style and substance. He has met the standard of being a successful president, being an exceptional president.

"[McCain] is essentially going to execute the Republican agenda, the orthodoxy of the Republican agenda with a new face and a maverick approach to it, and he'd be quite good at it, but I think we need more than that. I think we need a generational change. I think Senator Obama has captured the feelings of the young people of America and is reaching out in a more diverse, inclusive way across our society.

"We have got to say to the world, it doesn't make any difference who you are or what you are, if you're an American you're an American. And this business of, for example a congresswoman from Minnesota going around saying let's examine all congressmen to see who is pro America or not pro America, we have got to stop this kind of non-sense and pull ourselves together and remember that our great strength is in our unity and diversity. That really was driving me."

Colin Powell, 65th United States Secretary of State (2001–2005), Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (1989–1993), 4-Star General (retired) in the United States Army, National Security Advisor (1987–1989)

"The American people need a strong leader who has the experience and the judgment to be the next President of the United States, and that man is John McCain."

Katie Barberi, Telemundo Soap Opera Actress

A Life Is Death Situation

2008-10-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not depressed, or feeling morbid. The only Suicidal Tendencies I have got thrown out with my cassette collection. I just read a great quote from Katharine Hepburn, who said, "of course life is hard- it kills you doesn't it?"

Eye luff hurr

Seriously, death is the leading cause of lives lost in the world. Imagine how little fear would be left if we didn't die. Nice thought, huh? Well guess what? You're going to die, so get over it. Like Pops would say, "are you living, or just existing?"

When I was really little- er... young- I loved heights. I used to love running across the Royal Gorge Bridge in Colorado (the world's highest suspension bridge- 1 mile above the Arkansas River). Then I got older, and realized that if I was on something really high up, I could fall off and get injured. I didn't like heights so much anymore. A little later it occurred to me that the worst that could happen would be dying, which I've never done before- and no one has told me empirically what it is like- and which I'm going to have to do sometime, so why worry about it?

Some would think that this attitude is too morbid and and devalues life, but it is quite the opposite. Look at how much fear is in our lives, and how so many of us are hiding our true selves because of it. We are afraid of heights because we are afraid of falling. We're afraid of falling because we don't know how we'll land, and if we don't land just right, we might not get back up. So we don't climb the heights, and miss out on something life has to offer us. We don't let go of our preconceived notions and allow ourselves to fall and find that there might be someone or something there to catch us, or that we might just land on our feet.

...or we might not, but since it really doesn't matter, what are we afraid of?

The Second Person

2008-10-12T02:48:00.000-07:00

Keenan is drunk as he writes this. In his drunkenness he has clarity. A certain lack of inhibition allows him to document truth. This is also his chance to write the long awaited (in his mind) Post In Second Person.

So, Keenan is smitten. He feels a sense of adoration. He is cryptically (and the next word will make it obvious whom he writes about, if only to whom he writes about) appreciative of the new friend he has made.

Now here it is, tying in to previous posts about seeking a special someone, and about breaking The Rule of Mates. He realizes that if that special someone actually reads this, it will most likely throw her into a bout of turmoil and indecision, because hypersensitivity to emotional situations is how she rolls. However, Strong and Wrong is how Keenan rolls. If things go in his favor, Keenan is not wrong, and isn't going too strong. Breaking The Rule of Mates is something he does not take lightly, nor is it something she feels strongly about. But the (drunken) truth is, rightness has no bounds. That's not a Dubya sort of "god is on our side" manner of rightness, but a John Cusack with a boombox over his head manner of rightness.

Miss Alaskaville

2008-10-02T14:08:00.000-07:00

The fact that she counts wonk-eyed weirdo James Galway as her favorite musician should be reason enough to discount Sarah Palin as the person who crosses your name off the list when you go to vote, let alone anyone that should ever hold a public office of any kind. Nevermind the fact that you don't know who James Galway is, just trust that he's a creepy wonk-eyed weirdo.

She starts off doing a passable job for a pageant talent show, but runs into problems about halfway through. Then I remembered she's supposed to have 10 years experience- I don't even play flute and I could probably play this song with a couple days preparation. Kinda sounds like her campaign, thus far...

As long as I'm at it, how brilliant was Tina Fey last week, and how scary is it that the funniest part was very nearly quoted verbatim from the real Palin/Couric interview:

Palin: That's why I say I, like every American I'm speaking with, we're ill about this position that we have been put in where it is the taxpayers looking to bail out. But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those who are concerned about the health-care reform that is needed to help shore up our economy, helping the—it's got to be all about job creation, too, shoring up our economy and putting it back on the right track. So health-care reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending has got to accompany tax reductions and tax relief for Americans. And trade, we've got to see trade as opportunity, not as a competitive, scary thing. But one in five jobs being created in the trade sector today, we've got to look at that as more opportunity. All those things under the umbrella of job creation. This bailout is a part of that.

Fey: Like every American I'm speaking with, we are ill about this. We're sayin' hey, why bail out Fanny and Freddie and not me? But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those that are concerned about the health care reform that is needed to help shore up our economy, to help, uh --- it's got to be all about job creation, too. Also to shoring up our economy and putting Fannie and Freddie back on the right track, and so health care reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending, 'cause Barack Obama, ya know. [makes gesture with index finger] Ya know, we've got to accompany tax reduction and tax relief for Americans, also having a dollar value meal at restaurants, that's gonna help. But one in five jobs being created today under the umbrella of job creation, that, ya know, also.

One month

2008-09-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

Last month, I posted about the woman in the UK that was going for a month without plastic, and how I couldn't figure out what I would be willing to go one month without, or why. As it turns out, I've gone the past two weeks without any meat, and the past four days without processed food. I'm not going to start wearing flip-flops and listening to STS9, and haven't started designing my art car for the Burn next year, but it is going well. Truth be told, I was eating a pile of chicken lo mein and shredded pork when it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten a salad, or an apple, or any fresh fruit or vegetable. In fact, the closest I'd come to a vegetable that week was french fries. I'd love some french fries right now, but I'm going to stick with it for a little while longer.

I stopped drinking coffee too. At work one morning, B asked if it was the act of drinking coffee- the pavlovian response of getting it, or the actual caffeine that makes one feel awake in the morning. I think it is as much habit as anything else. I know people who can go to sleep early after a day off, get 9 hours of undisturbed sleep, and still feel like they cannot function without a cuppa joe first thing in the afternoon. Then again, I've gotten up feeling like I'd spent the last week with Kerauc & Cassady, and a sip of dark roasted bean juice makes everything fresh as a daisy.

I'm all for better living through chemistry, but I also think that everything under the sun can be overdone. Yin and Yang. Joy and Pain. Sunshine and Rain. Dog and Cat. Starsky and Hutch. Sanford and Son.

"MUTO" by Blu

2008-09-25T18:20:00.000-07:00

This is pretty incredible. Actually, it is totally mind-blowing, when you consider what went into creating it.

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

700 billion

2008-09-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

$116 for every person on the planet (approx. 2.8 bil people live on less than $2 per day)
An Xbox for every woman, child and man in India
155 Nimitz class aircraft supercarriers (only 10 have ever been built)

13 hours at the Bunny Ranch for every US male aged 20-64

23 billion handles of JD

A burrito a day for everyone in SF for 40 years

$17,000 for every US citizen below the poverty line

70 Large Hadron Colliders

3.2 mil median priced homes in the US

4 years of college tuition for 8.8 mil students

Free MUNI rides for everyone in SF till 2172

1 first class Lufthansa flight to Paris for the entire population of California, Oregon, Nevada, and Arizona

The Former Future President Should've Run Again

2008-09-24T17:50:00.000-07:00

"If you're a young person looking at the future of this planet and looking at what is being done right now, and not done, I believe we have reached the stage where it is time for civil disobedience to prevent the construction of new coal plants that do not have carbon capture and sequestration."

Al Gore is going Mad Max on us, and I love it. I mean, who doesn't love antidisestablishmentarianism. I know that antidisestablishmentarianism is a church vs state issue, but it smells like anarchy, and I will use it however I wish. If he could've shown this much personality and conviction eight years ago, there wouldn't have been a war in Iraq, Ahmidenijad would just be kooks on the level of Hugo Chavez, no one would be saying "interwebs" with ironic detachment, no one would be shamed for being fooled once but never again, we would have a president who might read the stories and not just the headlines, no child would be left behind anyway...

What I Meant Was...

2008-09-22T23:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was walking home from work, and I had the greatest idea for a post. Not exactly the greatest idea, I mean I hadn't figured out the significance of the number 42 or anything, but it was pretty good. I got home, started cooking dinner, checking emails, surfing for porn, staring out the window, forgetting that dinner was cooking, wondering who it was that told me cats were hallucinating most of their waking hours, eating burned noodles, watching Torchwood, checking my bank account, talking to my housemates, wishing I hadn't undercooked the noodles, wondering if, when I write this post tomorrow, I will wonder if whomever is reading this will go back and make sure that I wrote about burned noodles, eventually closed the lid on the macbook, went to sleep, got up the next morning went to work, went to yoga with A, got home chatted with H (and S) for almost an hour, made dinner (yes, it was mashed potatoes), hung out with the housemates, checked emails, realized I'd forgotten about the great idea i had for a post yesterday, started a stream of consciousness post about forgetting what the great idea I had for a post yesterday was, realized mid-post that the idea I had was actually two days ago, then started meta-posting about posting- which means that I am now meta-meta posting and run the risk of getting stuck in a self referential loop. What it all boils down to, is that I have absolutely nothing to post about, but I feel like taking up surreal estate on the internet for another day, and seeing if the mystery reader in Oakland will be back tomorrow.

DIY for Dummies

2008-09-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

When I go to a new dentist, I really don't want to hear something like this:

"Sooo, I've been a dentist on and off since high school. I never studied seriously or nothin', but I have a subscription to Dentist's World and Dentist Magazine. I always go over the diagrams in the back and practice as much as I can. I figure, the more you do it, the better you get, right?"

No, but say I get hit by car and I hear this:

"Dude, that looked gnarly! I saw some chick get hit by a car a few years ago, and I stayed with her till the EMTs came. She totally dislocated her shoulder, and they popped it back in right there. I watched how they did it, and now any time I see an accident, I'm like, hey I can put your shoulder back together if you need it, alright?"

Not this time, though on the other hand, I could sue you later, and my lawyer might say this:

"Hey you wanna sue somebody? Sweet. Listen, I don't have a 'law degree,' I think that will kill my ability to really feel the law and make a sound argument flow through me. I did take one law lesson from a guy who had the most lawyeristic talent of anyone I've ever seen. He helped his girlfriend study while she was in Pre Law or whatever, but he was a total natural, and didn't buy into the whole 'institution.' That's probably why they broke up. I don't read any of that Latin stuff either, I don't think that's part of being a real lawyer, right?"

No.

Of course, none of these scenarios could ever happen, because there are laws in place to prevent them, and other situations where people who, much like Donny, are completely out of their element. Unfortunately, there are no such laws in place for music. I have studied it. I can read it, write it, and theorize it. I can tell you the history and I can answer trivia questions (if some people who's names might begin with Ls would shut up and listen). I truly do not understand the dictum where the less you actually know about music, the better a musician you can be. How is it that people who don't have the chops to sing 'Happy Birthday' in tune and in the same key as the people singing next to them, think they can...

Hold on, I need to blow some snob out of my nose. There's nothing wrong with hobbyists/amateurs, and if I said there was, PBS and Time/Life Books would write me a very stern but polite rebuke. I just think that if you are going to take something seriously, you should do it seriously as well. If you do happen to be a 'Donny', don't wait until Walter tells you.

Filming In The Stream...

2008-09-15T14:07:00.000-07:00

A CERN press release about the LHC was issued last week; it stated: "Starting up a major new particle accelerator takes much more than flipping a switch. Thousands of individual elements have to work in harmony, timings have to be synchronized to under a billionth of a second, and beams finer than a human hair have to be brought into head-on collision....[O]ver the next few weeks,...[the LHC's] acceleration systems will be brought into play, and the beams will be brought into collision to allow the research program to begin...Experiments at the LHC will allow physicists to complete a journey that started with Newton's description of gravity. Gravity acts on mass, but so far science [has been] unable to explain the mechanism that generates mass. Experiments at the LHC will provide the answer."

So, we still may have 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, 12 seconds till the world will end, and in that time I'd like to quit my job and do something that means something to me and doesn't involve selling anything, buying anything, or processing anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. While I'm at it, I want to move into Alex Forest's apartment, but I don't want to move to the meat packing district of New York (even though the interiors were shot at 652 Hudson Street, nowhere near the meat packing district) so I want to have it replicated in the warehouse around the corner from Amber. I'd love to go to Paris again, but since I have already been there, I should do the South American tour I was planning for next year. I think when I get outta here, I'm gonna get laid- it's been a while, and if the world is going to get sucked up by anti-matter, masticating box should be somewhere on the to-do list. I have a feeling J thinks I hate her, and would want to clear that up, because we make very good friends regardless of anything else. I wish we could have another night of KLM, but getting our schedules to jive might be hard. And by hard I mean doggy. Then there's rule #3, which I guess there mightn't be enough time to properly break, though I do like her a lot. I haven't had a chance to see my brother in a couple years so that'll have to go up higher on the list, as should PR and the family. I picked a hellova time to stop sniffing glue...

The Not Quite Big But Conceivably Very Large Bang

2008-09-09T14:19:00.000-07:00

I'm not a scientist, but I do think Dr Giovanna Tinetti is a really hot. She's an astrobiologist and has absolutely nothing to do with the Large Hadron Super Collider, but so what? As I'm writing this, two beams of protons are being shot towards each other in a 17 mile tunnel under France and Switzerland at nine-tenths the speed of light. The goal is to create the Higgs boson, which is said to be the God Particle, or the origin of matter created after the Big Bang. It could also create dark matter, which would give physicists a better understanding of the atomic structure of the universe. That's all pretty cool, but even better than that, there is the infantesimally small chance that all of those subatomic particles bouncing around could spawn antimatter, which would eat other microscopic particles, getting anti-bigger until it created a black hole and destroyed the Earth. Then we would a choice- we either sacrifice Mother Angelina and St Brad's media coverage, or Tom Cruise's ego to save the world.

She Put a Spell on Me

2008-09-08T01:13:00.000-07:00

I never thought about it until tonight, but I would have loved to see Hatem and Diamanda Galàs together. Her music is certainly not easy listening, it can be downright difficult to bear, which is part of it's beauty. It isn't the music that makes me twitterpated over her, though, it's the idea that if I use 11% of my brain, she's using about 12.5%. As far as the music goes, she was a child prodigy who played piano with the San Diego Symphony Orchestra at 14, has a BA and a Masters in music, and has worked with everyone from Pierre Boulez to John Paul Jones (the 4 octave vocal range is cool, but it's as much DNA as talent). That's cool and all, but what makes her truly hot is that she also speaks five languages and has citizenship in three countries and while she was Pre-Med doing research in neurochemistry & immunology, she was studying Bel Canto on her off days and being pimped out by transvestites at night. I think I remember somewhere she said she was going back to school to get a degree in marine biology, too.

The Rule of Mates

2008-09-07T04:54:00.000-07:00

Even before I'd heard the rule of mates, I thought it was a good one by which to live. I had, of course, already broken two of the rules by the time I knew what they were. Yes, I call it the Rule (singular) of Mates, even though there are three rules, but it is really one rule in three parts: No housemates, no workmates, no bandmates.

Simple, isn't it?

No, it isn't, because you never know whom you will meet, or how, or where. The problem with the Rule of Mates, is that it is a self-fulfilling prophecy. When I broke the bandmate portion of the rule, she and I had a connection and a groove like no other. Then, when it started to not work so well between us, it affected everyone in the band. Several years later, I broke the housemate part of the rule. The other housemates dug having a sexy, swaggering vibe in the house, until she showed herself to be a lunatic and I reacted like a petulant toddler (really- I stomped around and cried; thanks for saving me from that, Pops).

So, I'm starting to wonder if the Rule of Mates is really a crock, and that if you don't worry about it , things will be fine. Intrepid reader, you know, as if by osmosis, that I'm only thinking about and posting about the Rule of Mates because I'm perilously close to breaking the final sub-rule. I'll keep you... ugh no puns this early in the morning.

Mi Gaza, Su Gaza

2008-09-04T13:47:00.000-07:00

From yesterday's post, it should be pretty obvious that I follow politics. Local, state, national, foreign, robot, interdimensional, whatevs. So, one thing that I find fascinating is how both sides make a point of saying how proud they are to support and fund Israel. I understand that everyone wants peace on Earth, as long as they don't work for the military-industrial complex, and "Peace in the Middle East" makes for a swell catchphrase. But do most people even know what the Israel-Palestine conflict is? It bothers me that Israel became the good guys from the very beginning, and the majority of the public just follows whatever they are told in the matter. Sure, we've been lead astray by political leaders many times before, but this is the only topic I know of where every administration in the last 60 years agrees.

A brief history: The first scientific documented reference (ie. not the bible) to an area known as Palestine was in 5th century BCE. The land stretched from the Gaza Strip to the Dead Sea. It was part of the Persian Empire, Arabs and Jews lived together, everything was cool. Then the Romans took over. Jews and Muslims were OK, the upstart Christians were fed to the lions. Then came the Byzantine Empire. Christians and Muslims were OK, but Jews got fed to the lions. Then Arabs took over. Everybody's cool. Everything remained relatively cool for a thousand years. Muslims, Jews and Christians all lived together, and if anyone persecuted anyone else, it was generally an outside Christian ruler. For all of this time, Israel did not exist. In every incarnation, it was always Palestine.

Everything changed when the Nazis tried to kill all the Jews. After the war, and probably influenced by some misplaced sense of guilt, the freshly minted United Nations bent over for the Zionists, who said that there should be a Jewish state, and that it should be where Palestine has stood for 2,000 years. Never mind that Jews, Christians and Muslims had lived there for two millenia in reasonably perfect harmony, it needs to be for Jews, by Jews, and about Jews. Only Jews. Now.

Imagine if you will, being a child who doesn't understand why there are tanks and soldiers outside the front door, and why the family has to move out of the only house you've ever known. Imagine growing up under an unjustified occupation supported by the most advanced and sophisticated military the world has ever known. Did you know that, unlike every other country in the world, a financial contribution by a US citizen to the Israeli government is tax deductible? I put myself in the shoes of a young Palestinian, who has known nothing but an occupied and marginalized homeland, and I understand making random acts of senseless violence. I don't agree with it, but I also can live anywhere I choose. I haven't seen my home get bulldozed so someone else can build their own house. I've never had friends or family killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I expect that the CIA will be creating a file for me after writing this post, because it sounds like I support the turrists, and this Amurca, and if it's not Amurkin, we don't support it. Well I don't support terrorism or any use of violence, but I see their point.

Not on the Fence. Can't Even See It.

2008-09-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

I missed part of Gov Palin's speech at the RNC, so I went to the NY Times website and read the original text. Her pregnant teenage daughter, who is all over the news in the last two days, got her name mentioned once, but McCain's totally irrelevant experience as a POW was gone over in detail. Twice.

There was a very odd small town sentiment to the evening, especially when you include Rude Guiliani's speech. They seem to think that if you were going to be leader of one of the most powerful countries in the modern world, it's better to be an "aw, shucks" small town hick that doesn't know cream of wheat from créme brulée, than to be erudite and worldly. To that end, a few people noticed that Palin was guilty of one of the worst Bushisms- pronouncing nuclear as "nu-q-lar." Well, somebody's about to get fired, because the speech was sent out to, and published by the press exactly as the beauty queen read it- with "new-clear" spelled out phonetically to make sure she doesn't sound like the ignorant redneck she is.

I love how she talked truthfully about Obama's plan to raise taxes, but didn't mention that it would be done by eliminating the loopholes only available to the rich. It was fantastic that she bragged about firing her governor's chef, when she also brags about killing and skinning caribou, and her love of mooseburgers. Might as well throw in her recipe for mayonnaise casserole. It was sheer genius to admit her belief that enemies of the state should not be given the benefit of basic human rights when she said, "Al Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America... he's worried that someone won't read them their rights?" It was absolutely hilarious that she thinks Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's first name is pronounced "Terry." I was disappointed that she only used the word "maverick" three times, but she made up for it by saying:

"In politics, there are some candidates who use change to promote their careers. And then there are those, like John McCain, who use their careers to promote change."

This from the woman who, just last spring decided to give a half hour speech at a governor's conference in Texas- almost an hour after her water broke while she was carrying a child that she knew had Down's Syndrome and was about to come three weeks early. Not only did she stick around to give the speech, she got on a plane and flew back to Alaska to give birth. Now, I'm not a doctor, and I think the best kids are billy goats, however, I have heard something said against pregnant woman flying in the third trimester. It probably has something to do with there not usually being doctors and medical equipment on commercial airlines (she'd sold the Governor's Jet on eBay). She wasn't trying to promote her career. If you're a governor, even going into labor takes a backseat to being on a national stage, right? Do we really need a woman who makes this kind of judgment call to be VP to a cancerous 72 year old with a bad ticker?

"Statement" by Dr. Hatem

2008-09-01T13:04:00.000-07:00

I told you he was brilliant

Traditional artistic ideology is an inheritance. My ancestors, the Pharoahs, were the most successful artists in history, because their artistic formula consisted of their knowledge, experience, and opinions. Art is the shadow of history, or the record of humanity where history has an organic extent. In other words, years continuously divide man's intention to define his relative position to time. Time obviously does not separate from the place. The ideological understanding of the different shapes of artistic definition previously varied more sharply from country to country. At one time, it was easier to identify the nationality of the artist. However, today most artists take serious steps toward internationality.

I refuse adamantly the pretending of traditional works because I understand that emotions cannot linger. When great portraiture, nature, or even still life is attempted, it takes a great deal of time to accurately execute perspective, color, light, and shadow. Let us ask together, "Is it possible for the artist to keep his original feeling alive, yet immutable for the duration of the piece?" Human feeling refuses to be fixed to a constant.

The infinite quantity of facts which surround us, obligate us seriously to search for a more adequate formula of balance. As a starting point, let's separate the surrounding facts into two main branches:

-The Scientific Sciences, such chemistry or physics;

-The Humanistic Sciences, such as religion or philosophy.

The Scientific Sciences generally have two basic shapes: invention and investment. Invention always places us in the role of traveller progressing from the known to the unknown. The only certainty is that the unknown is unknown. But that doesn't mean it isn't here or there. For example, we succeeded in pushing the atom to separate by using experience and the subsequent knowledge attained. But that doesn't mean we created the atomic separation. Other inventions accidentally occurred, but that doesn't mean there wasn't a base. Investment is the stage which follows invention. We always invest our inventions to invent again. Art is the the complete understanding of invention and investment's circular shape.

On the other hand, the Humanistic Sciences are more clearly shaped by reaction rather than action. We see Christianity and Judaism through the behavior of Christian or Jewish individuals. But the materialistic mass of religion is intangible. Historical actions are visible, but not the history itself. The relationship between the Scientific and Humanistic Sciences eternally vacillates between the primitive and the advanced. This makes us the catalytic tool affected by the effect. History is the formula between effects and behavior to produce novelty; art is the only agreeable fact for this novelty.

Traditionalists must confess, all they do are geometric equations, relating part to part, or part to whole. They are simply attempting to produce a disciplined rhythm, such as the Golden Proportion, which is a prime example of my premise. We must be serious in acquiring a new judgement which does not equate radicalism with courage. We must ask ourselves repeatedly and directly, "What can we consider admirable?" Forged artistic crisis is the problem of the Modern Artist.

What color or material is used is inconsequential. Let us always keep correction and thoughtful balance as our power of self-direction. We desperately need in this period an acceptable digestion of civilization's secretion which can protect us from this dyspepsia. We do not need to be springs of a clock. We must confess readily that everything in existence is submissive by necessity to exact geometric equations. Intangible Artistic Geometric is the only security against the shock of uselessness. Let us make time the neutral element and strongly face together the impossibility circles and uselessness of others. Let us think together!

Till the Day I Diamond

2008-08-29T19:51:00.000-07:00

It's good to know there are others out there as warped as me. When I say warped, I mean doing, saying, and thinking things that make perfect sense, are logical, and morally upright- as long as you are in my head. Some people are very adamant about what happens to their bodies when they die. Most of it is some sort of religiosity, except for the few oogily boogilies that want their ashes thrown out with the humpback whales off the coast of Oaxaca, or mixed into the cement that builds the foundation of the new Yankees stadium. That's kinda weird, but not quite warped. If you want to be like me, and be truly warped, you want your ashes made into a diamond.

Yes, there is a company, LifeGems, that will take a person's ashes, and make diamonds out of them. They process the ashes, distilling and purifying the carbon, which leaves graphite. The graphite is then placed in a machine that replicates the conditions 100 miles below the earth's surface, yielding the most warped thing anyone could do with themselves.

Even more warped than that- you don't even have to be dead! They can use a pile of hair. How hardcore would it be to wear bling made from yourself!

What Would db Do?

2008-08-29T13:11:00.001-07:00

Yo

2008-08-26T18:23:00.000-07:00

I am a former member of the Egyptian Mafia. You didn't know there was an Egyptian Mafia, did you? That's how badass it is- you don't even know it's there.

A few years ago, I was dating a belly dancer whom I thought was my soulmate, but turned out to be a back stabbing manic depressive with a schizoid embolism. (Not that there is anything wrong with mental illness in and of itself, but that there are certain combinations of mental illnesses that make for personalities that may be... challenging). So, SIN (yes, those are her initials) introduced me to the Godfather. They were in the smoke and mirrors business, and I was made a partner.

There was a front, a restaurant, that funded The Family. The real business was Art. We were a family of dancers, painters, musicians, storytellers, and, most especially, practitioners in the Art of Living Without Compromise.

Pops had all that and a Phd. He'd done art shows in galleries all over the world. He saw combat in the Egyptian Special Forces. His mentor was Anwar Sadat. Published novelist? Check. Black belt? Three. Linguist? Arabic, Farsi, Hebrew, English, French, Greek and Italian. Oh, the Phd? That was in psychology, which he taught for two years at UC Berkeley. He was also a bit of a song and dance man... in a peculiar Egyptian way.

Pops taught me a lot about myself, and how to live the life less ordinary. He taught me the importance of living like a train, and to make sure you are not a passenger on your train. He taught me how to work a room, the Art of the Wink, and how to talk myself out of anything. There are things he has taught me that are so ingrained into my psyche, I can no longer remember not knowing them.

Dr Hatem El-Sayed died today.

Choosey Mofos Choose Jiff

2008-08-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

Last night I was out with Mama. She'd come to town for the Outside Outlander Outdoor Pay $300 to See Radiohead but Pretend You Like the Other Bands so You Don't Feel Like A John Festival. We hadn't seen each other since Sutro played in SLO, and I had deluded myself that J was out of the country, pining away for me in the same way that I was pining away for her. The relevance there is that Mama introduced me to J, so seeing her again made for a pretty decent elephant-in-the-room moment.

So now it's Sunday morning, and there's still a residual sad, bitter, elephant smell lingering in the nose of my heart. J's great- I don't have anything against her (other than a perceived inability to open up on a personal level, which I still don't hold against her, because really her ego just needs a Pele sized kick in the pants)- what bug's me, is that I don't make connections with cool chicks like her very often.

I think of myself as very instinctual, though others have called it picky, judgmental, and arrogant. Semantics. I don't play the field. I don't date around. Maybe it's pheremones, ESP, resonant frequencies, or something else that I will discount as hippie BS, but I always know. I don't know if it will be love, friendship, or booty call, but I always know.

That doesn't mean that I'm not open to surprises...

This is only a test

2008-08-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

I recently read an article from the BBC about a writer who is giving up plastic for a month (A month without plastic), which got me thinking, what would I give up for a month, and why?

So first, a month without plastic. The rules are: no new plastic products may be bought, or used. I'm going to say Netflix is OK, because it is a recycled resource. No going to the movies, because the tickets are coated with plastic. No buying wine with plasticized rubber corks. No buying canned food because of the plastic lining. No pasta, no yogurt, no bottled water, no juice, no microwave meals in plastic trays, no disposable razors, no liquid soap, no pens, no Sharpies, no cars, no batteries, no flashlights, no vibrators (no problem), no prescription drugs (you never know), no multi packs of toilet paper, no new clothes, no coffee without bringing my own mug (I don't make my own. I just don't. Ever). That's just what I can come up with off the top of my head, if I actually thought about it, I would know for sure that I wouldn't want to give up plastic completely for a month. It does make me think about ways to reduce plastic consumption, and realize that it is over-used in modern society.

Next.

My friend D used to give up drinking every year for Lent, even though she wasn't Catholic, which I always thought was kinda weird. I didn't think it was weird that she was not Catholic and would give up something for Lent, but that she would give up drinking. A few days and a cranberry juice i.v. is fine here and there- but a month? That really isn't an option.

OK, how about a month without sex? Oh, right...

A month without computers? That would make a cool daily blog.

I've already given up high fructose corn syrup, cars, crack, Catholicism, words that don't start with "C", and swizzle sticks. What else is there?

Got it. I'm giving up exclusion.

The M in KLM

2008-08-16T07:37:00.000-07:00

I should be sleeping right this very second.

Before I started writing, I was getting a ride from the M in KLM.

Before I got a ride, she and I snugged on the floor of her empty apartment, imitating sleep for all of 2 hours.

Before imitating sleep, KLM was in full effect- dinner at Farmer Brown, drinks at Whisky Thieves, and more drinks at Amber.

Before KLM, The M in KLM and I packed her apartment into a truck.

Before we packed the truck, we had to figure out where 7th crosses Cesar Chavez (it doesn't)

Before figuring that out, The M in KLM packed while I drank wine and provided moral support.

The M in KLM is on the road right now, and she's a little apprehensive about dropping everything and moving back to Seattle.

And by apprehensive, I mean scared witless.

She has every right to be scared by making such a major change in her life, but then again, this is Miranda.

And by Miranda, I mean awesome.

I love you, too- coin slot and all

...and by love, I mean doggy

Obviously, I use 11% of my brain*

2008-08-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

Remember a couple of posts back, I made a reference to astrological signs and the changes in gravity from the sun and moon? Then after that, I posted about the random decapitations in Greece and Canada? Check this out from EnvironmentalGraffiti.com:

What do Lunar Cycles and Gruesome Beheadings Have in Common?

Tue, Aug 12, 2008

Visualize towns torn apart with random beheadings, frenzied knife attacks on grassy knolls and werewolves howling at the moon. No, it’s not your average Saturday night out on the town; they’re just a few of the maniacal incidences associated with the advent of a new or full moon. But is this just coincidence or could these gruesome events of the past few weeks be related to the gravitational forces of the moon?

The new moon in August occurred on the same day as the solar eclipse, August 1, 2008, which, astrologers say, means it fell in the sign of Leo. This is turn is thought to agitate the nebulae cluster of The Aselli**, or the asses, which were traditionally held by astronomers as harbingers of death by fire, fever, hanging and beheading!

During a full moon, the moon is on the opposite side of the earth from the sun and therefore negates the sun’s gravitational pull, but during a new moon the moon sits on the same side of the earth as the sun, thus massively increasing the sun’s gravitational effects.

This dramatic change in gravity may have a significant affect on the human brain. Who’s to say that there isn’t some transient damage to this intricate organ that, when compared to the size of the earth, sun and moon, is minute and therefore more prone to greater changes during these fluctuations in gravitational force? After all the brain is encased in a closed space so even the slightest pressure changes could dramatically affect normal functionality.

Think of the pressure headaches some people get before and during thunderstorms due to changes in the atmosphere. If that slight change in pressure causes blinding headaches then it’s entirely possible that the pressure generated during the phase of a new moon coupled with a solar eclipse could have huge detrimental effects to the human brain.

Are the recent beheadings in Greece and Canada explicable? It’s impossible for us to prove one way or the other, for that there would need to be highly controlled clinical trials. In the meantime we’ll have to leave the ball in your court. What do you think?

*It is not true that we only use 10% of our brains, ya know.
**Aselli means 'ass'? For real? That explains a lot.

Old, Round, Brown and Full

2008-08-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

The results of three recent studies show that the United States is in for a paradigm shift within a bit more than one generation. According to a Johns Hopkins study, By 2038, 100% of the adult population will be overweight (if trends over the last 30 years continue). Over at the Brookings Institute (you know them right? over on 132nd St, above the Happy Donut), William Frey says that, by 2040, ethnic minorities will become the majority. Also by 2040, there will be over half a million centenarians (there are about 84,000 now). Oh, and the world population will reach 8 billion by 2050.

OK, so we're fat and getting fatter. I don't buy that EVERYONE will be fat- there will still be soccer players, models, the Olsen twins, crack addicts, and French ex-pats. Still, I have to wonder about the 12 year olds that I see everyday that are... well... round. I had my problems with snacks as a kid, but my parents at least tried to hide the Mars bars. When you bring a life into the world, that becomes your ONLY responsibility- everything else is a function of that primary responsibility. 150 lbs and 10 years old? Not the kid's fault, but I'm not going to get on the soapbox.

Next, minorities become the majority. What do we call them? They can't be minorities if they are in the majority. And you know we don't live in a melting pot. This is more like a chef's salad. All the ingredients can be mixed together, but each one is still separate, and can be pulled out, scrutinized and discarded at will. There won't be a majority of anyone, but I don't think that will be the end of racism, classism, sexism, or isn'tism (isn'tism noun [iz-uhnt-iz-uhm] a belief or doctrine that there are inherent differences among anyone who isn't the same, usually involving the idea that anyone who is the same is superior and has the right to rule over those who aren't).

Case in point, interracial marriages account for about 7% of all marriages in the US. Not that marriage is the last word in relationships, but if only 2 out of every 30 people marry outside of their race/ethnicity, then the melting pot still needs some stirring.

One last point- right now, 30 is the new 20, but with more teens are popping out kids, and more adults waiting to become parents, it kinda means 15 is the new 30. Fast forward 40 years, when the retirement age will be around 78, 11 will be the new 40, 40 will be the new 30, and Michael Jackson will have succeeded in replacing his entire body with clear plastic, becoming ageless, sexless, raceless, and able to eat anything s/he wants.

More Stupider

2008-08-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

Playwright George Bernard Shaw was fond of pointing out that the word "ghoti" could just as well be pronounced "fish" if you followed common pronunciation: 'gh' as in "tough," 'o' as in "women" and 'ti' as in "nation."

Yes, English is a retarded language. I work with a Korean, two Hondurans, two Japanese, and an Italian. On an almost daily basis, one of them will come to me with a question which I can answer from a purely grammatical standpoint, but truly has no logical explanation.

Take the last sentence of the previous paragraph- why does 'purely' have an 'e,' but 'truly' does not? Why is it that the root of explanation, 'explain,' has an 'i,' but 'explanation' does not? And for that matter, why isn't 'tion' spelled s-h-u-n? By the way, what's wrong with starting a sentence with 'and?'

I will admit to being a bit of a grammar and syntax snob, but I also have to admit that this language's kinda stupid in alot of ways.* Why would mobile phone texting include so many variants on "proper" English, if it weren't in need of some streamlining? Language is and should be of a fluid nature- Chaucer supposedly wrote in English, right? Noah Webster, the dictionary guy, decided, all by himself, after the American Revolution, that some words needed new spellings, because American English needed to be different from English English. Yes, one dude decided that 'colour' should be spelled 'color,' and 'theatre' should be 'theater.' Why? Just because.

So why shouldn't there be another Great Vowel Shift, or something like it? Call it the Gr8 Txt Shft. English is the second fastest growing language, and the most common lingua franca, so some changes are bound to happen, and hopefully, they will make English less harder to think in.

Get In Where You Fit In

2008-08-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, I took Barbarella and her wife and another friend to a fashioney thing at 111 Minna. I could hardly walk two feet without seeing two people I hadn't seen in two years. By the time we left I felt like a bottle of social moisturizer:

Directions for use:

1. Air kiss (for best results, apply to both cheeks)

2. Hug (use equal parts flirtatiousness and awkwardness - WARNING obliviousness to gender may occur)

3. Comment on the fabulousness of each others appearance (wait at least 30 secs.)

4. After applying social moisturizer, nothing of substance may appear. If so, excuse yourself, and re-apply to someone else.

I'm not implying that these were vapid people, more that when I knew them...

...we didn't know each other. I had just moved to SF, was unemployed, and lived in a breakfast room that was only big enough for a ratty futon and about 10 inches to stand on either side of it. They were designers, musicians, writers, travelers, and flush with cash that was still seeping out from under the dot.com bust. Admittedly, I was intimidated, and rather than spew BS about who I was, I just let it remain a mystery. The side effect of that, is that none of us really got to know each other.

I think this is why I've been reconnecting with the punk rawk side of myself. There isn't necessarily an imbalance of "power" (I'm leery of using the word 'power,' in that no one had any power per se, more that my self perception was such that I didn't feel like I was bringing much to the table, so I felt guilty sitting down to dinner). With the punks and too-cool-to-be-hipsters, I didn't worry about what was being brought to the table, because we all felt good just having a table to begin with. I'm sure the whole dialectic is all in my head, because the world surrounding me is all in my head, too.

I think I might want to check out the cool kids table at the cafeteria again...

What's with...

2008-08-03T17:32:00.000-07:00

...Saint Bradley and Holy Mother Angelina getting paid $14 million dollars to let someone take pictures of their newborns? Sears portrait studio will do it for $34.99

...girls in little flippy skirts that don't care when the wind gives them a full Marilyn? Not that I'm offended, but it isn't normal.

...half the people I know (including myself) that want to: a.) move b.) get a new job c.) start or finish a relationship d.) all of the above?

...Christmas decorations already being up on Market St?

...being satisfied with just getting by?

...the presidential election not being over already?

...Decapitations? In all seriousness- within one week, in totally unrelated events in Canada and Greece, a man and a woman were stabbed dozens of times, then had their heads cut off.
The depth of depravity and psychosis in the individuals that committed these acts is unfathomable, and I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of the victims' loved ones right now.

Victoria (and every other woman)'s Secret

2008-07-30T19:29:00.000-07:00

There is a question that has been perplexing me for quite some time now. I should preface this question by stating that it is not one of a prurient nature (I got that word of off an adult video package):

What's with women walking around in their underwear?

No, I haven't seen a rash of lingerie models prancing through the streets. What I'm getting at, is one comment that I hear frequently in relation to living situations.

"When you move out, I'll probably look for a girl room-mate so I can walk around in my underwear."

"You're going to be gone for the weekend? Call me if you come back early, in case I'm walking around in my underwear."

"The great thing about living on my own is being able to walk around in my underwear."

Do women really walk around in their underwear that much? I hardly ever walk around in my skivvies (I know I don't have any, but for the sake of argument...), and the guys I've lived with only did it first thing in the morning when they walked from the bedroom to the bathroom. Sure, there are those guys who sit in front of the TV in their boxers, scratching their bits, eating pork rinds and watching football. I don't think, however, that these guys pine away for privacy or all male surroundings to indulge in those pastimes.

Granted, a dude laying on the couch in his Calvin's is vastly different than a chick doing the same in her Vickie's. But to hear it from several ladies in my lifetime, it sounds like the first thing they do when they walk in the front door is strip down. I can understand a lady not wanting to be ogled if she decides not to wear a bra under her shirt while she's puttering around the house, but all of these statements ended with the exact phrase, "in my underwear."

Seriously, Bill Moyers needs to get a PBS special on this.

Morespace

2008-07-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

More old myspace blogs

Monday, October 22, 2007

Suing god

The most interesting thing about this is that no one has sought to stop this lawsuit from continuing- which was the point the senator was really trying to prove- yet, people are more than willing to hop to Mr/Mrs God's defense, as if s/he/it couldn't manage alone. That implies Mr/Mrs God is either incapable or uncaring- two things that are not possible if Mr/Mrs God is a "perfect" being. By coming to Mr/Mrs God's defense, they are actually repudiating his/her/its existence, and by bringing forth the suit in the first place (you can't sue fictional characters from old books) Ernie Chambers is avowing his faith (as well as that of Nebraska courts, which does bring up the whole "separation of church and state" issue, which I'm too tired to delve into right now...)

Aiming to prove a point about frivolous lawsuits, Ernie Chambers, a Nebraska state senator, sued God earlier this month in state court. The action seeks a permanent injunction ordering God to cease certain harmful activities such as "fearsome floods" and "pestilential plagues." Mr. Chambers asked the court to waive the requirement that the defendant be personally served with the complaint. Because God is omnipresent and omniscient, God would have actual knowledge of the action, Mr. Chambers argued.

Last week, an answer mysteriously appeared at the Douglas County Courthouse.

"Defendant denies that this or any court has jurisdiction...over Him," wrote God's lawyer, "any more than the court has jurisdiction over the wind or rain, sunlight or darkness."

"Defendant admits that He is present in Douglas County, Neb., but no more or less than...any other discernible point in the universe."

Playing the role of God's lawyer: Eric Perkins from Corpus Christi, Texas. Mr. Perkins said that when he heard about Mr. Douglas's lawsuit on the news, he felt compelled to respond. "When I read the complaint, it provoked something deep inside me," said Mr. Perkins, a sole practitioner with a general-litigation practice.

As far as his fee arrangement, with the Almighty, Mr. Perkins was mum. "I can't disclose that on the grounds of attorney-client privilege." He added: "And though my soul could stand to be saved just as much as any other lawyer, I'm not counting on any delayed remuneration from my client."

November 2, 2007

Dia de los Muertos is the new black

This year, as usual, I did not go the Castro for Halloween. Those of you who live in the Bay Area know what I'm talking about. I went the first couple of years I lived here, but even then it was bordering on overkill (figuratively and now literally). I don't want to get into what it has become, and all of the negativity and idiocy involved.

So, for the past five years I have lamented Halloween in SF. There really is nothing like getting dressed up in your wildest and running through the streets with other crazy drunk people.

I'd always had a general working knowledge of Dia de los Muertos- Day of the Dead, Mexico's Halloween, but had never taken part in the celebration, until this year. My dear friend Diana had a going away/Dia de los Muertos party (Diana de los Muertos?), that started with a dozen or so of her close friends and plus-ones having a candle lit ceremony calling out our dead loved ones. After that, we all ran down the alley where she lives and waited for the parade to start, and we would join in "when it felt right."

I had expected a somber event, with wailing grandmothers beating their chests, men in cheap suits with pictures of their dead ancestors pinned to their ties, and children banging pots and pans with no idea of why they were doing it, but secretly enjoying the fact that they were allowed to walk down the middle of the street banging things and screaming without any adults telling them to stop.

Well, that quaint idea was totally wrong.

It's like a low stress Halloween. There's no worrying about your costume, because everybody wears one of three things- all black, all white, or all skeleton. No costume? No Problem- grab a tambourine.

We waited for the Aztec drummers to kick the party into gear, then jumped in the parade. Guinness should be there to record the most people spontaneously doing the Thriller Dance. This must be what the Castro was like fifteen years ago. Sure, there were people drinking and, um, doing other stuff, but there parents with baby strollers, white haired men with drums, children in costumes, and the requisite half (or more) naked people. I've never had so much fun taking three hours to walk around the block.

Spare Any Change?

2008-07-27T13:14:00.000-07:00

Finally, I've realized why I've been in such a foul mood lately...

I'm bored.

With everything.

My friends are the best, my job is crazy but I'm not shoveling manure for $1 a day, I live in a nice enough house with the best roomies ever, but still- I have no inspiration. My brain is starving for something new.

My friend T had a birthday a couple of days ago, and she told me I was one of the most loyal people she knew. Loyalty can be a fault, if not moderated. Look at M, holding herself prisoner in her own apartment because she was loyal, and willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I am loyal, and will stick with people and places till they give me a reason not to (and sometimes even when they do).

Good enough just isn't good enough anymore.

I've forgotten my mantra, "Change is the only constant."

Gay Pair-e

2008-07-26T21:59:00.000-07:00

Here's another old myspace blog, from when I went to Paris last year...

Paris, pt I

Day 1 - The Flight

I seriously thought I would wake up at 8am, hop in the shower, shave and be out the door by 8:30

right

When I finally left (9:30) I realized I needed AA batteries for the camera that I never use but everyone insisted I bring along, and that, this being an extended European vacation, I should bring more jimmy hats.

DeLano's Market: Wandered the aisles for a couple of minutes, couldn't find anything, so...

"Hi"
"Hi, how can I help you"
"I'm looking for batteries and condoms"
(very professionally covered pause)
"OK, I think have those in the lock up over here."(looking)"I only have 4 packs of batteries, and am i blind, or do we not have... uh... the other thing?!"(helplessly)"Marnie! Do we have any... uh... come here a sec"(whispers)"Sir, they're over here"

Would you believe, after I got out of there, I realized she gave me AAA batteries?

My flight was on Air Canada. That's Canada as in not in the United States. An international flight, one would think. I was already at the airport an hour later than planned, so the fact that i couldn't find the terminal was a bit distressing. Finally went to information and asked where to go.

Air Canada, which only flies to destinations outside of the US, as in CANADA, is in the domestic terminals.

First leg: US/CAN crew- all announcements in English then repeated in French.

Layover in Montreal: Customs officials look annoyed that I would be in their airport after 8pm. Deli sandwich- who puts shredded cheese on a deli sandwich?

Second leg: CAN/French crew- announcements made with extensive details in French, a little mumbled recap in English.

Oh, and the Boeing 777 is a miracle. Something that big should not be able to fly.

Charles de Gaul Airport: baggage claim conveyor belt goes in more or less a straight line. If you don't get your bags, they go... somewhere else.

RER Train to Paris: Street musician plays the wind-up squeezebox harmonium thingy, "If I Was A Rich Man." I'm most certainly in France.
Decided to get off the train in Paris and wander a bit before going to Bois Colombe. Walked up the steps, and my first sight of Paris proper is, Notre Dame.

My First Parisian Hustler: Guy walks in path, drops a ring out of his sleeve as he pretends to see it on the ground. I'm sure some people might not have noticed there was no ring on the ground before he walked up, but we'll just give him that one.

This all happened in French - "Mister, you dropped your ring"
I don't wear jewelry, but how would he know "No, not mine"
"It's nice, though. Why don't you keep it?"
This is where he got points: he walked away as I kept walking, looking at the ring, wondering what use I had for a cheap fake gold ring that wasn't going to fit me, even if I did wear rings. So, dude walks back like he'd had some moral dilemma, and asks (in French) "I hate to ask but, could you spare a little cash for some food?"

I looked at him as if I had never heard such a thing come out of anyone's mouth.
He said (getting agitated) "Parlais vu Francais? Do you speak English?"
I said, "Si"
"Do you speak Italian?"
"Yes"

At this point, he lost it.

"MONEY, I NEED MONEY! I'M HUNGRY, GIVE ME MONEY!"
"Uh... no. Here's that ring you found. Go sell it and get some money."

The walk to the train to Bois Colombe was a little longer than I expected, but there was good sight seeing and people watching. Finally found the train station, and as long as the walk was, it took me about the same time to find the train platform

AUTOMATED TICKET KIOSK- good idea
AUTOMATED TICKET KIOSK THAT ONLY TAKES COINS AND THERE ARE NO CHANGE MACHINES IN THE STATION- bad idea
MAPS OF EVERY TRAIN AND SUBWAY LINE PASSING THROUGH THE STATION- good idea
NO GUIDE OF WHERE TO FIND EVERY TRAIN AND SUBWAY IN THE STATION- bad idea

Made it to Bois Colombe. Now, I have a little survivalist streak in me. Something that says 'drop me on the corner of any street in any city in the world and I'll figure things out,' so I never called my friend Sabrina to tell her when I would be at her apartment. She wasn't home when I first went to her apartment (which I was able to find without any help, thank you) so I figured I would call her cell phone. My cell won't work internationally, but there are pay phones everywhere in France.

These pay phones, unlike the train kiosks, don't take coins or credit cards, just some weird thing called a 'smartcard' which no store I could find sold.

Did I mention I had to pee?

After standing outside the apartment building like a vagabond for half an hour, i realized the intercom was either not working, or was very quiet.

...and that Sabrina had been home all along.

DAY 2- Lost in Bois Colombe

OK, I really thought I had a good sense of direction and intuition, but this city has kicked my butt. I thought San Francisco was bad, but here, the streets zig-zag, cross another street and get a different name, then go in a circle and put you back where you started. I walked about 2-3 miles, decided to turn back, and ended up walking completely around Bois Colombe, to a city a mile and a half on the other side. Hopefully I can find the shop with the 135e suits again.

I need to find a burrito, and shwarma.

Arabs in Europe are the analogue of Latinos in the US.

Sabrina has a friend, Sammie, who is incapable of speaking slowly or softly, this trait carries over to her driving. There are no lanes on major streets in Paris.

Fascinating

Sammie, Sabrina and her girlfriend (yes, that kind of girlfriend- I don't want to hear it), and I went for a drink on the Champs d'Elysee. It was around 10pm when we got there, and there were more people out than when I'd been there Friday afternoon.

Steak flavored potato chips?

DAY 3- Sunday, the day of rest

Sabrina and Mariana have cooked meals for me consisting of canned food and dehydrated food. I thought French people were all about cuisine?

I tried to go shopping, and found that everything is closed on Sunday. I mean EVERYTHING. I found one shop that had some pitiable produce and... you guessed it- tons of canned food!

DAY 4- TTD

Tonight, Terence Trent D'arby is playing a show. TTD in Paris- classic! I have caught a bit of a cold, the clouds have finally broken , so I need to get outside...

Went to the St Lazarre area, cool shopping district, though a bit touristy. Happened along a back alley and saw the first biological female prostitue I'd seen in a while (SF people know what I'm talking about). I wanted to go to the Artelano showroom and maybe say hi to Tatjana (LIMN people know who I'm talking about), but the showroom is open something crazy like:

Monday - 12:30 - 1:45/2:30 - 3:15
Tue-Fri - 11:30 - 3:30/4:30 - 7:15
Saturday - if we feel like it, maybe sometime
Sunday - are you kidding?

So, I didn't make it Monday, but I want to try again before I go.

OBSERVATIONS

I'm in France at a train station, and Foriegner is playing over the PA - what's wrong here?

I see more baby carriages here than I do in Noe Valley, and I didn't think that was possible.

Elderly Frenchmen look at you funny if you haven't polished your shoes.

Young Frenchmen still wear berets.

I never thought I would see a Frenchman at a Terence Trent D'arby show in Paris with an Iron Maiden wallet. Why would I think I would see that anyway?

TERENCE TRENT D"ARBY @ LE MOROQUINERE

This is why I want to move to Europe- A packed house on a Monday night to see someone who hasn't had a hit in nearly 20 years play all-new, experimental material. In SF, maybe 150 people would show up to hear him sing 'Wishing Well,' but you couldn't pay 300 people to listen to songs they'd never heard, no matter how good they are.

DAY 5

Got up early for some reason that wasn't too clear to me, and realized as I went outside, that the sun is entirely in the wrong place. I'm not used to this longitude.

Sabrina and Mariane (S&M, as I've come to refer to them) watch a damn lot of MTV. I haven't had cable in a long time, but I'd heard of the show 'Pimp my Ride.' I didn't know that there was a show that should be called 'Pimp my Daughter.' Seriously- a young guy goes out on dates with three mothers, who each try to convince him to go on a date with her daughter. I just got old.

The apartment is in need of paint and furniture and appliances and plumbing fixtures, so we took a trip to the French version of Home Depot. I suppose that it was much cooler than Home Depot because, it's French. I bought wallpaper.

I got it into my head that I wanted a burrito, so Mariana, who just got her license (it isn't the same right of passage as in the States) drove all through Paris with her GPS guide trying to find a Mexican restaurant. I should mention that Mariana used GPS because, even as a French native, Paris makes absolutely no sense. Needless to say, we didn't find the restaurant, so we went to a cafe. I ate salad with some warm mystery meat, a boiled egg, and a potato. It was better than it sounds, and totally normal to the girls. My entree was baked salmon in creme sauce. Tres bon.

Sabrina and I headed off for the Catacombs via subway. I should mention that Sabrina, even as a French native, stared at the subway map for 5 minutes and finally admitted she wasn't sure if she could figure out how to get there.

The Catacombs were closed.

We decided to go to the Louvre and asked information whether it would be better to take a train or the subway to get to there. They fought behind the desk, snatching a map out of each others' hands before deciding on the bus.

The Louvre was closed.

Sabrina and I went to meet Mariana at Gare St Lazarre. She was waiting for us at Starbucks.

Next thing you know, there'll be a Walgreens in the Louvre.

OBSERVATIONS

I haven't seen a skateboard in 5 days.

Life is so much easier wth tax calculated into store prices. Is it really that hard to do?

Despite my previous statements, 'Pimp my Ride' is palatable when dubbed in French.

Video stores are automated, supporting R. Buckminster Fuller's idea of removing unproductive jobs through technology.

Is there more use of common sense in France? Train doors are manually opened by commuters, sometimes before the train comes to a complete halt. In the US we say, "that's not child-proof," or, "the elderly or handicapped could fall out." The French say, "if you aren't capable of stepping out of a moving train, don't stand in the doorway."

Day 6

Returned to the Artelano showroom, and it was actually open this time. They have some really cool stuff that goes far beyond what LIMN shows. Speaking of LIMN, as the largest retailer of European furniture in North America, one would think it would be well known in the design world. No one I spoke with at the Artelano showroom had any idea what I was talking about.

The Artelano showroom is couple of blocks from Invalides, which is a series of tombs and museums dedicated to French military history. I didn't find out until later that Napoleon was laid to rest there, or I might have actually gone inside.

In the same relative neighborhood was the Rodin Museum, which I don't even begin to have words to describe.

Day 7

I'm actually feeling like I'm done here. I could stay for months, decades, or years, but having a few more days seems like too much. I'll have to keep that in mind for next time.

Shopping districts are the same everywhere:

Women's shop
Petite women's shop
Plus size women's shop
Maternal woman's shop
Bridal women's shop
Women's lingerie shop
Women's shoes shop
Men's tailorsuitactivewearunderwearshoe shop

How can I not be able to find cool men's clothes in PARIS!

I already had a predaliction towards European women, but it may well become an obsession

I'm sure I did more than attempt to shop today?

Day 8 Lunch at Chez Asselli

Sabrina's mother invited us over for lunch today. She's Algerian, but speaks decent Arabic, so when I couldn't figure out how to say something in French, I had that to fall back on. Funny thing is, she understands English pretty well, but didn't tell me until I'd been in her house for an hour and a half. Sabrina also has two sisters and one niece, who loves to dance. Her older sister kind of looks like one of my cousins.

We may go back tomorrow for couscous

I finally got some of the famous French attitude:

INTERIOR - GAUTIER COUTURE STORE
(a 12'x12' room packed with gaudy Jean Paul Gautier clothes, staffed by 3 employees having a vibrant conversation which stops the instant the door opens)

KEENAN: (unsure) Bonsoir monsieurs?
CLERKS: (with a sniff) Bonsoir.
CLERK 1: (speaks French, but gets no response) YOU ARE AMERICAIN? I CAN HELP YOU?
KEENAN: uhh...non...merci...au revoir
(EXIT)

I was wrong about not being able to find cool clothes in France. I can't afford cool clothes in France.

Day 9

Everything is still closed on Sundays.

I went to Chatelet, a very international district of Paris, which has some fascinating Modern architecture. I especially like the Modern Art Museum.

Later that afternoon Sabrina took me to the Eiffel Tower...

...in the rain

We decided to walk up the 580 steps to the second deck (the 3rd deck was only accessible via long line to the elevator). Despite my aversion to all things toursity, I really did enjoy climbing the Tower and seeing the views of Paris, and remembering that this is one those wonder-of-the-world things.

Did I mention how much I love rain?

To all those who demanded pictorial documentation, forgot to change the batteries in my camera before going to the Eiffel Tower, so, no pics.

I think Bois-Colombes is District B13 (Those who know what I'm talking about, know what I'm talking about)

The subway isn't any more difficult than other cities, just more complex. One just needs to have general geographic knowledge of Paris (which I had after about 2 days), and some idea of what is close to where one is going. Even Parisian natives will never have the entire system committed to memory, so don't be afraid to look at the maps.

Day 10

I went back to Chatelet, and found that what I thought was an art pavilion, is actually the top of an underground shopping mall (Le Halles).

The French can rock a hot dog. Any one who knows me, knows I don't care much for hot dogs, but the boulangeries here do things to hot dogs that will never see the inside of a baseball stadium. Start with a 15", mystery meat-free, all beef dog. Place it in a half size baguette. Cover the whole thing in as much cheese as you can find, then bake it to golden brown perfection. I wish I hadn't waited 10 days to eat one of these.

I can't leave without one of those cable knit turtleneck sweaters with the buttons on the shoulder. I might get stopped at customs if I don't have one.

Christmas is in the air, and unlike in the States, it feels like there is a holiday coming, and not a series of big sales.

Americans do not have a lock on smelly, crazy, homeless people. This dude on the train is quacking at people if they come too close to him... Quacking. Daffy Duck freakout style.

Oh, and I got the cable knit turtleneck sweater with the buttons on the shoulder.

Day 11

Spent quite a large portion of my day looking for touristy gifty things

Public transit workers are ready to go on strike... Time for me to go.

Really.

So I left at 8am to get to CDG by 11:30. Should take 45-60 minutes.

SNCF from Bois-Colombes to Gare St. Lazarre, no problem.

Bois-Colombes to Chatelet, no problem.

Chatelet to CDG...

Chatelet to CDG...

Chatelet to CDG...

Chatelet to CDG...

Okay, I better get a cab.

35e ($50) later, "Sorry, boarding for your flight has closed, and it is the last flight of the day. You will have to book a flight for tomorrow."

"...oh..."

"...ok..."

It's happy hour in Dubai.

The waitress at the airport coffee shop would fit in in any truck stop across the United States, if she wasn't French.

I finally broke down and ate the first meal at McDonald's in years, and I'm doing it in Charles De Gaul airport. Kinda makes it feel OK.

A lot of people fly from Paris to Israel, they seem to have flights hourly.

Would there be domestic and international terminals in European airports? I'm just thinking that France is a little bigger than Wisconsin, so what would be the point?

There are a few other people spending quality time in the airport tonight. We've each taken our own waiting room-booth-kiosk-vitrine. It is an interesting synchronicity: sleep for 45 minutes, stare off into space, one of the neighbors walks by, read, be one of the neighbors
walking by everyone else, go back, and repeat.

Day 11 1/2

I'm pretty sure it is Thursday morning, stumbling through the duty-free with a bottle of Absinthe (yes, my final destination is Toronto). On the plane. So delusional I wonder if they can stop by my house on the way.

Toronto is pretty from the sky.

I'm going home

I have a gig tomorrow.

Uniforms

2008-07-25T01:33:00.000-07:00

I don't believe in astrology. However, I do believe in the Vinson Theory of Astrolological Relativity. Don't bother googling it, I just made up the name, but a friend of mine did come up with a theory that explains the significance of being born at different times of the year.

About 70% of the Earth is water. 97% of that water is in the oceans. The amount of water in any given part of the ocean at any given time (the tide) is controlled by the position of the sun and the moon. These celestial bodies move this massive amount of water enough to change its levels by a few feet to several yards every day, depending on the time of year, and have an effect on the ecological system of the entire planet. Low and high tides in January are measurably different than low and high tides in June. It would stand to reason, humans, who are 60% water, are equally affected, even if it is a bit more subtle. If you accept that logic, then it isn't much of a stretch to say that the variations of the sun and moon's gravitational pull during the year will have dramatically different affects on our developing minds while we are in the womb.

Those effects are what would produce different personality types at different times of the year.

We are all different types of people. What gets me, is how everybody has to fit in a box; even in laid-back, progressive, open-minded San Francisco. Here, one has to deal with reverse engineered bias and stereotyping. Don't try to tell me that a group of glammed out Marina girls wouldn't get just as much derision and scorn walking into Zeitgeist as a group of skinny-jeaned Mission hipsters would get walking into Matrix Filmore. Why is it so hard to believe that both groups of people just might share broad tastes? They just might listen to the Descendents as much as Coldplay. They might drink just as much PBR and 2 buck Chuck as they do Chimay and Hoya de Cadenas 2002. They might have sleeve tats and Prada in the closet.

I would almost rather deal with people who know their douchebag potential, than people who pretend to be broad-minded, yet are just as narrow of vision as the people they shun.

The Nuclear Option

2008-07-22T03:31:00.001-07:00

I've always believed there are two types of people- people that believe there are two types of people, and people who don't. I am both immoveable object and unstoppable force in the latter camp. However, for the sake of having a blog more than four sentences long, I will say there are two types of people in the world- those who commune with nature, and those who believe wearing flip-flops is never an option.

I went hiking once on a playa in New Mexico wearing silk pajamas. My idea of communing with wildlife is people watching at a bridge & tunnel bar at happy hour on a Friday. The best thing about the great outdoors is that it makes me truly appreciate temperature controlled buildings and chilled martini glasses. On the other hand- wearing a flashlight strapped to your head may be practical at night, but it looks mental. Why does all camping gear have to be orange and grey?

I went camping last weekend, and a lot of people think that it is an exceedingly uncharacteristic thing for me to do. Those people didn't read the last post, so they don't know that I'm a superhero, and I do what I want. I'm not a survivalist, I am a survivor. I don't believe in the impossible, I believe in things that just haven't been figured out yet. So yes, I pitched a tent in the dark, I cooked over an open flame, and drank cocktails without ice.

But I DID NOT wear flip-flops.

Mood Rings and myspace things

2008-07-18T17:01:00.000-07:00

I was in such a bad mood last week, a homeless woman said to me, "life isn't that bad."

She's right, it isn't, and it wasn't at the time, but now I know how to avoid getting asked for spare change every ten steps. On the note (D#), what is spare change? I don't put money in my back pocket just in case the money in my front pocket breaks. If I do break a bill, I plan on keeping all the pieces anyway.

On the next note (E), I'm taking a myspace leave of absence. I don't want to delete the profile, because there are a few people I only keep in touch with there, but I have peeled the whole profile to the bare bones. There were a couple of decent blogs, and I don't want to lose them, so here's a couple bonus track reissue myspace blogs:

Rilke: April 23, 2008

My first true love gave me Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet. We were kids and old souls, the both of us. She gave me the book with the symbiotic understanding that I would read the following passage, know that it was the most important thing in the book and the only reason she wanted me to read it, and agree that we couldn't stay together. It was absolutely the right thing to do, I don't regret it, and I hope one day my life might be large enough...

"...young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time ahead and far on into life, is solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent - ?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances. Only in this sense, as the task of working on themselves ("to hearken and to hammer day and night"), may young people use the love that is given to them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must still, for a long, long time, save and gather themselves); it is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough."

KLM has (not) left the bulding

2008-07-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

KLM hadn't rocked it in a while, but not for lack of trying. M was apparently trying to rack up miles for a vacation in Australia by flying back and forth to Seattle every couple of days. K&L kept getting the wires crossed. Finally, there were 3 days between Seattle trips, K&L had gotten sleep, and KLM were going to rock it...

if M would answer her cell...

or her land line...

or a text...

email...?

Miranda?

She finally called last night:

"Hey, it's Miranda"
"Hey, how are you?"
"OK, I just saw that you called?"
"Yeah, Lisa and I were going to get a drink... wanted to see what you were up to..."
"Well... I'm kinda locked in my apartment."
"Huh?"
"This dude broke into my apartment and slapped me in the face and he has my keys. So I have the door deadbolted, but I can't leave.*"
"WHAT!"
"Yeah, I know. So, I was wondering if you could do me a huuuge favor."
"Of course."
"Couldyougetmeanewdoorknob?ThelandlordisuselessandIcalledthelocksmith
buttheysaiditwouldbe$600andIdon'thaveitIcannotphysicallydothat.I'lltotally
payforitandI'llgiveyoubeer.NobodywillhelpmeandI'vebeenstuckinherefor
threedays."
"Sure, I'll be right over."

"...really...?"

"Yeah, there's a Cole Hardware on the way to your place. I'll be there in a bit."

"You are my hero."

Yes, she called me a hero. L said I was a superhero. I don't know what this world has come to, when helping a friend in need becomes a heroic deed. This is one reason why I'm not that interested in having children. I don't want to raise a responsible, loyal, honest and good person that will help everyone and make the world a better place, only to have a bunch of disasters for friends that can't be counted on to bring a freakin' doorknob.

*This story is M's to tell. It's much less dangerous, but just as scary as it sounds.

Alicia, Susie, Ash, Faith, Rachael, Annika, Samar, Jamie

2008-07-16T02:52:00.000-07:00

Continuing with the theme of "Egg," this pretty much sums up my feelings of every romantic relationship I have ever had.

My college friend Bill was in the best band that no one ever heard of, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though I always say I don't have favorites of anything, because everything brings something different to the table, the song "Luminous Crush," and the album Vortex Flower, by the band Space Team Electra is, are, was, and will be something never far from my ears. The words were written by Myshell Prasad, but it feels like they were stolen from my own brain...

I've seen an angel lose it's wings in flight before

I'll turn your cages into swinging open doors

I'll be the silver ribbon lining every cloud

But simple truths are what you never have allowed

I waited for you from my castle on the moon

I thought I'd give my apprehensions all to you

While I was freezing in that luminary burn

I walked the empty corridors behind your words

It seems like I just wasn't meant to follow through

And all the ways I love are not of any use to you

I tried to give my mind and heart and soul and all of it away

But you don't understand a single word I say

To the L in KLM:

This was the private Paris blog on myspace.

Eggs

2008-07-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to call it.

Character flaw

Bad habit

Predilection

Natural predisposition

Polysyllabic synonym for stupid

However one may label it, I have to put a lid on it. I have to stop putting all my eggs in one basket. Actually, no. I have to stop putting the golden egg in one basket. I haven't even had a golden egg, they've all been gold plated, and once the paint chips off, I realize I have nothing but a plain old egg that has been sitting out too long and started to smell funny. There I was, putting all this emotional intensity into having the omelette of my dreams, and now I got a rotten egg. Before anyone reading this starts thinking I consider them rotten eggs, understand that I am all about the omelette- cracking the shell and getting to what is underneath. So really (in case these metaphor wasn't obtuse enough*), what I'm after is the goose that lays the golden egg, so we can make the perfect omelette. Though that would be an extra perverse form of cannibalism on the goose's part.

I'm getting sidetracked- the geese in my life have laid eggs that I inevitably turn into golden eggs in my mind, regardless of the goose's feeling in the matter. What I think I need to do, is not hold one goose above all others in anticipation of the golden egg (and the perfect omelette), and not let one goose get my gander, whatever that means. Ducks lay eggs, chickens lay eggs, fish lay eggs, ostriches lay eggs, penguins lay eggs, dinosaurs lay eggs, some guy in Bulgaria laid an egg, according to the National Inquirer. Point is, I can be very intense, and very obsessive, and while a serious attention to detail can make a great omelette, I have to remember that the egg is a gift from the right goose, and that is where a perfect omelette begins.

I can't imagine how bizarre my metaphors would get if I took a serious interest in mind altering drugs...

Stop Worrying and Learn to Love Bad Moods

2008-07-12T17:08:00.001-07:00

I am in a bad mood.

I've been moody for a couple weeks now. Funny thing is, I like bad moods. Not that I want to be in a bad mood all the time- I don't want to drink peanut butter milkshakes every day either. When I get into a bad mood, I dig in. I get bitter, bitchy, mean, and nasty. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. I don't trust people that are happy all the time. How does anyone know how good the peaks are without going through the valleys? Can happiness really be appreciated without understanding it's opposite?

When I'm happy, I float. I get witty, warm, compassionate, caring and kind. I revel in how good it feels, because I know how bad bad can be.

So don't try to cheer me up, I'll be fine.

Eventually.

Regarding Same-Sex Marriages

2008-07-10T12:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have stated in writing that marriage is an antiquated tradition blah, blah, blah. Wubba wubba wubba, deedle deedle dee. Nonetheless, whose marriage would you rather attend?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK44eiCrPJg

www.youtube.com/watch?v=URfuZGIGO8g

An Imagined conversation...*

2008-07-09T20:23:00.000-07:00

(phone rings)

me: Hello?

her: Hey, it's me.

me: Hi, what's up? What can I do for you?

her: "What can I do for you?" Oh, god. I was hoping you wouldn't be mad at me. I know I kinda fell off the face of the earth. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get together and watch a movie?

me: I'm not mad. You should know that I could never be mad at you.

her: But...?

me: But what? I'm not mad... It's a little strange. I mean, we never have talked about any of this, and I don't know what's been going through your mind, but I... I know I said I was cool with us hanging out, and movie night is cool, but it's also been frustrating and a bit painful. It's almost like nothing has changed, but since all we've had is a couple of superficial emails, I still feel unsure and in the dark.

I can't go on with this. It's way to passive aggressive for me. I say I'm over it, but obviously I'm not.

yes, I stole this idea from the M in KLM - http://blog.mmoure.com/

How Australia Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Drunks

2008-07-05T20:52:00.000-07:00

Handy Hints For Picking a Drunk

by Linda Silmalis

The Sunday Telegraph, Australia

New South Wales bureaucrats have drawn up an official list of intoxication symptoms, so pub owners can tell when patrons are drunk.

'Cos you know pub owners have never seen drunk people before

Among the 39 steps towards drunkenness are: "bumping into furniture," "sleeping at a bar or table" and "inability to find one's mouth with a glass."

39 steps? They didn't know it's a 12 step plan? Or did they get that far and then need to go have a couple drinks for "research purposes?"

The intoxication guidelines, drawn up by the NSW Office of Liquor and Gaming, were distributed to club and pub managers last week. Staff are supposed to use them in determining when to refuse alcohol to patrons.

"Gosh Ollie, I think he's drunk!"

"Oh criminy Stan! We'd better check the list, or we'll never know for sure!"

Drafted in response to tough new liquor laws introduced in NSW, the guidelines also recommend that clubs and pubs provide free food and bottled water to drinkers, in a bid to curb alcohol related violence.

So, if I go to Australia to get verschnickered, they'll GIVE ME A FREE DINNER too?

Vacation all I ever wanted/Vacation time to get away...

Under the laws, managers are required to remove drunk patrons from the premises and stop them from re-entering for 24 hours - or face $11,000 fine. Number one on the list of 39 signs of intoxication is slurred words, followed by rambling or unintelligible conversation. Bar staff are also urged to be on the lookout for patrons fumbling change, being rude, argumentative and aggressive, and those who cannot stand or who fall down.

They forgot "air drumming to 'Sister Christian,'" "dancing on the bar, then saying, 'somebody help me down," "screaming woooooooo at the top of their lungs" and "blonde women twirling their hair and saying 'I'm soooo drruunnnk!"

Club patrons seen as "overly friendly" or exuberant could also soon find themselves shown the door, as well as those who vomit.

Uhh...

If a patron fails to leave, managers have been advised to contact police in order to avoid being fined. The department said the guidelines were drafted to help bar staff form a reasonable belief that a person is intoxicated. However, it warned that the list was neither exhaustive nor conclusive.

Which is why I wrote this blog ;-)

Now I'm going to go get a drink...

July 4th, US Man Day

2008-07-04T19:11:00.000-07:00

I was hanging out with my friend M (not the M in KLM) at Amber last night. He was a little depressed because the next day was the 4th of July. Why would Independence Day be depressing? He was depressed because he's British. Not as if he thought that by simply being British, he should have been King of The Americas, or some... uh, actually... sorry, he did think that by simply being British (and drunk) that he should have had sovereignty over what wouldn't have been called the United States had the Brits won what wouldn't have been called the Revolutionary War*.

This is M's first 4th in the States, and while many United Statesians believe that everyone in the world is familiar with all things United Statesish, that's not true. When I was asked what we do on ID4, I told him that we cook meat and blow stuff up. It's a decidedly masculine holiday, isn't it? I'm pretty certain that throwing raw meat on an open flame while drinking beer was not done by any of the leading ladies in Sex and the City. I'm also pretty doubtful that "How to Blow Up a Watermelon With an M80" will be on the next Oprah. Really, the only way the 4th of July could be more masculine is if men went with Ted Nugent to shoot wild hot dogs with a crossbow and cooked them on the hood of a '67 Mustang that would be cleaned afterwards by the Hooters Bikini Team. Then, at night, men would gather in baseball stadiums to play air guitar to Guns n' Roses doing a cover of Springsteen's "Born in the USA" before a game of dodgeball with firecrackers, and end the evening with Cindy Crawford eating an Eskimo Pie, naked on the roof of the Empire State Building.

America, F**k Yeah!

*Not having a revolutionary war would also mean Purple Rain wouldn't have happened, since there wouldn't be Prince & the Revolution, and Adam Ant wouldn't have a career at all... maybe that part wouldn't be so bad ;-)

Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus

2008-07-02T19:37:00.000-07:00

OK, I've been single for a long time. This was not a conscious decision, I didn't come to any conclusions or weigh any evidence for or against anything- it just rolled out like that.

My entire adult life, I've believed that marriage is an antiquated institution, and there are enough children in the world that I don't need to make one from scratch. That attitude may be a deal breaker for some, and may be catnip for others. For me, it isn't relevant to being in a committed relationship. T&P set the bar by being together for years, saying no to marriage and kids, then limboing under the bar to get married anyway. Then there's P&A, who jumped into marriage head first with a wedding party that made Bacchanalia look like a Thanksgiving parade, but also was were I have never (before or since) heard the words "I love you" spoken with more emotional content. It comes down to two sides of the same coin, and you either want to be with someone or you don't.

On that note, I have made a decision on whether I want to be with someone or not, and whether I want to be with someone or not.

First interpretation: It's high time I got me one o' them ladyfriends.

Second interpretation: Here's where things get... difficult...

(and rather personal)

She and I have never talked about "us," so writing about it doesn't seem too brazen. I'll be brief and rather vague about it in a run-on sentence. Here it goes:

I was crazy about her from the beginning but she was dating someone so I let it go until I found out she wasn't dating someone anymore so I went for it and thought it was going well till she told me about the other other dude but she still wanted to be friends and I said OK because I'm not a bitter, resentful, aggro-dude (or I'm a naive shlub), but now I think we really can't because it's doing the same thing over and over again, knowing full well that it won't turn out the way I want but hoping that it will anyway, which is insane and since I'm only crazy, I should step away from the woman before I start to need therapy.

CJ

2008-06-29T01:40:00.000-07:00

I've always been rather cavalier in my attitude towards death. I don't want a funeral. I don't want to be buried or entombed. Burn my body, dump the ashes, order a cocktail and say a toast to me.

That's it, you can go when you've finished your drink.

I can say this because I've lived long enough to have studied some religion here, and a bit of philosophy there, and come to my own conclusions. The main one being that no one really knows what happens when we die.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is when one doesn't know what will happen next, and there is a nagging suspicion that what does happen next won't be pleasant. I happen to like the unknown. I like learning about things I've never seen, places I've never been. Death is the ultimate unknown, so why would anyone with an inquisitive nature be afraid?

The flip side is for other people. I don't know if they are looking down, counting how many people showed up to the funeral, or interdimensionally sitting next to me, bored out of their metaphysical skulls and wondering when the ceremony will be over so they can get some peace. Maybe they really are in the celestial version of Ibiza, having a good ol' time and not even caring what goes on when they check out. Some might say I am being disrespectful, but I say respect life. Celebrate the lives of our dead friends and family. If, as many say, the dead are in a better place, then why sit around crying about it? Mourning is being selfish about how you won't ever see someone again.

Like I mentioned earlier, I've been able to formulate these opinions during the time I've had in this life, but now, with the death of a child, those opinions are in question.

Colin James wasn't even a month old. He didn't get to form any opinions. He hadn't learned to walk, or to read. He never tasted cheesecake, tied his own shoes, or said "Mama." What does that mean? What is the sum total of a fortnight and change of life? Is this one of those times that we are supposed to say life is short, and we don't know how much time we'll have so spend it wisely? Grab Life by the Reigns! Live Life to the Fullest! Semper Fi, Do or Die!

Let me get this straight: two people, still hardly more than kids themselves, decide that they will turn their lives upside down and inside out. Their family and friends will turn their lives topsy turvy and oogly boogly. The mother will endure the strain & discomfort, and the joy & beatitude of pregnancy. Finally, a beautiful, innocent new life will get the most fleeting of glimpses into our increasingly crappy little world. All this so a few people learn not to take life for granted?

I'm not buying it. I want a better answer than that.

What am I getting into?

2008-06-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

I am habitually unhabituated. The idea of doing anything everyday, bi-weekly, monthly (you're getting the picture, I'm sure, but still I continue), quarterly, annually, biennially, sesquintennially... it just doesn't happen in my world. I am not now, nor have I ever been a communist... I meant diarist. Is diarist a word? If it isn't, would it matter? Shakespeare made up words all the time, and he did OK for himself; at least in retrospect. Really, I have no idea if the man had to wait tables between "Taming of the Shrew" and "Midsummer Night's Dream." I don't even know why he's so well respected. No, I take that back. I understand why he's respected, I don't understand why he's venerated. The dude was like Joe Eszterhas, or Michael Bay, Jerry Bruckheimer- only he did it at the Globe Theater instead of the AMC Theater 24plex. Imagine, two hundred years from now, college professors dissecting the use of double entendre in Basic Instinct.

Anyway, Shakespeare: populist writer trying to make a good living doing something he was good at. I have no problem with that, but don't try to tell me that he never farted. Shakespeare farted. Ghandi farted. Einstein farted. You know Nelson Mandella let a couple rip at his birthday party the other night. Understand- I don't want anyone to pull my finger, I'm just saying people are people (so why should it be?), and this deification has to stop. The cult of celebrity has become the institutionalized Religion of Celebrity.

"And it was written: when the spawn of Brangelina are ready to come forth into the world, rose petals will fall from Angelina's vajayjay*, and the birth of her twins will bring to fruition the next stage of human evolution."

I bet if Bono endorsed Barack Obama, they (you know, THEM), they would call off the elections. Dubya would be forced to leave office early if Bono AND Brad Pitt endorsed Obama. Then again, Hillary's support was largely middle American, upper-lower class to lower middle class women- the dominant target audience for Oprah, but Oprah backed Obama. How was such a prime opportunity for cross marketing thrown away? And now that I've posed the question, why do you care what the answer is?

My point is, I'm far more fascinated with the woman down the street who is almost finished painting a mural of four generations of women in her family than the family feud between Britbrit and KFed. I find that overcoming our Protestant cultural bias (and those pesky legal issues) against gay & lesbian adoption is more important than whether or not Madonna had permission to adopt Ghana.

OK, that's enough to get me started. I'll paddle my consciousness out of the stream, and head for the shore. I might be back tomorrow, I might not.

I'll stop worrying, and learn to love the blog.

*Who came up with "vajayjay?" Shakespeare would've made up a much better word. Are we really still so sexually inept that we can't say a woman has a hoo-ha, and a man has a thingy?