Storytelling

For most of my life, for whatever reasons, I've felt alone, isolated, alienated. It didn't seem to matter to me that I had many good close friends, and the love and support of my family. I felt what I felt.

I had one main skill, an ability that went back to my earliest memories and that had practically defined my identity: storytelling. I loved hearing, reading, and most importantly, telling stories. I collected them. And somewhere along the way, collecting stories became collecting characters and people. And that caused me to think of myself as somehow separate or even above other people. I'm not proud of this shift in my consciousness. I'm just putting it out there.

Basically my skill at storytelling fed into, and reinforced, my isolation. And that meant that I wasn't actually telling stories. I was just an outside observer, a watcher of others.

Lately, though, a different idea has been filtering into my brain.

I can connect with other people - by telling stories. What else, after all, is a story for, but for the telling? That's what our brains do - they tell stories. It's not my own personal skill, it's the trait that defines humanity. We keep the past and the future in our heads, not just the present. Animals can be smart in the moment, but they don't appear to create long-term strategies and compare and contrast them. Animals can learn from their past behaviors, but that doesn't seem to translate into the beginning of a story. Humans tell and love stories.

I've been human all along.

Walking around downtown last night, I was seeing people in a brand-new way, it felt like.

Beautiful, explosive, sad Stormy, tiny dancer at Devil's Point, who told me Friday night that when she's not dancing she's becoming one with her bed. "Nice bed," she mimed petting the mattress as she laid down, and laughed softly. Was she sleeping so much because of depression? Drugs? An illness? All of those, sadly, seemed equally possible.

The tall, androgynous girl in black slacks and shirt who sat next to me at the Stumptown Comics Fest Saturday afternoon. She showed me her sketchbook without my prompting. She had a series of scars or burns across her inner forearm. She talked to me impulsively, almost compulsively. She wanted to be ready to show her art at next year's festival. Where did those scars come from? What did she see in me to start talking out of the blue?

The blonde girl who sat near me at Backspace and kept playing with her hair while surfing; I toasted her - Cheers! - with my coffee and she smiled and returned the toast. What was her story? Did she live in the Pearl and just want some late-night coffee? She was dressed in nice shoes, gray slacks and a red blouse; professional-casual, not for clubbing or dancing, and not Goth-y or Emo like the usual Backspace customer.

More importantly, why didn't I share my own story with these people? Why do I nod and ask questions, but avoid talking about myself? Or tell them about each other, if I don't feel like sharing my own story... Maybe they all need to connect, and I'm the linchpin?

One thing I did learn while volunteering at the comics festival was that I can get a charge out of talking to people. For a while I was the greeter for people entering the exhibition floor. I checked to make sure people had paid, or directed the exhibitors to their booths, told people where they could find bathrooms or the closest ATM. Boring stuff. But I also got to compliment people on their costumes, or notice the books or artwork they were carrying. I met the friend of the guy who drew the Keepin' It Real Frog because I spotted the K.I.R.F. on a t-shirt. I talked to another volunteer who had experience in extreme cold-weather construction techniques because he'd worked on Antarctica. I spotted many a fine hat, and people noticed my own trusty fedora - we were brothers and sisters in the lost art of hats. Geeks, it turns out, love hats. Maybe people in general love hats, actually. I don't want to be too exclusive. I saw a friend of a friend who also knew me through Backspace, and she bared her back to me to show a brand-new tattoo, less than 24 hours old.

And... it was fun. When I have a role to play, I can be talkative and friendly. It's just that, in normal circumstances, I forget the role that I play, or forget that I can take on whatever role suits my fancy.

And I love storytelling. Can I tell you a story? • 11:09 AM 1 comments

More and better Democrats

Holy crab, is it the end of the fundraising quarter already? Sheesh. I chipped in $25.00 to Steve Novick, Democratic candidate running for U.S. Senator Gordon Smith's seat.

I could've gone and just given money to the eventual nominee, but I favor Novick's brand of progressivism over the other Democratic nominee, Jeff Merkley, former Oregon Speaker of the House. But, honestly, either one would make a far better Senator than Gordon Smith. The Bush Administration holds the country and the Constitution hostage mainly through the support of the Republican minority in the Senate. The Republican Congressional delegation (and, sadly, increasingly, the Democratic leadership as well) seem hell bent on throwing away their own power as a co-equal branch of government by enabling the Bush administration to: ignore the laws passed by Congress through signing statements; create enclaves that it claims are outside of US law, the purpose of which is to imprison and torture people that have not been accused of a crime and are refused any legal recourse; pack the Executive Branch organizations with toadies and incompetents who put our lives at risk by ignoring their sworn oath to uphold the Constitution, instead pledging loyalty only to the President. And so much more.

Steve Novick is on the side of the majority of Americans and Oregonians on many issues: universal health care, getting US troops out of Iraq, returning to the 500 year-old principle of allowing all humans the right to challenge their accuser in court (habeas corpus), and holding the Executive Branch accountable in order to prevent future administrations to abuse the powers Bush/Cheney have claimed in their devastating terms in office.

So... y'know...just sayin'. • 9:53 AM 0 comments

I don't get it

Wow, do I have a lot of questions about this little video:


Why did Luthor want to know why the peanut butter tastes so great in the first place? Why did he waste the opportunity to destroy Superman forever just to ask him about peanut butter?

Why didn't Superman just tell him? Will that knowledge somehow give Luthor an advantage of some kind?

Why did Superman just lock Luthor into Luthor's own secret lair? And wasn't it kind of mean for Superman to taunt Luthor by eating the peanut butter with the kids? That's not really very nice.

And, wait a minute - what's the deal with Luthor's lair having an easily-accessible window from which the kids can watch? What kind of evil super-villain is Luthor to leave that wide open? I mean, sure, it seems kind of cool that he's got a castle, but, damn, man, why not beef up the security a little? I mean you're enemies with freakin' Superman! The guy can see through walls, and is stronger than just about any-freakin'-one! He can fly! Heat vision! Use a little more common sense, man!

How did those kids find that lair in the first place?

When did Superman feel the need for money that was so bad he had to license peanut butter in the first place? The man can literally squeeze coal into diamonds! He can turn back time if he feels like it! Between those two abilities, he can pretty much retire with, oh, I don't know, all the money in the world! I sure hope that the proceeds for that peanut butter are going towards sick children or something, 'cause, otherwise, I might have to start rooting for Lex Luthor. The man just wants to know why it tastes so good. I hope it's not some "special ingredient" like human flesh or something.

...my head spins from all the questions. I really want to know the rest of the story. • 5:11 PM 4 comments

Amazon MP3 Downloads FTW

I've got a lot of music that I "inherited" *cough, cough* from an older music collection. Most of the songs are singles or incomplete albums, and off and on I've shopped around for the CDs of those albums, so that I can complete my collection. In an ideal world, I'd own legal physical copies of all my music, and someday, I will realize that ideal world.

I have, in the past, used the iTunes Store to fill in albums like that. That's not an ideal solution for a perfectionist like myself, however - the older tracks are MP3s, without any digital rights management to lock me in to one player or device, and the iTMS tracks are encoded as AAC files and locked to only allow me to play them on my iPod or up to 5 computers. Which is more of a problem than a non-geek might think, because I use five computers as a matter of course; my new sexy thing (laptop), my home PC, my web server, and two different computers at work. OK, technically I can't use my work computers for personal music, but I've seen my boss listening to stuff in iTunes on his work laptop so I feel perfectly justified in using mine, too.

It seems that Amazon has come up with a solution that gets me most of the way to where I want to be. Their new MP3 download service offers DRM-free MP3-encoded songs. Right now there's "only" 2 million tracks, but it's a lot of back catalog stuff, it seems, and that's what most of my individual songs are. It's useful for filling in the missing gaps in my collection - legally. Of course I could just pirate this stuff but I like the option of staying within the law. Y'know... sometimes I like to work with authority, and not against it. Keeps me unpredictable.

Just sayin'.

I'm also kind of please that Apple may face some actual competition on the music download front. Amazon seems like it's got a great thing. If they can talk the rest of the music oligarchs into releasing more un-encumbered tracks, Apple is going to have no choice but to follow. If I vote with my dollars for Amazon I'm really giving Apple a little tough love. And that's OK.

Truth is, I've never spent a dime on iTunes - all my "purchased" tracks were paid for with promotional codes. Oh, wait, I did buy a gift certificate for Tracy one year for her birthday. Other than that they didn't get any money from me. For music, I mean. • 4:35 PM 0 comments

"No Ackadnt"

Walking across the Burnside Bridge last night on my way to Debate Club, I spotted a crumpled up sheet of lined white paper, covered in handwriting. Picked it up, uncrumpled it, and found the following (transcribed as closely as possible, retaining original punctuation and spelling):

Begin transcribed letter
*****
On 4-202 On 4/7-02 I was comeing from Portland OR. I left about 900 PM I was Heading to lower grants Pass I was ABout 10mile From the Motal and I stoped to take a piss. I pulled over ond the Left side of the road when I was done. I started to take off and the tires of my slveR truck spun in the gravle and sldid me OFF the Road. I let OFF the gass and the moter Died And I laid in to the Dich.

A call A Towe TRuck about 2:30 AM the tow truck SHoed up and could not pull me ouT He was to small. He call some one cause it was cold and the wind was Blowing. A car came by ABout 300 AM and I got a ride from him to the motel at Boyer Park. The night crew was just getting OFF work. And was drinking so I told them that I got stuck in a dick. They lafted. So I started to drink [scribbled out - unreadable] with them [scribble] . Around 3.30

Over [page two - second side of paper]

A Drank with them [scribble] I got a ride [scribble] Back to my truck to meet the tow truck About About 10 min the truck showed up. And said He would not tow me out of the Dich un till a cop showed up. I had to be At work at 600 AM to get the my crew going. And then I was going to go back to my truck

so I got aride from onof the outher contrcker that was going by on His way to work

I was on the job side and a cop showed up and Told me that the I left the sean of a AckADNT. I said There was No AckADNT. So I went with the cop Back to my Truck.

This is when He Started to Read me my Rights.

I told Him I was not Drinking when when I got my truck stuck.

*****
End of transcribed letter

A sad tale, yes, but most importantly, some beautiful found art. • 8:03 AM 0 comments

Summer love, had me a blast

I love all the references to "The Simpsons Movie" in the intro to the Season 19 opening episode.



...especially Spider-Pig.

Will they use this one all season long (with appropriate changes, of course)? Or was it a one-off? • 10:59 AM 0 comments

Welcome to the social

Tonight I'm going to The Portland Mercury's Debate Club, which will cover the topic of Measure 49, the ballot measure that will apparently restore some of the land-use planning measures that were wiped out by Measure 37 two years ago. I'm basically pro-land-use planning so I'm leaning towards Yes on Measure 49, but I'd like to know more. This month's Debate Club (the Merc has been doing one per month since the start of summer) will have spokespersons for both sides, pro and con - not all of the topics they've chosen have had that kind of representation, which I don't hold against the Merc staff at all. In any case, I'm looking forward to it.

Debate Club starts at 7:00 PM, so between my leaving work and going to Rontom's for booze and politics, I'll likely be hanging out at Backspace in Old Town, and drinking way too much coffee. And possibly catching up on last night's season premiere of "Heroes", which I missed because I was catching up on the weekend's season premieres of "The Simpsons" and "Family Guy". So busy I barely have time for television. Which is just the way I like it. But the "Star Wars" parody on "Family Guy" was kinda funny. I thought it would be funnier, though...

I still haven't seen the season finale of VH1's "The Pickup Artist" and don't spoil me for who wins, please. I may not get to watch that one for another day or two.

This weekend I'll be volunteering at The Stumptown Comics Festival, on Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon. Plus this week I need to bop around and put up some posters for that event. I'm hoping that I will meet some social geeks and have some fun. Barry, the organizer for the festival, promises via email that it will be "easy volunteering" - I'll likely have lots of time for socializing in between my work duties.

I'm still filling in my social calendar for Wednesday through Friday... there's got to be lots of stuff happening in the Rose City between now and then. Chime in if you've got something in mind... I'm open to invites... • 9:00 AM 4 comments

Tell all your friends

"Hello?"

I never saw her face. Just heard her voice. Young. Still burred with sleep.

"I so hope you're not asleep right now."

She was on the phone with someone. She sounded like she was embarrassed but had to talk. She was sharing a secret.

"You're not asleep? OK, because if you were... I'd... I don't know. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I really really like Cory. No, I mean really, really like him!"

We were on the bus, she in the seat behind me. I just sipped my coffee, sent off some texts to my Twitter page and Tracy, and listened.

"I know! He's so cute!"

I tuned her out for a bit, until she said:

"Hey. You must be asleep. I'm on my way to school... Just wanted to tell you that I have a boyfriend now. Yeah. I know! Cory. I'm not going to say anything more on your voicemail, but... yeah. OK. Um, see you. Bye!"

She called someone else? Funny. But just a few seconds after, I heard her voice again.

"Hello? It's me. You will not believe this. I have a boyfriend! I know! I really really really really really like Cory."

This was her third call in about 10 minutes. Was she going to call all of her friends? Being a boy, I wondered what happened last night for this girl to decide Cory was her boyfriend. And what was Cory thinking this morning? Did he share her feelings?

My stop approached. I left her to her social networking. • 7:51 AM 1 comments

Will Earl carry the message back?

I attended U.S. Representative Earl Blumenauer's Town Hall today, as I mentioned in my last post. I signed up to speak, but didn't get up right away to join the two long lines that formed behind the two microphones. I wanted to gauge the tenor of the crowd.

And every person who spoke urged impeachment. Impeachment of President Bush, and President Cheney. Some people praised Blumenauer's good works and thanked him for the opportunity to speak at this public forum. Some few people told the Congressman that they did not trust him or his words, and at least one man screamed that Rep. Blumenauer was a coward for taking no action. Everyone spoke with passion.

They all called for impeachment, and to end the war in Iraq. Now, not later. Every single person.

I wish I could remember all their stories, their names, and their words. Maybe video of the event will be put up at some point. But of them all, one man's story will stay with me. He spoke of a tree, in NE Portland, on 45th and Alameda, that displays pictures of a young man who grew up and played in the same neighborhood as the very theater in which we all stood. That young man was killed in Karbala by a cluster bomb laid by our own forces, using weapons America legally should not have been using, according to this man. And the news of this young man's death reached his father, the man speaking, on 2 July 2003.

How did I remember the date, if I'm unable to recall the words of all the other speakers? Because this man, voice shaking with the anger and sadness and loss of a parent who has outlived his child, said that when he went home after hearing of his son's death, he turned on the television to see President George W. Bush tell the enemies of America, "Bring it on!"

President Bush and his courtiers are not the ones who are paying the price for the war and all the other mistakes our government is making. We are. And the message I heard from the citizens in that theater today is that we will not pay this price any longer.

Please, Congressman. Bring that message back to Washington D.C. and make your colleagues take action. • 3:14 PM 1 comments

Busy weekend

Busy, busy, busy! I'm not normally like this, I swear. But I didn't like it when I wasn't busy, so having a lot of stuff to do is a good thing, a happy thing. It's what I've been working towards for a while now.

Last night I met my youngest nephew after work (me) and school (him) and had dinner - pizza, naturally - and saw a movie that his parents have no interest in seeing, "Resident Evil: Extinction". Seeing the movie with a teenager helps me see how silly and light these movies are. Yes, I just called a movie about a bio-engineered super weapon in the form of Milla Jovovich kicking zombie ass "silly and light". Zombie dogs are nothin'. This time around there are zombie crows. OK, so the movie steals from a wide variety of sources, like Hitchcock's "The Birds", or the Mad Max movies, or even other zombie movies. Having someone with the same sense of humor to lean over and whisper "they should have shot that zombie in the head!" (they really should know better) and getting an enthusiastic response back makes the whole evening so much more entertaining.

This evening I'm going to my second-oldest nephew's wedding reception. The actual wedding was a month or more ago, in Lake Tahoe, with just his and her immediate family; the reception for the full sets of families is being hosted at the Bridgeport Brewery in NW Portland. (G'head and click on that link - as of my posting there's a PHP error. Now that's classy.) My nephew works for one of the beer distributors and that means that the beer is going to be free. Yes, free as in beer. I invited Tracy and her daughter as my guests, and the nephew in question is somehow related to Wecker, the notorious blogger of family and memories, so he shall be attending as well. Another fun evening!

As if all that wasn't enough for a full weekend, I've got three, count 'em, three events on Sunday! Not sure I'll make them all but I'm going to hit two out of three.

In the morning, is the Race for the Cure 5K, the annual benefit for breast cancer and breast cancer survivors. It's one of the largest races of the year in Portland. Boobies are awesome and they put a smile on most everyone's face, so I'm proud to do my part to preserve this endangered resource.

Sunday afternoon I'm hoping to attend Earl Blumenauer's Town Hall, 1 PM at the Hollywood Theater. A month or so ago I emailed Blumenauer about starting, just starting, with impeachment of then-Attorney General Alberto Gonzales. Rep. Blumenauer, or his staff, sent back an email after several weeks. The upshot of his statement came in two parts: first, that impeachment requires a lot of investigation before Congress can proceed, and second, that the current administrations statements on the record in front of Congress and in the press do not already demonstrate an incredible lack of respect for the rule of law in this country. Needless to say, I could not disagree more strongly, and I suspect I am not alone. Let's see if I, and others, can get that message through to this cowardly Democratic Congress.

Finally, Sunday evening will be spent with more family as we celebrate my sister's husband's birthday. Damn. He got an iPhone for his birthday. How lucky is that? • 7:17 AM 0 comments

On the other hand...

Yesterday was not "Dress Like A Pirate Day".

But if you wanna dress like a pirate, I've found a place for you.

I wonder if they take American Express? • 4:04 PM 1 comments

Well, it's always somethin'

Apropos of a conversation I had at work, I would just like to state for the record that I miss Gilda Radner.

• 2:01 PM 0 comments

A traditionalist

People, people, people. Please.

I'm not going to call anyone out, but listen. It's not dress like a pirate, write like a pirate, or any variation thereof.

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day.

From the official FAQ:

Q. What do I wear on Talk Like a Pirate Day?

A. You know, the Pirate Guys get this question a lot, so pardon us if we sound just a little testy.

It's TALK like a Pirate Day, not DRESS like a pirate.

You can certainly dress up in pirate garb if you want to, but that seems like a lot of trouble to us. Besides, there already is a Dress Like a Pirate Day. It's called Halloween. We are not huge fans of costume parties (well, maybe we're huge, but we're not fans) and tend to go with what's comfortable.

Ol' Chumbucket is partial to Hawaiian shirts, the gaudier the better, while Cap'n Slappy prefers the "classic look," i.e., any T-shirt he finds in his laundry that doesn't smell too obvious.

If ye're still at a loss, visit our Pirate Booty store at cafepress.com, where ye'll find a wide variety of excellent garb to help ye commemorate International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

So get with the talking, already. Sheesh. • 5:42 PM 1 comments

Don't shoot me, I'm only the piano player

I'm in an early Elton John mood today.

Goodbye, yellow brick road, rocket man (I think it's gonna be a long, long time); someone saved my life tonight.javascript:void(0)
Publish Post • 11:21 AM 2 comments

A pirate's smile

Bear with me. I just need a day or two to work this out of my system.



Don't worry. I'm channeling it all into creative energy. Writing, mostly. Isn't that what a muse is for, after all? • 8:39 AM 0 comments

Controversial first kiss

There is a lot of confusion in my head over my first kiss. You'd think that I would remember such a singular, emotional moment. And yet, the actual moment of my lips on hers is gone. All that's left is the events surrounding the actual kiss, the sight of her face, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the tall grass in which we hid, the sounds of the wind through that tall grass, and the tension in my chest that felt as though my heart was going to burst out of my ribcage.

I can see her brown hair, long, past her tanned shoulders. I can mimic, now, the pose my body took in the moment immediately after - sitting, leaning back, partially rolled over on one side, my left arm holding me up. The memories are strong of the precise way my muscles and skeleton were arranged. I couldn't tell you if any of the other elements of that memory were accurate or not, however. I can't even recall her name - it might have been Patty, or Heidi. The field of grass in which my memory of the events surrounding my first kiss - that may or may not have been next door to a church, or subsequent events and re-rememberings or re-tellings of the story may have altered all that beyond the original imprinting, erasing the details and overlaying them with new, fictional, half-remembered details.

I must have been young, because another thing that I am nearly certain about was that the kiss took place when my family lived in Kalama, Washington, so it had to have taken place before I entered 3rd Grade. That would make me, what?, 8 or younger? Yes, I was a precocious child. I definitely remember trying to kiss Heidi Foster, Kenny Foster's sister, in Kindergarten or maybe 1st Grade and shocking my teacher, and I snuck under the cafeteria table at lunchtime to kiss Patty's knee, and that was absolutely at Kalama Elementary School. But before those two events, I remember laying in the tall grass with the brunette girl, and kissing. And the two later, clumsier attempts may have lent the names of the girl to the first one.

I remember thinking about kissing the brunette girl. And such a feeling of excitement and shame is attached to that memory, surely I must have carried out the thought?

I kissed her.

I'm sure of it.

As sure as I can be of a memory that has tattered and torn over the past 35 or more years, becoming like lace, only less patterned. A translucent memory of a warm golden-lit afternoon in tall grass with a brunette girl.

Only one kiss. I think it was all we had time for, because another feeling that accompanies this particular near-remembrance is that of others, searching for us. A game of hide-and-seek, perhaps? Or is that sought-after feeling just residual guilt for the forbidden kiss she and I shared?

My first kiss. And followed, apparently, by two other, lesser attempts. And then...

...long years of no, or next to no, more kissing. I remember a bloody nose from a buddy whom I thought was a friend. I remember gasping for air after having completely failed to breach the other line in a game of Red Rover. I remember crush after crush, all unrequited, for many more brunette girls, down through the years, until eventually, in high school, kissing Amy Lincoln, in the park behind the library, over and over again, and finally, after a decade, feeling again the warm press of lips against mine, and mingling breaths with a woman who also wanted to kiss me back. • 11:52 PM 1 comments

Bear in the woods

One time a couple of years ago, I was dating a woman who was a serious runner. Like Hood-to-Coast, competitive, train hard all the time, 6:00 mile, runner. I was not so into running, but at the time I had several friends who were also into running, and I had a gym membership that I used several times a week, and once in a while I would go out running with my girlfriend or with my friends. I was always the slowest one but I had some fun with it.

So it was summer, and it was a month or two before Hood-to-Coast, and one morning my girlfriend and I got up early, packed some food, and went for a hike up by Multnomah Falls. We started at the bottom and got to the top of the falls, which was the highest I'd ever been on those trails. It was fun, but since I'd been getting more and more fit, and she was, as I said, a serious runner, so we checked the maps (she had maps) and decided to go up to Devil's Rest and back. We made good time, and enjoyed each other's company. But once we reached there, and snacked a bit... I still wanted to go further. But she was still training for H2C and wasn't sure. We hiked down a bit, and came to a crossroads.

And I talked her into going further, up to the top of Larch Mountain.

She checked the maps and figured that would make our total loop over 19 miles. I said that was less than a marathon and since it's just walking it would be OK. She said that it's not walking, it's hiking, and we'd be going up and down steep trails. But she agreed, because I was so enthusiastic.

But she got quiet for that section of the trip. In fact, she pulled out her music player (it wasn't an iPod - I had an iPod but she had some other brand) and spent the rest of the hike up listening to her music. I thought it was a bit rude but the scenery was fantastic. Have you ever been up there? Amazing waterfalls...

We got to the top, and broke out our lunch. She'd thoughtfully packed beer (Fat Tire - her favorite) and we toasted our hike. She took of for a short 10 minute run, and then we packed up and headed down.

A couple of miles down, she had her headphones on and was behind me. I saw some movement off to my right, uphill, back in the woods. It was black, which stood out, even in the heavy shadows of the trees. I stopped.

It was a bear. A black bear. Ambling along, parallel to the trail. I wasn't sure what to do. Was it dangerous? Would it ignore us? I stopped.

I turned around and whispered to my girlfriend. She gave me a frustrated look, and plucked her earbuds out of her ears. "What?"

"Bear," I whispered again, and pointed.

It was gone.

She shrugged, said, "Sure," and kept walking. She didn't believe me! The bear had been right there, not 100 feet away! She'd missed it, completely.

I've always wanted to go back on those trails. Only with someone less... y'know... bitchy. • 7:59 AM 1 comments

Snarky Stormy

Sitting at the rack at Devil's Point, watching cute, petite, energetic, tattooed Stormy rocket around the stage in a fishnet body stocking underneath a bikini emblazoned with skulls, I half-listened to the music. Nodding my head in time to the electronic beat and the goofy lyrics, I had that flash of recognition. I knew this song!

When Stormy came over to dance for me, I said, "This song is from Velvet Goldmine, isn't it?"

"It's Brian Eno. I think Brian Eno was around before Velvet Goldmine!" She laughed and her tone was playful, but a bit condescending.

I laughed, but I thought to myself, Was Brian Eno involved in that movie? I didn't think so, but...

By the way, the song was "Baby's On Fire" (iTunes link to song preview) - Performed by Jonathan_Rhys-Meyers and the Venus In Furs... and written by Brian Eno. We were both right...

Labels: stripclub

• 10:02 AM 0 comments

And he and I just nodded

I knew that the evening, a dinner hosted by new friends, had not taken an eerie twist when she smiled, stood up, and said, "Well, here, let me show you my knife" and I did not run away screaming. • 1:23 AM 0 comments

Twin Paradox coffee is my favorite coffee in Portland. Even though they just brew Portland Roasting Company coffee. • 10:41 AM 0 comments

Daily moment of Zen

Two words you never thought you'd read in the Oregonian:

"Berserk llama".

You're welcome. • 10:34 AM 2 comments

Small update

I knew I shouldn't have stayed out late last night drinking doubles at Devil's Point. But Winter, Aris, Selena... all very persuasive women. And I ran into Sam the DJ from the Acropolis there. He's a fun guy, too.

But then I had to be at work today at 5:00 AM, and the earthquake hit Portland, just as the Emergency Management folk planned, and I had computers to set up for the (simulated) disaster recovery. Luckily, plugging in computers isn't a very taxing activity. Turns out I can even do it hung-over and tired. And even enjoyed myself a little.

To top it all off, waking up from my nap this evening post-work and finding MaryAnne (as S called her) had commented on my post, all the way from Toronto, put a smile on my face. I guess I owe someone a dollar; they really do have internets in Canada. Go figure!

Labels: stripclub

• 10:18 PM 0 comments

The small things

My toaster doesn't work.

It gets warm. But it doesn't actually toast.

How does that happen? How does a toaster lose just enough functionality to warm up bread but not burn it? Does that seem like a normal failure to you? Seems like it should either work, or not work. It shouldn't partially fail. • 6:48 AM 2 comments

So addictive

This game is going to eat up your spare time. I promise.

Sorry. • 10:25 PM 1 comments

I even had it on my calendar

Today is the birthday of Stephen Jay Gould. I almost forgot, until I went to open up my Google Calendar to make note of a future evening with my friend Kevin, and spotted the reminder I had left of this birthday.

I wanted to have had more advance notice of Dr. Gould's birthday, so that I could write up something to honor his memory and the impact he had on me. But somehow the date had slipped away, and I've ignored the warnings I had set up, reminding me a week ago, and another reminder yesterday, that this day was coming.
I've been busy lately with lots of stuff, much of which you've read about here, and so didn't set aside any time to blog about Dr. Gould, or his contributions to paleontology, or evolutionary biology, or about reconciling science and religion or panda's thumbs or Bermudan snails, or baseball, or teaching in Springfield, or smokin' weed for medical purposes.

But I would have known none of that, if, more than 10 years ago, as an employee of Powell's City of Books, I hadn't been discussing popular science with two other employees. Stacy "Freedom Rock!" Friedman, a dark-haired, musically-inclined lesbian (the woman who witnessed, and was jealous of, my encounter with Heather Locklear) mentioned how much she loved reading pop science books, which to me, at the time, seemed 180° from what I expected of her. I mentioned Isaac Asimov and Carl Sagan, but wasn't sure what other authors were out there. That's the problem with being a self-made man; there's gaps in my knowledge that some may find hard to believe.

Clyde "Bailio" Bailey causally mentioned Stephen Jay Gould, and before the day was over, I went down to the Rose Room, found the several shelves of his books, and started in. Dr. Gould's essays were a harder read than Dr. Sagan, but it was still fairly accessible stuff. Most of his books are collections of essays, written once a month, for Natural History magazine, in his column titled "This View of Life", and collected into occasional books. I only got through one of those collections while employed at Powell's, but later, on my own in Austin, Texas, I re-discovered Dr. Gould's books at a used bookstore off of Guadalupe Street, and eventually read the bulk of his essays.

The essays, collected, represent in a concrete way the measure of Stephen Jay Gould. Dr. Gould made a deal with himself and Natural History magazine, to write a total of 300 essays, all dealing in some way with the history of science. And he kept that promise, not missing a single issue, for 27 years. In fact, his final collection is titled "I Have Landed" at least in part because of the completion of his original promise. But the title of that volume, like his final essay explains, is also a tribute to his maternal grandfather's words, recorded in the margins of a book, upon arriving in America from the Old World:

My maternal grandparents—Irene and Joseph Rosenberg, or Grammy and Papa Joe to me—loved to read in their adopted language of English. My grandfather even bought a set of The Harvard Classics (the famous "Five Foot Shelf" of Western wisdom) to facilitate his assimilation to American life. I inherited only two of Papa Joe’s books, and nothing of a material nature could be more precious to me. The first bears a stamp of sale: "Carroll’s book store. Old, rare and curious books. Fulton and Pearl Sts. Brooklyn, N.Y." Perhaps my grandfather obtained this volume from a Landsmann, for I can discern, through erasures on three pages of the book, the common Hungarian name "Imre." On the front page of this 1892 edition of J. M. Greenwood’s Studies in English Grammar, my grandfather wrote in ink, in an obviously European hand, "Prop. of Joseph A. Rosenberg, New York." To the side, in pencil, he added the presumed date of his acquisition: "1901. Oct. 25th." Just below, also in pencil, he appended the most eloquent of all conceivable words for this context—even though he used the wrong tense, confusing the compound past of continuing action with an intended simple past to designate a definite and completed event (not bad for a barely fourteen-year-old boy just a month or two off the boat): "I have landed. Sept. 11th 1901."

"I have landed." I can't read that simple sentence without being filled with sadness and loss, in spite of it originally being said in hope and a sense of new beginnings, so I still have that final collection in my "to be read" pile of books. Yes, "final collection". He, too, has landed.

Stephen Jay Gould passed away on 20 May 2002, in a loft in SoHo, surrounded by his wife, his mother, and his library.

Today would have been his 66th birthday. • 2:16 PM 0 comments

Pints to Pasta 10K results

I'm too tired to write a full report on the Pints to Pasta 10K this morning. Sorry.

It was warm, it was pretty fast, and I ran 9:30-9:50 per mile... up until the final mile-point-two, which was almost 13 minutes, I think. I don't know. I pooped out.

But the final results are posted, and my official time is 1:00:51, for an average 9:48 pace. Good but not great. Well, it's great if you consider all the training I haven't done this summer.

I pretty much kept pace with a brunette girl for the whole way. I found her after the race and thanked her for setting my nearly-perfect pace, right up until the end.

I want to race a 10K again soon because I know I can do better. • 6:11 PM 0 comments

Another door opens

The plan was to spend all day at Backspace, the coolest coffee shop in Portland, with the best coffee and the comfiest couches, then meet Ken and his wife for dinner and a movie. It would be a late night, and I had to be up early Sunday for the Pints to Pasta 10K, but whatever. I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or at work. One of those.

But the plan ran into complication after complication, which tires me just thinking about. I didn't get to Backspace until late, just an hour or three before our reservation. And there weren't any good couches available when I arrived, so I spent the first half-hour on an uncomfortable futon, waiting and watching like a hawk for a couch to open up. Eventually, one did, and I settled in, started surfing and texting Tracy and drinking my enormous cup of coffee.

Coffee good.

I was comfortable and happy and zoning out when the original iPhone girl walked in. I couldn't miss her; six foot tall, black cap, tattoos on her arms over tanned skin, statuesque and callipygous. I was sitting away from the door, out of the main pathway for customers entering the space. I don't think she saw me. I had to do, or say, something, anything.

First, I texted Tracy. Several explanatory texts later, having gotten Tracy back up to speed, I had a plan. The original iPhone girl had walked to the back of the space, out of my line of sight. I would get up to get more water or coffee (better get water, I told myself) and I would ask her, "What are you going to spend your $100 iPhone credit on?"

I didn't have anything to lock my laptop on or to.

There was a nervous guy nearby. He was jittery, jumpy. Worth it? "Hey, can I ask you a favor?" I said. He nodded quickly. "Can you watch my laptop for a second?"

"Sure!"

Back by the water, I saw her. She was already deep in conversation with another, older, woman, and they were sharing a well-worn O'Reilly book (I didn't notice which one). I felt that odd resistance again. Damn. I should've got coffee. More... motivating than water.

I went back to sit down. Continued to text Tracy. We discussed options. I decided that I would wave iPhone girl over if I saw her leave.

That was when the thin brunette, in a red and white gingham plaid shirt and worn jeans, her hair tied back with a scarf, came over to the couch I had to myself. She cradled a tiny cappuccino in both hands.

"Excuse me," she said, enunciating clearly. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all! Of course! Please, sit."

I started to text Tracy about this new development, but the brunette had a clear line of sight to my screen (I pair my phone with my laptop so I can text from the keyboard. It totally feels like cheating. It rocks) and could see anything I typed.

This girl looked much more trustworthy than jittery guy. Not to mention far cuter. I took her to be in her early 20s, though everyone knows how bad I am at guessing age. I would ask her to watch my laptop. I would make another approach to iPhone girl. I turned to the new girl. "Excuse me, could I ask you to watch my laptop?"

She said, "Oh, but what if I stole it away?" An accent made a subtle appearance in her voice; a twinkle made a blatant appearance in her eye.

...I paused to reconsider.

"Oh, no," I said breezily. "I trust you."

"Ohhhh..." she said. "I am very dangerous."

"Are you? Well, if you took my laptop I would have to come find you."

"You would hunt me down?" She shook her head. "I do not think you could find me..."

I stood up, set my new sexy thing down on the seat I vacated, and said to her over my shoulder, "I don't think so. I'm very good at finding things that do not want to be found."

I walked to the back. I saw the iPhone girl, still deep in conversation. I made use of the bathroom, and I realized that dangerous girl suddenly appeared much more fun than the potential that iPhone girl represented.

I returned to the couch. She was still there, on her end of the couch, sipping her cappuccino. My MacBook Pro was still on the couch. I picked it up, sat down, opened up the screen...

"Excuse me?" I said to the girl. She turned to me. Looked at me with bright green eyes set in an elfin face. "I could not help but notice... your accent?"

She rolled her green eyes and groaned. "Oh, my accent! I try, I try to get rid of it!"

Another unexpected response. I laughed, cautiously. We fell into easy, comfortable, conversation.

She challenged me to guess what kind of accent she had; I guessed Hispanic. She countered by claiming to be from Toronto, but eventually confessed to only studying in Toronto, being originally from Veracruz. It took a bit to straighten out what she was doing in Portland; she said she was in a Master's program, learning about urban planning and design, and had been spending the week here with others from her program, as Portland is apparently well-known for its planning and design. We talked about corruption in Portland because of the PDC. We talked of Toronto, and Canada. She kept coming back to her accent, treating it as a fault, a failure to communicate, as opposed to a sexy, exotic trait.

She kept scooting closer to me on the couch. I closed and set down my laptop. I turned towards her as we talked, but leaned on a pillow that sat between us. I introduced myself. She returned the favor, saying her name was M________. Well, she gave me the shorter, more Anglicized version first, still hiding her Spanish. At some point, she pulled the pillow onto her lap, then set it aside.

I remarked that the music had stopped playing. She grabbed my arm and asked me if I'd known the song that had been playing just before. I showed her Backspace's MySpace page, with its listing of recently-played music. The band had been Iron & Wine, a band I'm not familiar with.

"Shall I email that to you?" I asked. Her green eyes lit up, again. I enjoyed it when they did that.

"Oh, yes, please!" I sent her a brief email.

Somewhere in there, I spotted iPhone girl, leaving. I did not get up or wave at her.

M________ and I spoke for an hour and a half, maybe two hours. She was tired from having worked at Dignity Village all day. I mentioned meeting my friends, flirted with the idea of inviting her, didn't. She was leaving tomorrow. She was leaving tomorrow. Back to Toronto.

I told her of writing, and wanting to publish. She naturally encouraged me to submit my novel, and she delighted in the idea of getting to read it because it was set in Portland. "I would love to read more about this city," she confided in me.

Eventually, we parted. Standing on the sidewalk, she held her hand out to shake. I shook it, then leaned in for a hug, which she accepted and whispered a thank you into my ear.

"You will email me? Just say, 'I did it.'"

I paused, smirked. "You want me to do it?"

She jumped a bit, laughed, blushed. "Oh, I did not... You...!"

I snarked, "You're talking about the novel, right? Not something else?"

"You are awesome," she said. "Thank you."

"Thank you, for the conversation." I said, and we went our separate ways. • 3:53 PM 3 comments

Some regrets

Hi, M________! Did I spell that right?

I'm back at Backspace, the coffee shop where we met & conversed.

It took me all day today to remember your name, because I spent most of the conversation yesterday thinking about kissing you.

Did you make your flight back to Toronto? • 3:48 PM 0 comments

Break on through

Standing outside the Old Spaghetti Factory, I was several people back in line in front of the larger table of volunteers. This table had a cover, shielding the volunteers from the warm late summer sun. The other table, smaller, uncovered, also had volunteers, but fewer people in line. Those people, at the smaller table, were bent over, filling out forms, and writing checks. This table had piles of t-shirts stacked up.

Was I in the right line to pick up my packet? There were no signs directing me to one or the other. I had just joined the longer line in front of the larger table on a guess. I felt an internal resistance to asking anyone around me. I wasn't in a hurry. I'd find out soon enough.

The evidence seemed to suggest the smaller table was for people registering today. I had registered online, days ago. I was probably in the right line.

My line of sight to behind the smaller table cleared for a moment and I spotted more baskets filled with envelopes, named and numbered. Those were the packets I'm used to receiving for all the past races I'd done. My momentary doubt turned into action. I left the line I was in, and joined the line in front of the smaller table.

Two things happened as soon as I did. The line I had been in got longer, and I noticed the five or six baskets under the tent that held many, many more packets, each basket clearly marked to show which numbers were sorted into said basket. Damn. I had been in the correct line.

Sheepishly, I re-joined the longer line, now behind an auburn-haired woman, an inch or two shorter than me, slender underneath her red silk-y tank top and blue jeans. My guess as to age (based on factors that would likely embarrass her if I wrote about them) was that she was in her late 30s or perhaps even early 40s. My age, or thereabouts. For some reason I glanced down at her feet and saw high-end flip-flops and meticulously-pedicured feet, with bright red toenails covered in hand-painted flower designs. Not necessarily the feet of a hard-core runner. And yet she was standing in line for a 10K.

She turned to me, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes hidden behind not-overlarge sunglasses. "Were you in this line?" she said, gesturing ahead of her. She seemed to be offering me my place back in line, or at least ahead of her.

"Oh, yeah, I was," I mumbled, "but... well... I got confused. I'm OK. I'm not in any hurry." Sweat was pooling under my fedora from the sun. Yes, from the sun.

"OK," she smiled, and turned back to face the front, her arms linked across her chest.

"I..." I managed to push out of my mouth "I wasn't sure which line... was... right." Suddenly I realized that I had just had, and missed, the opportunity to see if she was wearing a wedding ring, when she had indicated I could re-join my place in line, before she had hidden her hands by crossing her arms.

She glanced back at me. Smiled. Nodded. Turned away again.

I felt an internal resistance against speaking to her further.

My mind kept proposing, and rejecting, ways I could further the conversation. The sun. The heat. The line. The race. Her pretty feet. Her auburn hair. My hat. But nothing seemed able to pierce the resistance that had now overcome me.

I thought of a friend, telling me about this moment, and it's importance. After the ice is broken, and simple pleasantries have been exchanged, the very next thing that is said becomes the linchpin of the entire relationship. The foundation of all that happens afterward. Kevin said this with a sense of playfulness but I believed him to be essentially correct.

Was this sense of importance that I now attached to my next utterance the reason for the resistance I felt? Fear of poisoning whatever might unfold after this point? Or was it something else?

I won't know, because I waited in line in silence, and as Dylan sang, she went her way and I went mine. I walked to the streetcar to take me back downtown. She got into her Lexus SUV and drove past me as I walked through the parking lot. I console myself, even encourage myself, with the idea that she will be at the race tomorrow. But has the moment, whatever it was, passed?

I had felt an internal resistance against speaking to her further.

Later, after lunching on pizza and a salad, I made my way to a bus stop on the park blocks. As I approached, I saw a pair of cowboy boots and a glimpse of smooth tanned leg sticking out of the shelter. As I got closer I saw, above the tanned legs, a bright red skirt, and a sleeveless shirt, and a cute round female face, her mouth punctuated with an offset piercing, eyes brought into focus with glasses, and warm brown hair. I walked past the shelter, stopping on the far side, turning to look in the direction the bus will be coming, but also looking in the general direction of the booted girl.

I felt an internal resistance against speaking to her.

Two young, tall, black men approached the bus stop, joking with each other. They stopped right inside the shelter, next to where the girl sat. One pulled out his phone and called a friend, the other one read aloud from the schedule inside the shelter.

The girl shifted on her seat. Then she pulled an almost empty water bottle from her purse. She drank the rest of the water, started to put it away, stopped. Her purse had been at her side; now it was on her lap. She stood quickly, stepped past me to the garbage can. I didn't turn my head but I heard something dropped into the garbage.

The two young tall black men shifted so that they took up all the space inside the shelter, between the two of them, without any apparent conscious thought.

I stayed where I was. I pulled out my own water bottle, shifting my messenger bag around and then back again. I sipped from the bottle. I thought of raising my bottle in cheers to the girl. But, no. She'd thrown hers away.

A bus came, and the two young tall men got on, along with everyone else waiting at that stop. Everyone except for me, and the cowboy booted red-skirted girl.

I shifted around, looking more towards the street, and now had the girl standing to my right.

I felt an internal resistance against speaking to her.

A light breeze came up. My mind, seeking to overcome this resistance, produced the words "That breeze feels nice." But as the thought became words, the wind grew stronger. The flap on my messenger bag now became a flag, fluttering in the strong wind. I was actually rocked on my feet a little bit. I could see the girl's skirt pressed against her legs and waving behind her, exposing only a little more leg.

I laughed. "I was going to say 'that breeze felt nice' but..."

She laughed, too. "It's a bit more than a breeze, now!" She raised her voice as the wind continued. "It's kind of cold now, too." She started to cross her arms across her chest, stopped herself, held them resolutely at her sides and along her legs, keeping her skirt from raising any higher.

"Yes, it is!" It felt as though I were shouting, though considering my soft-spokenness I was likely just at a normal conversational volume.

The wind died back to a breeze.

"Are you waiting for the 19?" I asked.

She looked sad. "No. The 17."

"Oh."

She walked past me, sat down in the shelter again.

I felt an internal resistance against speaking to her further.

I pulled out my phone, called Tri-Met's automated bus schedule. As I did that, the bus I was waiting for, the 19, appeared two blocks down. I put my phone away. She glanced up, saw the bus approaching, looked at me, gave a sad smile.

I nodded. Yes. My bus is coming. I am going now. Not another word was spoken between us.

I had felt an internal resistance against speaking to her further. • 3:46 PM 5 comments

Pints to Pasta 10K 2007

Tomorrow I will be up early on a Sunday, to race in my fourth Pints to Pasta 10K. It's the last run of the summer season in Portland, and it's one of my favorites. It starts up in North Portland, and ends at the Old Spaghetti Factory in SW. The weather is almost always cool but humid, though this race it looks to be warm and humid compared to previous years.

I have lofty goals. Last year I finished in 1:02:36.1. But after training hard all winter, I finally was able to finish a 10K (a hard one!) in under an hour. Then in May, I did even better in the Cinco de Mayo 10K! It's my best 10K time ever.

That was spring and early summer.

And then... I kinda stopped running. Struggled with some personal feelings of depression and loneliness. Stopped running every other day, stopped eating right. My cat ran off and hasn't returned. Y'know, shit happens.

But I didn't want to miss the Pints to Pasta. I've been more active in the last month, been getting back on track with my diet, been riding the bike my dad gave me, around my 'hood, to work and back. And this past week I've been running every other day, just like I did before. It's strange - I feel strong when I run. Like I could be going faster. My breathing is steady and deep. I feel a twinge of guilt thinking that my allergies are clearing up now that I no longer have a cat, but I'm sure that's part of it. Another part might be the (slightly) cooler weather. It's difficult to acclimate to running in 90+° heat, after all.

It's counter-intuitive, though, to think that taking the summer off and I'm still where I was at the beginning of summer. That's essentially what it feels like, though. The mental hurdle of not running for two months may be larger than any actual physical loss of fitness or conditioning.

Will I be able to run the course under an hour, or will my time be comparable to my previous years' finishes?

The test will come tomorrow. Stay tuned. • 10:45 AM 0 comments

All I needed to know

Barrack Obama gives a good speech. He spoke passionately about all the good things he'd do once he's President.

But not one word about the most important issue in America right now.

Not one word about what he can do, right now, to end the war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Not one word about accountability for the men who lied us into a war.

Not one word from a leading voice of the majority party in both houses of the People's Congress.

Apparently Congress is powerless these days. The message from the junior Senator from Illinois is that we need a good king, not the bad king we have now.

Yes, a good king would be nice. But what about all those "checks and balances" that the founding fathers put into the Constitution? I'd really like to hear more about those. That's not Senator Obama's message tonight.

And that's all I needed to hear. I'm glad I went tonight. • 10:55 PM 3 comments

Last night for Firefly

Tuesday night last I attended Firefly at the Mission for the last time.

At least until they do it again.

Even though the show didn't start until 10:00 PM, I got there at 8:30 PM, because experience has taught me that Portland fans of "Firefly" bring new meaning to the word "fan". And, sure enough, for this final night, even at 8:30 the line was long, stretching around the corner almost to the rear of the building.

Matt had texted me earlier to let me know that there was someone already inside saving our seats. And on the drive to the theater, Sherry had called to let me know that she and her husband Franz were en route as well. New friends, all, I'd made through just this show. Tuesday nights this summer have been fun because of these new friends.

And I recognized many of the folk in line, too, even though I hadn't formally been introduced.

There was the guy that Matt and Franz called "Comic Book Guy", after the Simpsons' character, despite being thinner and more muscular.

There was the pale-skinned brunette inevitably in a bright red dress, whom I secretly called "Snow White", and her plain boyfriend I hardly even noticed, playing Scrabble while waiting.

There were the three or four geek girls, beautiful but unaware, dressed in jeans and t-shirts with no makeup or hair-styling at all.

The One True b!x (real name: Christopher Frankonis) was there, hunched, chain-smoking, obviously worried about his employment and his application to Powell's. I wanted to say something to him, maybe warn him about my own experience at Powell's... but that was a long time ago, before they unionized, and I'm sure it's different now. I remembered starting to tell Sherry about b!x's meeting with Joss Whedon, then realizing that the man himself was standing right behind me, and prompting him to recount it for her. He did.

All these folk and more. So many stories to tell. Before Matt, Sherry and Franz showed up, Comic Book Guy interviewed me for a Firefly-themed podcast, holding an actual black iPod with microphone up to record my answers. I scanned the growing line for any sign of non-iPhone girl, but certain I wouldn't actually say anything to her.

After we were all inside and seated, waiting for Mike Russell to start the trivia questions and prize giveaway, I still scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Athena, another Portland-based blogger, had been coming to these and she and I had exchanged occasional emails about introducing ourselves here, but hadn't. I'd only seen pictures of her, and in the dark of the theater, I couldn't be sure. She'd told me before that she and her friends liked to sit in the front row of the balcony, and as I looked (our group liked to sit off to stage left on the balcony, so I had a direct line of sight) I saw a girl that could've been Athena. Maybe. Probably not.

In line, earlier, Sherry and Franz had mentioned that today was their second wedding anniversary. Franz had given his wife a copy of every comic book that Joss Whedon has had a hand in. All the Buffy comics. All the Angel comics. The Firefly comics. Even obscure X-Men issues, or other titles I can't recall right now. Talk about knowing your partner! But now, as the crowd kept coming in, and the promotional folk from the radio station KUFO laid out the prizes for tonight on the stage, and hung the banners advertising their station, and the line for food and beer ran its course, Sherry turned to me and said, "I should go flag down Mike and have him do an announcement for our anniversary! That'd embarrass Franz!"

I smiled. "Let me do it! I can check out the prizes while I'm down there! Plus Franz'll be less suspicious."

Sherry agreed and off I went. I planned my route to go past the girl who might (probably not) be Athena, and when I got closer I asked, "Excuse me, are you named Athena?"

I got a blank look and a shaken head back. Hmmm. I realized that that's kind of an unusual name, and has a lot of resonance for a geek, and so my question might have come across almost as strangely out of the blue as "Do you have an iPhone?" I continued downstairs, chuckling to myself.

Found Mike Russell, and even though his comic alter-ego seems small, Russell himself is broad-shouldered and tall. Well, taller than me, anyway. I wondered briefly about mentioning the fact that he owes me a comic... but no. I'm not in a hurry for it. Was also tempted to pester him about how I can start selling my writing in the local market... but again, no. When I finish the novel I started during NaNoWriMo last year, then I'll start working my contacts. For now, I just passed on the mention of Sherry and Franz's anniversary. Russell seemed happy to make mention of it and scrambled for a pen to write down the info. I checked out the prizes and hoped I could win something on tonight, the final night.

But the past questions seemed hard, and many of the folk here were much more informed than me. I had an ace up my sleeve, though, because Sherry had been studying the wikis and we'd all been practicing in line. Maybe I could win something tonight.

Back upstairs, with Franz none the wiser, I kept looking around. Spotted another girl who might, or might not, be Athena, sitting on the far side of the balcony. I excused myself and walked over. The long walk. She seemed to spot me heading her way, and kept talking to her girl friend. I stood there in front of her for a moment. Her friend finally noticed me and pointed me out, patiently waiting, to her.

"Excuse me... are you called Athena?" I don't know why I phrased it that way. It sounded even more like a cheesy pick-up line. Inwardly I winced, but from reading Athena's blog I had the sense that she would've laughed with me, not at me, for this whole thing. She seems cool like that.

This girl, though, just shook her head, said "No", and went back to her friend. OK, I was done with cold approaches for the night.

Franz was suitably embarrassed by Russell's announcement, though I'm sure he would pretend he wasn't. The funny part was that Sherry seemed shy, too, even though it was her idea. I had to encourage both of them to stand up, as the crowd erupted in romantic applause.

During the trivia questions, Sherry wanted something, anything, signed by Joss. But instead she won a DVD with a copy of the previous week's "bonus features", hand-burned by Mike Russell. I forget the question she won on.

When Russell announced that the next prizes were fan-made copies of Firefly character Jayne's stocking cap. But when Russell announced the hat-styled cell phone cozy, I turned to Sherry and said, "Ooooh... my iPhone would look so hot in one of those!"

The question was: "Name three Blue Sun-logoed products that have appeared in Firefly."

I stood up, even though I didn't know the answer. As I was standing up, Sherry and Franz whispered to me what they thought the answers were: "Tomatoes, corn, and cola." When Russell pointed up at me, I repeated what they'd said.

Russell looked down at his notes. "Hmm... no. That's close. You've got two of them. Do you have another answer?"

I looked back at my friends. They were blank. Shook their heads. I stood there for what seemed like minutes but was likely only a few seconds. I shook my head. Nope. That's all I've got.

Russell asked the crowd if anyone had the full answer. "If no one gets it, you'll win it," he said to me. But another girl gave the third item, an answer which was obvious in retrospect, seeing that it's one of the most popular items to be found online: a t-shirt, worn by Jayne several times in the series. Damn.

"That girl got my iPhone cozy!" But I wasn't really mad. And Russell gave me a copy of the "Serenity: Those Left Behind" graphic novel for getting two out of three.

Non-iPhone girl was there, too. Showed up late, with her two friends, and was dressed to the nines in a black-and-red dress. She's a bit intimidating, actually. Even Sherry said she had no idea how I could approach her again. "I'm sorry," Sherry said, "she's a tough cookie." I decided it wasn't worth it. I'll still have the story to tell; that will suffice.

Thanks for the memories, everyone.

Just as I didn't want Firefly to end, just as I didn't want these showings to end, I don't want this night to end. I don't want this blog post to end, either.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. • 10:40 PM 2 comments

Obama

I just purchased a ticket to see Barrack Obama speak tomorrow night at the Oregon Convention Center. I've never really heard him speak except for brief bits on TV. Right now, early in the process, I'm leaning towards John Edwards; I liked him a lot better than John Kerry last time around, especially after Edwards debated Darth Cheney. But I'm still open to new information. • 7:31 PM 1 comments

Product transition for the iPhone

I've only done a quick search, so I don't know if anyone else has made this connection already. It doesn't look like it, though if anyone's got another link feel free to share it with me.

But can we now assume that the $200 price drop for the iPhone is the "product transition" that Apple CFO Peter Oppenheimer couldn't "get into", during Apple's quarterly phone conference last July? It seems obvious, at least to me. • 2:45 PM 0 comments

How much do they keep?

Everyone knows that Apple doesn't keep much of the $0.99 per song they sell through the iTMS.

How much of the additional $0.99 for custom ringtones will they get to keep?

Ringtones are huge profit centers for the cell companies. I imagine Apple will get to keep a lot of it.

Oh, sorry, AT&T, you probably won't be getting those profits. • 2:41 PM 0 comments

Best part

What's the best announcement from Steve Jobs' at today's Apple Special Event?

Could it be the iPod widescreen nano? Nice, but who besides a teenager would want to watch anything on that tiny little screen?

Custom ringtones from the iTunes Music Store? Not even close. I almost always have my phone on vibrate. Besides, if I want ringtones I'll just rip them from the music I already have instead of forking over ninety-nine freakin' cents for the privilege.

High capacity hard drive iPods? My 30 GB is nearly full, sure. But I'm gonna have say, no, that's not the coolest announcement.

iTunes Music Store via iPod/WiFi? Yeah, that's nice and stuff. But out of my 25 GB library, there's maybe 20 songs in there that were from the iTMS, and I didn't pay for any of them. I got them as free promotions. I don't buy music that way. So that's not a big deal to me.

I know what you're thinking? What's left? What's the best part?

iPod touch? So damned sexy, yes, yes, yes... It's basically an iPhone without the phone! Touch screen, CoverFlow, WiFi and a freakin' BROWSER built in? This could not be any sexier unless it was, in fact, an iPhone. And thin! How did they make this thinner than an iPhone? The iPhone is basically the screen and the battery; the circuit board is tiny! Removing the phone part does not, in my head, enable them to make the rest of it 8 mm. Maybe it is magical?

...and yet, no. That's not the best part. Want to know what the best part of today's announcement is?

$200 price drop on the iPhone.

Yes, that's right. I saved an additional two hundred dollars by not breaking my contract with T-Mobile and buying an iPhone when they first came out. Sometimes waiting is a good thing. I am a Super-Genius. Or closely resemble one.

Oh, T-Mobile. Buh-bye. You're so doomed. • 1:37 PM 0 comments

Car scene

Ken and I are in his car coming back to work from lunch. An amazing blond girl rides by on bike. She and we both stop at a red light. The view is... stunning.

I carefully roll up my window just in case I say something she might hear. I say something about her ass.

She reaches back and grabs her own ass... no, wait, she's pulling out her cell phone, sliding it from the confines of her pocket.

"Weird, I wouldn't have thought she could fit a cell phone in those tight jeans," I say to Ken.

Ken looks at me, aghast, and rolls up his window.

I bust out laughing. "Did she hear me?" I ask.

Ken just keeps looking straight ahead, trying not to stare, trying not to care if we got caught looking or not. "Is it getting hot in here now?" • 3:44 PM 1 comments

Elevator scene

I'm feelin' scruffy, in basketball shorts and a running shirt, in the elevator at the Multnomah Building. I'm going from my office in the basement, to the 5th floor, the one with the break room.

Guy in Dockers and a button-shirt gets on at the first floor. Gives me a suspicious "sideways glance", then notices my badge. "Oh, you work in the building? County employee?" He brightens considerably and offers his hand for a shake.

"Yeah" I say. Shake his hand.

"And what department do you work for?" he asks. The doors for the 4th floor open, he starts to step off.

"I.T." I say.

"Oh, excellent, excellent!" This seems to confirm his suspicion, based on my casual dress, and steps off. The doors close. I laugh, once, out loud. • 3:43 PM 0 comments

Cash flow

My Oregon state tax "kicker" is going to nearly pay for my new iPhone. • 3:31 PM 0 comments

Obviously...

In other news, still blogging about that article on Ridley Scott, I wonder what the political slant of his next movie, titled "Body of Lies" and focusing on the most current Iraq War, will be?

If only there were some clue. C'mon, toss us a bone, Mr. Scott. Sheesh. • 10:38 AM 0 comments

I've... seen things

I must be out of step, because I still prefer the original theatrical release of "Blade Runner" to any of the subsequent director's cuts.

There was nothing wrong with the narration. I liked it, anyway. • 10:34 AM 5 comments

Another thing

This morning I did something I haven't done in a long time: I got up early, and ran.

Yes, it was raining. That only meant that I couldn't bring along my iPod.

And actually, considering how muggy it's been lately, running in the rain felt pretty good.

Thirty-five minutes and I only had to walk once - for the brief moment I was crossing SE 17th @ Umatilla, near the very end of my run. • 6:32 AM 3 comments

I never volunteer

...but I just did anyway. I volunteered to help with the Stumptown Comics Fest, coming up at the end of September, the 29th and 30th.

I don't know why I did it. Just a desire to get out of the house, meet fellow geeks, and not be home alone. We'll see how that works out. • 7:02 PM 3 comments

Irishfarmer responds

Regarding my previous post, Irishfarmer (who is apparently called Phil) responded to my question. It's a long answer so I won't excerpt it, at the risk of mis-representing his views. Just passing it along.

Also, I meant no offense for the title of my post; in my effort to be succinct I may have left out an important caveat; Irishfarmer/Phil is attacking those he sees as "fundamentalist" or "militant" atheists.

My last word on the topic for now is that it appears Irishfarmer/Phil and I will likely have to agree to disagree. • 5:46 PM 0 comments

Anti-atheist Irishfarmer

Poking around the internet, I discovered a young man calling himself "Irishfarmer" blogging his attack against atheism. Being an atheist myself, I decided to read through some of his articles and see what his position is. It quickly became clear to me. For two brief examples, check out Irishfarmer on the Problem of Evil:

"Why is the argument from evil still used by atheists? It causes a paradox. If evil disproves God, then God does not exist, but then evil cannot exist and you therefore have no evil to put into the argument from evil. Also, this causes you to have to defend the assertion of a universal negative: There is no purpose or reason for evil that can be morally justified by God.

or:

"Atheists generally hold the positive belief that there are no absolute morals. Which is a positive belief in a universal negative. This isn't like their so-called "lack of belief in God", they literally believe that universal morals do not exist, no questions asked. Now, I wouldn't necessarily argue them on this point, though maybe you'd want to. Its not too hard, just ask them if the holocaust was morally wrong. You'll usually see some of the most amazing feats of mental gymnastics you could dream up. Its basically a playground for anyone who knows how to debate cogently."

Irishfarmer appears to insist that absolute morals exist separately from human conception. This is a dualist philosophical position, and is tied to the idea that the mind, or mental processes, are somehow non-physical in nature - with God being the ultimate expression of mind. In other words, it's a supernatural philosophy. It's of the same mold as the Platonic ideal, which suggested that there is some kind of "higher" reality above the material world we see around us.

Irishfarmer's insistence on absolute morals leads him to conclude that anyone who does not believe in absolute morality, anyone who does not believe that Good and Evil are universal and timeless concepts that are not subjective or defined by human minds (in other words, that Good and Evil are defined by God), well, a person who denies that is unable to argue the goodness or evilness of any human action.

There might not be much room for he and I to come to any agreement since, by definition, any supernatural phenomenon are unable to be detected by natural processes or tools, like science or logic. But Irishfarmer's dismissal of human definitions of good or evil, not to mention the human consequences that adhere to any action, whether it be defined as "good" or "evil", seems to me to be a flaw of observation.

So I wrote to him, hoping to clarify this point and possibly bring to his attention what I consider to be a blind spot in his argument. I wrote as follows:

From: me
To: Irishfarmer@gmail.com
Date: Sep 1, 2007 9:56 PM
Subject: Question regarding absolute morality

I stumbled on your site today and read some of your more recent posts. Thought I'd say hello, and also see if I can clarify in my own mind your stance, in particular your idea of an absolute morality.

If I'm understanding you correctly, you argue from the position that there is an absolute morality that exists separately from human conceptions of "good" or "evil", "right" or "wrong", and that anyone who does not accept this absolute morality is unable to muster any effective argument against human evil (or argue for any human good), because others might have a different conception of evil.

Is that correct?

I continue on the assumption that I have stated your position correctly. Feel free to correct me if I have mistaken it.

My question for you would be simply this: when faced with humans acting evilly (or good, for that matter), why would you assert that a human conception of morality is inadequate?

What's wrong with a human conception of morality? Why is that inadequate to address human evil or good?

Yes, there may be people that argue that the German National Socialists' actions against the Jews, Gypsies, Christians, gays, etc., during World War II was simply a "cultural" or "social" matter. But anyone who makes that assertion would still face the human consequences of their ideas, and their actions. They would face social, legal, and psychological consequences, here in the real world, when other people became aware of them.

I admit it may be frustrating (in the least) or sorrowful (at the extreme) if those human consequences don't result in preventing unnecessary death or suffering, but often, and in the long term, human actions are enough to cause a change. For instance, Germany, along with it's allies, did in fact lose the Second World War, and faced the consequences thereof.

I look forward to your response!

...and I wait for a response. It's been about a day and a half, not a long time by any means, though Irishfarmer has posted several long posts since I sent my email. At any rate, I hope to hear back from him. • 10:43 AM 0 comments

No joy

Regarding my previous post, it does not appear that my web stats automatically updated.

Since I was up, I checked. It hadn't run. I ran it manually.

I'll work on it tomorrow. G'night. • 12:19 AM 0 comments

More [META]

I did some stuff behind the scenes.

I think I've got the web stats page to update every night just after midnight. I had to learn about launchd, Apple's utility for running background processes. If I did it right. I won't know until midnight (or later). Once I'm sure it's running, I can start using that process for other things, like nightly backups 'n' stuff.

I also finally fixed the contact page, so all y'all can... uh... contact me. I wonder if my broken contact page is the reason I didn't get an invite to the KATU Blogger Meetup last week? Damn. My bad.

I made some minor changes to my "about me and my site" page, too. • 6:28 PM 0 comments