No reason [B5 - 9 September 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Sometimes childhood memories are so confusing.

And sometimes just asking questions leads to answers - like when my sister posted her (I think) one and only comment on my blog back in '06.

*****
I remember, when I was very young, like 4 or 5 or 6, that my sister and I had gerbils as pets.

And I remember that they would get out of the cage sometimes and hide behind the piano.

And as I look back on those ancient memories, I find myself wondering:

Why?

Why did we have a piano?!

My parents didn't play the piano, at least not that I ever remember.

I remember getting a guitar for a birthday or Christmas present and having a lesson, but I don't remember having more than one.

I know my sister did go on to play flute and saxaphone in high school and a bit after.

But no piano.

We were not rich, my family, when I was growing up, and so, it seems odd that my parents would spend so much money on... a piano.

The piano in the apartment on Spencer Creek Road will forever remain a mystery to me.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:52 AM 0 comments

Projection

The day after Thanksgiving, my brother-in-law got up early, not to go shopping, but to play in a poker tournament at Spirit Mountain Casino (we were all staying in the family beach house in Lincoln City, if you don't recall).

Hours later, he returned to tell us of his day. He did pretty well, he said, until... "This stupid lady made the wrong play!"

Untangled from the poker jargon he enmeshed the story in, basically, he thought that, with the cards showing as they were, that this lady should have folded, instead of called his bet.

And she ended up winning the hand with a "low" pair of sevens, which knocked my bro-in-law out of the tournament.

My sister and I both laughed. "What do you mean, she made the wrong play? She's still playing, and you're not!"

He howled in frustration. "You don't understand! That's not the smart play! What she did was wrong!"

Which only made us laugh more. I'm not sure my sister's husband even really understands why that's funny. I pointed out that he's approaching it from an idealistic point of view, when by the pragmatic view he's the one who's in the wrong.

He doesn't see it that way, of course. He lost because of his superior knowledge and play, you see. • 11:16 AM 0 comments

Unreasonable response to reasonable requests [B5 - 26 June 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Here's another post where I try to figure out why other people don't act the way I expect them to. Who do they think they are?

*****
It never fails to amaze me when I get an unreasonable response to a resonable request. Of course, being who I am, when I point out such disparities to the responder, it never seems to have an effect; they often only become more unresonable.

Often, the response is one of two things (or a combination of the two): first, to turn around and attack me, denigrate me for even bringing it up or calling attention to it, or second, to parse the language - the classic "that depends on what the definition of 'is' is."

Among a group of friends, someone correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think it's out of line to ask for an accommodation once in a while. And even then, it's OK if the others decline. I'm fine with that. But what I don't get is when I am blasted for even asking, like my asking was somehow so outrageous that I'm a selfish bastard for even bringing it up. In the most recent example of this the person chose the tactic of turning a discussion about this single event into a blanket statement for all time, ever, world without end amen. How is that reasonable?

It's not that difficult to compromise, people. Here's an example. My sister and her husband obviously enjoy different types of movies. Having two kids, they don't get out to see movies all that often. If they had to agree on a movie that would satisfy them both every single time, they would end up arguing for so long that they would never get to the theater. So they have a compromise in place: they alternate choosing the movies. If they're unsatisfied with the others' choice, they know that next time they'll get to choose. It works over the long run, and it's based on trust. It works. Everybody gets a turn, everybody's happy.

A key point in a compromise is mutuality: both sides have to concede something. When dealing with a single, one-time only event, then everyone would need to give up some ground. (BTW, if everyone agrees in the first place, it's not a compromise; it's a consensus, which is a different kettle of fish.) But when dealing with an ongoing series of events, then the concessions need to be looked at over the course of the series; for example, my example of my sister and her husband.

But back to the outrageous response to a reasonable request. How best to deal with people like that? I for one am flummoxed. If I'm right in principle and right in the facts, then I'm not going to back down. Being backed by the correct position and the prevailing facts should (I would hope) be enough to sway folks' opinions. It's not, though, and I have a difficult time comprehending why. And the more I look into this, the more I find that those who can't be swayed by ethics or principle (which is, after all, the basis of negotiating a compromise) are, in fact, unreasonable and prone to all-or-nothing thinking. The kind of people who start to pick apart individual words and misread them in an attempt to make their point. Or the kind of people who look for others to side with them, hoping that by weight of opinions they can enforce a "majority view". Or the kind of people who simply attack the other to provide cover for their outrageous actions.

My friends, those who trust me, know that I am capable of admitting I've made a mistake. I go out of my way to support my opinions and to make certain that I'm seeing and dealing with the world as it really exists, not as I wish it to be. I am self-correcting. And because of that, I'm OK with my friends pointing out when I'm wrong. It's actually important for me, because I know that I'm automatically biased in favor of my own point of view, and often others can see things differently enough to point out what I'm missing.

But even when I'm wrong, I think I deserve a level of respect. I am often wearing my Easy-Going Guy Togs and go along with the prevailing view. However, when I request a change in plans, I would hope that my previous history of allowance would gain me some favor, some karma, some goodwill. Is that wrong? Do I set myself up for people to take advantage of my easy-going nature when I don't speak up except once in a while? Perhaps I should consider that.

Because that's what I feel like when this happens. I'll go along, and go along, and go along, then make a request and suddenly I'm a heartless bastard. Gee, nobody complained when I was silent about doing things I wasn't so enthused about; why complain now?

Damn, this is all about boundaries, isn't it? The damn topic comes up too often. Is there a middle ground, where I can make it clear that a compromise is in force, so that later it seems less of a surprise when I ask for a change? Interpersonal communication is hard.

But, again, back to the outrageous responders: I recognize that I'm unable to change them, so for me, my typical response is to point out that they're wrong and avoid them. I've got no particular compulsion to spend a lot of energy on them. Their mendacity is hugely draining. If there's a better way to deal with them I will be happy to look for it but for the most part, I don't need them and therefore don't have any reason to give them more than I'm required by the social circumstances.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:44 AM

Come out, Virginia

Got back from the beach and headed out... wearing my fucking kilt! Hit my favorite strip club, had a drink or two, and then decided it was a little weird waiting for a lapdance in a kilt.

Then I texted Tracy, and she invited me to come hang out with her and Gina.

And the bar they were at had... karaoke!

So I'm sure you're jealous of my awesome night of karaoke with Tracy and Gina. Aren't you? Aren't you?

I sang "Expressway To Your Heart" (by the Blues Brothers), and, later, horribly yowled my way through "Only The Good Die Young" (by Billy Joel). But, hey, I was already wearing a kilt! How much more embarrassing could it have been? • 2:24 AM 0 comments

Big Wad [B5 - 8 July 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Continuing my mining of July 2007 for re-postable posts, here's a nice little tale of winning the lottery, nicely told, I think.

*****
I had a big stack of lottery tickets that may, or may not, be winners. I don't check them right away after the drawing; I figure if they're not for the big prize, it's not urgent to find out if I won an extra few bucks. Also, I don't always trust the cashiers when they check my tickets. What if it's a winning ticket, they tell me "no, sorry" and then pocket the ticket?

Yeah, there's a downside to skepticism. Trust is a rare and valuable thing in this crazy mixed-up hill of beans. Or, y'know, whatever.

Today I decided to check them myself. Some lottery retailers have self-check machines - a box with a slot and a barcode reader to scan the ticket and let you know if it's a winner or not. One of these retailers is the Peterson's Market on SW 4th and Washington, and since I was downtown this afternoon fondling the iPhone I can't buy yet, as I passed the convenience store, sad and iPhone-less, I walked in, wad of lottery tickets in hand.

First ticket I scanned... didn't. It wouldn't scan no matter how I tried. I set it aside. Next one came up:

Congratulations! Please see retailer.

The rest of the tickets did not show up as winners.

I approached the cashier, a tall skinny guy with Buddy Holly glasses, and showed him the two tickets, one a mystery, the other a winner.

His eyebrows popped up above the black rims of his glasses when he scanned the winner.

"Was it a lot?" I asked.

"A hundred fifty-two," he said.

"Nice! I can get that from you, right?" Officially, anything under $600 can be redeemed at a retailer, but practically speaking, I'm not sure a convenience store at 2:30 PM on a Sunday is going to have that much in cash.

"I think so..." he said. He showed me the other ticket. "This one's four bucks." He popped open the register and did not look happy at what he saw.

"Well, the Rialto" which was next door "would probably have it if you don't. Unless you've already registered the transaction?"

There was a couple behind me, chubby guy with green hair and a slender Middle-Eastern girl in black, waiting, so the cashier helped them. They bought cigarettes. I was patient. I had money coming.

When the clerk got back to me, he started counting out bills. He held up a wad of greenbacks. "You don't mind singles and fives, do you?"

I didn't care. I shrugged. It was kinda taking too long already. "Nah." I felt suddenly conspicuous as another, older couple walked in and stood behind me.

He laughed, under his breath. Upon seeing my curious look, he explained in a not-really way "that's just my weird sense of humor." He laid out the two tickets on the counter. "This one's $4; this one's $158. Total of $162." Held up the big wad of cash. "We'll count it out together." He only had two twenties; then he started in on the fives.

"...one forty eight, one forty nine, one fifty, one fifty one, one fifty two." He stopped counting, out of money.

"Uh... you still owe me ten bucks," I said. "158 plus 4 is 162, not 152."

"Oh! You're right!" He looked genuinely surprised, not duplicitous. "I'm a terrible cashier." He popped open the register again, frowning. He held up a roll of quarters. "Is change OK?"

I laughed. It really was funny to me, though the frustration and delays and scrounging I was making this guy do took some of the funny off. "That's fine; I'll take the quarters."

The pile of money was too big to go in my wallet. I put it in the front pouch on my messenger back, carefully zipped it closed, and walked out, suddenly flush with cash.

Not enough for an iPhone... yet.

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:55 AM

Close but no... [B5 - 11 July 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

July 2007 was apparently a fruitful month for me as far as blogging goes. I've found a lot of gems that I'd like to preserve... including the story of the beautiful blond girl on MAX.

As an untold addendum, that girl actually found my post and contacted me about it, sent me her MySpace page, and then promptly vanished, probably a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.

And I was a few years off in my estimation of her age. But all my friends know I'm bad at guessing age anyway.

*****
Crowded train home tonight. I stood next to a beautiful blonde girl, in her mid-20s. An inch or two taller than me, full-figured, brown eyes, full lips, cheeks and nose dusted with faint freckles. I was facing to the left of the train's motion, and she held onto the pole, facing toward the train's forward motion.

I was already in place when she boarded, and as she took her place next to me, I dared not move, and so, due to random chance, we ended up in close proximity, two strangers. Just by not averting my gaze (shielded by my sunglasses and the brim of my hat though they were) I could examine her face in profile, just inches away from mine.

Her hand seemed small for a girl so tall, and it wrapped the pole just above mine. I could see her fingernails, short, unpainted, with just a hint of dirt under them, the skin a bit rough. She worked with her hands. She did not pamper them. My own hands have seen their share of dirt and cuts and scrapes but today seemed far fairer than did hers.

She was dressed in functional black. I assumed she worked in the food or service industry.

There was an intimacy, at least for me. I kept my expression neutral but I felt familiar with her, a warmth. I had not been this close to another human being for far too long.

The nearness of this beautiful girl affected me deeply.

That's just how starved for human contact I feel.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:48 AM

Holiday weekend

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, the holiday in the US most centered around food. Halloween is about candy, and St. Patrick's Day is about beer and whisky, but Thanksgiving is about all kinds of food. Food, glorious food.

Oh, and being thankful for things.

I'm thankful for my readers, among many other things. But before I rushed off to run in the ORRC Turkey Trot tomorrow morning, and then drive down to the coast for feasting with my family, I am letting y'all know that I'm on light holiday posting until at least Saturday.

I have more blogiversary posts scheduled to go up, so there will at least be reruns to read here. And aren't holiday reruns also a Thanksgiving tradition?

Happy Thanksgiving to all y'all. • 4:36 PM 0 comments

Giant + Enormous [B5 - 12 July 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

From the Department of Corrections (and Rants) comes this gentle reminder of the true, correct spelling of a brand-new word.

I will re-post this and re-post this as many times as it takes for my preferred spelling to be recognized.

*****
Dear Miriam-Webster:

You may be among the leaders in dictionaries, however, I feel that you have allowed your metaphorical crown to become besmirched.

Yes, yes, you feel the hot breath of user-generated content and Web 2.0 on your editor's collective necks, and so, out of fear, you rush to adopt words in a way that resembles the crazed actions of a parent trying to connect with their teenagers. "Hey," you say, "look at us, adding these new words, words like RPG and smackdown and crunk to the dictionary! Aren't we 'fly' for adding these words?"

Um... guys... those words are old words, words that have been around for decades. Look, don't use words that were cool when you were kids to impress the kids, mmmKay? Doesn't work.

But... the worst offense is when you add a word and you add it incorrectly.

It's not ginormous. It's gianormous.

Like giant + enormous. Gianormous. Get it?

Please feel free to correct this soon.

To be sure, there's some dispute over my preferred spelling, but two out of three entries at Urban Dictionary (ah, there's that user-generated content that's got the old-school companies runnin' scared) agree with me. I win.

Sincerely,

Brian

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:46 AM

Uhhh [B5 - 28 July 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Ah, iPhone Girl, how can I ever forget you?

*****
At Backspace surfing. Tall thin guy on a couch across from me is approached by a tall (hard to judge but she's wearing flats and seems 6' tall from where I sit) short-haired brunette, thin and muscular, in a skintight black T and jeans, with tats up and down her arms and peeking out from various bits of flesh here and there. They start talking about programming - the guy mentions something about Ruby Cocoa, which pegs him as a Mac OS X programmer.

The girl hadn't heard of Ruby Cocoa but she was aware of the implications. She's a programmer, too. Or at least hardcore geek. They're apparently waiting for more people so they chat.

The guy gets a phone call and takes it on his generic non-smart non-PDA phone.

However, my already burning curiosity gets some kerosene tossed on it when the girl pulls out an iPhone. She plays with it for a bit while the boy is on his call.

I lean over the top of my laptop. "I'm trying not to covet your iPhone," I say.

"Oh, no, that's perfectly understandable," she says, almost embarrassed.

"So if you feel waves of attention from over here, it's me," I say, along with waving my hands in her direction to indicate said waves.

She chuckles. "It's the only thing I have going for me, lately."

I hope that the look on my face reflects my complete astonishment at this ludicrous statement, but knowing how well I hide my feelings it probably didn't. Let's see: she's brainy, geeky, tall, hot, and she loves amazing design and ease of use and sexy sexy technology, and yet still modest enough to apologize for it all. I don't remember what I said, exactly, but I think I just nodded.

She talks about how it's the most amazing thing she's ever owned and that she's completely OK with how much it costs. She must get asked that a lot, but doesn't she see that I'm surfing on a MacBook Pro? Don't worry, milady, I get it.

I mention that I'm waiting for my T-Mobile contract to expire so I can get one; she counters with the fact that she paid the early termination fee to T-Mobile to get the iPhone. I ask her how the EDGE service is in Portland and she says it's great.

I go back to surfing while the boy finishes his phone call and plays with the iPhone.

They're joined by another girl, also cute, but obviously lacking an iPhone. They leave for some other venue.

At least I said something. Maybe I'll post this in Missed Connections...

Labels: blogiversary

• 3:41 PM

DO WANT

I like to joke that I'm an alcoholic.

Wait - what's the difference between an alcoholic and a drunk?

Us drunks don't have to go to those fucking meetings.

It's mostly a joke. I don't actually drink that often. And the number of times I've been so drunk I passed out and got sick in the last several years is exactly once (which was an awesome Hallowe'en party and I will definitely be back again next year! Right Ken?)

But even so, I do like to drink, and when I'm on my game, I can drink a lot for my size.

Still, I think I may have found the perfect accessory, one that will both enhance my drunkish reputation, and help me maintain my drinkin' boundaries.

Behold the iBreath: a plug-in breathalyzer for iPhone!

How cool is that?

If you're wondering what to get me for Christmas/my birthday... add this to the list.

If you're not wondering, well, then, just click through and read about it. • 6:54 PM 0 comments

Best Internet EVAR

This is the coolest site on the internet. EVAR.

You'll need no other site after this. • 5:00 PM 0 comments

I tried to be a hero [B5 - 26 November 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

From just under a year ago comes this story about me trying to help, and flirt with, a girl on a bus. Which is a surprisingly common situation since I don't own a car.

*****
She sat one seat ahead of me on the bus. She was dressed in comfortable jeans that had seen a million wear-wash-dry cycles. A warm soft sweater. A hoodie. Clogs. Her brownish-red hair was pulled back with a simple rubber band. No makeup that I could see on her pale, freckled face. Glasses. She appeared to be in her early 30s, though everyone will tell you I am a poor judge of age.

Her posture was tired and slumped. Her knees pressed up against the seat in front of her, her feet dangling, her body curled into a comfortable curlycue. She would lean into the window, her cheek pressed against the cool glass, where outside it was raining, pouring, somewhere an old man snoring, oh, no, that's thunder or the roar of passing traffic.

I know she wasn't dressed up. I know she was dressed in comfortable, comforting clothes. I could tell she had a bit of the geek in her, a little bit of social misfit. It felt familiar to me. I could look out from my turned-up collar, my lower face shrouded in gray scarf, from eyes shaded from the pale fluorescent light by the brim of my battered baseball cap, and I felt a connection. We were both shielding ourselves from human contact with our unkempt clothing.

I watched her thumb through and occasionally read from a pamphlet on exercise and diet. I wondered if she had just come from a doctor's office. Was her apparent sadness due to an illness? She did not look overweight to me, even in her oversized clothes. I wanted to say something to her, anything.

I said nothing.

Her stop arrived, one stop before my own. She stood, turned, walked off the bus, and vanished into the gray deluge. The doors closed. The bus continued. I rang the bell.

I stood up... and looking into the seat she had just vacated, there was a white plastic bag, with two bottles just visible inside, one a medicinal green, the other a warm and healthy red. As the bus stopped for me, without a conscious thought, I grabbed the bag, and dove out the door, and ran back towards the other stop.

She was sick, and she left her prescription on the bus! I could find her, and return it to her, and be a hero!

My shoes splashed in the puddles, the rain beat down on me, ran into my eyes... I ran the two blocks back to her stop, the bag dangling from my hand.

She was nowhere to be seen. I looked all directions, but she had gone. Where, I could not tell. I tried a couple of options but no luck.

Gone.

I walked back to my house. Rain still poured down on me. I had had a story, had seen how it would have been in that instant before grabbing the bag and leaping off the bus. That story did not coalesce. I wondered now if I had actually prevented her from getting her medicine back, rather than helping her find it. Surely she would notice she had left the bag behind, and she would first try to contact Tri-Met, but they would not be able to help her.

In the rain, my brain came up with another story; these were prescriptions, and oftentimes the patient's name is printed on the labels. Once I got home, I could look her up, and call her to let her know I had saved her medicine, and her health. It was raining hard so I had to wait until I was safely inside and dry.

When I opened the bag, in the warmth of my living room, however, I saw not two bottles of medicine, but a small green bottle of dishwashing soap, and a small red bottle of laundry detergent. No receipt. No identifying information at all.

So that explained why she was wearing her comfy clothes...

Labels: blogiversary

• 9:37 AM

I LIKE THE FLAVOR

'Tis the season. The season for eggnog. I love eggnog. I even love it when there's no spiced rum in it. It's also really good with coconut rum. Mmmmmmm.

But when I'm working or just not in the mood to get my drunk on, I order eggnog lattes. Starbucks uses soy with vanilla flavor, which I may have mentioned before as a cheap way to save a tiny little bit of money - soy is usually cheaper than extra flavoring. And even if not, you won't be getting bovine growth hormone in soy milk.

When I order a soy eggnog latte, however, invariably I get The Look. The barista will pause, furrow their brow, and stumble with words as they try to process my order.

"...soy... but that's... you know that there's still dairy... we don't have soy eggnog..."

It does not compute for them. So I always have to explain myself. "Yes, I know there's dairy in it. Yes, I just want you to put in the soy where the milk would ordinarily go. You cut the eggnog with milk, right? Just substitute soy."

Why is that so difficult to understand?

They all ask me the same thing. I assumed it was just a Starbucks thing. Until I and a friend stepped in to the Bikini Coffee Co. downtown. While waiting for the inked, bikini-ed barista to make my (non-soy - there's no point when they don't use vanilla soy) eggnog latte, I made a joke about how Starbucks treats me when I order soy eggnog lattes.

Once again, I got The Look. "Well... yeah... that doesn't... make..."

As cute as she was when she looked perplexed, it was still a point of irritation for me to have to explain.

I polled my friends, and they said that I needed to order it differently. Tracy said I should ask for "half soy, half eggnog latte". Kevin suggested I contact corporate HQ and tell them I don't like all the pushback. I thought that running it all into one long sentence might work: "SoyEggnogLatteYesIKnowItHasDairyInItIJustLikeTheFlavorPleaseStopAskingMeQuestions".

Well, today, I tried it Tracy's way. And it almost worked.

I said "I'd like an eggnog latte. Can I get that with half soy and half eggnog?"

The barista replied, brightly, "I can do that!" My hopes for a no-questions order rose. She started to mark the cup, paused, then looked up at me. "So... you don't want milk in that?"

Sigh. "No. Just put the soy in, in place of the milk, please."

Seriously. Why is this so difficult? I just like the flavor that way. • 1:13 PM 0 comments

Lost in Space [B5 - 25 May 2008]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

On the 31st anniversary of the release of "Star Wars" (the first one, duh) I wrote up a little essay on my love of movies. Enjoy... again.

*****
In May 1981, I was already a huge nerd for movies. Specifically movies from George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Lucas had come to my attention due to his writing and directing a little popcorn flick called "Star Wars" (which, not so coincidentally, opened 31 years ago today), and had followed it up by writing and producing the much-darker and almost universally acknowledged superior "Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back".

"Star Wars" was for me, like many men of my generation, a turning point. But I didn't get to see the movie until late in the summer, as I recall. It opened while I was still in school, sixth grade at North Oak Grove Elementary School. The following fall, I would be going to Oak Grove Junior High, so there was already a sense of change in the air for me; new school, new routine. But my friends all got to see this movie long before me. After Memorial Day weekend, they returned to the classroom and playground with tales of Jedi, and Sith Lords, and Millennium Falcons, and TIE Fighters, and Artoo and Threepio. I couldn't make heads or tails of what they were talking about, but it all sounded like the most fascinating thing in the world - even more fascinating to me than Julie Phillips, the brunette muse that had attracted my shy attention but whom I never actually spoke to.

When I would ask about going to see this movie, my dad would refuse outright. The movie was so popular that there were lines at the theaters. Lines! Can you imagine! "No way in hell am I going to stand in line for a fucking movie!" my dad declared. This nearly broke my heart. However, through my Science Fiction Book Club membership, I sent away for a copy of the novelization for the movie, and devoured it in a single sitting. I would tell my parents and sister all about how this was just one chapter in the Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and explain that the Old Republic was legendary, but how it had fallen to the predation of Palpatine, who declared himself Emperor. It was as much, if not more, nonsense to them as my friends' explanations had be to me. OK, maybe far more. Now I knew the story but I still ached to see the actual movie.

Then, after school had let out for summer, came word that "Star Wars" was playing at a tiny little theater in tiny little Estacada, about 25 miles south east along the Clackamas River. There were no lines there. There was also no Dolby Sound and no 70mm film print in all its widescreen glory, but I was 12. I had few options unless I was willing to compromise. Mom, Dad, my sister, myself, and my Grandma Hayner all drove out one summer afternoon, and for the first and last time in my life I sat in that theater and watched what had only been words on a page become real. Even on the smaller screen, even with "normal" sound, even surrounded by the dank smell of summer sweat and popcorn... "Star Wars" took me away. All other viewings of that movie don't compare to that one instance. And believe me, I have seen that movie many many times since then.

Spielberg had directed "Jaws" in 1975, which I have never seen to this day in its entirety but was a source of conversation to my grade-school buddies, and in 1977, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind". It was a much gentler alien invasion flick. The first time I saw CE3K, I and my nephew had to convince my dad to drive clear across town to the Eastgate theater, which he did, grumbling all the way, and taking back streets to avoid the horrible traffic of SE 82nd Ave. We arrived late, after the movie had already started, a huge source of annoyance to me at the time. I wouldn't argue with my dad, though; well, maybe a sarcastic remark in passing. Kevin and I had to sit near the back, and right in front of a speaker tower for the then-new Dolby sound system. If you remember the climactic chase at the end of the movie, that particular speaker was solely responsible for the sounds of the helicopters which chased Roy around Devil's Tower. Helicopters are loud.

So much so was I captured by the vision of Lucas' galaxy far, far away that it became the central obsession in my life, neatly supplanting Star Trek. So much so that when the sequel, "The Empire Strikes Back" came out in 1980, that I and my friends read the novelization, read the comic books, bought (and stole - I'm not proud of that now but I'm sure the statute of limitations is long since up by now) the action figures, listened to the soundtrack and "The Story of" LPs... everything. Everything. I was a sophomore at Milwaukie High School now. My mom drove me and Kevin out to the Westgate theater for opening night. And, yes, we stood in line. We were almost turned away, but when the theater employees came out to say there were three seats left, but not all together, we were ushered inside. I had to sit in the very front row, waaaaay off to one side, but it didn't matter. I knew that this would be one viewing out of many. And for the rest of the summer, when Terry and I had nothing else to do, we would take the long bus ride from Milwaukie to Beaverton to see "Empire".

Spielberg was also the director of the amusing but under-rated "1941", which made me and my high school budies, Terry, Andy, and Rodney, laugh at the time, but which I no longer remember many details of. I remember John Belushi in a WWII Airman's uniform, and a ferris wheel breaking free and rolling into the Pacific after being attacked by Japanese Zeroes. And that's about it. We liked it because it was from Spielberg.

So in the summer of 1981, I was now a junior in high school. I had more interest in girls but still lacked any sort of courage. I remember most of high school as hanging out with my buddies, playing Dungeons and Dragons, talking about "Star Wars", and an unending series of crushes on cute girls. I was smart enough that my classes posed no challenge to me - well, except for the obstacle of actually doing my classwork. I was distracted and often late in my work. Didn't they understand? There was a galaxy at war, people! Far more important matters were at hand. I fantasized about the Millennium Falcon landing on the high school football field and taking me away, and Han Solo reluctantly allowing me to pilot the ship, and being amazed at how well I flew for a kid.

And as summer approached that year, so did news of the first-ever collaboration between Lucas and Spielberg. It starred Han Solo - I mean, Harrison Ford. I had been burned before by learning early that Darth Vader was Luke's father, so this time around I avoided reading much about the movie. I knew it was a throwback to the pulp stories of the 1930s... and that's about it.

The movie opened on 12 June 1981, which I remember being the last Friday of the school year. I went by myself to the Southgate theater, a theater that has been not just closed, but completely eradicated from existence since those days. The building was a cinder-block warehouse, with two large theaters and two smaller ones. "Raiders" was playing in the largest theater, and for some reason I remember the crowd for that showing being rather small. There were empty seats. And as I watched and enjoyed the movie, I kept getting distracted by a couple sitting ahead of me.

It was Karen Hatton and her boyfriend, Trey.

Karen was my then-current crush. Snarky before snarky was a word, funny, imaginative, blonde-ish, thin. She was just as much into "Star Wars" as I was, which made her that much cooler. Oh, and she had gone out with my best friend, Terry Mantia, waaaaaay back in junior high, and they remained friends, so Karen was a part of my circle of friends. And so was Amy Dinkler, Karen's best friend. The four of us shared a few classes, including Drama class, and we would talk about all the important things in the world, like whether Princess Leia would choose Luke or Han (little did we know), and whether the Emperor could afford decent marksmanship training for stormtroopers, and if there was anything a lightsaber could not cut.

I crushed hard on Karen. I didn't notice Amy until senior year, when I discovered that she had been crushing on me for a year or more.

Sitting in the Southgate theater, my attention was split between the fantastic adventure on the screen and the practical drama in front of me. Trey and Karen were making out in the dark. After the movie, my head filled with images of giant rolling boulders and melting faces, my sights were filled with Karen and Trey holding hands and walking out into the parking lot and into his car. Trey, you see, was a senior. An older man.

The following week, we still had a few days of school left, but mentally everyone had checked out. The only reason we came back, I think, was to pick up our yearbooks and get them signed. As I wandered around the hallways with Terry, his gray fedora perched on his head, I alternated between telling him about "Raiders" and complaining about Karen. His advice was to stay away from Karen. "She's got issues."

Don't we all?

Labels: blogiversary

• 9:07 AM

Lucas Rant [B5 - 27 April 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Whatever I may have thought of him when I was a teenager, it's obvious that George Lucas has become a hack. His genius is not in writing - it's in designing toys and marketing. Here's a post from a few years back that reacts to this saddening news.

*****
What the fuck? George Lucas had to force himself to write Episode III? He lacked "inspiration"?

What a crock of shit!

Listen, this is the middle part of a story that has already been told! There are no surprises here, none. We already know that Anakin is going to become Vader. We already know that Amidala is going to give birth to twins. We already know that Obi-Wan and Anakin are going to fight it out, probably above a volcano. We already know that Vader's going to hunt down the Jedi, and that Obi-Wan and Yoda will escape.

This movie should have practically written itself!

What, did Lucas need inspiration in how to fuck up everyone's childhood memories? Did he need inspiration in how to include stoopid CGI characters that nobody liked? Was he not "feeling it" in trying to figure out how to include characters like Han Solo, in order to make his galaxy seem as small as a rural country town?

...oh, don't get me wrong. I'll see it. I have to. It's a compulsion, like buying Cake CDs just so that you don't have an incomplete collection. Argh.

Labels: blogiversary

• 11:00 AM

Improvement

I normally post this over at my running blog, but I wanted to mention for my own future reference that last night's 5.4 mile run was my fastest time for that route all year: 5.4 miles in 51:39, for an average 9:33 per mile pace.

I am improving! • 8:27 AM 1 comments

New Diner! [B5 - 18 February 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

New diners just don't appear out of nowhere, one day nothin', next day a little trailer, weathered and worn down. It just doesn't happen... except with a little help from some magicians, maybe.

*****
I carpool with Tracy and her mom every day, and our morning route goes down SW Naito Parkway.

Friday morning I saw a little diner under the Broadway Bridge. It looked old, like it had been there for years, and yet I didn't remember seeing it before. I don't want to bust out my "native Portlander" stories, but believe me, I've got native cred like you wouldn't believe, and for all the times I've been around that end of the Broadway, I didn't remember seeing that diner, called, apparently, "Bridge Diner".

Tracy and her mom were talking when we drove past, and I'm pretty much non-talk-y in the morning, so I didn't say anything at the time, which means I have no witnesses to verify that I noticed anything unusual Friday morning. And it promptly fell out of my head as the day went on, so I didn't google it or anything.

Until this morning, when I checked in on the Portland Mercury blog and saw a post about a movie that's being filmed in Portland, starring Sly Stallone and Diane Lane... and the fake diner they built under the Broadway Bridge for a set, and how it's all weathered and Portland-ized and how Diane Lane was in "Judge Dredd", which I clearly don't remember at all because that movie sucked.

Not that this will convince anyone, but I'm just happy I'm not crazy in that way - the way of "not remembering diners that have been there for years" way. Yay, me!

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:37 AM 0 comments

Cupcakes and captains

Today is VP-Elect Joe Biden's birthday. Pres-elect Obama delivered him some cupcakes.

Also today Capt. Beau Biden, Joe's son, shipped out to Iraq to serve as an assistant Judge Advocate General (JAG) with the 261st Signal Brigade in the Delaware National Guard.

That's a sucky birthday present. Best wishes to VP-Elect Joe Biden and, especially, to Capt. Beau Biden.

Can we bring 'em all home safe, please? Soon? • 2:46 PM 0 comments

Morning after

I still have the Saul Bass "James Bond Theme" running in my head!

What does it say about tech that all today's James Bond needs is a cell phone and a digital camera? • 8:59 AM 0 comments

Skills [B5 - 5 November 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

I'm always amazed at the people I meet, and the stories they embody. Like this old guy I ran into at the bus stop one night. I don't think I ever met him again.

And I never did find out what skills he had or learned.

*****
I slipped into the bus shelter behind the old man, where it was dry. I bit into my apple, a juicy delicious Honeycrisp, sweet and mixed red and green in color. The old man, tall, white hair cut into near-invisibility in a buzz, barrel-chested and skinny-legged, looked like a football coach, his back to me as he watched for the bus. He jumped at the sound of my apple bite and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't hear ya sneak up on me." His voice was kind and a bit sad, not accusing me so much as he was wistful. He picked up his bag, which had been sitting on the bench.

"No problem," I said. I was content to stand and try to finish my apple before the bus showed up.

He turned completely around. "You know," he said, "30 years ago, you wouldn't have been able to do that." He had a slight lisp, and it looked like his nose had been broken and reset oddly. His lip half-curled. "I've lost some skills since then." His eyes lowered and he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

I wondered what he was remembering. Did he serve in the military? Or just have to spend a lot of time in places where one doesn't let their guard down? I smiled around a mouthful of apple. "I'm sure that you've gained some skills in that time, though, too."

"Oh, maybe so, maybe so," he conceded. "It's hard to know whether the gain has been worth it, though." He turned and looked down the street. "The bus'll be here in, oh, about two minutes."

"How true. We take what we get and do what we can with it." In the span of just a few minutes, I'd come to like this guy. I silently wished him luck.

It's an odd feeling, liking strangers. I'm not used to it, yet. And it may only be for today.

Labels: blogiversary

• 8:32 AM 0 comments

I'm a helper

Is it bad that one of the reasons I suggested the theater I did to see "Quantum of Solace" in, was that their DLP projection screens would give me the best possible picture and sound for the Star Trek reboot trailer?

I mean, the theater was also convenient for Tracy and Kevin, too. And with the Bond flick playing on multiple screens, it gave us plenty of showtimes to choose from, making it a very flexible choice.

(The Trek trailer looks awesome, by the way, even with all the continuity errors. Spotting the continuity errors is almost a game in itself.)

"Quantum of Solace" continues the tradition of Bond action. Literally had us all on the edge of our seats several times. And there's an actual story in there, with lots of intrigue and double-crosses and triple-crosses. But it feels like the middle third of a trilogy. It really depended on the viewer having knowledge of the prior flick. Not a bad thing for me and Kevin, being Bond fans from way back, but Tracy said she enjoyed it for the action and didn't worry too much about the story.

Labels: movies

• 9:24 PM 0 comments

87.34% Snark-Free [B5 - 22 November 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

This week I'm especially thankful for my friends. I was going to re-post the following on Thanksgiving Day, because that's when I originally wrote it; but no. I'm going to re-post it now.

And I'm still thankful for everything on the list. And they're all still in my life. Well, except for Smacky. I hope he's chasing down his kill and feasting on the still-warm remains, out there, somewhere.

*****

• Thanks to my family for reminding me where I come from and for always feeling like "home".
  
• Thanks to my sister's in-laws for never even noticing that there's a distinction.
  
• Thanks to my friends for being the most honest, straight-forward, and ethical people I know. Plus, you're all hilarious. Have I mentioned that lately?
  
• Thanks to my coworkers for always trying to just fix it.
  
• Thanks to Smacky for being about as "cat" as anyone can be.
  
• Thanks to Apple for making such sexy sexy hardware and software.
  
• Thanks to my negative voice. Without you I wouldn't have a challenge to overcome.
  
• Thanks to the netroots for finally becoming a progressive, political force.
  
• Thanks to everyone who voted Democratic in the last election. I was so scared that... shudder... well, let's not think about that.
  
• Thanks to redheaded women, everywhere. Just thanks. Damn. Yes, even the crazy ones. Especially them.
  
• Thanks to Brooks running shoes for making the perfect shoes for my feet.
  
• Thanks to the framers of the Oregon Constitution for all the free speech protections. I appreciate and use them almost every day.
  
• Thanks to the New Atheists, like Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins and James Randi. It may take another 500 years but ours will be the majority view someday. Or we'll be dead and unable to care.
  
• Thanks to the Iron Horse, Maya's Tacqueria, Backspace, Twin Paradox, the Limelight, the Acropolis. It's not just the food that keeps me coming back, although that's excellent, too.
  
• Thanks to all my favorite living authors, too many to mention, but here's a few: Tim Powers, Bruce Sterling, Carl Hiaasen, Arthur Nersesian, Neil Gaiman... the list goes on and on and deserves it's own post, if not it's own site (but www.bookslut.com is already taken). You inspire me, amaze me, and fill me with envy and I would read every word you write. Fuck that - I would pay for every word you write.
  
• Thanks to God, for not existing or showing any evidence of ever having existed, in spite of everyone looking for You. You've got everyone fooled, and boy, is everyone going to feel silly when they realize You're not there. Then we'll all have a good laugh and finally get around to that whole "world peace and love" thing people have been promising for centuries.
  
• Last, but not least, thanks to each and every one of you who reads this, or anything else I've ever written. I do it for myself because I'm a selfish bastard, and I'm still amazed that anyone else even understands it, let alone enjoys it and wants more. I wouldn't stop even if I could.

...I'm sure I'm missing people. I'm sure there are people out there who would prefer a specific mention rather than being included in a broad category. I'm sure that I will think of much much better/funnier things to say immediately after clicking "Publish Post".

But I'm also sure that you'll understand. Happy Thanksgiving.

Labels: blogiversary

• 8:23 AM 0 comments

Medical lapdance?

I'm filling out my medical insurance enrollment forms. Ugh. Comparing all the options, and deciding what kind of coverage I'll need in the coming year, is making my head swim. But, at least until President Obama can enact some kind of health care reform, it's probably to my benefit to pay attention to all this. Y'know, be prepared.

The "Plus PPO" plan is an extra $36.80 a month and it covers "Alternative Care":

50% up to $450 - special plan year. You may use any licensed chiropractor, naturopath, or massage therapist

Now, chiropractic or naturopathic "medicine" is pseudoscience. I would no sooner give money to receive that kind of treatment than I would give to a church.

But... "massage therapist"?

Wait a minute. Let me think about this. What kind of "license"? How closely do they check these things?

Would, say, a lapdance from Stormy count as "therapy"?

I wonder if she'd be offended if I asked for a receipt next time I was at Devil's Point...

Update:

Turns out I was reading last year's forms. I haven't found this year's forms yet. So the cost and benefits may be different. But I'm still considering asking Stormy for a receipt. I may have found a loophole that will allow me to subsidize my hobby... 9:11 AM - bam • 6:33 AM 1 comments

Aw, Hell No! Part Two

Also via Pajiba comes word that they're making a Sam Kinison biopic.

Just... No. Please, no. Let my fondest memories of him remain unsullied.

The man died on a road trip to Vegas, with wife #6 or some shit. The man was an inspiration to me. Angry is always funny, but with Sam, you laughed because he kinda scared you a little bit. Intense was not a strong enough word.

Please, Hollywood, there was only one Sam. • 10:03 AM 0 comments

Aw, Hell No!

There's a "bug" that affects some people when using Firefox: sometimes, videos will load, but not play past the first few seconds. It's quite annoying.

It's annoying to me, anyway, because it happens to my friends all the time, but it doesn't happen to me. So I have to hear them complain about the video links I send them all the time.

I assumed it was because I have the latest, greatest beta version of Firefox and they don't. Or I was gifted and lucky. I don't know. Somethin'.

But today, I was over at the best snarky movie review site in the world, and I wanted to watch this trailer (it's a "red band" trailer and NSFW):

... and I finally was bit by this bug. It wouldn't play. I had to restart Firefox and do some fucking troubleshooting, which really annoys me, too.

Tracy has no sympathy for me. But, man. What a pain in the ass.

I can't live like this. What's the internet without YouTube What if it happens again? • 9:56 AM 1 comments

Creative Week Movie Inspiration [B5 - 27 February 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

By February 2006, I was stuck in a rut as far as blog posts went. I was mainly blogging about my running and diet. Big whoop. I mean, it was important for me to keep track of my exercise, and keeping a journal, online or whatever, was part of the process that kept me going and kept me honest. But it wasn't exactly electrifying reading.

And then, one rainy night, walking in my neighborhood, I ran across something new, and it sparked a little experiment that I called "Creative Week".

But first, I blogged the inspiration. Enjoy!

*****
Last night, after being out all day, I got home to discover that Smacky was out of food. He was visibly agitated about it. I decided to walk up to the grocery store to replenish his supply.

It was raining a little bit, but I didn't mind. Was bundled up warm.

When I got to SE Milwaukie and Bybee, there were trailers parked all down Milwaukie Ave., and tents and people with walkie-talkies and headsets. As I got closer, I saw little "No Parking" signs that indicated the reason for all this activity.

They were filming... something.

Since I had to go past it all to get to the store, I poked around. For a moment I thought they were filming in the Moreland Theater. But when I looked in the Limelight Restaurant next door, I saw a whole crowd of people, in chairs and standing up, all staring at a bunch of monitors, and at the bar next door was a yellow sign saying "Bar Closed - just for today". Looks like the bar was the set.

The parking lot of the Wells Fargo bank next door was packed with more trailers and tents, and one tent was marked "Extras". In the street was a little sign:

Sorry for the blurry pic. Camera phone.

I walked on up to my grocery store, bought a bag of cat food (almost NINE BUCKS for a 5 lb. bag! That seems expensive, but then, I guess that bag will last me a couple of months. I wish I could eat for that cheap. Except delicious food, not cat food). I asked the checker if she knew what was going on down the street. She shrugged. "I don't know... I heard, it was just a rumor, but I heard that Rebecca De Mornay was involved somehow."

"Really? That's cool!" I said.

She shrugged again. "It's just a rumor."

On my way out, I saw another grocery girl. "Do you know what movie is being filmed down there?"

Fumbling with a cigarrette, she shrugged. "I heard..." - she looked around as if someone might be listening in - "The Rock."

"The rock?"

"You know..." she said. "The Rock?" She was a tiny girl, shorter than me, but she indicated a giant of a man with her hands, smoke trailing from her now-lit cigarrette.

"Right. The wrestler. I gotcha." I headed back into the rain.

As I neared the bar set again, I spotted a guy hauling a box of stuff towards the base camp. "Hey," I stopped him, "What's going on?"

"It's a movie" he said, with a smile.

"Right. I kinda got that," I said. He was walking away. The box didn't look heavy but it did look bulky. "What's the movie?"

He turned around part way and spoke over his shoulder. "It's called 'The Music Within'. Go take a look. The set is just down there. It's kinda cool." He pointed down the street with his chin.

'Kinda cool'? He didn't sound like he worked with them... sounded like a fellow sightseer like me.

I looked around again, and made eye contact with the folks guarding the doors at the Limelight. I got nods of recognition in return, and smiles, but couldn't bring myself to talk to them again. They seemed so... busy.

After I passed all the activity, I called Tracy. After filling her in on the movie being filmed in my neighborhood, I asked her to look it up on IMDB to see who might be in it.

She found it listed, but didn't recognize the one star listed. A bit more googling but she couldn't find much more info on it.

But, you know... I had a cat to feed.

Labels: blogiversary

• 8:02 AM

But we didn't vote for him

Checking out the President-elect's blog, today I see a post about Obama meeting with Sen. McCain to discuss ideas for approaching and solving some of our nation's many troubles.

The blog post quotes, among others, one Tamara, of Springfield, Oregon - perhaps it's the fact that she's from my home state that made her quote catch my eye:

"If you truly want to gain the support and respect of those who did not vote for you, you could 'reach across the aisle' so to speak and begin with incorporating some of the ideas from the Republicans."

Wait a minute.

Didn't we, as a people, just spend 18 months rejecting the ideas of the Republicans? Didn't Republicans, by and large, lose and lose big up and down the ticket? Local races, state races, national races... a whole lotta lose for anyone with an "R" after their name. Even the ones who tried to hide their party affiliation, like former Senator Gordon Smith, whose TV ads pictured him with Democrat Ron Wyden, or Democrat Barack Obama. Or Dino Rossi, whose only mention of his Republican-ness in the ad I saw consisted of white letters on a white background saying that he was "GOP".

And yet, the voters could instantly tell that the Republicans were, in fact, Republicans because of the obvious signs: they hated the gays and the brown-skinned people, and accused their opponents of harboring treason in their hearts, and associated with terrorists.

Which of these "ideas" of Sen. McCain, you know, the ideas that cost him the election, is President-elect Obama supposed to incorporate into his platform, exactly? Is Tamara suggesting that Mr. Obama now appoint an intellectually incurious, uneducated, vindictive nobody to his Cabinet? Is Mr. Obama supposed to now actually associate with someone who pursued violent means forty years ago, who was never convicted of any crimes, and who has reformed themselves and become an influential member of society? Or is Mr. Obama supposed to drop everything in a media stunt, and rush off to get involved in issues that will not benefit from his actions, only to have his own party reject his help and vote against his ideas?

This is not change we can believe in.

Elections have consequences. And the vast majority of us (certainly a larger percentage than trusted Bush over Gore in 2000, and a larger percentage than trusted Bush over Kerry in 2004) trust Mr. Obama to get things done.

If we'd wanted Sen. McCain's ideas, we would have voted for him. • 1:53 PM 2 comments

Accidentally Eating [B5 - 9 February 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

With my struggle to control my eating habits, there's a phrase I use often that tries to encapsulate the helplessness I feel, but which really just serves to deflect any sense of agency I should feel.

That phrase is "accidentally ate". As in, "I accidentally ate an eggnog milkshake and it was delicious."

Here's the (short, but sweet (like chocolate cake)) post where I first used that phrase publicly.

*****
Suddenly there appeared left-over cake in the break room this afternoon. German chocolate cake, and a lemon cake. Several of us were in there accidentally eating some.

One lady commented, "Well, we don't want this to go to waste, do we?"

I replied, "Right. Eat up! There's people starving in Gitmo, after all!"

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:44 AM 0 comments

Soup Rant [B5 - 24 March 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Anger is funny. At least that's what my friends tell me. So when I go off on a rant, about something as simple as trying to find a bowl of soup, it produces something that makes my friends laugh, even as I'm seething in thwarted anger.

Which, now that I think about it, makes me laugh, too. Eventually. Everybody wins!

*****
I've spent the past half-week fighting off that stupid cold virus that's been beating up my co-workers and friends ("that's a pretty big virus") and it's taking its toll.

My days have consisted of work and sleep, with intermittent periods of eating and the occassional email exchange with friends. Lots and lots of sleeping. In fact, I've spent more time asleep since Sunday than I have at work. No, I'm not sleeping at work, although a couple of floors down in the building where I work is a little room with a cot and an alarm clock that's expressly there for the purpose of taking a quick nap at work if necessary (I love the county sometimes).

I haven't been running, either, because running lowers the immune system or something and I want to fight this crappy giant cold virus (I picture it being much like a red-orange-yellow beach ball, with spikes) so I can get back to running and breathing and enjoying things like coherent thought and not blowing my nose and such.

The world takes advantage of my confused, doped-up-on-over-the-counter-medication state by dangling things that might relieve this misery a tiny bit and then sliming it in gelatinous oozing confusion. I wanted some soup for lunch. Soup. Simple hot liquid with something tasty in it. Kinda hard to find downtown, but I walked past this sandwich place I've been meaning to try and, sure enough, on a little sandwich (ha-ha) board out on the sidewalk they list their "specials":

Grilled: Roast Beef, cheddar, roasted red pepper, red onions, blah, blah, I'm losing focus here... Soup: Black Bean

Coolio! Soup and a sandwich. I walk in. To my doom.

I see that they have two"soup and sandwich" items on the menu: both of them have a 12 oz. soup, but one is a "half" and one is a "whole". Obvious first question: How big is a half? I ask the counter girl that, and she pauses.

"Uh... well" she hems and haws, making vague size motions with her hands "it's, uh, half of a whole sandwich..."

A bespectacled boy with a blonde soul patch pokes his head out from behind an oak wall, holding a loaf of bread in his hands, muttering something that may have seemed, to him and the counter girl, to be an answer to my question. Already confused, I decide to order a "whole" and hope I don't get a "whole" loaf of bread. I guess I could save it for dinner. They'd better not charge me more than the menu's stated price of $8.25, though.

"OK, I'll take your roast beef and black bean special." I state this as decisively as the phlegm in my throat allows.

Again, counter girl looks lost. "Um... well, you'll have to" she hands me a little clipboard with a chart full of options on it "fill this out."

"I can't just order the special?"

"You can customize it however you want." She replies. I step aside to study my options, getting a bit frustrated.

Roast Beef wasn't even an option on the menu. A sign hanging over the register explains that if I want Roast Beef or Pastrami that I'll have to write it in, and apologizes for the menus being confusing. Yay. Some validation. Yes, yes, I am confused.

I manage to fill out their devilish form with only a couple of mistakes. I accidentally checked an option that made the counter girl think I wanted the "Kid's brown bag" special, when instead I wanted the "whole sandwich and soup" special. I also marked "Orange" on one part and "apple" on another for my choice of fruit, but I did that on purpose to highlight how confusing the menu was. Either I was too subtle or not subtle enough because it went right over countergirl's head.

I probably won't go back, even though the soup was pretty good. The sandwich was average and the oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookie was kinda thin. And, no, I didn't get a whole loaf sandwich, either, so the value... not so good.

I just wanted some soup, dammit.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:41 AM

"Synedoche, New York"

I've been waiting months to see "Synecdoche, New York". OK, two months since I saw the trailer. That's still multiple months.

I remember how I felt when I saw "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" (and maybe you do, too) - that love was painful and clumsy and impossible and hopeful.

"Synecdoche, New York" makes me feel almost the same way, only about life, and living.

All us poor dumb blind people... What the fuck are we trying to pull? Who are we trying to kid?

We wait for someone to notice us, and we flinch when we're forced to notice others. We hide from everyone else, or we glitz ourselves up because we're afraid to blend in.

I cried throughout the movie. I cried when just walking around on the sunny cold streets of my hometown afterward. Boys in their twenties jumping up to try to touch the ceiling in the glass tunnel over SW Fourth. Fashion mom and her flashy daughter, each clutching their logo-emblazoned shopping bags full of stuff. Chubby woman in dirty clothes, balled up on the sidewalk begging for coins. Old men in golf shirts and slacks harrumphing at the traffic.

All y'all... all y'all are the same person, if Kaufman's movie is to be believed. And Kaufman writes, and Philip Seymour Hoffman tells it without varnish, and it feels honest like a knife in your chest.

You can look elsewhere for a synopsis of the movie. I need to see it many more times.

If art is whatever makes you feel something, then this movie is art to me.

Labels: movies

• 11:59 PM 0 comments

Webservers are hard

If you've noticed any weirdness in the last couple of hours with this site, it's because I've been messing around with Apache, trying to consolidate my other sites, like Run, Moon! and my home server, Lunar Obverse, Home Edition, to this server.

It's something I don't do very often, so I have to screw it up a couple of times before I remember how to do it right. So it's never smooth. I'm documenting the steps this time, though, so the next time I have to do it, it should be much smoother.

Why am I doing it? Well, since I'm going to get new carpeting put in my apartment on Monday (starting on Monday - I hope but do not entirely expect for it to take only one day), I have to shut down my home computer, which previously served those secondary sites.

All this is simply to explain the weirdness. If anyone out there noticed, that is. It should all be working as expected now, though. If not, feel free to contact me or leave a comment here.

Labels: meta

• 9:26 PM 0 comments

Beginning TV Addiction [B5 - 8 February 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

In reference to my recent post mentioning my TV addiction (which I am trying to break, or at least modify), here's the post where I admit that I gave in to social pressure to start watching "Lost", along with the rest of America.

*****
Note: This post contains no spoilers for "Lost".

My friend Ken * has been a fan of "Lost" since the beginning. Every Thursday morning after a new episode, he would come to work, sit down, and start out to tell me about the cool things on the show, and then realize that I don't watch teevee. He would then proceed to pity me and belittle me, because "Lost" was not just some dumb sitcom. It was special.

I resisted watching the show for several reasons. First, probably just because of my contrarian nature - if it was popular, how could the show be any good? I did relent once during the first season, figuring if someone cool like Ken liked it, maybe it had some redeeming qualities. However, the show I ended up watching, while interesting character-heavy drama, didn't have enough of the "Lost" mythology to project its appeal to me, and I stopped watching. I remember Ken's disappointment the next day. "Yeah," he admitted, "that wasn't the best first episode to watch."

Then, as Season Two approached, Ken began obsessing even more, joining online forums and discussing the show. I was a bit more intrigued, and when Ken bought the Season One DVD set and offerred to let me borrow it, I relented once again.

So for a couple of weeks I made my way through the DVDs, and I got a little more hooked. The mythology of the show was interesting, but more interesting to me was the characters. Seeing their backgrounds in flashbacks, compared with their current actions on the island, and watching as they developed the characters over the course of a season made me glad to have been there when all this long-form television got started. "Babylon 5", "The X-Files", "Buffy The Vampire Slayer"... I've done this before. I like the greater depth one gets for characters and situations when they're not resolved and wrapped up neatly in 60 minutes (42 if you subtract commercials). Ken hadn't ever gotten into those previous shows (he was off serving his country in the Air Force during most of the 90s) so I saw why "Lost" would feel so new and fresh to him.

And, honestly, the writing on the show was very good. I liked it.

So much so that, weekend after last, when I was done with the Season One DVDs, with the prospect of new episodes being aired, I did something that, until this point, I had never done before: I spent money at the iTunes Music Store. I bought the first two episodes of Season Two for "Lost". It was the weekend, and I knew that several others I worked with were sufficiently geeky to both watch "Lost" and save it in some digital form, so I could probably find the other episodes for free... but, what the hell, I have a 5th Generation iPod capable of playing video **, so why not?

I bought and watched those two episodes, asked around at work the next Monday, waited another day, didn't hear back, and that night splurged and bought the rest of the season. Total of 12 episodes so far.

It worked pretty well, although they take up quite a bit of space and I'll be sure to remove them when I'm done. The screen on my iPod is actually slightly larger than my actual teevee set when I hold it at a comfortable viewing distance. Y'know... visually. So I'm not losing much by watching "Lost" on my device. Plus, it's good to know that one more capability of my gadget is being actually used.

And using the iTMS is also good. But there was one episode that wouldn't download. The 7th episode of the season. I kept getting my favorite ironical computer-type-error, the "unknown error", after the little progress bar crept its way across the screen the entire way. Argh.

And I couldn't watch these episodes out of order. That's just not right.

I figured that in this instance, since I've been all legal 'n' stuff and paid for the privelege of viewing it, that I could justify finding a quasi-legal copy on the internets. And I did, eventually, find one, even one that had already been pre-formatted for my iPod. And it took fourteen hours to download via BitTorrent. Glacially slow. I started it at night, and by the time I had to leave for work in the morning, it hadn't finished.

While waiting for the quasi-legal copy to download, though, I fired off an angry email to Apple about their failure to satisfy my need for instant gratification. I outlined all the things I'd tried and carefully provided the text of their irritatingly-vague error message and asked them to fix it.

I was losing valuable time - a new episode was coming soon, and I had to catch up. I still had 6 episodes to watch and less and less time to do it. The following day after work, I got home and found that both the legal download worked, and the quasi-legal download had (finally!) finished. Argh. More frustration, but no time for that. I had "Lost" to watch.

Yeah. I'll admit it. I've become hooked on the show. Ken was right. It is the coolest. Ken also likes being the superior one who has already hashed out much speculation and observations about the island and the people on it... but that's OK.

In the meantime, I got an email from Apple, apologizing for my inconvenience, and explaining that they are crediting me the cost of that download and giving me 5 free downloads at the iTMS. Yay! Now I can enter their "Billionth Song Download" contest without spending any money!

When I win, all my friends get iPods. Just sayin'.


* Yes, I'm linking to his site even though he hasn't updated since September just because I can and because I'm trying to shame him into updating again.

** I know I haven't blobbed about upgrading my older one but it's an embarassing story involving me dropping my old one, the one with the Radiohead lyric on the back, into the toilet so you can understand my reticence. Just go with me, here.

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:32 PM 0 comments

Hey, new carpet

So yesterday my landlord emails me and asks if it's OK for him to install new carpet this coming Monday.

He'd mentioned it a couple of months ago, and then I guess we both got busy and we each kinda, sorta half-heartedly followed up every now and then. But now he's ready to pull the trigger.

I need the carpeting. There's mold in here from last winter, when my water heater broke and leaked for a week and a half before the previous landlord finally swapped it out. Ugh. Mold.

But I'm far from ready to have all my shit moved out.

Guess what I'm doing this weekend? Yay.

But, y'know, hey, new carpeting. • 9:13 PM 0 comments

Laissez les bons temps roulez! [B5 - 8 November 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Helping the Democrats take control of both houses of Congress, with all the hope in having someone finally oppose the toxic Bush Administration, felt very good. And one of the early victories of that effort was seeing Donald Rumsfeld step down as the Secretary of Defense. Buh-bye.

*****
Bye, Rumsfeld!

The Donald becomes the first recipient of Lunar Obverse's "Yellow Undies" award. I hope (oh, how I hope!) that there will be many, many more.

Don't let an IED hit your ass on the way out!

And, sadly, Bush had to reverse himself, after defending Rumsfeld time and again. But when the Army Times, Navy Times, Marine Times and Air Force Times newspapers all join in calling for the Defense Secretary's resignation, truly... it's time to go.

Wait, did I say "sadly"? Sorry, it's hard to read what I'm saying while I'm wearing this huge grin on my face.

I hope our president likes the taste of crow...

Good news comes in threes, they say. But I've lost count of all the good news for our country that I've heard in the last 24 hours. Still, if there's more to come, I'm so ready for it.

Truly, this is the best day of my political life.

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:01 AM

Redemption

For several reasons, including the tightening economy and a desire to have more wiggle room in my monthly cash flow, I have decided to dump Comcast as my entertainment provider. I say "entertainment" because I get both my broadband internet (which is vastly entertaining all by itself and is something I consider as necessary a utility as electricity and clean running water), and cable TV, which provides the standard advertiser-supported video entertainment that has been a part of the American Dream since the fabled 1950s.

My total cable internet bill runs nearly $140.00 per month. That's a fair bit of change, and spending that amount has given me almost one hundred and forty reasons to sit down in front of my TV and watch what's on there. I have recently come to realize that I watch a lot of TV, much more than I'm really comfortable admitting. First it was "The Simpsons", then it included all the Fox Sunday night animation shows, two hours of 'toons... then, on the urging of my friend, I added "Lost" and "The Office" - and "The Office" timeslot expanded to include all the NBC Thursday night comedies, from "My Name is Earl" to "30 Rock". "Mythbusters" is always entertaining, and filled with three important things of value: science, explosions, and a brainy sexy redhead. So it got added to my rapidly-expanding viewing queue. And so on, and so on; there was always room for one more science-fiction show, or one more cute sitcom, or one more entertaining reality show.

It's no wonder I no longer have time to read all the books I'd like. Or, for that matter, that I no longer seem to have the attention span necessary to actually write the Great American Novel.

It was time, probably long past time, to cut back.

But there was another impetus to my decision, and it involves two aspects: one practical and technological, and the other political.

Long-time readers of this space may remember my epic battles with faceless, soulless telecom Qwest over porting my landline phone number to a mobile number. In the end, after months of phone calls and complaints to various consumer-protection agencies, I counted as a victory the fact that I got out of a stupid contract without having to pay any early-termination fees, even though the number I was fighting to protect had, in fact, been lost to me in the war. And from that moment on, I swore that Qwest, out of all evil corporations, was in fact my sworn enemy.

I even briefly found myself forced to work in a building my employer shared with Qwest, face to face with the minions who embodied and enacted Qwest's soul-sucking policies. Chilling, I know.

But... a funny thing happened. Qwest, apparently alone among American telecoms, was shown to have stood up to President Bush's lawless acts of intrusive, illegal surveillance of American citizens. Their then-CEO, Joe Nacchio, paid a price for turning down the lucrative blood-money contract "offered" by the White House, and found himself on the wrong end of an intimidating SEC probe.

When all this came to light, I was firmly disgusted by both President Bush's criminal activity and the compliance of the other telecom companies - including, to my shame, AT&T, the company which exclusively provides service for my beloved sexy iPhone. Yes, money is flowing from my bank account into the coffers of a company who sold out the Constitution. I know. What can I say? I can be bought by shiny baubles - as long as they're Apple's shiny baubles.

And then, this past summer, Qwest started installing new equipment in my neighborhood. Not simply in my neighborhood, actually, but right next to my apartment building, on the very lot on which my building stands. Right next to my front door and living room window, in point of fact. My landlord admitted that when he bought the place, he had not known that Qwest had a lien on the property which allowed them to do this work.

You can imagine my suspicion towards this turn of events. Now double that.

But this was after the revelations that CEO Nacchio had been fighting against governmental intrusion into our personal lives. So my fears were at least partially reduced.

The equipment that the installers installed was, in fact, a switch that enabled DSL in my 'hood. Qwest had in the past said that "work was needed" before I could get DSL broadband at my address; this was that work. They didn't do it for me, though, they apparently did it because of a new mini-strip-mall built near my apartment, just around the block. Five or six new businesses and they all probably wanted broadband, and Qwest was (finally) glad to help, in return for fat checks for "business-class broadband".

I could benefit, too. I had earlier vowed to never do business with Qwest again, but circumstances had changed. I could exchange Comcast's clumsy cable internet for speedy Qwest DSL. And if I dumped the TV part, I could save considerable cash monies on a monthly basis. Plus, since the switch was literally located right outside my window, and maxmimum broadband speed is dependent on how far away the switch was located - I could get amazing speed.

It has tempted me for weeks and months.

Today I pulled the trigger. Soon I will be paying less, to a company that took an ethical stand I admire (but which is likely still rotten in other ways, let's not be naive) for faster broadband internet.

From which I will still be able to watch many of the shows I like. Have you ever heard of Hulu? And those shows that aren't in there, I'll still have BitTorrent... • 1:22 PM 3 comments

"Role Models"

I saw "Role Models" two days ago, on my day off, and although I remember it as a generally funny movie, with several laugh-out-loud moments, and a generally sweet-but-ironic view of life... I can't really remember enough details to write a blog post about it.

Labels: movies

• 7:48 AM 0 comments

Shifting Perspective [B5 - 22 November 2006]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

I'm single. I know, hard to believe, huh? But I date. And, more than that, I'm mystified and confused and in wonderment about the opposite sex (which would be the female gender, for those of you not keeping score at home).

And I think that pondering said mysteries, confuzlements, and wonderments has led to some of my best posts. Like this one.

*****
Walking in to work one morning with Tracy, another group of employees were heading out. One of them is a lady I'll call H. H and her co-workers were in charge of a county work group - people working off minor crimes and misdemeanors through community service work. As such, H was dressed in grungy work clothes; baggy jeans, old boots, a sweater, down vest, hair tucked up under a baseball cap, everything looking worn out and dirty from use.

I'd talked to her before on a normal, "I'm here to fix your computer" basis, but before she started with the work crews, so I was used to her wearing business casual clothing, very conservative business casual clothing. In fact, H struck me as conservative in personality, friendly but mostly quiet and polite and practical.

Even that morning, seeing her in completely different clothes, after I had the shock of recognition, I didn't see her as anything other than a co-worker whose computer I'd fixed from time to time. She recognized me and said "Oh, hi, Brian" and I said good morning back to her.

Tracy asked me about her, later, and after my memory had been jogged (it was eight hours later when Tracy had asked) I told her.

Tracy mentioned that H, even in no makeup, struck her as very beautiful. Tracy mentioned a resemblance to Jennifer Garner.

I gave Tracy a look, because, as I said above, I had never seen that in H at all. H was older than Ms. Garner, for one reason, and there's a mental space that movie stars occupy that's separate from the space everyday people occupy, which is why it's difficult sometimes to recognize a star encountered unexpectedly on the street (have I ever told you the story about flirting with Heather Locklear?) As Tracy's thought percolated my mind, however, I could feel my perspective shifting a little bit. Remembering H in the previous setting and clothing I knew her from, I joked, "She could probably pull off the 'sexy librarian' look!" Tracy agreed whole-heartedly. But eventually I shrugged it off.

The next night I had a dream about H. An intimate one. It startled me. I laughed about it the next day with Tracy, who offered me a high-five in return.

"Right! ON!" she said.

Later that day, I was leaving the county motor pool and I saw H again. She was crossing the street heading in to the parking lot. She was dressed similarly (or exactly; the clothes are so generic I couldn't tell the difference). As she walked, her back to me, I noticed that her hair, even though it was pulled through the back of the baseball cap and held with a Scunci... it was very long, hanging down to her backside (hidden, dammit, in the oversized jeans). Again, I felt the contradictory mental images of her clashing, in this case several images: H in make-up and glamorous Hollywood clothes (like Jennifer Garner); H in generic business casual clothes (the librarian before she lets down her hair and takes off her jacket that hides her curves); H in glasses, a white blouse, and short skirt, hair flying wildly (sexy librarian post-revelation); and H as I saw her before me, in dirty grungy baggy work clothes, but with her hair falling down her back.

Trying to reconcile all these images, I nearly rear-ended a Porsche Boxster S. While driving a county car.

Damn.

A shifting perspective is a wonderful thing to experience. Even if nothing comes of it, I'm going to remember that moment when my consciousness changed how I looked at someone else. I live for those moments; they are as special to me as moments of epiphany are to a spiritual or religious person.

So much of what we see is filtered through our expectations. Change your expectations and you can literally change how you see the world.

In this case, you can learn to see a hidden beauty you had never before noticed. The value of that shift is incalculable.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:56 AM 0 comments

Flavor-Ade [B5 - 23 August 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

From the Department of Corrections: sometimes, I just want to correct what I see as a grave error on other people's part. I present this small correction, again, since it didn't seem to take effect quite as strongly as I'd hoped previously.

*****
I know it's probably pedantic, and too late to change this particular meme, but here goes my tiny little attempt.

It's come up at work a couple of times recently, so I wanted to point out that what was served by Jim Jones to his followers was not Kool-Aid.

It was Flavor-Aid. OK?

People who are blindly following the orders of a charismatic cult leader are drinking the Flavor-Aid. Got it? Are we clear?

And, no, Kraft Foods did not pay me to make this statement.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:41 AM

Answers that might offend a veteran

Q: What did I do on Veteran's Day this year?

A: Laundry, mostly.

If you see a vet today - offer them a hug. But don't just hug them without asking first. It's impolite. • 9:41 AM 0 comments

All I needed to know [B5 - 7 September 2007]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

From just over a year ago, when Barack Obama was not the favored candidate running for the Democratic nomination for President, comes this post. I attended then-Sen. Obama's stump speech in Portland, with the hope that he would talk about the one major issue on every American's mind at the time: the foolish and illegal Iraq War. That was, at the time, all I needed to know.

The fact that now-President-Elect Obama won both the nomination and the White House is, I believe, because he did, eventually, begin talking about the war.

*****
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.

Labels: blogiversary

• 7:06 AM

Happy Birthday USMC

I just learned that today is the traditional birthdate of the United States Marine Corps.

Which finally explains why that guy was wearing his uniform on the bus this morning.

Thanks for your service, Marines! • 10:24 AM 0 comments

Katrina [B5 - 31 August 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites.

New Orleans is one of my favorite cities in the world, at least among those I've visited.

And allowing it to be destroyed marks the point when the majority of Americans began to see that President Bush was not a competent or compassionate president.

My thoughts on the matter, shortly after it occurred, follow below.

*****
I know I'm late with this, but I can't let the event pass without some small comment.

New Orleans was my favorite city in the whole world, at least of the few places I've actually been. And now, it seems, it will have to live on in my memory. Partying, drinking, eating the most amazing food, the local color and history and architecture. Of all the cities I would have liked to retire in, to sit in the shade, drinking and writing and people-watching...

Mark Twain, Tennessee Williams, Andy Jackson and Jean Lafitte, Delphine LaLaurie, Marie Laveau... The Garden District, the French Quarter, Storyville... Preservation Hall and Café du Monde...

Katrina has all but wiped it from the face of the Earth.

The sewage, the toxic chemicals from the refineries and industrial ports, the dead bodies being exhumed from the Big Easy's unique above-ground gravesites and floating down streets-turned-canals... It's going to be uninhabitable for a long time to come.

My thoughts go out to all the victims of Katrina.

And... the economic devastation is going to be rather harsh, too. The Port of Southern Louisiana is one of the five largest ports in the world, and the largest port (by volume) in the United States, larger than New York, larger than Los Angeles. Not only does New Orleans handle oil imports, but it handles food and timber exports to the rest of the world.

We haven't even begun to feel the effects of this natural disaster.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:32 AM 0 comments

My letter to President-Elect Obama

OK, Mr. President-elect, I supported you and worked on your behalf and donated money, and voted for you and encouraged others to vote for you. I defended your policies and decisions during the campaign, and I disagreed (respectfully, but forcefully) when I thought you were wrong... and accepted your decision after hearing me out, and continued to support you as the best man for the job.

So now you're on your way to White House. It's been a long campaign and I'm sure you're tired, but Mr. President, respectfully, there are some things I have to tell you now. Yes, now, before the celebrations have died down, and three months before you're even sworn in.

One of the very few upsides to the incompetence and malevolence of the Bush/Cheney Administration has been the rise of the new progressive movement. The mistakes of the past eight years has galvanized the opposition, from the grassroots up, and we have taken advantage of new technologies to organize and communicate effectively. We have used that organization to try to pull our leaders to the left on policy after policy; to oppose Cabinet and court appointments detrimental to the progressive cause; and to reward leaders who are already pursuing laws that will help all Americans and the world.

Simply because we now have large majorities in Congress, and a popular, intelligent and effective leader in the White House, do not expect the progressive movement to become silent. One key trait that distinguishes liberals from conservatives is the fact that liberals demand accountability from all leaders, regardless of whether they have a D or an R (or a G, C or an ID after their name (Sen. Joe Lieberman's days in the Democratic Caucus are numbered - but that's not a concern for you, Mr. President-Elect).

I don't have to tell you that the country, and the world, is in a bad way. You have acknowledged that, many times. In fact, your honest speaking about the troubles we are all in together is one of the things I most respect about you, and I firmly believe that that plain speaking was the key to your victory. Sen. Clinton had the popularity and the Democratic nomination was hers to lose - and I believe she lost it because she never spoke about the one major issue on American minds in the early part of this year: the war in Iraq and the tarnishing of our country's reputation.

Remember, sir, how just 14 months ago, when you spoke in Portland, how your stump speech specifically did not mention the two disastrous wars, in Iraq and forgotten Afghanistan? I'm glad that you did eventually add that to your presidential campaign. I believe it was the key to your victory.

But now that you have prevailed, and have begun the difficult task of transitioning from campaign to governance, now is the time for me, and all Americans who care about the direction of this country, to state for the record what our goals are.

And in another move that pleasantly surprises me... you have created a place for us to speak, and for you to communicate and listen. That gives me great hope.

In fact, it hasn't even been a week since your victory and I have already used the communication tool you've presented to give my thoughts on potential Cabinet appointees. Unfortunately, as these things go, my thoughts are negative ones: I am firmly against appointing Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. to any position that requires rational thought and trusting the research and science before making policy decisions, because of his virulently anti-science stance on vaccinations, when rumors arose that RFK, Jr. may be considered for heading up the Environmental Protection Agency or the Department of the Interior; and likewise, I am against the appointment of Lawrence Summers for the Department of the Treasury, since he is elbow-deep in the deregulation that led us to the massive failure of the investment banks that we have seen in the last few months.

But I am not entirely negative on your choices so far, and I do not intend to protest every single choice. I have good reason to believe that choosing Rahm Emmanuel for your Chief of Staff is an excellent pick; Rep. Emmanuel's personal politics, particularly on trade issues, are too centrist for my progressive tastes, but when he explicitly states that the Obama Administration is not going to tie policies needed to immediately help our flagging economy to Bush-requested trade pacts with other nations, that's incredibly encouraging. President Bush is the least popular president in the history of polling, and his help is not needed to move us forward.

It is also very encouraging to read that your staff have been planning for months what will happen after the election. The fact that the New York Times is reporting that you are preparing to undo as many of Bush's policies as quickly as possible, makes me realize that you were not just campaigning competently, that you had your eye on the next steps, as well.

With all that in mind, then, as one of your constituents, supporters, and advocates, I present to you my own personal top priorities for your administration, in order of their importance to myself and to our great nation:

• Close the illegal prisons and "black sites" that hold our political prisoners. Close Guantanamo Bay, close Bagram, close Abu Ghraib, and any others that the public does not know about. Stop torturing. Stop it, and vigorously pursue criminal charges against those who implemented them and allowed them to continue. I realize that your colleagues in Congress may hold some culpability, since many of them, like Speaker Pelosi and Majority Leader Reid, were ranking Minority members of various committees in the early years after 9/11. But remember how I said I, like other progressives, want accountability from all my leaders? Mine may be an extreme position, I understand that. But I still wish my voice to be heard. Stop the torture, close the political prisons. Not doing so may in fact be a war crime for your administration, not just the one that implemented it. And they represent an enormous stain on America's moral high ground.
  
  
• Likewise, vigorously prosecute any and all crimes committed by the previous administration. You have stated, during the campaign, that you might do this. I hope that your campaign's statements were not just rhetoric.
  
  
• Rescind the offensive extra-Constitutional powers contained in the Patriot Act and last year's FISA Amendment Act. I know that the progressive movement has butted heads with you on this before, and that you went back on your earlier campaign promise to oppose any law that included retroactive immunity. But since you supported that bill and it was signed in to law by President Bush, new revelations have come out about abuses by the intelligence agencies violating the law. Whistleblowers from the NSA have come forward to explain that they and their fellow agents were routinely violating the privacy of Americans, including the most intimate conversations, without any national security pretext for tapping and recording those calls and emails. This surprised approximately no one who has been paying attention, and the knowledge that this has been happening, in violation of both the previous FISA laws, but also the amended FISA laws, does harm to our national security and our status in the community of nations. Repeal and restore the laws that served us well for three decades prior.
  
  
• End combat operations by American forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. Pursue diplomacy and social change as a means of combating terrorism; an example would be Michael Moore's suggestion of bringing clean drinking water to the over a billion people in the world who do not have it. The $10 billion that would cost is a fraction of the cost of putting our troops in harm's way and killing or injuring thousands upon thousands of others. Remember, again, that prior to the economic meltdown in October, this was the most pressing issue on American minds. It is still just as important as it was before. Bring our troops home.
  
  
• Lead through Congress and sign the Employee Free Choice Act into law. Organized labor brings democracy to what is otherwise a dictatorship (though some employers may be tyrants and others benevolent, non-union workplaces are still subject to the whims of those at the top). Strengthen the Federal Labor Relations Authority to bring more accountability to our industries. Union workers are, largely, progressive workers.
  
  
• Use the $700 billion bailout money to directly help homeowners keep the houses they tried to purchase. Repeal the flawed bankruptcy bill passed in 2005 that forced people to continue paying usurious credit card debt but walk away from the roof over their head by removing sensible bankruptcy protections for them.
  
  
• Create a new public works program to re-build our infrastructure and create new jobs. Invest in alternative fuels and at reducing carbon emissions.
  

Your stump speech talked of compromise. A true compromise is when everyone gets at least something they wanted. And no one gets anything they didn't ask for. I could add more, but those will do for now. Everyone will have their own list of policies, but these are the most important as I see them.

And thank you, President-Elect Obama. This is truly an historic moment for our country and the world.

Labels: lettertoObama

• 9:34 PM 1 comments

Kate [B5 - 23 April 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Even now, three years later, people searching for "Kate Beckinsale" end up at my little corner of the internet.

Mostly for the picture in the following post. Although the story about the masturbating rabbit is my first mention of her - but no picture. My readers enjoy visual stimulus, I suppose.

*****
Joss Whedon is helming a remake of Wonder Woman?

There's some bogus MTV "poll" on who Joss should cast that has its results rigged to give one of three answers: Catharine Zeta Jones, Angelina Jolie, Queen Latifah (pardon me for being non-PC but WTF?!) and "unknown actress". No, I'm not gonna link to the poll; I already said it was bogus.

What a lot of people don't realize is that the creator of Wonder Woman, Dr. William Moulton Marston writing under the pseudonym of Charles Moulton, was, well, into bondage and submission -- which is why in every single comic he wrote, Wonder Woman ended up being bound somehow. And loving it. Often, other women and men were bound up somehow, too; the most obvious way being with Wonder Woman's golden lasso.

Dr. Marston was a fascinating character. Inventor of the pseudo-scientific "lie detector", a feminist theorist, and apparently happily polygamous, fathering and raising two children with two different women. He claimed to have created Wonder Woman in an effort to get boys to enjoy being bound and dominated by women:

"Wonder Woman satisfies the subconscious, elaborately disguised desire of males to be mastered by a woman who loves them."

But, apparently, the woman-dominated society Dr. Marston attempted to create by means of comic books did not come to fruition. Even the sight of Halle Berry in a leather dominatrix outfit with a whip didn't save the truly awful "Catwoman" from dying a horrible box office death, f'rinstance.

So casting Wonder Woman, a modern one, at least, is a tricky proposition. Sure, the obvious choice is Angelina Jolie, but, well, in my opinion she's a little too into the whole B/D thing. Not that that wouldn't be fun, mind you.

There's lots of non-obvious choices, or should I say, less obvious choices. But for me, there's really only one actress on my personal list of "wouldn't mind being tied up by".

My vote? I'd write in Kate Beckinsale:

Rawr

...I'm sorry. What were we talking about? Oh, right, Wonder Woman. Yeah, OK, Kate looks better in black leather/spandex/vinyl, I suppose, than the bright red-and-gold of a Wonder Woman costume. I just lost my mind there for a second.

...c'mon, you can't tell me you didn't see that one coming?

Labels: blogiversary

• 10:20 AM 0 comments

Obviously crazy people [B5 - 14 October 2005]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Maybe I'm repressed but I don't like to socially interact with people when I'm eliminating waste from my body.

*****
First rule of men's rooms: men don't talk to each other, or acknowledge each other, unless they're on equal footing. And even then, the topics of conversation are quite limited. And really, only at a urinal. If someone's in a stall they might as well not be there.

I'm at the gym, in a stall (see above), and a guy gets in the stall next to me. Loudly calls out something that just doesn't register with me. Because I'm in a stall. I'm invisible, or should be.

He repeats it, and I make out his words: "Hey, do you know when the Notre Dame game is on tonight?"

It takes me several minutes to process, as I wait for his buddy or whoever to respond. When no one does, it dawns on me that HE'S TALKING TO ME.

"No, sorry. I have no idea." Is this appropriate conversation for strangers that are supposed to be invisible to each other? Is this guy crazy? Wait, sorry, all humans are crazy, so of course the answer is yes, but it's the wrong question. Is he one of the obviously crazy people? Evidence is collecting, and signs are starting to point to "yes, yes he is, get out now."

"That is going to be the game" he continues. I fall silent, because, well, there's really no response to this, for all the reasons I stated above, plus the fact that I simply don't care about college football.

We both fall silent for a bit. Then I hear ringtones, ringtones that are playing Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer".

And the guy answers the phone.

More evidence.

He chats with the caller, while sitting on the pot. I'm even more stunned, but also... I'm thinking I should flush the toilet or make some noises in an effort to call attention to the guy's location. Y'know, to alert whoever is stupid enough to chat with this obviously crazy person that he's obviously crazy.

The guy tries again to find out when this Notre Dame game is, and from the one side of the conversation that I can't avoid hearing it's clear that this game is not taking place tonight, or at least the person on the other end believes that adamantly. The guy is not entirely convinced, but then tries to get the person he's talking to to go to Montana with him next week. The dangers of being alone in the vast open spaces of Montana with this insanely unsocialized man are apparent, though, and the other person declines. The conversation ends.

My services in noisemaking turned out not to be needed. The other person is safe for the moment. I am still in inadvertent contact with this guy. And the final piece of evidence is revealed.

Because the guy starts muttering under his breath.

It's a Popeye kind of muttering, where I can't make out all the words. It's practically Tourette's Syndrome muttering (Tourette's is not always curse words; sometimes it's just pre-verbal sounds, or even tics and gestures, at least that's my understanding), but one word in about 5 or 6 floats out; I make out "dingbat" and "dickhead" mixed in with the inarticulate grunts and chuckles. I see that he stands up, all the while muttering, and finally he breaks into a bit of sing-song muttering, with a rhythm, or at least a cadence. And then, he's gone.

Labels: blogiversary

• 3:32 PM 0 comments

A dream

Did I dream it?



Yes - I American Dreamed it.

Yes we can. • 7:11 PM 0 comments

My colorful neighborhood [B5 - 25 May 2004]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Another topic that comes up often when I write is the many different people around me. I'm a writerly sort - maybe you've noticed? - and I like to try to capture the uniqueness of humanity. Sometimes I'm doing it from what I hope is a detatched, neutral viewpoint.

And sometimes I'm consciously doing it from my own, biased, flawed viewpoint, with all that that entails.

Here's my first post about a neighbor that I still have around, even four years later, even after my brilliant plan to escape him.

*****
OK, ignore my previous post. I thought of something to write about.

My current apartment is in a good neighborhood and I've been there for years so even though the rent has increased some it's still pretty cheap. Certainly cheaper than I could find a 1 bedroom/1 bath apartment in Sellwood for if I was looking right now. I'm right on a bus line (important when you're economically opposed to automobile ownership) and close to a couple of other bus lines. I've got a washer/dryer hookup in my apartment (bonus!) and I can walk to the grocery store. Lots of plusses.

But... I hate my neighbors. I've got this guy living next to me who has been a nuisance for years. When he moved in, the building was operated by a very bad manager, and my neighbor would always try to get me to contact the manager to complain; the old "let's you and him fight" technique.

My neighbor is chronically unemployed and so finds he has lots of time to sit around drinking beer and trying to strike up conversations with passers-by. My apartment is on the second story, and to get to it there is only one stair that leads to the walkway all three apartments share. I consider the stairway to be a common area, but my neighbor considers it his living room. He'll sit there at the end of the day, smoking, drinking, cussing, laughing... and because of the layout this is directly underneath my living room window. Not to mention the fact that I have to step around him and his cronies on the stairs to get to my front door. I dread going home and finding him there, which happens a lot. When I'm home I tend to leave the curtains drawn and windows closed to keep out his obnoxious laugh and the cigarrette smoke.

But that's not the worst part. Because of all his drinking, my neighbor often ends up sick and hungover in the morning. He seems, though, to make it to the bathroom before becoming violently ill. I know this because his bathroom is right next to my bedroom. Several times a week I am awakened by the sound of my neighbor tossing his cookies into the porcelain throne. Thin walls do not mute this much at all. Joy. The mornings he's not sick, he's coughing and hacking due to his smoking habit...

I find all this oppressive. But I've not done much about it. I know, I know, I should be less passive. I've mainly used this as an excuse not to be home much, which does seem to help my social life.

But I have an opportunity. There are two, 2 bedroom apartments downstairs from me, and the one on the other side of the building from me is open. I would no longer have to step around him to get to my home. I would no longer have to be awakened by the sound of chunky liquid splashing into a bowl, or his hacking cough. And I would still live in the same neighborhood and still have the W/D hookup and all the other things I like about my current apartment. My rent would only go up $100/month, which, if I look at what I would gain (a less oppressive living space) seems very much worth it. I mentioned the possibility of moving to my landlord and now he's waiting for me to give him a yea or a nay.

However... once again my mind refuses to stay in context. Instead of evaluating the two tangible choices, a voice in my head whispers of other, fictional choices. I've started browsing the classifieds, and for around $600 I could move to any number of other places in several cool neighborhoods: downtown, close-in SE, Hawthorne, or the Lloyd Center area. I could move somewhere that had DSL (I'm currently on cable modem, which, for technical reasons involving me wanting to share my bandwidth is less than useful (there's probably a whole 'nother post in that topic alone.)) I could gain hardwood floors or bay windows or a great view or sexy next-door neighbors... the mind boggles.

I talked to my sister, and she suggested that for the same money I'm talking about in rent, I could be making a payment on a condo. Be an "owner" not a "renter". Get some equity. However, my sister thinks of money much differently than me, and I suspect that even though what she says is technically true ("your mortgage payment wouldn't be more than $600/month, including taxes"), there would still be lots of hidden costs and fees that would make that choice more expensive, both short-term and in the long run. Also, the places I would have to live are not really my favorite neighborhoods: Tigard, Clackamas... basically the 'burbs. Bleh. I'm a downtown kind of guy. I need to be in SE or downtown. Gotta stick with what I know and love.

So, in the end, those "other" choices are all mythical. I should really decide based on just the two current choices and not introduce extraneous possibilities...

I'm going to move downstairs for now, and keep my eyes open for something better.

Labels: blogiversary

• 10:44 AM 0 comments

Bottle rant [B5 - 28 July 2004]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Lots of my posts are basically rants. Just me, going off, usually angry, about some small thing.

And they're usually funny.

Here's an early rant about the lyrics to a song that, I think, are woefully misunderstood.

*****
Did you ever think about the song "Message In A Bottle"? I mean, really think about it?

Here's this guy, alone, on an island. He's basically dying, right? I mean, loneliness can kill you. Maybe he's got enough to eat, fish, fruits, coconuts. If the Professor was there he could make a friggin' radio out of those damn coconuts, but, I'm assuming, no, he's not the Professor. He's just some guy. Alone. On an island. And, eventually, the way all stories end, if he's there long enough, he's going to die.

He's got to do something. Something to relieve the loneliness. So what does he do?

He writes a letter, puts it in a bottle, and sends it out to sea.

What the hell is that guy thinking? Has he gone batty? Talking to a soccer ball, nutso?

Because he waits a whole fucking year, and wakes up one day, and all he's gotten for his trouble is more bottles!

The moral is that everyone's on a fucking island, yes? They're all out there, lonely, sending these pitiful messages out to sea, hoping someone will come rescue them from their little island...

But, butbutbut, those assholes out on those other islands, they're selfish, just like the guy in the song. They don't want to risk their skin in the sea. They've got a bottle, hey, they can spare one little bottle. On an island with coconuts and all the fish they can devour, who needs a bottle? Hell, it's probably a rum bottle, and they polished it off (yeah, I've seen "Pirates of the Carribean") and then, with their courage all pumped up from the booze, they just scribbled off some note and tossed that fucker out into the waves.

No, the real moral of the story is that people are worthless. Ain't nobody coming to save you from your sandy beach; they're too busy nursing hangovers from cheap rum on their own sandy beaches waiting for you, yes, you, bunky, to come and rescue them.

The real moral of the story is that you've got to dive into the briny deep, expose your skin to the saltwater depths, the storms, the sharks and barracudas... and all you're going to find out there on the other islands are cowardly people with an unlimited supply of booze to mask their fears.

When, all along, the people you need, the ones that are worth meeting, are probably dead, killed when they dove into the ocean, lashed by storms, drowned, exhausted from battling the waves, eaten by sharks. Dead. Like you're going to be, whether or not you stay on your island or risk trying to find someone worth talking to.

Labels: blogiversary

• 12:34 PM 0 comments

Dear world

Dear world:

We are sorry for the last eight years.

We* hope that this goes some small way towards making up for it - though that will be cold comfort to those who have already given their final all.

As our President-elect said last night, the road ahead will be long, our climb will be steep.

But, y'know, I think we can do it.

Yes we can.

"The arc of history is long, but it bends towards justice." - Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I'm going to wax a little poetic, here. I think, after the results of last night, that I'm entitled.

All day yesterday, hell, for most of my waking hours these past several weeks, I hoped and worried about the outcome. Even when the polls said that it was basically a done deal, I could not allow myself to take it for granted. Too many times have I seen something that seemed so promising and so fucking simple, taken away.

I have lived almost 44 years, and when I look back, there are very few moments I can remember being part of a joyous moment of nationwide - or worldwide - celebration. I barely remember the moon landings, I was so young at the time. And since then, for the most part, when Americans came together, it was either in grief and sorrow, or for reasons that seem trivial to me; oh, yay, a sports team has beaten another sports team, this year.

That's nice and all, but, y'know, not all that important. They'll play more games next year, starting all over.

But the grief? All too real.

Watergate hearings. The resignation of President Nixon. The troops coming home from Vietnam. The Iran hostage crisis. Wars, small and medium (no large ones, not yet). Attacks on our soil, and us attacking others. The Challenger shuttle exploding - that image burned into my mind's eye, tragic loss. The impeachment of a popular president. The jetliners full of innocents taking down buildings full of innocents.

Yes, there have been more happy moments; the end of divided Berlin, for example. But that was in spite of the involvement of my fellow citizens. Not because of.

But last night, as I stood in the bar and drank and talked to my brothers and sisters of Portland and watched the results come in (those results seem so inevitable in hindsight) I realized that I own a piece of tonight.

I got involved. I didn't simply vote. I gave time and money and, most of all, I gave attention and persuasion. When Obama said it was my victory, I felt the truth of it. My part was small, perhaps, compared to others. But I gave what I could. And now I need to give more. And I will do it, gladly, because the promise of renewing the Great Experiment of America is more than worth the sacrifice.

President Obama, I think, is a practical man. He has campaigned in a practical way, in a positive way, yes, a hopeful way, but still at his core is a man who has a firm grasp of the reality of things. He will make decisions I disagree with; he will make mistakes; he will see things differently than I do.

But I believe him when he says that he will listen. I believe this because he has, in fact, done this already. And he will explain his position clearly and he will treat us as adults, not children. Just as he has done already.

I do not see the Presidency as a king, ruling from his palace on the hill. I have far more faith in my citizens than that. I see the President as the one who enacts the will of America. We have let a small minority of citizens express that will; but I'm hopeful that that is coming to an end now. Enough of us are awake that we can communicate right back at our President, and our Congress, and make sure that all American's needs, the young, the ill, the elderly, the minority, get their needs taken care of, so that they, too, can participate in the promise of freedom.

Elections come and go, and the reaction I've seen most often is a quick "hooray for our side!" and "drats for our side!" and then quickly our attention turns to whatever is on the other channels.

Not last night.

Last night I saw my fellow citizens happy, really happy, for the first time in my memory. The same folk who have marched in protest, now danced in joy. We had been given a chance to redeem ourselves.

Let us not wait too long before we get back to work, okay?

* "We" being, at current count, at least 63,909,365 of us. • 7:15 PM 2 comments

Eternally enamored [B5 - 20 March 2004]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

The early days of my blog coincided with a long and painful breakup between me and a woman who proved intensely attractive and equally frustrating for me. Seriously, she was like catnip to me. To this day, I don't really know why it's so.

That being the case, the Charlie Kaufman movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", about a painful breakup aided, and, perhaps, undone by the application of quack memory-erasing science, served as many things to me, coming out when it did. It was a warning, a reminder, a guide, and, most importantly, a mirror for my own actions.

It took me several viewings (including one with my ex-girlfriend) before the warning, reminder, guide and mirror "took" for me, however.

Here's the review I posted after my first viewing.

*****
Saw "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" last night. I've been waiting for this movie to come out for months now. Charlie Kaufman is an amazing writer, having written "Being John Malkovich", "Adaptation" and "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind", all of which I thought were excellent. And, from the previews of "Eternal Sunshine", showing scenes of bizarre contrasts (and Kirsten Dunst dancing in her underwear), overlaid with the perfect choice of music, ELO's ridiculously over-the-top ode to optimism "Mr. Blue Sky", all hinting at the underlying premise, I realized that Mr. Kaufman is now doing in film what Phillip K. Dick was doing in novels 30, 40, even 50 years ago. It's about time movies caught up with the printed word.

The premise is simple to describe, but carries a lot of depth and room to explore: Joel and Clementine (played by Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet), having had a bad breakup, each decide to undergo a procedure where their painful memories of each other are erased. The movie is told from Joel's point of view, and as he slowly loses both the good and the bad memories of Clementine, he has second thoughts, and struggles, from within his own mind, to stop or reverse the process.

The incredible depth of feeling shown by Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet in their roles is contrasted with the goofiness of the technicians performing the erasure; those scenes, with Mark Ruffalo, Elijah Wood, Kirsten Dunst, and Tom Wilkinson as the creator of the process, Dr. Howard Mierzwiak (goddamn Kaufman comes up with great names!), distract needlessly from the story I most wanted to see, although Kaufman does tie it back together at the end.

But the few sour notes (like Kirsten Dunst's character and her subplot) do not take away from the painful beauty of watching Joel re-live his relationship with Clementine, peeling back the rotten outer layers and revealing the quiet moments of love and awkward beginning of her coming into his life. Anyone who has fallen in love and watched it fall apart can empathize with the lovers on screen; laughing at their giddy highs and wincing at their spiteful bickering.

When Dr. Mierzwiak asks Joel to collect everything that reminds him of Clementine, my first reaction was astonishment; when someone has been that close to you, it seems that everything can carry a reminder of that person. How could someone quantify every connection they had with a lover? Because, oftentimes, it's not just small mementos or trinkets or cards that are the vector of a relationship; it's also places, certain streets or cafés... or even songs or singers or actors... or even concepts, ideas... You get the idea. Our lives intertwine with the other to the point that extracting them from our lives is impractical, possibly even unrealizable. But Dr. Mierzwiak treats this as just a simple step in his process of exorcism, and Joel's earnest acceptance of this reflects the characters' naïeveté.

Of special note is watching Joel enlist his memory of Clementine in his quest to save his memories of her. It's treated in an almost off-hand way, but I immediately picked up on it (all those PKD stories have prepared me for this type of plot twist, I think. I miss you, Phil). Is Joel interacting with just his memories, or is this, in fact, the "real" Clementine? Since, back in the "real" world, Clementine has also undergone this process, did she, also have doubts once she started to lose Joel? There is obviously some connection between the lovers, but is that a mundane material connection of having shared some time together... or is there something more that links the two, even to the point of existing, in some small way, in each other's heads, that allows them to join forces and counter the erasure?

Brilliant. I will see this movie again.

This movie is Most Highly Recommended.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:57 PM 0 comments

Anger and fear and snark [B5 - 3 November 2004]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

Before I head out to find one (or more) election night parties, with hopes of something huge to celebrate about, I'll re-post, as part of my "30 Days of Blogiversary" posting, my cynicism and anger at the worst possible outcome of election night 2004.

G'night, and I hope we wake up in a better America tomorrow.

*****
Work, America. Keep working. Your president and his staff of rich old white men require your hard work, your sweat, and the blood of your sons and daughters, in order for them to have more money and inflate their flaccid tiny pricks for another fucking. "Freedom" is on the march, they're stealing your "democracy" and shipping it overseas, but you, the one with hopes and dreams, you just keep your head down, be fearful of the dark-skinned men in beards and the men who want to marry each other. Shuffle along, willingly put your head in the noose and just never ever ask any fucking questions. They know what they're doing. And you don't. You don't know what they're doing, because you love Jesus and you love America, you know, you read about this back in your state-run school, back when you did read, before all the flashy pictures of wife-swapping and explosions on the teevee distracted you, before they taught you to hate the smart people, you wouldn't want to be a smart person, would you? Smart people don't drink beer and have sex, no, their locked in their mom's basement eating bag after bag of cheese-flavored crunchy snacks. Just keep fearing when they tell you to fear, just keep listening while they've switched your participation and citizenship with a glitzy blue-but-mostly-red map and talking heads telling you what to feel (not telling you what to think, no, 'cause thinking's bad and, hell, even the president don't think, does he? He just roots out terror and flips the bird at anyone who disagrees with him and marches his toy soldiers off to die for "liberty".

Work, and sleep, and drink your hard-earned domestic beer and listen when your pastor lies to you about what Jesus says and fear, fear, fear what they want you to fear. And when the world attacks you because you're an American, and your leaders call them "terrorists", make sure and completely misunderstand both why they're attacking and what America really has become.

Labels: blogiversary

• 4:47 PM 0 comments

Living is dying [B5 - 17 March 2004]

For the 30 days following this blog's five-year anniversary, I am reposting some favorite, popular, or unique posts. Feel free to contact me to suggest some of your favorites. If you'd like to comment, click through to the original post.

From the early days of my blog, when I was still trying to figure out what to write, and when, comes a post that's reflective and thoughtful. It came at a time when I was redefining what I could do in physical terms - Just three days prior to this post, I ran in my first-ever 5K race, the 2004 Shamrock Run, after having been exercising on and off for a couple of years, and a couple of months of "training" for the race.

I was on a steep weight-loss curve - after having resigned myself to the fact that I was just the size I was, and that couldn't change.

Obviously, I was wrong. I could lose weight; I proved it to myself in the most dramatic fashion.

I could run; again, the proof was in the doing.

These early reflections, below, are still with me even today. I've internalized the idea that I can set goals, and that I am not carved in stone. I can change.

Here's to the future.

*****

First, I understand that fat cells never (or rarely) ever die. They grow and shrink, but you never really change the number of cells you have during your adult life.

Second, I understand that fat cells are where your body stores toxins and poisons and other gunk that doesn't get filtered out by your liver.

Third, it's my understanding (as well as making logical sense, assuming the above two assertions are true) that when someone diets, their fat cells dump the poisons and toxins along with the fat. It's a side-effect of dieting that I've read of in several books.

Lastly, I've been fat for at least my entire adult life.

That all being the case, then during this whole process of shrinking from 225 to under 180 lbs (or for that matter, from 240 in August 2000, my highest weight ever), I've been dumping, along with the weight, poisons that I have carried around with me for my entire life.

I don't know if it's scientifically true... but I'd like to think it's metaphorically true.

So in many ways, I am, in fact, a brand-new person. Or at least, cleaner. I've shed more than weight; I've rid myself of past hates and fears... At least.

I feel... great. Amazing, in fact. I don't want to leave behind my past; it's what made me what I am. But there are certain parts of "the old Brian" that I am not going to miss at all.

This is apparently all part of my adjusting self-image. Brian is dead... long live Brian.

Labels: blogiversary

• 6:37 PM 0 comments

Barack

After the disinterest I felt before the presidential election in 2000 (followed by annoyance and anger as the results dragged on - then the whammy of 9/11), and the growing and burning fear and need for change in 2004 (which, of course, did not come, and became anger and desire to work even harder)...

...now, the day before the election, I am electrified. I can see the polls, I know what they say, but I have also felt the gut-punch of reversal of expectation, and the numbness in the face of the worst possible outcome (by the worst possible president). And the feeling from the last election tempers my excitement.

And yet, still, I dare to hope that maybe, America is awake enough, aware enough of our endangered status in the community of nations, to make the right decision. We only need 50%+1, and yet, as long as the polls aren't wronger than they've ever been wrong before, it looks as though there's more than enough awake aware Americans to make this change happen.

As John Hodgman says, today feels like the last day before the last day of school. Or just a day before something big.

C'mon. Barack me, Obama. We need it.

If I spend all day holding my breath or seeming distracted, please understand. • 3:44 PM 0 comments

Bros [B5 - 28 February 2004]

For the next 30 days, I'll be reposting one from the archives every day. The posts will include "B5" and the original date of publication in the title, and will be tagged "blogiversary".

This is a fun short one, inspired by a night with my friends.

Enjoy.

*****
Went out tonight with friends. Played some darts, had dinner at Hoda's (it was very good. One friend had been to Turkey before, and she proclaimed the food at Hoda's to be top-notch).

Afterward, we went to shoot some pool, and while I was waiting for my shot, I noticed a guy in his early twenties, and dressed in a t-shirt and baggy jeans.

His t-shirt read:

"Bros before hos."

The bestbestbest part was -- He was playing all alone. No bros, no hos.

Labels: blogiversary

• 10:05 PM 0 comments

Happy Five Year Blogiversary

Five years ago today, I started a blog.

1,944 posts later, here I am.

I don't really know what to do to celebrate this event, other than to thank anyone who continues reading, and anyone who has read me in the past, and everyone who will read me in the future.

Sometimes I've got too much to say, and sometimes I can't think of anything to say. All I really know is that I'm going to keep on saying things as long as I can, and I'm thankful to the internet for providing me a place to say them.

My daily visits have ranged from almost 500 a day, to around 175 per day in the last couple of months - likely due to my not having had much interesting to say lately. But I'm not doing this for fame. I'm writing for myself, and every single reader who finds something interesting here is a gift above and beyond.

The more successful blogs tend to have a focus on one topic; I don't think I could ever limit myself like that. But there are several topics that tend to stand out more than the others; strip clubs and movies are the only ones I have tagged right now, but I intend to go back and tag the other topics soon, like politics, and atheism/religion. Exercise showed up a lot, until I split that off into its own blog at its own domain.

Aha! I thought of a project for celebrating my blogiversary! I'm going to re-post one post a day from the archive for the next 30 days, representing what I think are the best writing I've done, or the most popular posts, or uniquely showing what I do that no other blog does.

If you have any suggestions or favorite posts, feel free to leave a comment, or otherwise let me know.

Update: Turns out Blogger counts draft posts among the total. I currently have 63 draft, unpublished posts, so my total published posts, including this one, are 1,880. I regret the error. - BrianM 7:01 PM 11/02/2008

Labels: meta

• 10:59 AM 0 comments

"Zack and Miri Make A Porno"

Kevin Smith, the writer and director, has a genius that is hard to deny. He writes honestly about how he feels, in a plain, straight-forward style. Of course, what he feels is a) a sweet adoring love for the beer-drinking, just one of the guys type women, and b) an adolescent glee at foul language and filthy jokes.

Just like many, many other people (both men and women) of his generation.

"Zack and Miri Make A Porno" made me laugh, and it made me wish I was Seth Rogen, and made me wish I knew a woman like Elizabeth Banks. Every character in the movie had at least one moment where I busted out a laugh. And even though I detected a strong hint of a double-standard (one of the plot points involves comparing the number of other people Zack and Miri get to have sex with in the course of making their porno), I think that that's simply more Kevin Smith honesty. And, like a comedy is supposed to, it all turns out well.

The plot itself is thin and essentially summed up in the title - but the comedy all comes from the characters themselves.

Two points of interest when I saw this movie: a pair of women, one of whom was dressed head-to-toe in what appeared to be a modern version of a burkha, walked out of the movie after less than an hour. I wonder what, exactly, they expected based on the title of the movie, and why that surprised them? I'm probably assuming that they were Muslim, and I'll admit to not being very tuned in to religious concerns, but I don't recall any specifically anti-Islamic jokes in the movie. My thought is that they were turned off by the overall language and tone, though I could be wrong.

At least they didn't stay long enough to see the shit that happened to Jeff Anderson's character (who is more famous as Randal from "Clerks").

Second, after the credits rolled (I always stay to the end of the credits), a couple were looking for something that had fallen out of one of their pockets, and the guy said to the girl, "Tell me something. If I just finished watching a fucking Kevin Smith movie, why is it that most of the trailers were for chick flicks? I don't get it." The girl laughed and said she had no clue.

Labels: movies

• 10:39 AM 0 comments