Russ and His Blog

The 83rd Annual Academy Awards

2011-02-28T13:22:00.000-08:00

Has it really been a year since I've posted anything to this blog? Whatever became of me? (Facebook, that's what--) I know I wanted to put up a picture of the '86 Chevy Nova junker I was driving after my car died, then post a follow-up on the '90 Honda Civic I got at the impound auction. In the summer I got a roommate--and just last week, she moved out. Very sad.

But, it's Oscar time again, and I'll try to get mini-reviews of the contenders up on my other blog, Russ and His Reviews. Meanwhile, here are my notes from last night (I couldn't blog live, as my laptop no longer does internet).

THE OSCAR TELECAST

5:49pm
Great opening montage sequence of all the Best Picture nominees, followed by a fairly good tongue-in-cheek montage based on INCEPTION, that the hosts are in former host Alec Baldwin’s dream. Off to a good start.

And the first Oscar of the night goes to—ALICE IN WONDERLAND, for Best Art Direction. I’d guessed INCEPTION, didn’t see ALICE IN WONDERLAND. But, a moment later: Wally Pfister wins for Best Cinematography for INCEPTION! I’d picked Roger Deakins for TRUE GRIT, but I’m happy to be wrong on this one.

6:08pm
Kirk Douglas as a presenter? He’s not so photogenic or personable in his 90’s. At times embarrassing, he did redeem himself with his delayed reading of Best Supporting Actress name. And it’s Melissa Leo for THE FIGHTER! As I’d predicted—along with everyone else. She was odds-on favorite, and much deserving. First histrionic speech of the evening, and she even had to be bleeped! That might actually be an Oscar first, I’ll have to check on that.

Best Animated Short Feature went to something I’d never heard of, Best Animated Feature went unsurprisingly to TOY STORY 3.

6:20pm
Best Adapted Screenplay goes to Aaron Sorkin for THE SOCIAL NETWORK. Fair enough, though I’d guessed TRUE GRIT. He started to get played off, and justifiably so. Still, it’s a good win and I’m glad he’s gotten some recognition.

Best Original Screenplay goes to THE KING’S SPEECH. Good and well, I’d hoped for INCEPTION, still have to see what kind of night is developing. David Seidler so far has given the best acceptance speech.

6:35pm
Best Foreign Film goes to IN A BETTER WORLD, don’t know anything about that.

Best Supporting Actor to Christian Bale, much deserved for THE FIGHTER, a movie that I hope does well tonight. He also plugged a .com in his acceptance speech, which I’m pretty sure is an Oscar first.

6:51pm
And now Trent Reznor has an Oscar?!! Fuck yes!! But what the hell: in his tuxedo and lugubrious and all, you wouldn’t guess this is the guy from Nine Inch Nails. In its own way, this is incredible.

Best Sound Mixing and Best Sound Editing both go to INCEPTION. Yes!! Hope this signals some larger Oscar sweep, though that’s unlikely.

7:03pm
Best Makeup goes to THE WOLFMAN. Didn’t see it, but I have no doubt Rick Baker is much deserving.

Best Costume to ALICE IN WONDERLAND, when I thought it might be TRUE GRIT.

7:24pm
Best Documentary goes to INSIDE JOB, no surprise there.

7:37pm
Best Visual Effects to INCEPTION. Fuck right.

Best Editing to THE SOCIAL NETWORK. Fair enough, it was actually my prediction (though I could make arguments for BLACK SWAN or TRUE GRIT or THE FIGTHER as well.)

7:49pm
Best Song goes to Randy Newman for TOY STORY 3. No great surprise there either. Good acceptance speech, though.

7:58pm
And a respectable elegy to those who passed this last year, even if it was by Celine Dion. I drank to Arthur Penn and Dennis Hopper.

8:04pm
Tom Hooper for Best Director for THE KING’S SPEECH? Really? Best call out to mother in acceptance speech, though—

8:28pm
Best Actress to Natalie Portman!!! Damn right. But Best Actor to Colin Firth for THE KING’S SPEECH? Oddly enough, I’d been more for Jesse Eisenberg for SOCIAL NETWORK.

8:39pm
THE KING’S SPEECH wins for Best Picture. I’m disappointed, but not quite outraged.

The fact that they’re concluding this broadcast with a chidlren’s chorus of “Over the Rainbow", however—

The 82nd Academy Awards -- Live!

2010-03-07T17:10:00.000-08:00

5:11pm Game time. Red Hook, Black Velvet, and Southern Comfort (for special toasts) fully stocked; sausage and onion pizza and dinner salad from Absolute Pizza up the street. Here we go.

Last minute predictions:

Best Picture: AVATAR
Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Best Actor: Jeff Bridges, CRAZY HEART
Best Actress: Gabourey Sidibe, PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIRE
Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
Best Supporting Actress: Mo'Nique, PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIRE
Best Adapted Screenplay: Geoffrey Fletcher, PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIE
Best Original Screenplay: Quentin Tarantino, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS

Eleven minutes to kick off....

5:53pm Campy opening song and dance number by Neil Patrick Harris, followed by a refreshingly good opening monologue by Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin. Martin has hosted twice before, first time he was really annoying and second time was pretty good. He's shaping up pretty well this time around.

First Oscar of the night goes to Christoph Waltz for INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, no real surprise there. And presenter Penelope Cruz slipped and said "And the winner is...", not the established "And the Oscar goes to...".

6:07pm Best Animated Feature goes to UP, as I'd hoped--I wouldn't mind seeing it being a spoiler and grabbing Best Picture if AVATAR and HURT LOCKER split the vote. I thought UP was amazing in every way, and it's the nominee that I have the fewest problems with.

Best Song goes to "The Weary Kind" from CRAZY HEART, which I was also pulling for. Though I much preferred "A Hold On You" from the same movie, I thought that was excellent, and I don't much like country music.

6:26pm Mark Boal wins Best Original Screenplay for HURT LOCKER. Interesting, I didn't think it had much of a story. I'd guessed Tarantino for INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, simply because I thought it was novel. No complaints.

And a warm tribute to John Hughes from the brat pack he introduced to audiences. I was never a big fan, but I have to admit he did some good work.

6:47pm I didn't see any of the nominees in the short subjects categories, so I didn't have a pick there. I would've guessed Nick Park, but that's only because he's a known entity, and I don't know the others.

I also haven't seen any of the nominees for Best Makeup, so I can't say whether STAR TREK deserved it or not.

7:03pm YES!! Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress go to PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIRE (Geoffrey Fletcher and Mo'Nique, resp.). This is a film that deserves more attention, so I'm enthusiastic that they got recognition. I'm hoping this bodes well for a win by Gabourey Sidibe as Best Actress, and builds momentum for a spoiler in the Best Picture category.

Best Costume goes to THE YOUNG VICTORIA, didn't see it but it was a period piece so that's no surprising. I'd've guessed COCO BEFORE CHANEL, simply because it was a movie about costumes/fashion. Didn't see that either, though, so I couldn't say.

7:31pm Best Sound Editing and Best Sound Mixing both go to HURT LOCKER. As they should. And a tribute to horror films that was refreshingly inclusive. I'm just disappointed that the Governor's Award to Roger Corman didn't get more attention.

7:42pm Best Cinematography to AVATAR, and rightly so.

And a great retrospective of those who died in 2009.

8:00pm Best Original Score goes to UP. Cool.

Best Visual Effects goes to AVATAR. Really? Never would've....

8:11pm And Editing goes to HURT LOCKER. Again, no surprise.

8:37pm Best Actor to Jeff Bridges for CRAZY HEART. Most excellent, though I hate the new hagiographic presetation they're doing now, where five presenters get up and laud the nominees. Guess it's a trade off for the fact that they're now allowed to say "And the Oscar goes to..."

9:05pm What an evening! Sandra Bullock for THE BLIND SIDE, didn't see it.

Best Direction goes to Kathryn Bigelow, and Best Picture goes to HURT LOCKER. Excellent!

Midwinter

2010-02-20T18:25:00.000-08:00

What a day. By noon it was warm enough to open the windows in my bedroom and in the living room (I have southern frontage). The Seattle TIMES reports it got up to 57 today. Perfectly clear sky, no breeze. I got out the denim shorts, for the first time since October or so, and took the bike out of storage downstairs, then rode up to the filling station to firm up the tires. Then cycled around for a bit, flexing my quads some, not wanting to overdue it. No jacket, just a flannel over my t-shirt, and a small backpack--I was going down to Fred Meyer's for some sundries, figured I'd do some light shopping. I'm almost out of paper towels; this is only the second roll I've had to buy since My Crazy Ex-Roommate moved out last April, whereas she'd burn through a roll in three weeks. And I've had a hell of a time matching the second light bulb in the bathroom, since I want to switch to those econo-bulbs and I had to replace a tungsten; could never get the color temperature/brightness to match the one I have now. Today, success.

Perfect riding weather today: cool and sunny, but no breeze. Even now, drawing up on 7:00pm, it's too stuffy in here for me not to open a window or two here in the living room. And it's February, technically midwinter here. The east coast and the midwest are buried in snow, and I'm wearing my denim knee-lengths. Don't tell me it's global warming--our summer was fairly mild as well. And to think, someone recently took me to task for preferring "horrible rainy climates". Sure, it'll be down to the 30s overnight, the temperature will drop fairly fast now that the sun is down, but the days will be just fine. That's another thing: first sunset of the new year, I got to watch the sun go down while having a beer on the couch. Bachelorhood at its finest.

Now I'm having leftover almond fried chicken and rice from Julie's Garden, before I walk down to the liquor store for more Black Velvet and Red Hook. Then it's downtown, shoot some pool and get in some pinball. This lion in winter is having a capital time. Ain't life grand?

Pork Windfall

2010-01-26T22:37:00.000-08:00

My car is out of commission, so this last weekend my Marxist-Leninist Ex-Roommate drove me down to Tacoma to check out a 1989 Mazda 626 I saw on Craigslist. (I decided not to go for it, but anyway.) While we were down there, he was gracious enough to drive me on a grocery run for my mother, whom I hadn't seen since Christmas (due to my Honda needing a distributor and coil, probably not worth the cost of repair).

As I was loading several bags of Safeway groceries into his car, I happened to notice a shopping cart left up against the lamp post next to us. It had a plastic bag left in it, seems that someone was loading up their car in a hurry and left one of their purchases behind (it was raining fairly hard, so that's not surprising). I looked around, to see if there was anyone nearby who would claim it...no one. I checked the bag: it was a Family-Pak of country-style pork ribs. Almost seven pounds' worth.

OK, found food is one thing. But this wasn't pre-packaged, it was in that butcher department shrink-wrap on a styrofoam tray. Anyway, I grabbed it and took it home.

Upon further inspection, it had a package date of the 24th, the same day I found it, and there weren't any obvious breaks in the plastic. It seemed to be a perfectly good pack of meat, just left behind for a few minutes outside in the rain.

So I got into it: last night I cooked up a pot of garlic rice, and threw two of the ribs into a casserole dish and baked at 425F for a while. Came out great, and was a great dietary boost, since I've had a sore throat the last few days, and could use the nourishment.

Today I stopped at Uwajimaya and picked up the biggest baking potato I could find, made some mashed potatoes while I baked some more ribs. Excellent.

And I called my mother, asked her how she makes that pork rib soup, with the barley. She went over it, think I'm going to try and cook up a pot of that before throwing whatever pork I have left into the freezer (individually wrapped in wax paper).

Pork largesse! Is "porciferous" a word (yet)?

Bring Out the Biker In Me

2009-08-17T22:50:00.000-07:00

Did something tonight I've been meaning to do for months: I got My Crazy (Ex-) Roommate's bike from down in the basement, and took it out. It's been fuckin' years since I rode a bike.

Had to inflate the tires, but the seat was at just the right height (MC(E)R being just an inch or two shorter than me). Rode down to 85th and back, then up to 121st. Learned that Greenwood for the most part rises very subtly as you go north, and consequently is slightly downhill on the way south. I used to ride my bike all over Tacoma, right up until I bought my first car in '96, at age 28. Since then, I've kinda fallen out of practice. Had a bike here at the apartment a few years back, but it got stolen. So tonight was kind of a throwback to earlier times; it was great to ride through some of the nearby neighborhoods, the evening cool and dark. Here's hoping I get back into the habit.

The Streets Of Seattle

2009-04-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

Snoozed for an extra twenty minutes this morning, knowing that my boss would be at a doctor's appointment and wouldn't notice my late arrival (don't say anything...). So I was feeling a little better-rested and more leisurely than average, as I left for the next express bus downtown.

On my way out of the apartment's parking lot, through the alley, I saw a $20 bill, face up right in the middle of the pavement, plastered to the ground in the rain. I peeled it up, soggily--yes, it was a $20 bill all right. And nearby...a $10 bill, also wet and stuck to the ground. I looked around--is this some sort of trick? Somebody laying in wait for me? No...but I did spy a stack of more $20 bills. The streets of Seattle were paved with cash!

Total take: $150, in wet, gritty bills. I checked the area as thoroughly as I could, since I didn't want to miss my bus (it was the last express bus of the morning), but it seems like you can only lose so much in one rainy day, so there was nothing more for me to find. Too bad--both for me, and for the poor bastard who lost all this, now literally poorer for it. I'd put up a sign near the alley entrance, asking if anyone lost any money recently...but I just watched NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN a few nights ago. Object lesson: don't try to do the right thing about found money.

Now I'm feeling extravagant. Was going to Tat's for a cheesesteak at lunch, seeing if anyone would want to go with me...but I splurged on a breakfast sandwich (ham and egg on ciabatta, no cheese, from Specialty Bakery downstairs), so another sandwich would be redundant. I try not to eat the same thing within a two-day period, like to keep my diet varied. Last night I had pasta, linguine al bachelor, so that rules out pad thai or udon noodles today. And for dinner I'm making garlic rice and baked pork ribs, so I don't want fried rice from any of the oriental options here in the International District. Maybe I'll just get a big ol' order of pot stickers from Hing Loon. I don't know. At the moment, I'm not feeling hungry. I am feeling bountiful, though.

Near-Death Experience, April '09

2009-04-06T13:50:00.000-07:00

The Universe made another in a long series of half-assed attempts on my life yesterday, further reinforcing my notion that it won't say "Natural causes" in that blank on the death certificate. And as usual, I didn't see this one coming.

I was driving down to Tacoma to see my mother for Sunday dinner and to do her taxes. I-5 southbound was fairly open, with good weather and no trouble in sight, so I was doing about 55. I was just about at the Convention Center when I felt/heard a CHUNK! but didn't know what hit me. Then I noticed in the rearview mirror that the back windshield had shattered (but not fallen in). Our first day of springtime sunshine worked against me, as the bright light caught on all the cracks in the glass, making it blindingly bright. So I had no rear vision.

I managed to exit just past the brewery (what're they calling the brewery now? The roastery, or just The Old Brewery?), turn around and head back to the apartment. Late in the afternoon on a Sunday is no time to be calling around for deals on autoglass. I'm sure I could get one of these 24-hour autoglass repair places to do it, if I had a budget for that sort of thing. No, I don't have comprehensive insurance on this car: I paid $500 for it at an impound auction a few years ago, and it has a bluebook value of zero. So that leaves me to pay this out of pocket. I'm looking to get a used windshield at a wrecking yard, then have it installed. Got a line on a windshield out in south Seattle, for $50, but I'd have to pull it myself. I'll look at my own vehicle tonight, see if that's something I can pull off (no pun intended, now or ever).

Just what the hell hit me I don't know: there was nothing at the site of the impact on the glass, I'm thinking it was something heavy that fell/was dropped from one of the overpasses. When I think about it, had I been travelling any slower, if would've landed sooner and taken out my front windshield, and quite possibly me with it. Even if it didn't kill me instantly, it would still mean a shattered windshield when I was driving 55 or 60 right past all those downtown exits. I almost certainly would've wrecked, maybe taking out one or two other vehicles as well. Not a pleasant thought. Moments like this I try to think of myself as lucky (though annoyed).

The Sea and the Sand

2009-03-31T00:17:00.000-07:00

So when I got home on Friday, My Crazy Roommate announced that she'd scored a train ticket back to Baltimore, and she'd be leaving on Thursday.

Well, that's a bit sudden. Never mind that it leaves me in the wind as far as half of April's rent, I think I can cover for that. Just seems less like a move and more like an evacuation. I'd known she wanted to move back east for some time now, cost of living is higher here than it is in Maryland, and when her Microsoft gig fell through in February, the money tightened quickly. The local economy being what it is, I could understand her wanting to get back to her family. She'd been out here a year and a half, and she never went back for a visit, and no one came out here to see her. That can be kind of isolating.

So I started talking about what she wanted to do with the time she had here, what would she like to see? I always mention Mt Rainier, since it's one cool piece of real estate. They don't have mountains on the east coast: biggest thing they got is Mt Washington in New Hampshire, and at 6,288 ft it's not even half the size of Rainier. But she didn't want that, she wanted to see the Pacific Ocean. So on Sunday, we set out for the coast.

I suggested we catch the ferry across the Sound, which is something I'd always said she'd like but she never went for. I'd never driven out to the ocean, though I'd made the trip in the company of others on a few occasions, so this was something of an adventure for me as well. Just the thing for a spring Sunday in Seattle.

Had my camera, took this shot of the waterfront as the ferry pulled away.

I picked up a travel brochure for the Olympic peninsula, which had a full-page map of the highways and the major points of interest. When we landed in Bremerton, I stopped for gas and asked for directions to Highway 3, to get us south to 8, and from there out 12 to Aberdeen, home of Kurt Cobain and Nirvana! Long as we were roadtrippin' to satsify My Crazy Roommate, I wanted to get something out of it as well.

Hwy 3 took us through Belfair and Allyn, then Shelton and southward, til we picked up 8 at McCleary, which led to Montesano and Hwy 12, from there it was due west to Aberdeen, then Hoquiam, then the Pacific Ocean. The drive was very pleasant, the weather clement and the visibility wonderful. Very scenic, though nothing much to report. Too bad My Crazy Roommate slept through most of it: it was more of the state than she'd seen since she got here...and she couldn't stay awake for it.

I woke her up when we approached Aberdeen, since the sign gave me a good laugh: it reads "Welcome to Aberdeen -- Come As You Are". For those of you not in the know, Aberdeen was Cobain's hometown, and "Come As You Are" was one of Nirvana's biggest hits. I would love to have gotten a picture, but I was driving.

Anyway, I decided on continuing through Hoquiam on to Ocean Shores, rather than going south and out Hwy 105 to Westport. The day was waning, and I was hoping we'd get further up the coast to see the breakers up near Ruby Beach, whereas the view from Westport (where I spent a few summer weekends salmon fishing with my father when I was young) wasn't much.

At about five o'clock, we made it to the Pacific. Not a bad view, I guess. She insisted we get out and walk the beach, which was mostly deserted. I quickly found out why: the wind coming in off the ocean was COLD. She's the one who'll freeze to death at room temperature, so I was surprised she was up for it. Me, I had my jacket on tight, but I couldn't stand more than about five minutes of it. I have to confess that I've never been all that fond of ocean or beach, so I wasn't thrilled to begin with. But getting face-numbing cold on a clear spring day wasn't too appealing. It was dinner time, and we were both hungry. I thought the situation called out for clam chowder (though I'm not perfectly sure that any of the clams would be local--what do I know about seafood?).

Thing is, Ocean Shores didn't seem to have any restaurants. Everything along the shore was a hotel, set half a mile or more back from the water. With the sun sinking and daylight running out, we just opted for a hotel restaurant, where I got a big bowl of chowder and a Kemper black cherry soda, and she got a dinner salad. All in all, the fare wasn't that great, and the view was non-existent. Contrast that with Three Crabs up in Sequim--when Hammerhead and I trekked out 101 a few years ago, that was a great choice. He recently told me he liked it so much he was tempted to drive out there again just for dinner. I wasn't so taken with it, but it was a sight better than anything I saw in Ocean Shores or its environs.

We lit out of there headed north on 109, hoping to see some breakers before the sunset. Though the drive was pleasant (and she stayed awake this time), the good views of the water were few and far between. We ended up in Taholah, right at the mouth of the Quinault River. Very small township, we tried to drive to the ocean from the road, but didn't get very far. The houses all looked rundown, the lawns littered with household items, the whole place looking impoverished and trashed. My Crazy Roommate surmised that the economic downturn must have hit this small town very hard, and all the locals must have moved on. No, actually, I pointed out that she was having another life first: this was the first Indian reservation she'd ever seen. This place had always been this way. White people. (I'm a half-breed Chibcha, if that explains my exasperation any.)

There was a sign at the bridge over the Quinault that I thought was hilarious, at first. I drove across, wondering how bad it could be. Answer: bad. The road, for the most part, ended at the bridge; the other side wasn't paved, looked more like a cleared path than a road, with giant potholes that my Honda Civic couldn't navigate. So we turned back, as 109 led inland and it would be nearly an hour before we could get further up the coast to 101 and the ocean views up there. We decided to turn back for Ocean Shores, and try to get a good look at the sunset over the Pacific.

We made it, though just barely. It being past seven o'clock, and the drive back to Seattle being three to four hours, it was time to head back. We didn't make for Bremerton and the ferry, but rather for Olympia, there to take I-5 up to Seattle, that being the fastest way. We got in just before 11:00pm, not a bad little whirlwind tour.

Next day I had to drive to Tacoma, take my mother to a doctor's appointment. My Crazy Roommate came with me, and we had a farewell dinner at Moctezuma's, my favorite restaurant.

Seems like it was just yesterday that she arrived from Baltimore, never having seen the west coast before.

Well, OK, it doesn't seem that recent. Lot's happened in that time, but it was nice to have a roommate again. Never lived with a chick before. It's different. No regrets, on my part anyway. Other than to acknowledge that I'm not the easiest person to live with.

On Friday, April 3rd, I drove her to the Amtrak station just across the street from where I work, and put her on the train. Fare thee well, Kitty Lane.

Now back to bachelor living.

The 81st Annual Academy Awards--Live!

2009-02-22T17:17:00.000-08:00

I will be blogging this live, updating at every commercial or so.

8:56pm Definitely some surprises here. Not Kate Winslet for THE READER, I thought it was her turn. Sean Penn as Best Actor for MILK over Frank Langella's Nixon in FROST/NIXON, that I didn't see, even though his performance was just fine. Or SLUMDOG taking Best Picture over BENJAMIN BUTTON, though it does seem like a total sweep for SLUMDOG.

8:23pm Danny Boyle wins Best Director for SLUMDOG. I was betting on David Fincher for BENJAMIN BUTTON, so this would seem to trend toward SLUMDOG winning top honors for the evening. Only, the order of presentations often reflects the most suspense of the awards, so I'd think that if SLUMDOG were to also win for Best Picture, that they'd present them in quick succession. We'll see shortly--

8:16pm A wondeful tribute led by Queen Latifah, to the luminaries who have died in the last year, culminating in Sydney Pollack and Paul Newman. Here's to them--

8:08pm Best Foreign Language goes to DEPARTURES from Japan. Didn't see any of the nominees, so I have no real opinion here.

8:04pm Best Song goes to SLUMDOG--moving things along--

7:57pm Best Original Score to SLUMDOG--again, no surprise there.

7:46pm Class act! The Jean Hersholdt Humanitarian Award this year went to Jerry Lewis, as presented by Eddie Murphy. Lewis has been an asshole in interviews, and Murphy in real life, but here both comported themselves perfectly. Not too histrionic, and not too long. Exactly as it should be.

7:37pm I'd guessed DARK KNIGHT for Best Sound and Best Sound Editing, so I was half right. (Best Sound Editing). I'm not that surprised that SLUMDOG won for Best Sound, or for Best Editing, since it was my guess there. It now becomes a race between SLUMDOG and BENJAMIN BUTTON, with those two splitting the lower categories, both have great momentum as the major categories roll around. I'm still betting on BENJAMIN BUTTON.

7:19pm Best Supporting Actor, Heath Ledger for DARK KNIGHT. Foregone conclusion of the night. At least his surviving family in accepting didn't drag it out. Unusual selection of presenters, though: Joel Grey, Alan Arkin, Cuba Gooding Jr, Christopher Walken, and Kevin Kline (who read the tribute to Ledger). But no film clips of the acting! Again, that's not right.

Best Documentary presenter is Bill Maher?! Who promotes his own movie, RELIGULOUS?

6:58pm Big flashy musical number, courtesy of Baz Luhrmann. Actually, I was more impressed with the low-budget opening number, a tribute to the major films of the year.

6:48pm Didn't know anything about any of the Short Subjects, so I didn't even hazard a guess there. But points to Judd Apatow for bringing Januz Kaminski in for some humor (winner for Best Cinematography for SCHINDLER'S LIST and SAVING PRIVATE RYAN). Also, with Seth Rogen holding one of Kaminski's Oscars and asking if it could be turned into a pipe, it's the Oscar's very first pot reference.

6:40pm Best Cinematography I thought would go to SLUMDOG, even though it wasn't appreciably more impressive than any of the other nominees, which were all excellent. I think the visuals of SLUMDOG stay with people a little longer, so I'd guessed that.

6:30pm I just called three wins: Best Art Direction (BENJAMIN BUTTON), Best Costume Design (THE DUCHESS), and Best Makeup (BENJAMIN BUTTON). I haven't seen THE DUCHESS, but Best Costume usually goes to the most periody piece, so I guessed that one. I could've seen Art Direction go in number of different ways for just that reason, but BENJAMIN BUTTON was a tour de force, especially with makeup, aging and reverse-aging Brad Pitt, so I knew that'd take it.

6:11pm Screenplay Oscars: I could've guessed SLUMDOG would take it, but I'd put my money on BENJAMIN BUTTON, thinking it'd get caught up in the sweep I'm predicting. But SLUMDOG is better suited to the lower categories, I'm thinking, unless this presages a big night for it yet to come. MILK was kind of a surprise, I'd guessed IN BRUGES just based on the buzz (haven't seen it), but it did provide the ceremony with a heartfelt social message, happens every year. And MILK was a good movie, not overly preachy, so I'm glad it won one (because I don't think Penn or Van Sant are gonna pick one up).

WALL-E was my guess on Best Animated, again largely on the buzz, as I haven't seen any of the nominees (though I did want to catch this, I didn't get a chance).

5:50pm First Oscar of the night--Penelop Cruz wins Best Supporting Actress for VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA. But as introduced by Goldie Hawn, Eva Marie Saint, Whoopi Goldberg, and Tilda Swinton, there were no film clips of their performances, just these previous winners gushing about how great each of the nominees were. I feel cheated.

Predictions

2009-02-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

It's 5:08pm, the Oscar telecast begins in 22 minutes. Here's a quick rundown of my predictions.

Best Picture: THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
Best Director: David Fincher, THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
Best Actor: Frank Langella, FROST/NIXON
Best Actress: Kate Winslet, THE READER
Best Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger, THE DARK KNIGHT
Best Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz, VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA

I don't see SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE winning Picture, but I could be wrong. BENJAMIN BUTTON has the epic sweep of ENGLISH PATIENT or FORREST GUMP, so I think the Academy will go for it. The under categories, Screenplay and the technical awards, are hard to predict this year. I think SLUMDOG could take Cinematography, Editing, possibly Best Original Screenplay. We'll see soon enough--

Game Time

2009-02-19T09:46:00.001-08:00

For anyone who follows this blog--which I predict is no one, even I lose touch with it--here's something coming up: this Sunday, February 22nd, I'll be blogging the Oscars live. I've never done live blogging, not really sure how to go about it. Think I'll just start up a blog post, and keep editing it and re-posting every time I add something. That should work, right? See how this goes.

Oh, and I am taking bets this year. Talkin' to you, HH.

Hands Free?

2009-01-14T09:19:00.000-08:00

I'm the proud owner of a BlackBerry Pearl. Good enough phone, I suppose--just one thing bothers me. You've heard of "hands-free feature"? Meaning a speaker phone, I suppose. Anyway, this one seems to have a "wet hands feature": any time I'm washing my hands, or doing dishes, it goes off. Never a phone call, it just chimes that I've got an email or a text message/Twitter waiting for me as soon as I can reach for a towel. This gets annoying.

Another Life First

2008-12-17T19:46:00.000-08:00

Life is different now that I've turned 40, in a lot of subtle little ways. It's strange that many things that have happened to me recently are remarkable not due to the fact that they are happening at this point in my life, but that I'm only now experiencing them for the first time. Case in point: at age 40, I've finally broken a bone. Never had that happen before.

On Sunday I had driven My Crazy Roommate to late afternoon mass, and was making my way back to the apartment to get ready to go downtown for Sarah's going away party. I was going through one of the residential intersections with one of those stupid roundabouts. The road was still very frozen, and my 84 Honda Civic (red) made a valiant effort, but couldn't find traction and began to swerve to the right. I was trying to overcorrect my steering, the exact way they tell you *not* to do in driver's ed, when I hit the curb at about 10 mph. The car wasn't damaged, I was OK (lap and shoulder belts, *always*), but because I was grappling with the steering wheel I jammed my right hand at a weird angle. The right middle finger was very sore, both the second and third knuckles (that being the proximal- and distal interphalangeal joints, to be specific).

Well, I have health insurance now, courtesy of my employer, and I was worried about any long-term damage that might arise--not very likely, I know, but it's my right hand, after all. Ounce of prevention and that whole bit. So Wednesday afternoon I left work a few hours early to go get checked out by my doctor, who is way cool.

Seems I have a hairline fracture in the medial middle phalanx of my right hand. For you schleps out there that never went to med school (and that would include myself), that's this:

[Although that's not my hand--I got it from Wikipedia. Reproduced here without permission...though I have to assume that the x-ray itself was performed with permission. That'd be a helluva thing, wouldn't it, x-raying without permission? Radiological paparazzi? Anyway--]

Since it's a greenstick fracture and not a clean break, no splinting or casting is necessary--I just have to make sure I don't put any stress on it. Typing isn't so bad (at least not now, four days after the fact). Writing is uncomfortable, but not too painful. I can't close my hand or squeeze anything very well, though a little Ibuprofen during the day (and Black Velvet at night) quells the dull ache. The good news is that there doesn't seem to be any damage to the joints: having a bone chip in the joint capsule could lead to arthritis, and there's a history of that in my family.

Now all I have to do is stop touching it. I have to let it heal, of course--doctor said it would be three or four weeks, but there's no reason it shouldn't heal completely and with no complications. But I keep squeezing the finger, or pressing it against something, just to see if the pain is still there, and how bad. I guess a minor, novel injury like this isn't a good mix with OCD.

Well I Think That's Romantic

2008-11-11T13:14:00.000-08:00

Husband's Coffin Kills Woman on Way to Cemetery

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: November 11, 2008
Filed at 3:34 p.m. ET

SAO PAULO, Brazil (AP) -- Police say a woman has died on the way to a cemetery when a traffic accident hurled her husband's coffin against the back of her neck.

Police said 67-year old Marciana Silva Barcelos was in the front passenger seat of the hearse when the accident occurred Monday in the southern state of Rio Grande do Sul.

Barcelos died instantly.

Her 76-year-old husband Josi Silveira Coimbra died Sunday of a heart attack while dancing at a party.

The driver of hearse and Barcelos' son suffered minor injuries.

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/world/AP-LT-Brazil-Coffin-Kills-Widow.html

House of the New Rising Sun

2008-11-04T23:52:00.000-08:00

Knew this was going to be a historic moment in American history, no matter what the outcome of the election. I had remarked that I was going home to watch the election returns with a bottle of single-malt. Ultimately, I didn't get a chance to stop off and get any scotch, had to make due with my Canadian blend of (economic) choice, Black Velvet. But first, I decided that Election Night was the perfect time to go see Oliver Stone's W.

After a Black Velvet and Red Hook warm up, I went down to the Uptown in Queen Anne. Shortly before I got there, I got a call from my friend Jim, who was up from Renton to watch the results at The Showbox--only to find the place packed (could've predicted that--), so he was looking for something else. He joined me a few minutes into the movie.

As for W.: not bad. Not Stone at his outlandish best, but the movie was entertaining and looked great. Once again, Stone took known actors and had them disappear into characters that are very familiar to us. Val Kilmer became Jim Morrison, Gary Oldman was uncanny as Lee Harvey Oswald, and Paul Sorvino as Kissinger was worth the price of admission. Here, Richard Dreyfuss could get an Oscar nomination as Dick Cheney. Certainly, this isn't the reverential portrait of Bush that the right would enjoy, but the movie doesn't vilify him either. All in all, a good movie that was perfect for Election Night.

After that let out, we went across the street to The Mecca. I had my favorite, the hot turkey sandwich, with a Long Island to make my point. Jim had his phone on during the movie, so when they declared for Obama at 8:15pm (halfway through the movie) he let me know. He was an early Obama backer, so he was happy. We talked politics over a few beers, then he went downtown to try to get into The Showbox, while I headed home to continue the drinking as I watched CNN and Northwest News deliver the numbers.

I was in a good mood all day and into the night. I've never been a big Obama supporter--I was for Hillary right up til the end (and not just because I think she'd be a good president: I've always thought she was hot. Hey! If guys'll vote for McCain because they'd like to see Palin in a bikini, I can have my Hillary-lust). But I knew this was going to be like 1960, or a Democrat's version of 1980. Twenty-eight years later (hey: that's a good movie title...), I honestly feel like it's morning in America. So this is why everyone liked Reagan so much.

If anything, it was over much to quickly: usually they don't declare the candidate til around 1:00am in the morning. Here, they just waited til the polls closed in California, then that was settled. No suspense, but no real show, either. Meanwhile, on the local front, it looks like Christine Gregoire beat back that used car salesman, Dino Rossi (actually, he's a real estate salesman, but you get the idea). He's a sore loser (and I do mean Loser), so this'll no doubt drag out, but I don't think he'll have the grounds to take it to court like he did (unsuccessfully) in 2004. That means that Washington will remain the only state with a chick for a governor and an all-chick delegation to the Senate (Patty Murray and Maria Cantwell). Unfortunate that that's a distinction, but if it's only one state where that's the case, I'm proud that it's Washington.

The Human Zoo

2008-11-01T13:46:00.000-07:00

Last night was fucking great. I'm all about the freak element in our culture, and nowhere is that going to be more in evidence than on Hallowe'en. It was Friday, payday, and I wanted the weirdest of the weird, in the weirdest way. And so I front-loaded myself on Black Velvet and a few Red Hooks, donned my black leather jacket, packed my MP3, and headed out to Seattle's own East Village: Capitol Hill.

The bus ride down wasn't too bad, saw a few people in costume. I was Twittering Tom Waits lyrics, wondering what everyone else was up to. When I hit Broadway, the party was in full swing. I myself wasn't in costume, other than my usual Joey Ramone look. But everyone else was, much to my satisfaction. I'm too self-conscious to start snapping pictures of people, though I was tempted when I saw a couple coming down the street, decked out very impressively as McCain and Palin.

First off, get a bite. Stopped in at Pagliacci's for a cheese slice and a Red Hook. Chick at the register was done up as Alice in Wonderland, with a bottle sticking out of a pocket of her sky-blue dress labelled "Drink Me." I seem to remember, from that same chapter, a small cake that said "Eat Me", though that might have been construed as work-inappropriate.

Up Broadway, past the Harvard Exit. Then back down, looking for a place to get a drink. I settled on a place I'd seen, small bistro called Bleu. Saw that there was sidewalk seating available, so I stopped in. Place was...intimate. Meaning, small and crowded. Atmospheric, though, so I could dig it. They didn't have anything on tap, that I could see, but with a glance at the drink section of their menu, I quickly opted for a Manhattan.

Haven't had one in forever. I don't go in for mixed drinks much in general, I'm a beer-and-a-shot kind of guy, but every so often it's nice. Pretty stiff, too. They even gave me the overpour in a side shot glass, so it was like having a Manhattan with a chaser. So I sat out on the sidewalk, sippin' whisky and vermouth with a cherry, watching all the passers-by.

Then I was off, headed down to Pike and Pine, which is something like St. Mark's Place. Wanted to check out The Comet, Seattle's most quintessential dive. Unfortunately, they wanted a five-dollar cover for some bands I never heard of, so I passed. Thought about The Mercury, for the real freakshow, but I figured that was gonna be packed and pricey and I wouldn't be able to get in anyway--even though the DJ there had a Rubik's cube on display, which I knew I could solve (always good to impress the establishment). I was gonna check out Wild Rose when I remembered a place right across from Value Village that I'd been meaning to try. Found it, a place called Purr--and since I like cats, that sounded like just the thing.

When I asked, the guy at the door said there wasn't a cover. "You're good," he said, waving me in. Nice, since I hate being carded, though it's to be expected at clubs these days. Anyway, I needed a bathroom, so I went in and made my way to the back, where I assumed the restrooms were.

Well. I can attest that Purr is the gayest bar I've ever been in--was last night, anyway. I've never had much of an interest in the gay male scene, though I think that lesbians are WAY hot, so I can't write off the queer scene entirely. Wasn't prepared for this though. Well, I wanted weird, so I got a little slice of Seattle Pride on display. I could only wonder what I'd find in the men's bathroom.

Guess I'll never know, as I was alone in there. I was relieved, as I relieved myself. Then out to the bar, and got myself an IPA, found a table near the door. There were a few chicks on hand, and they caught my interest. And I mean real chicks, not the crossover variety, and there were plenty of those on hand for a convenient side-by-side comparison. Which, as inebriate as I was getting, made for a very diverting bit of cultural anthropology.

Felt weird being surrounded by gay men. I can't say that I was perfectly comfortable, but I wasn't uncomfortable, either. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being gay, and I didn't think I'd be making any new acquaintances, so I had nothing to worry about. But it did occur to me that I was someplace that would welcome my company, even if they did know I was straight. If I bumped into someone here or brushed up against them as I moved through the crowd, they wouldn't take it as something hostile. They might take it in all the wrong way nevertheless, but a bar fight wasn't likely as a consequence. And I had to wonder why the doorman waved me right in, when from my seat I could see that he was carding everyone else. Was it that I looked old enough that I was safe, or did I look gay enough to be a regular? Just my luck, I find that I'm sexually attractive after all, only I've been hanging out in all the wrong places. Well, thanks-but-no-thanks, I finished my beer and headed out.

Thought about going up to the Madison Ave Pub, which is also gay, but I go there every so often because they have an NTN hookup, and I used to be a mad NTN player. That, and they have dishes of unshelled peanuts at all the tables. Free gay peanuts and some trivia. No, I decided, I wanted to head back toward downtown, get a drink or two along the way, but I wanted to keep that hour-long bus ride in mind, not get so blitzed that I passed out on the ride home. There was a place I'd tried before, kind of low-key, with a neon sign in the window that read Booze. Sounded good.

Found it a few doors down from Toys in Babeland. Name of the place is actually The Honey Hole, and for a minute I had to wonder if there was any association. Apparently not, since despite its name, the place wasn't gay at all (at least not by the standards set so far in the evening). And, just like I had to wonder that Purr had chicks tending bar, if this was a dyke bar why they'd have two guy bartenders. Well, if I wanted the dyke scene I should have tried my luck at Wild Rose. I didn't, figuring there'd be a cover and I couldn't get in. That, and I have this trepidation that I'll get 86'ed by some dagger bouncer, tossed like a frisbee head-first out the side door into the alley, my hat thrown out stereotypically after me. Now THAT'S a Friday night, actually. But no, not tonight.

The sign said that Long Island Iced Teas were on special for $5. There's another drink I haven't had in a while, so instead of a Fat Tire (best I could see on tap for a bitter, unfortunately) I went for that. Two stiff drinks on top of those beers, I was feelin' mighty fine. Took a picture of the big print they had on the wall of Keith Richards. My kind of place. Also saw some guy who made my night: he was done up as my hero, Hunter S. Thompson, the white hat, tan sunglasses, and cigarette holder, everything. Perfect.

Walked out of there and down the hill. It wasn't raining, the night was clear and chill, the way Hallowe'en ought to be.

As I walked through the Convention Center, I took a photo. Doesn't do it justice, it looks really nice at night, all lit up. That, and I was in a hell of a good mood.

Caught the bus back no problem, got in around midnight. Could've stayed out a little later, but I'd been up since 6:30am, so I didn't have all the energy in the world. Got back to the apartment, got a Red Hook and ate leftovers, falling asleep on the couch watching Comedy Central. Finally dragged my ass to bed around 5:30am. Woke up today feeling great, in a much better mood than I've been in for weeks. Revitalized. But no hangover to show for it, fuck it all. What am I doing wrong?

Well, there's always next year. Or tonight, for that matter.

What I'm Hearing

2008-10-09T14:58:00.000-07:00

So I got this little MP3 player, a Sansa 512MB I found on sale at K-Mart. Holds about 140 songs, or so. Not much, but I like it. Between work, some bad commute days, and walking around town, I run through the playlist fairly quickly, so I'm switching out my selections about once a week. In the interest of full disclosure, here's what I have loaded right now. This is in no particular order, since it sorts so bizarrely that, unless I go alphabetical, it's a de facto shuffle.

An asterisk(*) after the song indicates something that I've kept for a year or more (I got this back in 2005).

“3rd Planet”, Modest Mouse
“16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought Six” (live, from BIG TIME), Tom Waits
“Big Machine”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Dazzle”, Siouxsie and the Banshees
“Dive” (live, from FROM THE MUDDY BANKS OF THE WISHKAH), Nirvana
“Dreamline”, Rush
“Fallin’ Down”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Go”, Pearl Jam
“Mr Self Destruct”, Nine Inch Nails
“Misirlou”, Dick Dale and the Del Tones (PULP FICTION soundtrack)
“Push It”, Static X
“Rocks Off”, The Rolling Stones
“The History of My Future”, 7 Year Bitch
“Undercover of the Night”, The Rolling Stones
“Animal”, Pearl Jam
“Another Shot of Whiskey”, The Gits
“Chain Lightning”, Rush
“I Can’t Stand It”, The Velvet Underground*
“Come Out Swinging”, The Offspring
“Gettin’ Better”, Tesla
“Grand Designs”, Rush
“Hand of Fate”, The Rolling Stones
“Love Story”, Jethro Tull
“Making Plans For Nigel”, Primus
“Nutshell”, Alice In Chains
“Return of the Rat”, The Wipers (HYPE! soundtrack)
“Sad Caper”, Hootie and the Blowfish
“School”, Nirvana*
“Selling the Drama”, Live
“The Analog Kid”, Rush
“A Real Man”, Sleater-Kinney
“Bad Blood”, Ministry (THE MATRIX soundtrack)
“Dress”, PJ Harvey
“From Out of Nowhere”, Faith No More
“Here Is Gone”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Little Suzi”, Tesla
“Lounge Fly”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Stars and Planets”, Liz Phair
“Such a Scream”, Tom Waits
“Wicked Garden”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Cause of Faith”, The Violets
“C’mon Billy”, PJ Harvey
“Fell In Love With a Girl”, The White Stripes
“I’m Broken”, Pantera
“In My Tree”, Pearl Jam
“Interstate Love Song”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Jockey Full of Bourbon”, Tom Waits
“Little T&A”, The Rolling Stones
“March of the Pigs”, Nine Inch Nails
“No Excuses”, Alice In Chains
“Rape Me”, Nirvana
“Red Shoes By the Drugstore”, The Wedding Party (from the Tom Waits tribute album STEP RIGHT UP)
“The Passenger”, Iggy Pop
“Youth Decay”, Sleater-Kinney
“A Million Miles Away”, The Offspring
“Blue”, Visqueen
“Electric Head, Pt. 2 (The Ecstasy)”, White Zombie
“Giving You Today”, The Violets
“Jennifer’s Body”, Hole
“Modern Girl”, Sleater-Kinney
“We Rock”, Dio
“What a Scene”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Be Yr Mama”, Sleater-Kinney
“Cold Water”, Tom Waits
“Don’t Follow”, Alice In Chains
“Flight of Icarus” (live, from LIVE AFTER DEATH), Iron Maiden
“Good Things”, Sleater-Kinney
“Middletown Dreams”, Rush
“Midlife Crisis”, Faith No More
“Naked Sunday”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Out of the Red”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Something For Nothing”, Rush
“The Denial Twist”, The White Stripes
“Totem”, Rush
“7 and 7 Is”, The Ramones
“A Small Victory”, Faith No More
“All Over You”, Live
“Burden In My Hand”, Soundgarden
“Credit In the Straight World”, Hole
“Gone Away”, The Offspring
“Manhattan”, Visqueen
“Never Take the Place of Your Man”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Rollercoaster”, Sleater-Kinney
“Son of a Gun”, Nirvana*
“The One I Love”, REM
“Trippin’ on a Hole In a Paper Heart”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Vital Signs”, Rush
“Back on the Chain Gang”, The Pretenders
“Before They Make Me Run”, The Rolling Stones
“King of Rock & Roll”, Dio
“Me”, Paula Cole
“Monkey Man”, The Rolling Stones
“O2”, Sleater-Kinney
“Rearview Mirror”, Pearl Jam
“Sliver”, Nirvana
“Slow Song”, Sleater-Kinney
“State of Love and Trust”, Pearl Jam
“Stray Cat Blues”, The Rolling Stones
“Sympathy”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Can’t Be Seen” (live, from FLASHPOINT), The Rolling Stones
“Heaven”, The Rolling Stones
“Heroes End”, Judas Priest
“Houston”, Visqueen
“Knock Me Down”, Red Hot Chili Peppers
“Lay Lady Lay”, Ministry
“Spank Thru” (live, from FROM THE MUDDY BANKS OF THE WISHKAH), Nirvana
“Unglued”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Goin’ Out West”, Tom Waits
“Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”, The Ramones
“Leave You Behind”, Sleater-Kinney
“My Hometown”, Girl Trouble
“Russian Dance”, Tom Waits
“The Last Song”, Sleater-Kinney
“Crackerman”, Stone Temple Pilots
“Kevin’s Song”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Show Me”, The Pretenders
“Too Tight”, The Rolling Stones
“Black Wings”, Tom Waits
“Fresh Tendrils”, Soundgarden
“Man on the Silver Mountain” (live, from THE VERY BEAST OF DIO), Dio
“Ventilator Blues”, The Rolling Stones
“Gun Street Girl”, Tom Waits
“Last Cup of Sorrow”, Faith No More
“We Love You”, The Rolling Stones
“Dandelion”, The Rolling Stones
“Hymn to Her”, The Pretenders
“Mama’s Boy”, The Ramones
“So Far Away”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Two Days In February”, The Goo Goo Dolls
“Union Square”, Tom Waits
“Telephone Call From Istanbul” (live, from BIG TIME), Tom Waits
“Come on up to the House”, Tom Waits
“Remember”, The Jimi Hendrix Experience
“Blew” (live, from FROM THE MUDDY BANKS OF THE WISHKAH), Nirvana
“Bonzo Goes to Bitburg”, The Ramones
“Listen to the Band”, The Monkees*
“Throwaway,” (live, from the HYPE! soundtrack), The Posies
“Anywhere I Lay My Head”, Tom Waits
“Second Skin” (live, from the HYPE! soundtrack), The Gits
“Howling at the Moon”, The Ramones
“Come As You Are”, Nirvana*
“Elephant Stone”, The Stone Roses*
“Made of Stone”, The Stone Roses*
“Lounge Act”, Nirvana*
“She Bangs the Drums”, The Stone Roses*

Suggestions are welcome. (And by that, I don't mean advising me to upgrade to a fuckin' iPod.)

I Must Be Good With My Hands

2008-09-25T21:30:00.000-07:00

Stupid goddamn CD player I got for sixty bucks at Fred Meyer's at Christmas two, three years ago.

Seized up on me on Saturday, right after I got back from the library with half a dozen things I grabbed. Six-CD carousel, and I already had in SAP by Alice In Chains, Dio's THE VERY BEAST OF DIO, and Soundgarden's DOWN ON THE UPSIDE. I put in Seattle Public's copies of ALL DAY MUSIC by War, TWELVE by Patti Smith, and ROCKET TO RUSSIA by The Ramones. Hit play, and nothing happens. It'd had some trouble reading CDs the last week or so, but this was ridiculous. Tried skipping to the next CD, but it wouldn't go along with that. So I hit Open...and it wouldn't do that, either. Went upside its head a few times, just to show who had the more aggressive posture, but it didn't take. What a fucking time to go out! Saturday afternoon, with My Crazy Roommate free to prattle on, without any sort of soundtrack to carry me through. I can be comfortable in silence, but I prefer sensory input. I remember as a kid, when I was sent off to bed (which I always resented, by the way), I always could hear the television in the living room as one or both of my parents dozed off in front of the set. On one rare occasion, the TV wasn't on and the house was dark and silent. I couldn't fall asleep, had to go out and turn on the TV with the sound fairly low--just enough to be a sonic nite-lite.

What I'm saying is, I like sounds, music in particular. Loading up six CDs and spending a few hours on the sofa having coffee, doing my Games magazine, and laptopping is a fine way to spend part of an afternoon. I've always been one for sensory overload, much to My Crazy Roommate's consternation. She can barely carry on a conversation if the television is on, as she can't divide her attention. Here's where my OCD is complicated by my ADHD: I have to have several things going on at once. I just do. I'll have the TV on (muted), the stereo going with loud, obnoxious music (or easier stuff, depending on my mood--), a slice of pizza and a beer, Games magazine on a clipboard, and three sessions running on my laptop: gmail, porn site, and surfin' window (New York TIMES, Seattle TIMES, IMDb, blogs, et al.). To be reduced to a single CD at a time through my DVD player became an annoyance--I just had to get something. So I ran over to Pawn Exchange on Aurora, see what they had. Sure enough, they had a 5-CD player going for $30. Next better one was $70, so I was willing to take a chance, since they have a 7-day money-back policy. Whole thing was a waste of time, though, since I got it hooked up and all, tried to put a CD in...wouldn't take. Thing wouldn't work at all. Hateful. Took it back the next day, got my cash back no problem. Started pricing CD players at all the retail outlets. And here's where things went from bad to worse.

Maybe I'm the last one to realize this, but no one makes CD players anymore. Everything out there is a 5-DVD player going for several hundred dollars, or else it's an iPod station. I don't have an iPod, so this doesn't bode well for me. Apparently I have several hundred CDs that are going the way of cassette tapes. I guess I'll have to break down an get an iPod at some point, or at least some form of downloaded or digitally stored media, but it's more than just the paradigm shift that depresses me.

I have a cheap MP3 player I got at K-Mart on sale for $60. Only holds about 145 songs or so, which I understand is paltry by iPod standards. But I kind of like it for just that reason. I have an affinity for off-brand, irregular, or low-end products. It's not because I'm cheap, so much; I think I just identify closely with the not-top-shelf merchandise out there. So: even if the entertainment system of the future is here, and we don't have to fuck around with five-inch plastic discs anymore, we can program all our music from stored memory...I still want my six-CD carousel. No, it isn't as programmable, or nearly as extensive. But it's what I want anyway, and that ought to count for something.

So I decided to perform surgery, see if there was anything I could do for my beloved (though, at the moment, resented--) stereo. Granted, I was as much after the trapped CDs as I was about seriously fixing it, but I thought what the hell: I couldn't much break it any more than it already was, if it was inoperable, and I had to rescue those CDs, the library ones if nothing else.

Three screws on each outer side, and four at the rear. That allowed me to remove the upper casing.

I was able to get all the CDs out except one, SAP by Alice In Chains, since it was under the player mechanism. I tried to work the carousel, see if it'd move. It did, but ground on its plastic gears. On a whim, I decided to see if that kind of nudging maybe shook loose whatever bug had seized it up. Sure enough, when I plugged it in and hit the eject button on the front, it kicked out like nothing was ever wrong.

I replaced the casing, hooked it back up, and gave it a chance to redeem itself. Well, it did have trouble reading two of the CDs, but at least it wasn't seizing up. I can eject at will. Even if it's temperamental about what it'll play (and so far, it's been much more agreeable than not--), this is no time for me to be shelling out $60 or more if I can get by otherwise. My car just ate up several hundred dollars in a new carburetor, emissions adjustment, and a new distributor ICM.

It'll be a while before I upgrade my stereo, so long as it'll serve me well. I know it'll start to have more problems as time goes on, but for now I'm sticking by this bargain basement player.

"It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?"

Email to BopVito, 9/01/07

2008-09-21T22:34:00.000-07:00

I check everybody's blog daily, and notice you haven't touched yours in years. And if it's one thing I can't abide in this world, it's a Jew with writer's block.
So: write about that time you stumbled into the kitchen at noon to make breakfast, and while you were reading the pancake recipe from the side of the Bisquick box ('cause you never can remember how much milk and how many eggs) you noticed that on the top flap it says "Do Not Sift", and that in the blur of your hangover you said "Nobody fuckin' tells *me* how to make pancakes!" and dug around in the bottom drawer til you found that old flour sifter Boucher left behind when he moved. So you beat the egg, added the milk, whisked it thoroughly, and then *sifted* the goddamn Bisquick, thus eliminating all the annoying lumps. Made for smooth batter, things were going well, you just about had the coffee going when you noticed that funny kind of light coming from the flour sifter. Turns out the sifting had ripped open a hole in the space-time continuum--you always can tell when it's a space-time rift, since the effusion is black with those green gridlines they always use when illustrating the space-time continuum in any kind of documentary computer animation.
It was growing at a steady rate, you barely had time to hurl the goddamned Bisquick box into the rift before it consumed everything on the counter, which was mostly the bowl of pancake batter anyway, but that was one of your biggest and best spoons. Still, it continued its expansion til you realized you still had the pancakes on the range, so you grabbed the frying pan and threw that into the anomaly, at which point it collapsed into a singularity that popped out of existence with a stereotypical "pop". And that you wrote to General Mills demanding a new bowl, spoon, and frying pan, but they never responded, since Bisquick is put out by Betty Crocker. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. Remember, I was there--but I wasn't hung over (a claim that nobody would believe coming from me, but if you wrote it they might).

My day in court

2008-09-10T18:18:00.000-07:00

So I'm a legal assistant at Sound Transit. The legal department has eight attorneys, one paralegal, and two assistants. It was three assistants, but the legal secretary to the general counsel retired last month and I'm not sure if they're going to hire a replacement. That, and the other legal assistant is on vacation this week. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that, in addition to handling the department's invoices and helping out with the public disclosures, that I'd be doing more work for the general counsel (that's the top attorney for the agency, and the head of the department).

He's been calling me in on minor research and proofreading for the last few days, but today things took a bizarre turn. First he wanted me to write up some notes for today's court hearing. Apparently, there are some people out there who don't believe in Sound Transit's mission of bringing light rail to the area. I shouldn't be talking about the particulars of it, so I'll let THE STRANGER do that part--

http://slog.thestranger.com/2008/09/sound_transit_sued_again

Anyway, so after I drew up exhibit lists and created folders for everything, he told me that he wanted me to come to the hearing, get a feel for what it is I'm supposed to be assisting with. Well, that's a vote of confidence (I'm only just beginning to not feel like I'm still a temp around the office). Had I known I was due in court today, I would've worn something better than a khaki sports shirt, black jeans, and sandals--the general counsel and the other two attorneys were in suits and ties (I don't own a suit, but I'm pretty sure I have a tie in my closet somewhere...). Also, I wouldn't have been out bar-hopping last night, finally getting to bed around 3:30am.

Fortunately, I've been a misfit all of my life, so the whole fish-out-of-water feeling is old hat to me. I'm underdressed and don't know what the hell is going on or what to expect? Story of my fuckin' life. So I just grabbed a legal pad and a pen, and the paperwork that I had drafted, and walked with the attorneys up the street to the courthouse. In addition to our two Sound Transit attorneys, there was also our outside counsel from K&L Gates, and attorneys from the prosecutor's offices of King, Pierce, and Snohomish counties (since it's the prosecutor's office that approves the final ballot proposal titles and explanatory statements).

The plaintiff was a nice enough guy, I'd met him a few months ago when he filed a public disclosure request for agency records on the drafting of the ballot title and statements--ammunition for this lawsuit, in other words. When requesters come by to review the documents, I have to sit with them and make sure they don't deface or destroy anything; but I can't do any department work while sitting in front of them, so essentially I'm being paid $21.54/hour to do the puzzles in the agency library's copy of the Seattle TIMES, frequently for hours at a time. Worse ways to round out a forty-hour week, I suppose.

As I had been warned by one of our attorneys on the walk over, these hearings can be less than thrilling. I'll admit that there were a few points where I was beginning to fade out, my sleep deficit catching up with me. I had to fight back laughter at one point, though: the plaintiff said that he wasn't bound by the time limit for filing his petition, since the statute had recently been amended (recodified), and no longer referenced the appropriate paragraph. Basically, I thought to myself, he's arguing that, since the library has misplaced its copy of MOBY DICK, that Melville never wrote it in the first place. [Note to self: that's not bad, tell that one to Desmond tomorrow.]

The judge set off something of a scramble, when he questioned the agency's estimate that the .5% sales tax increase would cost the average taxpayer about $69 more a year in taxes. He quickly did the math, and concluded that would mean that the average taxpayer then spends $13,800 a year on sales taxable goods and services ($69 divided by 0.005 = $13,800). Didn't that seem a little low? I didn't want to speak up, of course, but I actually thought the opposite: dividing that number by 12 on my calculator watch, I saw that would come to $1,150 a month would be spent on taxable items. Rent isn't subject to sales tax, neither is food in this state, or gasoline. I fall right into the actuarial middle of their average taxpayer salary ($44,000-$46,000), so I was flattered that they thought I spent over a grand a month on taxable items. They think I take my paycheck straight to Best Buy or something? If I had a grand to throw around every month, I'd start dating again.

This line of questioning kept our side fairly busy for the better part of ten minutes--and the hearing was scheduled for one hour: right in front of the judge's bench was a prominent red digital clock, hours-minutes-seconds, which only displayed when the court was in session (while in recess, it went -- -- --). I thought the judge was leaning pretty hard on the agency: he didn't challenge the plaintiff much at all, that I could tell. I heard on the walk over that the odds were very good that the petition wouldn't get very far. There was even a hope that the judge could rule right away, though he has a reputation for being deliberative. The three county attorneys each asked for the judge to rule on this no later than the next day, since they each had to get their ballots printed soon in order to be ready for the November election.

At the end of the hour the judge called a ten minute recess--at the end of which he would render his decision. Seems it would happen pretty quickly after all. Talked with the lawyers, they seemed interested in my impressions of how things were going. I have to admit, I wasn't sure how the judge was going to rule, since he seemed to pick apart the agency's position while leaving the plaintiff alone. So I was pleasantly surprised when, upon returning, the judge ruled against the plaintiff on all counts. "Petition is dismissed, with prejudice." That meaning that he couldn't bring the suit again (as opposed to "without prejudice", which would mean that the judge didn't rule on the validity of the suit itself). All in all, an overwhelming victory for the agency.

I got separated from the group on the elevator rides down, ended up walking back to the office with the media relations guy, who is also very cool. He said everyone was headed over to The Elysian on First, where they were holding some kind of event to kick off the election push for Proposition 1. The mayor would be there, along with all the major local media, and a lot of the higher-ups from the agency. He cordially suggested that I come along, but I wasn't feeling up to it. I had planned on seeing THE DARK KNIGHT at the Cinerama, as it was in its last week there, and I wasn't sure if I was up to a work-night out. So I just went back up to my desk, caught up on email and messages, started writing this post. Then went up to Shorty's, ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, drank it in less than a minute, then went over to Cinerama and caught DARK KNIGHT. And it was fucking *excellent*. Best movie I've seen so far this year. And I honestly think Heath Ledger may win Best Supporting Actor. Came home to find that my crazy roommate had slipped on the bus, and had severely injured her foot. What a day.

The next day the general counsel called me into his office to talk about my experiences at the hearing, what I thought of it all. We talked for quite a while, me telling him that most of my familiarity with the legal process came from watching LAW AND ORDER, which he said he never watched. When I said my favorite movie about lawyers was REVERSAL OF FORTUNE, he said he hadn't seen it, but he studied at Harvard Law and had met Alan Dershowitz...and Klaus von Bulow. Cool.

Forty Is the New Thirty-Nine

2008-09-03T22:15:00.000-07:00

So yeah, I turned 40 on July 20th. Didn't do anything too special, just went down to Shorty's on that Saturday, rented one of my favorite movies, THE RIGHT STUFF, and on Sunday (my birthday proper) I went to Tacoma, took my mother and my crazy roommate out to dinner at The Keg, had prime rib. Turning 40 is supposed to be all about getting old and mid-life crisis and all that, but not for me, I guess. Maybe it's because I never liked being young, I always wanted to mature. Well, it's happened. Can I stop getting carded now?

Best birthday present I could've asked for, though: I got a job! Yes, I joined Sound Transit's legal department, where I'd been temping on and off for the last two years. I am now a legal assistant, supporting the paralegal. Mostly I'm responsible for the invoices the department receives from outside law firms: auditing, routing them for approval by the attorneys, coding them for accounts payable...pushing paper, for the most part. In addition to that, I assist in public disclosure requests, and there are a lot of those. What with a rampant interest in public transportation improvements, the tightening economy, and the fact that Seattle has a lot of taxes as it is and Sound Transit has a proposition on the November ballot that seeks a .5% increase, a lot of people are very interested in what the agency is doing and how all the money is being spent. All in all, it's a good job, not a lot of stress, pays about what Marathon was giving me when I left, and has an excellent benefits package (government jobs are apparently the only ones left that have decent health coverage anymore). Also, I get a FlexPass, good for all the buses and trains in four counties, so I'm not driving as much as I used to.

Which is good, since my car has been in the shop. I had a new carburetor put in a few months ago, and it's been running fairly well, but stalls when it hasn't warmed up. I took it in for the needed emissions test when I renewed my tabs--and it failed. That's a first. So I took it back to Walt's on Aurora, and they worked on it. Passed emissions (they'd had the car for almost two weeks), was running good. Then, on Monday, I was taking my mother out to dinner in Federal Way when the car gave out. We were in the parking lot of the Sea-Tac Mall, and the car wouldn't start. Spent Wednesday morning rescuing the car, getting it towed back to Walt's. They're pretty good, actually, done a lot of good work on my car, so I'm optimistic. See what comes of this.

Another nice thing about Sound Transit: I got into Bumbershoot for free, and saw my heroes, Stone Temple Pilots. Email went around a few weeks before, asking for volunteers to staff the Sound Transit information booth on the midway. Volunteers get a pass for the day, so before or after your shift you get full access to the festival. I quickly jumped on the first shift for Sunday, when STP were playing the Main Stage (after Black Keys), at 9:15. All I had to do was sit in a booth for four hours starting at 11:00am, and answer questions for folks. How hard could that be?

I'll admit, I didn't read the Essential Knowledge For Event Booths packet til I got on the bus going downtown that morning, having dragged my overindulgent ass to bed somewhere around 4:00am, after a Saturday night of much Red Hook and pinball and general knocking around Belltown. I soon realized that I was way out of my depth, should anyone ask anything detailed on any of the rail projects, or the provisions of Proposition 1. Fortunately, there were two full-time event workers along with another Sound Transit volunteer on the same shift, so there was enough cover. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to spend a late summer afternoon.

The view from the booth.

Knocked off at 3:30pm, got the bus home to shower off, change into my rockshow clothing (denim shorts, Iron Maiden shirt, sneakers with thin socks--laced tight and triple-knotted, lanyard holding my glasses on snugly, flannel shirt tied at the waist, all loose pocket items--watch, phone, money, ear plugs, ID, ATM card, car key, chewing gum--in a small Ziploc bag in my right hip pocket), get a bite to eat, a Red Hook jump start, and get back down to Seattle Center to hit a few beer gardens before the show. It wasn't as crowded as I'd thought: I'd heard that if you wanted to get in, you had to be there well in advance of the crowds. I went in around 7:30pm, and wasn't too intimidated. So I went over to Michaelangelo's at the Center House, eased into things. Was in a much better mood when I returned just before 9:00pm, got at the back of the floor crowd.

I saw Iron Maiden in July down at the White River Amphitheater, courtesy of my friend Aeryk the Hippie and his wife. The tickets were for the second level, however, so it was more of a spectator evening: I was up in the stands, spectating, when I really wanted to be down rushing the stage. No going between sections at that one, though, so I got to watch most of it on the Jumbotron screen on my left.

Watching Iron Maiden on TV, while at the show.

This show would be different. The floor was open, not seated like at most of these pathetic venues. A rockshow is supposed to be visceral, a heaving, mindless mass of fanatic musical transport, not some regimented, orderly procession. If Pearl Jam wants to play Benroya Hall, that's beautiful, but I'm not buying a ticket. It's been a long time, I guess, since Eddie Vedder took that stage dive in their "Evenflow" video, taped at the Moore Theater. I wanted that experience again.

And I wasn't to be disappointed this time around. They started the show with "Big Empty", which wasn't exactly kicking things off with a bang. Very unusual choice, letting the crowd go wild to a slow number, gave things a nostalgic feel, 'we're glad to be back' kind of thing. The crowd was genial, for the most part younger than me. And here I was, at 40, ready to rush the stage.

The view from the back.

Notice how each of these shots will get progressively closer. One of the cool things about being a six-foot, 225 lb. American Indian who never smiles is that if I want to get to the front of the crowd, it happens. Chief Bromden never had it so good.

Going into some Zeppelin-like freeform during "Creep".

One of my favorites: "Lounge Fly".

By this point I'm in the pit, for real. And not only was I holding my own, I could still thrash with the rest of them. It was liberating. "Crackerman" and "Trippin' On a Hole In a Paper Heart" had me moshing around in a mid- '90s frenzy. Here's the last shot I got before they launched into "Sex Type Thing", at which point I was close enough to the stage that, at the end when Scott Weiland leaned out into the crowd with his bullhorn to the microphone, I was just out of arm's length. That was a mad crush.

Right after an encore, of "Dead and Bloated".

I was practically at the rail at this point. But I'd had to work for it: I got a good pummeling in the process, and I was sore in a few places for days--though, oddly enough, I didn't bruise at all. I came home Sunday night limping, wondering if I'd broken a few toes (I hadn't, but they were crushed). Ribs, arms, legs, my left foot...even my jaw. My chest, too, though that may have been from that one guy, right when we were near the stage at the end: guess he thought I was being too pushy or something, he turned around and punched me square in the sternum. Not too hard, more of a back-the-fuck-off kind of hit. I didn't even feel it, it bounced right off. I just shrugged at him: "What? It's a mosh pit, c'mon...." You generally don't want to start a mosh fight, those can get violent. Not that this was too hardcore a scene, and he seemed like he was satisfied he made his point. Comes with the territory.

Got home in a total adrenaline buzz. Chilled in a cool bath for a while with a Red Hook to bring myself down, then watched Comedy Central for a few hours before finally relaxing enough to go to bed.

Now that's a fuckin' rockshow.

2007-09-14T22:09:00.000-07:00

I go through a lot of used CD shops in Seattle, always on the lookout for certain titles to add to my collection. Jive Time in Fremont is always a good place to check out--I'd have to say that about a third or so of my CD collection came to me through Jive Time. I'm a good customer.

Or am I? I was going through their $5.00 discount selection, when I saw a copy of Soundgarden's SOMMS. For anyone not in the know, SOMMS is a limited-release CD of Soundgarden's BADMOTORFINGER release of 1991. I'm not sure what a copy would go for now, but in its day it was a much-coveted item, demanding somewhere around $100. Well, that was 15 years ago, and prices are whatever the market can bring. I just don't think that a collector's item of a legendary Seattle band would go for as little as five dollars, in Seattle. So I can infer that the proprietor has made a mistake, though he seems to be an aficionado on all other counts. Should I bring this up to him, or take the opportunity to score a bona fide rarity at bargain-bin cost?

And while I could wax eloquent on being honorable and honest, I have to admit: I just picked up the CD for $5 and didn't say anything. I'm thinking about taking back my now-obsolete copy of BADMOTORFINGER and just giving that up, along with a few other CDs that I no longer need, as something of an inventory trade-off, but that's not going to erase the fact that I think I took advantage of a grievous oversight.

The human buffet

2007-09-14T22:07:00.000-07:00

I took my mother to the Point Defiance Zoo. Although I like Point Defiance Park, I have to admit that the zoo is less than impressive. Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo is much more interesting. Anyway, the tiger cage is no longer a cage: it's a habitat display, behind a thick wall of plexiglass. And a magnificent Bengal tiger specimen was pacing back and forth restlessly as we walked up. I managed to snap a few pictures, since it paced up and down without interruption, and oblivious to any attempt to catch its attention, with OCD regularity.

My mother pointed out to me, as we walked away, that the tiger was most likely angry, that it could see all the defenseless little children, in the strollers pushed up right against the plexiglass, and the toddlers who'd run right up and wave at the tiger--but couldn't get any. Like a big, rotating buffet of succulent human infants, and for some reason there's an impenetrable barrier that keeps it forever off limits. That's probably more than a predatory cat's mind can handle. I say the kind thing to do would be to give it a baby now and then, just to let it know that it's not all for nothing.

Pushin' 40

2007-09-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

Then it was my birthday, turning 39. I had planned on trekking down to Portland with Hammerhead to check out Ground Kontrol, an excellent arcade of vintage 70s and 80s video games, all in perfect working condition, and still a quarter a play. So we set out on the morning of Saturday, the 21st of July, for Portland. Hammerhead was driving, and had to make a stop at the office, in Bothell. It was about noon before we were ready to hit the road--only I wanted something to eat. All the good places to get breakfast were too busy to seat us quickly, so I went with his suggestion of Applebee's, which I'd never tried. Figured it couldn't be worse than Denny's. Right?

And so began my birthday weekend, which was remarkable for how much I enjoyed it in spite of how much of it was disappointing. Starting off with Applebee's, where we sat in the lounge (thinking we'd be served faster that way), and ordered breakfasts. I opted to try the biscuits and gravy, as my breakfast fantasy had drifted to what was possible if we were in north Lake Union and could be eating at The Varsity. But even with that setting me up for a fall, the service itself was pretty depressing. After our first coffees, we didn't see the waitress again for a good fifteen minutes, and when our meals arrived mine was getting cold (the eggs had the consistency of rubber). That, and she got my order wrong: I'd said bacon, and she brought a plate of sausages. Which were tasty (my hunger notwithstanding), but wrong nonetheless. All in all, a mediocre experience drawn out over an impatient stretch of time.

The drive down itself was fairly good, no real traffic and clear weather. The hotel was impressive

when we arrived,
Hammerhead having insisted (against my protests) on getting something fancy downtown. I was happy to stay at the Thrift Lodge we had the year previous, at $85/night. Instead, he books us into rooms at the Embassy Suites in downtown, at $225/night. I balked, but he persisted: you get a free breakfast buffet. And he offered to pay the difference between the two accomodations, seeing as it was my birthday and all. Which I thought was very cool.

Only, he got himself a corner room (something he stipulated when he made the reservations), while my room, next door, was about half the size. I didn't mind the size so much: in fact, it felt weird having a sofa and armchair in one room with a table and television, and the bedroom completely separate. Well, they do call themselves Embassy Suites. But the room smelled bad, fairly rank. I went to open the windows, but found that they were sealed behind a layer of plexiglass. We were only on the seond floor: were they afraid some patrons would commit suicide by jumping? Place was very comfortable, though. I just don't think it's worth $225/night.

We got a six pack each and some snacks for the hotel from the mart around the corner (the rooms had refrigerators, which is much, much better than having to load the bathroom sink up with ice from the machine to chill the beer). I had a beer or two while showering off, twin reliefs from the July heat. Then we set out for dinner at my favorite diner in Portland, The Roxy. I found this place, about a block from Powell's City of Books, on one of my previous Portland stays, while I was looking for someplace to eat at 1:00am in the morning. The decor was uber-kitsch: an oil-on-velvet portrait of Quentin Tarantino, a lot of strange odds-and-ends, the bathrooms (at least the men's--) were wallpapared with tabloid pages, when you ordered cream for your coffee you were given a glass dispenser shaped like a baby bottle--that sort of thing. And the menu was a kick. My favorite was the Soylent Green omelette ("A little bit of us in every omelette", it said. I didn't ask what was in it...). And the breakfasts were huge and satisfying.

Unfortunately, this being dinner (and not wanting a burger), I ordered a hot turkey sandwich. I found this to be less than impressive, the turkey being simple deli meat, and the gravy the stereotypical neon-yellow that you find in...well, diners. It's not The Mecca in Seattle, that's for sure. And while I still like it as a scene and for the breakfasts, I didn't have the best of birthday dinners. Nevertheless, I took a BLT to go, for later when I got back to the room after a nightful of beer: no good trying to come down with a bag of potato chips, when it's easy to plan ahead.

We went for a walk around downtown afterwards, and saw that an old Portland landmark had closed:

Hung Far Low had been there for nearly 80 years, according to the sign. It was a Chinese restaurant, and I had been there once a few years back; the place was surreal. It still had an early 70's feel to it, from the faded linoleum to the fluorescent lights that they somehow don't make anymore. Place felt like my grade school cafeteria. When I was there, I got a full dinner combo for about $5. Which was about what it was worth--totally bland. Only other person in the restaurant was some guy having a loud conversation: I didn't check to see if was on a cell phone or not. I don't know why I didn't try the lounge: it was clearly more popular than the restaurant. But I didn't, and it turns out I wouldn't get the chance again. Too bad.

Our ultimate goal on this weekend, however, was Ground Kontrol, a two-floor arcade of vintage 70's- and 80's video games.

Sad to say, I was a bit disappointed with that scene, as well: turns out they'd cleared out about a third of the first level to make room for a dance floor.

As a result, some of the less-familiar games that I'd been looking forward to playing for old times' sake weren't in attendance. No Berserk, no Moon Patrol.

But they still had my favorites, Star Wars and Tron. Also, Tempest, which I liked OK--but Hammerhead named as one of his favorites. He absolutely refused, however, to be photographed, so you'll just have to imagine him.

I lost track of him before midnight, and he didn't answer his cell. Apparently, he went back to his room and played Lord Of the Rings till the early hours. I didn't feel like closing the place down, either, and headed back at about one. I chowed down on the BLT I'd brought back before, emptied the six pack, and crashed at around 4:00am, watching HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER on cable.

I met HH at breakfast in the morning, a very fine lay out, actually. Every conceivable breakfast food was there and in abundance, and there's nothing I enjoy more food-wise than diversity. I love an all-you-can-eat not because I can gorge myself, but rather that I have a broad sampling of foods to choose from. Nothing was spectacularly good (though HH did say that the omelet (you stood in line at the griddle, and they made a custom omelet for you) was well worth the wait. I loaded up on a little of everything: eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuit, pancake, grits (something I've only had a few times in life), home fries, fresh fruit, oatmeal...a little of everything. The coffee was decent, and if the orange juice was a little weak, at least it was plentiful. I finished up with half a bagel with cream cheese and a slice of toast with jam (there was a toaster in the corner, with your choice of breads). Impressive, almost enough to make up for the room I had. All I can say, if you're in Portland and want to stay in downtown, the Embassy Suites isn't perfect but could be worse. Just make sure your room is clean when you check in.

How I Deal

2007-07-12T00:27:00.000-07:00

Today it hit 96 degrees here in Seattle. I am notorious for hating heat. I wear denim shorts from March til about November, and sandals from May til about October. Around the apartment, I am usually stripped down to a pair of gym shorts. I have a real problem radiating heat, so I generally prefer cool environments, relying on my natural endothermic reactions to keep myself warm. Winter is my favorite season, naturally.

Seattle is in the grip of a heat wave, about 15 degrees warmer than is usual for this time of year. And there's no escaping it.

So I've been dreading today since I heard the forecast last week. I've been working a temp assignment down in Queen Anne, which I like a lot. Doing some work in Excel, developing a scheduling template. Really having to delve into Visual Basic, and the challenge is energizing. The place is a Work Loft, so it's more or less a converted warehouse. Which is actually pretty OK. And I have an office of my own--how cool is that? Anyway, I took another fan in to work today, put it on the floor, to supplement the one I have on the desk. And the place is air conditioned to a temperature I like--a true rarity. I stopped off on the way in and picked up a half gallon of Newman's Own Virgin Pink Lemonade, figure I'd chug away at that and keep cool.

Unfortunately, there was a game today at Key Arena, so the parking garage (which usually goes for $6 a day) was full. So were the other pay lots. Was forced to park on the street, which meant I had to go move my car every two hours, literally chasing shadows around Queen Anne as I tried to park in the shade. The car was a hotbox, totally miserable. But the office was pleasant, and I drank nearly all of the lemonade. Stayed hydrated.

My plan for the evening was to go out to someplace air conditioned--like a movie theater. I was trying for a showing of 1408 at the Metro in the U District, but I wanted to get a good cold shower first. The apartment was 90 degrees when I got in around six o'clock (according to the thermometer I keep in the kitchen). I ran cold water in the bath, ankle deep, before I stepped in for a tepid shower that I would gradually cool down. I've found that it's important to cool off gradually: if I chill myself suddenly, my body just holds its heat deeper, and it can get harder to cool down meaningfully. I watered down in the shower, letting the bath accumulate, then turned off the water and settled in for a cold bath. It was nice.

But I wanted to get to the theater, so I set out at 6:30pm, trying to make it to the 6:40pm show. I didn't make it there til almost 7:00pm; traffic was dense, and I was stuck in the car sweltering for almost half an hour. This put me in a fairly sour mood. There wasn't anything else at the Metro that I wanted to see, so I just wandered around the U District, in 92 degree heat, trying to think of someplace air conditioned I could seek out. Dinner sounded about right, so I decided I'd find some air conditioned restaurant. That pretty much ruled out any bar or tavern, and most all the eateries in the U District. There's this Italian place I'd been meaning to try up on Lake City Way, so I went there.

Italian Pizza and Pasta--that's the name of the place. Pretty good, actually: had the tortellini with meat sauce. Dinner also included a cup of minestrone (fairly tasty, though I was feeling too hot for soup), a salad (with slices of salami and provolone, nice touch), and bread. And the pasta was great. I was feeling full by that point, since I went through half a dozen glasses of Coke in the course of the meal. Feeling satisfied, but dessert was included in the price. I haven't had raspberry sorbet in forever, and it was just wonderful. It was about 8:30pm, and still a good 86 outside. I determined to stop by the apartment, grab a Seagram's ginger ale, and go down to the beach at Golden Gardens.

Now, normally I don't care for beach. And you know I've got to be hot when I feel like taking off my sandals and walking in the surf. Don't get me wrong, the cold Puget Sound water on my feet was perfect. Only, the tide was coming in and the sand was choked with seaweed and kelp. I don't generally advocate walking barefoot through compost. But what the hell.

The view was great: the sun had just dropped below the horizon, and the clouds caught the light beautifully. And the water reflected the sunset, really nice. This shot doesn't quite do it justice, but there were plenty of others out there today snapping pictures, trying to capture something.

I felt good, a chugging down Seagram's and walking in cold wet sand after a nourishing meal. At that moment, the heat wasn't bothering me at all. When I sat down, shook the sand from my feet and put my sandals back on, however, I started to warm up. And I realized it had to still be eighty or so.

When I got back to the apartment around 10:30pm, it was still 84 inside. So I opted for another cold bath, and this time I knew I had to make it last, since the apartment was so warm. Again, ran the water at a cool temperature, allowing it to fill the tub as I rinsed off. This time I was going for a colder experience, still not frigid but enough to steal my heat. Idea here was to drop my core body temperature, not just relief the skin. Settled into a cool bath, with my head below water (no small trick in a bath tub this size--had to lift my feet out of the water in order to lay back flat). Just soaked there for about twenty minutes, it felt nice.

When I got out I felt like I'd had a massage. The living room was still warm but not oppressingly so. In fact, by a little after midnight the temperature inside had dropped to about 76, not much worse than an average daytime temp. Watched Jon Stewart and had another ginger ale, and I was feeling good. Went to bed around 1:00am, and slept without any covers or sheets. When I woke up the next morning, I felt great. I'm not sure if a cold bath will do that every time, but the buzz certainly stayed with me. I no longer live in fear of hot days here in Seattle.

All the Damn Hippies, Part II

2007-06-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

Imagine my surprise yesterday when I read in the Seattle TIMES that the Solstice Parade was going on, even as I read. For any one not familiar with Seattle and its traditions, the annual Solstice Parade happens every summer solstice, an event reminiscent of Mardi Gras in New Orleans, a huge celebration of all or most or at least some of Seattle's artist community, replete with all the free spirits looking for a venue.

In other words, hippies.

And don't get me wrong, I dig hippies--especially hippie chicks. Only thing is, the solstice isn't til this coming Thursday, so I thought that the Solstice Parade and its attendant festivities were the following weekend.

No, I saw it in the TIMES: it was going down. So I quickly finished off my breakfast and coffee, and got down to Fremont. And it was pretty much what I expected, other than the fact that the weather wasn't so amenable: 61 degrees and overcast, threatening drizzle. I went to Gasworks Park (which is Seattle's answer to San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, other than the fact that it's deserted most days of the year).

The food court was very sparse, only three booths or so. But this place caught my eye. No, it's not some evangelical Southern Cookin' barbecue: this is Seattle, so of course it's some kind of hippie vegan deal. And friendly enough: as I snapped this picture, some guy ran out with free coupons for me to sample the vegetarian fare. I declined, though, figuring that the real vegetarians of the event would be more likely to profit from such promotion.

This was the show. Hundreds of hippies watching.

And this was the band:

And this was the accompanying floor show. I'm not sure what this was supposed to be, but then again, I seem to have come in during the middle.

This was some cool artwork that someone had done up near the entrance to Gas Works Park. Very nice.

The fairway at the Fremont Fair. Nobody here, as Seattle weather has driven Seattle hippies indoors.

Carrie Akre, and company.

Now, of all the booths, this is the one I liked. Pro-Duct-Ive, where all the products on sale are made from duct tape. Aeryk the Hippie, a big duct tape afficianado, would definitely approve. And is most likely out there somewhere, wondering why he didn't think of such a display first.

Funny Cars

Pizza Injury

2007-06-17T20:55:00.000-07:00

Pizza is about ten years old at this point. He's one of my mother's cats, a very friendly and very aggressive tomcat, who's never been fixed. He's getting on in years, but I've seen him take on dogs four times his size. He likes a good, rough petting.

If I hold my hand several inches over his head, he'll rear up on his hind legs and grab my arm with both paws and pull my hand to a particular spot on his head, as if to say, "Right there, right there!" He's one of the best cats I've ever known.

He has a serious flea problem, though. And dry skin, so he's always digging and scratching and chewing on himself. My mother has tried all varieties of powders, collars, and lotions, nothing works for very long, if at all. The vet said there's nothing else for it: cat needs a periodic flea bath.

So, a few months ago, my mother and I, aided by our good friend Alicia, set out to give Pizza a bath. We got some Hart's flea shampoo from PetCo, and filled the bathtub to an inch deep of warm water. My mother had a body harness that looked like it was designed for a toy dog or something, but it fit Pizza OK. I just wondered how it would hold during the ensuing struggle. See, that's what I like about cats (or one of the things, anyway): much more so than any other mammalian pet--certainly more than dogs--a cat is clearly a wild animal. A wild animal that has struck up a fortunate and endearing symbiotic relationship with humans, but a wild animal nonetheless. And its feral nature is on display several times during any given day.

I love cats. I definitely have a cat-nature.

Anyway, cats have a thing about getting wet, so I knew this wasn't going to be easy. It went OK, that first time, even though he did struggle quite a bit, between the three of us and the Rainmaker shower wand we were able to apply an appropriate amount of flea shampoo, and then get it rinsed or washed off, without any injury (other than psychological) to Pizza, and no flesh wounds for any of the rest of us.

After it was over, he just lounged on the towels on the bathroom counter, purring and licking himself clean of his bath. Didn't resent any of us, or even balk at the running water in the sink next to him, as each of us washed off. In fact, I think he watched me a bit more closely as I washed my hands, as if for the first time understanding what it was that us humans did so routinely. Remember, he's ten years old and never had a bath before; he probably thought we were trying to kill him, somehow.

That was a few months ago. Time for another bath. And this one didn't go so well.

This time, when we put the harness on him, I think he knew what was coming. I got him into the tub OK, but he started fighting immediately, of course. Things were going well, until one of his paws got loose, and he lashed out and got me in the elbow of my left arm. Not much flesh there, but he got one claw in, and it took me a second or so to extricate. Then he lashed out again, this time getting me on the inner forearm.

Guess it doesn't matter much that Pizza has an unusual birth defect: six claws on both forepaws, rather than the usual five. As it was, three of the six said claws got into the skin of my arm, and hooked in good. As he continued to struggle about, he pulled on my flesh. I looked down, to see the skin of my left forearm pulled out by about an inch and a half or two. The first thing I thought of was a documentary I saw on National Geographic Channel a few months ago, on the horrible practice of suspension. If you're at all squeamish, don't follow that link. I'm not squeamish, really, but goddamn. Let's just say that scene in LAST KING OF SCOTLAND wasn't foolin'. People really do that sort of thing--voluntarily, now--and survive. And, at this particular moment, my favorite fucking cat was doing it to me. And it fuckin' hurt.

Well, I got his claws out of me, and continued with the bath. I was disconcerted that the puncture wounds didn't bleed out. One of the things I'd picked up among my medical studies is that wounds are less likely to get infected if they bleed out. Puncture wounds are particularly troublesome, since whatever contagion imparted gets trapped when the wound closes over; wounds that bleed out may very well drain off the infectious agent. And here I was, three deep puncture wounds awash in flea shampoo and cat dander.

I washed off with soap and water--with Pizza there like I said last time, just happy as he could be on the towels on the bathroom counter, no trouble with me at all. And no understanding that he just inflicted a deep wound on me. Washed it further with isopropyl alcohol, then with peroxide. Seems to be doing OK, though it's starting to bruise. Don't think any infection took hold. But I have what looks to be needle tracks on the inside of my left forearm. And since I scar very easily, I'm wondering how long this junkie look is going to last.

The Return of the Evil Chef

2007-06-04T23:02:00.000-07:00

One thing I keep meaning to do for my webpage is something on how much I like to cook.

I remember when I was young, and would help my mother in the kitchen. She used to say to me, "You like to eat? You damn well better learn how to cook--I'm not doing this all my life." Sounds better in Spanish, maybe--anyway, I've always enjoyed cooking. I'm very proud of my mother's recipe for rice, as most people who know me will attest: I keep insisting that they try it. (I resent the needed effort: if I'm trying to force something on you, it should be taken as a given that it's a good thing.) Then there's fettucine al bachelor, my signature pasta dish. So lively that my ex-roommate, Hammerhead, described it as intolerable. All because I use hot Italian sausage, rather than sweet. Whatever.

So here I was today, more or less out of work, since the web interface to my current software testing contract job was still down. I don't know at what point in the day, sitting around on the couch with the weather overcast, that I decided I would do something new for dinner. And I settled on French onion soup.

Now, I love onions. Raw onions--garlic, too, but that's a different discussion. As it is, I've had French onion soup in several restaurants, and it's always so heavy on cheese as not to be about onions. So I checked out my favorite reference source, the Good Cook series from Time/Life. Turned up a simple recipe for onion soup, and it seemed easy enough: fry up some onions, add water and boil, simmer for a bit, and you have soup. I remembered someone telling me about a restaurant in downtown Tacoma that served up a seven-onion soup: sounded ambitious, so I ran a Google on "seven onion soup", and turned up a recipe from Emeril. Looked basically the same, only with a step or two that I could omit (didn't have to bake any bread, could skip the bacon if I used extra butter, etc.).

So I spent about twenty minutes chopping onions: yellow onion, red onion, Vidalia sweet onion, shallot--good stuff. Fried all that in a two-quart saucepan, lots of butter. Added salt, thyme, lots of fresh ground pepper, and a bay leaf. While that sauteed, chopped up a leek and the white parts of a bunch of scallion. Threw that in, too. When all that softened into a thick pulp, I added some flour and stirred it around. After that browned some (maybe not as much as it should have, in retrospect), I added a quart of chicken broth. Let that boil, then simmered for an hour. Added half a cup of cream, boiled it again, and let it simmer down in time for serving.

The green leafstem of scallions are better known as chives. Chopped them up fine, grated some Parmesan cheese, laid these over a bowl of the soup.

I like it. Very good, if you like onions--and I love onions. Might need some fine-tuning, as far as flavoring goes--I may have overdone the thyme, not had enough pepper. Think I'll try tarragon. But I can say, onion soup is very good without a layer of mozzarella cheese clogging the flavor up.

All the Damn Hippies, Part I

2007-05-28T00:14:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day weekend in Seattle every year is the occasion for the Folklife Festival, a four-day hippie picnic at the Seattle Center. I'd never been before, but in my resolution to get out more, I thought I ought to check it out this year. Four days of folk music, arts and crafts, ethnic food, and a multi-cultural everything-is-beautiful mindset of course brings all the hippies out of their winter habitats. Now, I'm ambivalent toward hippies: I enjoy the open-mindedness, but find the resulting self-absorption to be irritating. So, I turn out for this sort of venue, preparing myself for the inevitable annoyance.

Don't get me wrong: some of my best friends are hippies. I'm often mistaken for a hippie myself. I'm not, though. I'm a beatnik. The difference, for me, is significant: hippies, for the most part, were droupouts, whereas beatniks graduated. I graduated.

Anyway, I'm not sure if that informs any of the current hippie experience here in Seattle, but I don't consider myself a hippie. Nevertheless, they're everywhere, and something like this brings them out in force. And here are some pictures I got:

This was in the Centerhouse. The board said something about Slavic dance: though this photo doesn't really do it justice, this is a shot of several concentric circles of dancers, anyone from the crowd seemingly, that would get into the groove.

This was some Brazilian dance company, I think. Couldn't really tell, but they sounded OK.

And this was some square-dancing, bluegrass sort-of deal. I couldn't help but notice the older age of all the folks on the dance floor.

And then there's this bunch. If they look pretty ad-hoc, I can tell you that they certainly sounded that way, as well. They looked like they were having fun, though. You should have seen the bunch that I couldn't get a photo of, since my disk was full. Some kind of garage band, I'm thinking, of electric guitar, violin, kid's drum set, and toy piano. Just as I was going for my camera to get a shot, they launched into what I would eventually realize to be a version of The White Stripes' "Hotel Derba". At that point, I knew that a simple photo of the scene wouldn't do it justice.

And then there's the Peruvian combo. What Seattle festival would be complete without?...

Lucky To Be Alive

2007-05-17T23:48:00.000-07:00

Here's an image I can't get out of my mind.
I was stopping in with my friend Eric one night a few months ago. He has two daughters, ages 7 and 4, as well as two identical black kittens, both of the same litter, about six months old.

As we sat talking in the living room late in the evening, after the kids had gone to sleep, the kittens were very active. They were revelling in all the things that the girls had left strewn across the floor for them to play with. One such item was a length of thick red thread, maybe once securing a balloon or something--only it was several feet long. One of the two cats--even Eric said he'd long given up on trying to tell the two apart--for some reason took a real hating to that thread. Jumped all over, wrestled a little bit, and started to eat it. I stood up, went over and grabbed the cat away from the thread, and held it forcefully for a minute or two, to get its attention away from trying to potentially choke itself on thread. Eventually, however, it got away, and immediately ran around the coffee table and resumed the melee with the offensive red thread. Eric reassured me that he didn't expect either cat to live long, since they're clearly not very bright. That wasn't exactly an invitation to leave the cat to its own devices, but I decided not to make an issue of it. Cats play with string and yarn and thread all the time. Right?

A few minutes later, after the conversation had drifted on to the topic of whom to trust in media, one of the cats--they'd both been running back and forth--walked past me, gagging on thread. It trailed a good length of it, as it tried to choke the rest of it down. Knowing that mammals don't digest cotton fiber very well, I didn't want the struggle to end that way. I got ahold of the end of the thread still outside of the kitten, and began to pull. I figured maybe it'd gotten a few inches' worth ingested.

The kitten leaned its head forward as it reluctantly gave up its conquest. I was surprised to get half a foot pulled out of its throat, as Eric made some observation about free press in Venezuela; but the kitten wasn't done yet. I was gently lifting my arm upward, not drawing too fast, for fear of maybe the thread cutting into its tongue, or maybe catching on a tooth. Soon, my hand was almost over my head, and yet the cat continued to dispense string. Like a furry little bobbin. Finally, after my arm was almost fully extended over my head, the last of it spilled out of the kitten's mouth. Fuckin' cat had swallowed over a yard of thread, and was working at consuming more. That's probably not a fatal quantity, but would be a hell of a way to go if it were.

I disposed of the thread in the kitchen trash. I can't stop thinking of the act of pulling on thread and having the cat extrude it. Like a tape dispenser, but it was alive.

At the Sculpture Park

2007-05-09T23:49:00.000-07:00

I've been away too long. I'm going to make an effort to post more often, and work on my webpage. I'm starting to forget what HTML I picked up. I've been unemployed since early February, so you'd think with all the time I have on my hands I'd be updating more often.

Turns out I'm pretty indolent. But my friend Sean wanted me to set up a page for him, so that gives me a good opportunity to get off my cyber ass.

Maybe it's the changing of the seasons, what with the days getting longer and sunnier, I'm feeling more of a need to get out and enjoy things. Monday I went down to Anthony's Seaport down in the Shilshole Marina, sat out on the lounge with a Long Island Iced Tea and a bowl of chowder. Weather was great, the sun setting brilliantly over the water.

Clear, bright skies today, as well, so I went down to the Olympic Sculpture Park to take a look. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was disappointed. Abstract sculpture just doesn't hold my interest, and there wasn't much here that was too thrilling. I was more taken with the signs they had up through the park.

The layout of the park is kind of strange, as it crosses Elliot Avenue and the train tracks, the walking paths cut back and forth diagonally. The park is mostly manicured grass, while the walking paths are thin gravel. Here's a sign I saw at the head of one path.

While I'm sure this is meant to be taken seriously, I have to wonder if they're serious. I mean, there's grass in all the other parks in the city, and the grass is doing just fine, I can tell you. Perhaps they're trying to come up with something catchier: I notice that several of the signs had been edited down with black tape to "Thank you for staying on the path." Too bad, I think this is the perfect sign for a Seattle park.

Here's another great sign.

I have a section of my webpage photo album set aside for odd signs I see around town. I've got about half a dozen remarks on this one, I'm going to have to settle on one.

Note how the grass looks like it's doing just fine.

This one is right next to a huge painted steel sculpture, which doesn't look like it'd get harmed much by touching.

Well, that's nice and abstract and everything. Just what I wanted from a sculpture in the park, I suppose.

Maybe I'm just callous, maybe I'm uncultured, but I have to be honest: there's nothing in this artwork that really moves me to want to touch it anyway.

No harm done.

Now here's a nice one. When me and Aeryk The Hippie visited New York back in '96, we stopped in at the Guggenheim, which was running an exhibit of an artist I'd never heard of, Claes Oldenburg. The main atrium featured a forty-foot tall badminton birdie. Really weird stuff. I could dig it, you know. Anyway, turns out they've got an Oldenburg original in this park.

So there you are, a big typewriter eraser, to be appreciated by anyone driving south on Elliot Avenue. Occurs to me that there's going to be plenty of the younger generation that grew up with computer printers, that won't know what this is. Actually, that's kind of cool, in and of itself. Art can be edifying. Anyway, there were only a dozen or so sculptures in the whole park, so there wasn't too much to see. But I can say I found one that I liked.

It never got weird enough for me.

2007-01-01T23:00:00.000-08:00

For New Year's Eve I met up Corrie and Dr. Polly at a place called the Little Red Studio, in downtown Seattle. I went to Burning Man Seattle last year, on Doc Polly's recommendation, and that was a human zoo. Looked like one of Andy Warhol's parties at The Factory, or some other stereotypically weird Greenwich Village festival. (I wanted to go this year, but it was held in early November, as opposed to December last year, so I missed it.) I was given to believe this would be another expedition to the artistic lunatic fringe--and I'm all about that. I can't turn up the origin of the Hunter S Thompson quotation "It never got weird enough for me." It was in WHERE THE BUFFALO ROAM, but I've been looking for it in his books or articles. Anyway, I'm with him: I'm all about the surreal and abnormal. St Mark's Place in New York, the Haight in San Francisco, and Capitol Hill in Seattle: playgrounds to all the weirdos.

I wasn't to be disappointed. The studio was smaller than my apartment, and crowded shoulder-to-shoulder. Strange music filled the place even further, I can't really describe it. The musicians were on the opposite side of the room, since there was no stage. A stand-up bass and an electric violin played against a programmed rhythm track, and a comely female vocalist did just that: vocalized. Wasn't singing, since there were no words, and it didn't rise to the level of chant, since she didn't strike a cadence or beat. Just seemed to hit a note and hold it, in counterpoint to the instrumentation. The result sounded like nothing I've ever heard, exactly.

Right next to this performance area a photographer was having a photo shoot, light stands and scrims and everything. So much for no cameras. Best I could make out, he'd take pictures of anyone who lined up for the privilege. When I walked in, the subjects were a couple, about 30ish, decked out in leather straps and chrome rings and nothing else. He spent a good ten minutes or so on them, before moving on to a gay couple that were formally dressed. About a third of the men in attendance were in suits or tuxes, and about half the women wore evening gowns. The rest were...a variety. A few Utilikilts, a few guys in drag. A young woman in a Carmen Miranda-style tropical fruit dress. A man naked except for white body paint over his whole body, and a foot-long phallus sheath (I didn't see what was holding it up, but I didn't want to stare to see if there were straps or anything--). A septuagenarian woman in a skimpy 20's era flapper dress.

The camera flashes and close crowding played havoc with my sense of space, and the bizarre music added to the disorientation. I felt like I was in a David Lynch movie. Which, of course, was the experience I was going for. That was what made Burning Man Seattle so cool. One big difference: there, they had a full bar. This place only sold wine and bottled water, which is a drag when what you really want is a keg cup of Red Hook. I had to make due with the bottle of Sprite I brought (and a few shooters of Yukon Jack I could gulp down while in the bathroom).

One thing I found unsettling was the way everyone looked me over when I walked in. I don't think it's that my black leather jacket and jeans were in any way provocative, just that the denizens of the Little Red Studio seemed to be a loose circle of regulars, so while this was open to the public I got the sense that there were those on the inside and those who weren't. Good thing I'm used to the feeling of not belonging, so it wasn't so bad--but like I said, a bit unnerving.

Met up with Doc Polly, and she led me to the upper studio, a little more spacious, where a band was playing dance numbers. This was more like a party and less like Seattle Pride, but it was the same crowd, after all. And the same kind of anything-goes approach: the dancing gave way to a jazz poetry reading, complete with accompanying erotic interpretive dance. After that, someone was offering dance instruction, for couples who wanted to dance more intimately. Or something, I wasn't really listening. After that, some form of truth or dare without the truth: participants had picked up "dare" cards at some point, and were now called on to act out in front of everyone. "Listen to another person's heart", "Tease someone with your tongue", "Fake an orgasm", that kind of thing. Again, I would have most likely found it more amusing had I been more inebriate, as it was it was simply diverting.

I went back to the lower studio, to catch some more of that weird music. They were still at it, as was the photographer; I got in line for the bathroom. This was a single, small lav just inside the entrance, couldn't hold more than one person at a time and was decked out like someone's home bathroom, all comfy and a marked contrast to the scene outside. There were several people in front of me, so I stood in line and tried not to block anyone coming in the entrance. At some point, after watching the band for a bit, I noticed that I was standing in front of a shower stall, right next to the bathroom. And the shower was on. And through the clear plastic shower curtain, a woman in her early 20's was showering off, casually as you please. I tried not to stare, but that was kind of a challenge, since she had a body like Christina Ricci. Soon she stepped out of the shower, towelled off and got dressed right next to me, completely unselfconscious about her nudity. Which is the best kind of attitude to have, given a body like that. She got dressed: a fishnet camisole, powder-blue panties, dark blue nylons, and heels. Whatever.

For midnight, they were going to torch a Christmas tree. It was outside, hanging upside down from a wooden scaffolding, an arboreal sacrifice. As midnight drew near, a couple of guys in muscle shirts and leather were doing a fire-breathing act. As the new year finally hit, they turned their fire on the tree, and it promptly went up. Burned out in less than two minutes, but for a pyrophiliac like me it was great.

All in all, I thought it was fairly cool. If they have another one next year, I think I'd go.

Chanukah Shalom

2006-12-17T23:28:00.000-08:00

Kicked off Chanukah with a Saturday night on the town. The day started off disappointingly enough: picked up Sean in Bothell in the morning, to get him to SeaTac for a 1:35pm flight. Got to Bothell by 10:00am or so, with the intent of going to breakfast. Turns out the rustic country inn he had in mind was completely overrun that morning, so we skipped that in favor of some other place in downtown Bothell--which we couldn't get to, as the roads were closed after the massive windstorm that hit the area Thursday night. So we drove back to Seattle, with the intention of going to Patty's Eggnest on Holman, a great place that Gillen had suggested before setting out on our roadtrip to Portland last month. And a great place it was: so much so, that when we arrived this last Saturday morning the line was out the door. Not a viable option when there's a plane to catch. So, in one last-ditch effort, we went to Cyndy's Pancake House on Aurora. Also choked. I realize in retrospect that there must have been a higher than average turnout of people eating at restaurants: several thousand people, both in King and Snohomish counties, were still without electricity. Had to pass on breakfast altogether, and simply get him to the airport. Which turned out to be as crowded as any of those restaurants. Got Sean to Sea-Tac with two hours to spare, but had a hell of a time getting back. Stopped in at The Mecca for breakfast (it wasn't quite so crowded), eggs Benedict. Was OK.
But here it was, the first (full) day of Chanukah. Decided to seek out some HeBrew, a Jewish microbrew. Found a six-pack at the specialty beer mart on 105th: not bad. Like a nutbrown ale or something, bit of a heavy aftertaste, but not acrid. That was for later, though: with that purchase ($8.99 for a six-pack) in the back seat, I headed in to town. Parked in Pike Place, set out to First Avenue and the Starlite Lounge. Had a Southern Comfort on the rocks, as I admired the drawing of Sinatra, Martin, and Davis Jr over the bar. Cool place.
From there, I walked up to Shorty's on Second, had a Mongoose IPA and played some pinball. I discovered that they've added a second lounge, in the back. Dark and secluded, it also has its own jukebox. With a decidedly retro theme: barely anything on it that dates past 1965 (one Tom Waits, one EmmyLou Harris). I've got to go back and check this place out.
At this point I made my way to the U District. My goal here was the New China Express, get a few things for takeout. It being the first day of Chanukah, I figured the most Jewish thing I could do was get Chinese takeout. Anyway, I checked out Bulldog News for the latest Games magazine issue (not out yet), then Second Time Around for CDs (picked up Modest Mouse's MOON AND ANTARTICA for $3.99, turns out to skip on the 2nd and 7th tracks--but otherwise what I've come to expect from Modest Mouse). And stopped in at the Old Time Brewery for a pint, then went over to New China Express for a lunch order of almond tried chicken, fried rice, and egg roll to go, along with some pot stickers. All very excellent.
I got back to the apartment and started in, great Chinese food and Jewish beer. Couldn't find a good Jewish-themed movie, though, so I just called up DR. STRANGELOVE on OnDemand. Pretty sure Kubrick wasn't Jewish, but there wasn't much else on.

Life and Times

2006-10-25T21:43:00.000-07:00

Just hit me while I was out on my nightly walks how many different things I got going on right now.

New job, in legal support: the kind of job I've been looking for the last 15 years. Now I'm in it, and I've got a lot to learn. Could turn into something full-time, at a decent salary, but it's a government job, and hiring there could be kind of screwy. Good as I may be for the job, and however much I may want it, there's no telling how this will play out.
The job's got me up at 5:30am, Monday to Friday, and that's an adjustment. My sleep schedule has gone to hell. The insomnia I've had all my life hasn't really acted up--but the thought that it might is disquieting enough to...well, lose sleep over....
My property manager has been in to do some fixes in my apartment three times in the last week. I try to keep my place in presentable shape, that being one of the advantages to living on my own--given my living arrangements before I got this place (living with Hammerhead, who would do nothing in the interest of the upkeep of the apartment, then insist "We can't have anyone over to visit: look at the state of this place!"). But it feels different if you're used to having an apartment all to yourself, then having someone coming in while you're not there (he's come by while I'm at work). But now I have a living room with very different lighting: he's replaced all the blinds, including the vertical ones for the balcony sliding door. None of them worked, so I was stuck with what light they let in. Now I can fine tune, and the room feels a lot better.
Just watched MELINDA AND MELINDA, the Woody Allen movie I've had from NetFlix sitting on my TV for the last seven months. Haven't sent a movie back to them since July; at $20/month, I'm their ideal customer. I've had the Neve Campbell movie WHEN WILL I BE LOVED since December and still haven't watched it.
My best friend left for India on Tuesday; he'll be gone for three months. He and his wife and kid will be studying yoga under an honest-to-Krishna guru. Imagine the contortions. Anyway, that's a pretty impoverished part of the world, and I hope they don't come down with dysentery or dengue fever or anything.
Got another friend that may be on the rocks with his girlfriend. Got a call from her the other morning, from his cell phone. Asking about his whereabouts on Sunday. I don't dig the whole jealousy bit, but I certainly don't want to ruin things between them by speaking carelessly. Talked to him yesterday, says he's got some things to tell me about. That doesn't sound good.
My 20-year high school reunion was last Friday. Went down there and crashed it; wasn't going to pay $70 for a buffet and a nametag. Oddly enough, most people recognized me without one. I had a better time than I expected: it dredged up a lot of high school nostalgia, as you may expect. Now, I was never social in high school (which will come as a surprise to those of you who know me...), so making my way around a room like that was a new experience with this crowd. I came into my own in college, not high school like most people, so I remember high school as being a lot of fun but I missed out on a lot. I never thought I'd want to talk to my old classmates after all these years, but I found that that's exactly what I'd like to do: I realize I knew a lot of really cool people that I never fully interacted with. And yet, I left without getting anybody's contact information. I feel like I screwed up all over again.
I might be getting a roommate soon; since my rent got hiked, it makes more sense than living by myself with more space than I actually need. There's someone I was hoping would move in and help out for a few months, since she's looking for work and not having much luck. I've been advising her on her resume and job search for the past week or so, and now she seems to have landed something. Meaning, she may not be coming after all.
I'm not keeping up my webpage often enough; even with this blog, I only post every other week or so, and it's the easiest thing in the world to use. So why can't I find the time?
It's election season, and for the first time in a long time I'm excited. In less than two weeks, I expect to see the necessary corrective to the very depressing state of affairs that began in November 2000. It had to end some time, and I have something to look forward to.

I consider my life pretty mundane. And yet I've got a lot to think about. Don't ever feel that life passes you by--look at it in all its details.

Exile On Main Street

2006-10-23T22:54:00.000-07:00

Never saw the Rolling Stones live, so when they came through (again) I just had to. Ticket for a seat on the floor, toward the back, cost $150, plus there was about $45 in taxes and fees. I could have gone for the $350 seats about sixty feet closer, but this was already abusing my budget.

The Dave Matthews Band was opening, and I'll confess to not having heard much of them. I remember that "Crash" song from about ten years ago, but that didn't make a fan of me. So I didn't plan on being there for that; figured The Stones would go on about eight, so I left the apartment around 5:30pm, with the objective of finding parking somewhere in the International District and getting several drinks at Temple Billiards until about 7:30pm, then heading over.

I got as far as Belltown. I expected traffic to be dense, but Manhattan rules were in effect here. After moving two blocks in almost ten minutes down Second Avenue, I just pulled off near Virginia and paid $10 for a parking space. I crossed the street to use the bathroom at The Starlite Lounge, figuring to get a quick drink there and walk the mile down to Qwest Field from there.

The Starlite is quite something. A bit tony, but nice: done up in crimson, with low-key lighting, and a big charcoal drawing of Sinatra, Martin, and Davis Jr above the bar. I gotta check that place out again--and they make a decent Long Island.

With that shooting to my head, I walked downtown to Temple Billiards, a pool hall in Pioneer Square. After two more Long Islands, I headed over to the show. They must make them stronger than I would have thought, since I lost my hat somewhere between Temple and Qwest Field. So if you see a homeless person in Pioneer Square wearing a dark blue nylon ball cap, you can think to yourself "Russ really enjoyed the show."

I'd never been to Qwest Field before (since I hate sports). Not bad, pretty spacious, easy to get around. I found my seat, discovered that the view was pretty good. The Dave Matthews Band was in its closing number--and I thought they sounded pretty good. Turns out the sound overall was exceptional: the writeup in the Times said it was one of the best sounding shows ever to play there. Leave it to The Rolling Stones to deliver. Certainly the stage show was impressive. It's one thing to have a five-storey Jumbotron; it's another having good coverage. The camerawork was truly captivating--it really captured the band very well.

They opened with "Jumpin' Jack Flash", and it was electric. Exactly what I wanted from a Stones concert. I like musicians, not singers, so I've only lately come to appreciate how good Mick Jagger is in his job. Me, I was watching Keith Richards the whole time, one of my guitar heroes. Didn't seem to be slowing down any. The highlight was when he took center stage for "You Got the Silver", followed by "Little T & A", two of my favorites of his.

Then there was the mid-point of the show, where a section of the stage rolled out to the center of the floor seating, so that even those of us in the back got a close-up view of the band performing "Start Me Up" and a few others. It was great.

Only thing that I found disappointing was that the show was only two hours long. Forty years of music, and you can only do a two-hour show? When Led Zeppelin played the LA Palladium back in the 70's, they were on for five hours. When I saw Rush at The Gorge in '97, they played for over three hours. I pay $200 and I only get two hours?

Two hours of The Stones. Can't get that anywhere else.

I put the earplugs in after the show--as a way of easing the impact on my eardrums after the fact. I walked out of Qwest and up to the first bus stop on First Ave. I soon realized that there wasn't going to be much room on the city buses, so I just walked up First to my car, mile and a half away. Drove to Queen Anne, the Mecca Cafe, had a roast beef sandwich and potatoes. Gravy on the side. And a beer and a shot. Then drove back to the apartment. Now that's a concert.

The end of an era

2006-10-07T23:03:00.000-07:00

Looks like Tower Records is gone for good. My first job out of college was at Tower Video, just outside the Tacoma Mall. This was back in 1990; I got $4.50/hour to work the counter, shelve videos, and work TicketMaster. The benefits back then actually looked better than those offered now in 2006: I had full medical and dental, and none of the HMO and PPO hassle that you get currently. As a McJob goes, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, I suspect: fast food will always carry that connotation.

Maybe that's what was most disingenuine about CLERKS II: whereas Kevin Smith really knew his territory in the first CLERKS, in that convenience store, you didn't get the sense in this sequel of someone who had spent an intolerable amount of time working the fryer or the drive-thru. And as such, transposing his angst from a convenience store to a fast-food franchise, is he right or just making a convenient cultural cross-reference?

Whatever. I evolved beyond counter-clerk into whatever I am now. But my time at Tower Video was a definitive part of that evolution. When that Tacoma store closed in 1997, I remember the write-up in the Tacoma NEWS TRIBUNE. It made mention of the fact that some of the clerks there were ill-mannered and discourteous; I have to think that some of that was aimed at me specifically. I don't know what Quentin Tarantino was like as a clerk at that video rental in Manhattan Beach, but I gotta think that he was better than I was. Me, I was Randal Graves: the customers all wanted bad movies, and we stocked them in excess. It was a McJob, and I viewed it as such, not knowing how much it would inform the remainder of my working life.

So now Tower is no more. Well, that's sad, since as a chain they weren't as lockstep as Wherehouse or Sam Goody. Fortunately, there's plenty of market competition to include most of what Tower was offering, so the battle isn't lost. But I can remember a time when you couldn't find it in town, so you'd go to Tower. Which was open til midnight. And I worked that shift, for better than a year. Once upon a time.

A meaningless intensifier

2006-09-24T00:55:00.000-07:00

Not bad. Out of twenty or so invited to my Friday night poker game, got about a dozen attendees in all, at various points of the evening. Shatters the old record number of guests, nine, back in June. And seemingly a good time had by all. I actually didn't get much poker time in, since I had to get the barbecue going, and cook up the spare ribs. Went over pretty well, I thought. Then Mason showed up, with a Scrabble board, and we played Scrabble til one in the morning. He may have the vocabulary of a Philadelphia cab driver (and a south Philadelphia cab driver, at that--), but he knows the layout of the board, and is a phenomenal strategy player, so he often ends up winning. (Not this time, but still.) Anyway, in the course of looking up a word in the dictionary he brought, I found an entry for "fuck". I don't recall the exact wording, but somewhere in the definition was the phrase "meaningless intensifier". I'm taking that to be something like "it's no fucking good", in the sense that "fucking" isn't referring to any actual fornicating (and, as such, is meaningless) but acts as an intensifier (it's not just no good: it's no fucking good). What my Red Hook consumption was by that point in the evening I can't say (a lot, though), but it struck me as one fucking funny phrase. Got to use that, somewhere: "meaningless intensifier".

Well, Mason went back to Maui this morning. Last night, we walked around Green Lake--he said he wanted to see the lake one more time on his last night in town. And, like Lennie (now there's a comparison), he wanted to see the rabbits. For those of you who don't know Seattle, Green Lake Park is host to--or infested by, depending on your sentiments--a large population of rabbits, who are most visible on the Aurora side. Since he didn't bring his camera, he wanted me to snap a picture of him with one of the locals.

I also snapped this shot of Duck Island, out in Green Lake. This picture doesn't do justice, but it does capture a lot of the colors on the water.

We had this surreal moment, as darkness had fallen and we were about halfway around the lake: we came upon a crowd of people with paper lanterns of various sizes and shapes. Apparently, Green Lake has a lantern parade every first day of autumn or something. I mean, it's Seattle, after all.

On top of that, there's this. I went down to Tacoma today to see my mother; after dinner, we went out to Point Defiance Park, to see if we could see any deer. Deer are not a common sight at Point Defiance, but if you go at dusk you can sometimes catch a deer or two coming out of the old-growth. Last two times we went out, my mother pointed out, we didn't see any.

Well, this time we were running late; days are getting shorter now (thankfully), and that's pushing back the time to get to the park by dusk. On this night, I decided to cut back from Vassault and try the back entrance to the park, since they might conceivably close that later than the front entrance. We didn't even get that far: at the top of the hill, near the Salmon Beach property, I saw two deer grazing on the side of the road. For those not familiar with Tacoma, this isn't a rural area: this is developed residential neighborhood, but right next to the second largest municipal park in the country, most of which is old-growth forest. Having grown up in Tacoma, I never heard of deer in the city--the idea would have been absurd. But it seems that there are now deer, and they're not restricting themselves to the park any longer. Like racoons, I guess: only bigger and more photogenic.

Charming.

In the news:

2006-09-21T22:43:00.000-07:00

Strange week. Called a Friday night poker game, so I've got to get the apartment ready for that. The building was bought last month, and my lease expires at the end of this month. I got a notice slid under my door Saturday night, while I was out catching H Is For Hellgate at Cafe Venus.

Turns out my rent got hiked by 20%, from $830 to $990. That's a more reasonable market price for a two-bedroom/two-bath with a washer/dryer and its own water heater, 1,050 sq ft and a great view west.

But not a good time for the free market to reassert itself. So I need to get a roommate, or a higher-paying (and steady) job, or I have to relocate. What a drag.

My temp assignment got extended by two weeks. Legal support, I like it. Though the past few days have been weird: had to work on some property maps as part of a litigation presentation. They didn't want to pay for a color reproduction, so we had to color in the black-and-white copies. I've spent the last two days, at $16.50/hour, coloring. This was enough of a brain-drain that when I got off work yesterday, I drove up to the K-Mart on Aurora and bought myself an MP3 player. Never had one of these, but I didn't want to lug around my CD Walkman, and this was a 512M recorder going for $60.

I dig it: way cool. I was up til 2:30am loading the software onto my computer, and then stepping through the tutorial (since the player didn't come with any printed instructions). I just moved over my laptop's Rolling Stones folder--86 songs, that's enough for one work day. And so I had The Stones for the bus ride downtown, for my hours coloring in maps of sewage and storm drains, and for my nap on the bus ride home. Also, this thing has a voice recorder: so I can go around like an arrogant writer dictating notes to myself. Just what I needed.

But the first note I made to myself, I swore I'd write out here. It's this, from my friend Mason: he noticed the Godfather poster I have in my living room, and wondered out loud how soon it'd be before they got around to remaking The Godfather. I thought about it, and realized that at the rate they're going in Hollywood, it'll be about a decade, maybe two. In other words: I'll live long enough to see them remake Godfather.

Been hearing a lot from friends my own age, talking about how aging toward 40 seems daunting. I don't get it.

Or rather, didn't--til I had to wonder who'd they get to play Michael. Then I felt old.

I never used to have this problem--

2006-09-13T22:52:00.000-07:00

I know I could just go out on the 'Net and look this up--or at least check out a lot of what the blurp is--but I'm wondering out loud: what the fuck is "trans fat"? When did that one enter the lexicon? I like to think I know something about chemistry and nutrition, though I'm no expert. I know the difference between saturated and unsaturated fats (hydrogen concentration), between LDL and HDL (low-density lipids are bad for you, high-density lipids are good for you). Along comes "trans fat", and I'm seeing it everywhere. Or, rather, I'm not: I've only found one food product so far that actually contains any (it was a frozen pizza--which I ate anyway, goddamn it all).

The whole "trans fat" issue is, at least it seems to me, some kind of nutritional straw man argument: it's something that we can all agree is bad, however ill-defined, and unites us all in the knowledge that our current available diet doesn't contain any.

I don't know why I listen to Hammerhead....

2006-09-11T22:24:00.000-07:00

Frequent readers of this blog (a subset of the population whose existence I openly doubt) may recall how I was in despair last week, since the Larry's Market on Aurora had closed, and Gillen across the hall told me that they had gone under completely: "The chain was liquidated and the properties auctioned off", he wrote to me in an email.

I suppose I could have checked the 'Net for a Larry's homepage, or searched the Seattle Times news archive, what with my years of experience with Gillen's fanatical devotion to accurate reporting of substantiated facts--but I didn't. And tonight, having nothing better to do in the early evening and wanting to go somewhere, I decided to just drive to the one in Queen Anne to see for myself. Sure enough, they're open and doing fine. I went straight for the bakery, and grabbed up a loaf of French bread. Excellent! At checkout I asked the cashier about the Aurora store closing, and he said that one was gone, but the Queen Anne location has been bought by someone who was going to keep them open. What's more, he said they acquired all the recipes in the deal, so there wouldn't be any changes to their prepared food. Meaning, the best bread in town isn't going anywhere.

Once again, things aren't nearly as bad as Gillen makes them out.

Since the only confirmed readers of this page are in Pennsylvania, a little more detail about Larry's may be in order. They're a local chain of supermarkets, six in all, that really kicked off the specialty and organic food bit in the early 80's around here. To date, they have the best selection of just about everything in this town. And nice little touches, like a grinder where you can select various nuts for your own nutbutter; the Queen Anne one (I just noticed tonight) has a grinder where you can mix grains for your own flour. And they find some real out-of-the-way stuff: I rely on them also for my olive oil, maple syrup, and turkey bacon. These days, the QFCs and Safeways have taken that specialty theme and run with it, which I guess made it harder for Larry's to compete, but they were the first--and the store on Aurora was their flagship location, so there's a little bit of history lost. The Redmond and Tukwila locations will also fold--but the remaining three stores seem to have a future. That's some good news.

Comments allowed:

2006-09-09T23:03:00.000-07:00

I've changed the settings on this blog, to allow anonymous postings--so you won't be required to create a Blogger account in order to comment.
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/52331

He really exists--

2006-09-09T14:49:00.000-07:00

Then there's this maniac who keeps doing things, like calling me to tell me that he's pulling staples out of the floor. While he's doing it, like he's daring me to stop him or something. I'd be worried, personally, but he's in another time zone, and has some aversion to coming to Seattle--thinks this is where they keep all the Kryptonite, or something.

Then he'll email me to tell me he's asleep. Don't know if he's exaggerating, or goofed on Ambien. I read about that, how some people taking Ambien end up doing things in their sleep--like driving. I can just imagine, that's how staples got into his floor in the first place. Would explain a lot of things about him, now that I think about it. He went to law school at night, I remember him telling me. He wrote a screenplay, too, which showed a lot of signs of someone who wasn't fully awake. And he can't explain the meaning of the song title "Waltzing With the Dogs", which sounded like it was recorded in someone's sleep. Then he solved the Drake equation, but nobody noticed. And that time he genetically modified eggplants so they'd stop being purple all the time, I betting that can be chalked up to prescription sleep aids. And that coup in Guatemala in '54 that drove Jacobo Arbenz from power? Probably wouldn't have happened, if this guy would've stayed awake. Yes, this explains a lot now. Like why he keeps muttering "I know this because Tyler knows this."

Man, I've gotta get me some of that Ambien. Or a girlfriend.

The word in French is 'pain'

2006-09-07T21:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know about this blog format. Makes me want to begin every post with "Dear Diary". Well, I'm not much of a journal-keeper; I guess my memory's good enough, I don't personally feel the need to commit everything to writing. So I have to make an effort here, but that's the idea. Now, to find anything in my day interesting enough to articulate.

Well, here's this. I got a letdown the other night, when I walked over to Larry's Market on Aurora, only to find it closed for renovation. I was out for bread: Larry's makes a fantastic soft French bread, and I was looking for that to back up a microwave lasagna dinner. This may be worse than just an evening's frustration: Gillen tells me that Larry's has gone under completely, and that they're all closed. That would truly suck--Albertson's and Fred Meyer's do very good French bread, but Larry's was the best in town. I'll have to check on that.

Well, tonight I wanted some soup--Snow's Clam Chowder, or maybe Campbell's Crema de Chile Poblano--and French bread with it, goddamn it all. So at dusk I set out for the Albertson's on Green Lake. Only to find that it was closed, stripped and gutted. I had read in the Times a few month's ago that Albertson's was facing bankruptcy. Christ, I thought: have they closed all the Albertson's, too?! Safeway and QFC make terrible bread, and I sure as hell ain't going artisan. French bread--y'know, bread like the French would make it. Anyway, I drove up Aurora to 130th, to see if that Albertson's was still there. It was, and I'm much relieved. Having my chile poblano with some excellent buttered bread, and a Seagram's ginger ale. Fine bachelor living.

Updates to the website: I've added a Sunsets folder to My Photo Album, and two more books to What I'm Reading These Days (THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE, and AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A FAT BRIDE). I'm working on getting a Seattle User's Guide set up, beginning with a list of great eateries and drinkeries (just this weekend, I checked out El Chupacabra, on Greenwood. I liked it, have to try it again).

What if you threw a party, and nobody came?

2006-09-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

This last Monday I realized that the coming weekend was Labor Day, and I decided, spur-of-the-moment, that it was time for another Friday poker night. Sent out an Evite to 20 people or so: only half opened their invitations, and of those, one accepted, one said maybe, and eight declined. But even if, in fact, only one person turned up, I'd still have everything at the ready. A party's a party, and there's no backing out once you set it up. I'm as good as my word on that.

Back in the summer of '94, girl I was going with asked me to come along with her as she and a group of her friends went up to Vancouver, BC to see Pink Floyd on The Division Bell tour. I was hesitant, since it would mean spending three days with almost a dozen people I didn't know, and I'm not that social to begin with. Aeryk the Hippie gave me some advice that I've never forgotten: "Just go ahead and go. Worst thing that'll happen, you'll end up amusing yourself--which is what you do best anyway."

I ended up going, and though this crowd wasn't ideal, they weren't so bad at that. I didn't go to the concert itself, though, since I couldn't get a ticket. So, while they were seeing Pink Floyd, I went up to Lonsdale Quay and had fish and chips at the Cheshire Cheese Inn, along with a few gin and tonics, as well as some of that fine British ale. Ended up getting pleasantly wasted, and knocked around downtown Vancouver til the concert let out. In other words, amusing myself.

It's all in the outlook. Make the most of the situation, that sort of thing. So I was undaunted when Friday night rolled around, and no one showed. By that point I wasn't really expecting enough for a poker game, just perhaps one or two guests, maybe. I made some popcorn and turned on Real Time With Bill Maher to wait for any arrivals. By half-past nine no one had shown, and no one was answering their cell phones. Fired up the barbecue anyway, and cooked up some boneless pork ribs. Sparingly applied some Stubbs barbecue sauce, and had them on outdoor buns, a thick and cumbersome (but thoroughly wonderful) barbecue pork sandwich. Some baked beans with that and you've got a great way to watch the sunset. Had plenty of beer that I no longer had to share, so I went through a lot of that (spent most of Saturday with a mildly throbbing head). At some point I dialed up The Last Waltz on OnDemand, but I didn't sing along with any of the numbers (though there were no witnesses, so you'll have to take my word on that). I especially like Ronnie Hawkins doing "Who Do You Love". I remember getting at least as far as "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down" before conking out.

Wonder if anyone would be up for poker this coming Friday...not too soon to try again....

My blog, and welcome to it.

2006-08-31T23:12:00.000-07:00

It seems that in the course of my 'Netwanderings, I've contracted a blog. Probably the result of that website I worked up, www.877lithium.com. I can't imagine any other reason I'd want one of these, other than I thought it would look cool on my bookshelf.

Works like a journal or a diary, right? I just throw random thoughts and occurrences out there, for whoever's interested. Well, I can do that. I think. I'm not even sure why I created the website, other than it seemed like a good idea at the time. Yes, I get bored that easily.

If you're reading this, it's almost certainly because you know me, probably got here via that site; so you can treat this as an up-to-the-minute day-in-the-life-of kind of running commentary. Also provides a forum for feedback--which I am apparently in constant need of.

If you don't know me, you're not missing much.

So here's what's in the works for 877lithium.com, as subpages:

A fuller profile page of me, so you get a better look at who's wasting your time.
A Bachelor Living page, replete with tips on cooking, household upkeep, books and movies of interest, my CD collection, good bachelor stories...that sort of thing....
A Seattle guide book: points of interest, choice restaurants, drinking establishments, good spots for used books and CDs, etc.
Some film reviews, and essays on cinema.
A better and more detailed listing of webpages of people I know.
A weekly trivia quiz.
And, eventually, a series of essays on the importance of evolutionary theory and Darwin's concept of selection.

Also, my friend Robert will be modifying the artwork for the site, as his schedule permits.

Enough for now. Let's see how this whole reading-from-bottom-to-top thing works out.