Monday, December 22, 2008
ISTHMUS
Breanne played the greatest Bingo I've ever seen last night. ISTHMUS. I'd never even heard of it. It's not so much the obscurity of the word as the fact that she spotted it on her tray.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Neil and Wilco
Still don't have the internet, and not because of the recent ice storm. I'm waiting till I get a job.
Did, however, see Neil Young and Wilco in Worcester last night. I didn't know that Wilco was even playing until the car ride down. Mike and Jesse, the two guys I went with, had never heard Wilco. Mike had never even heard of them.
We sat in the high rafters of the DCU center and down and to our left we watched Wilco open. They played the Spiders song, Don't forget the flowers, the Echo song, Jesus etc., I'm the man who loves you, and a few I didn't know. I may have forgotten a song or two. They didn't play for long.
A short break, and Neil rode on stage (not literally on a horse, but you could smell horse as he shuffled). But then he stopped shuffling. He teetered and rocked and jumped (a bit) and played with gusto and lust-o. Hey Hey My My, Cinnamon girl, Cowgirl in the Sand, Rockin' in the Free world, some more. He split these rockers up with acoustics, Old Man, Heart of Gold, Lonesome Me, Needle and the Damage done, and his voice was as strong as ever. No rust at all. He also debuted a bunch of new songs, I think Mike said something about a new album of his. The songs all dealt with gas, energy, cars, the economy- that kind of stuff. Couldn't really get into them, but I have to admit, I wanted him to drop the electric at times and snuggle up to the piano. He didn't do much at the piano.
For an encore, he did "A Day in the Life," and it didn't disappoint. He sang the bridge-"woke up, got out of bed" etc.- with so much enthusiasm, you could tell he loved what he was doing. After the long sustained chord (still the longest in pop music history?) he trudged up to the xylophone, grabbed the sticks and stood behind it like a tyronic alchemist, struck two plates (the wrong note) pretended to look for the right and then found the right one, struck it, looked out at the audience, satisfied, waved, then walked off the stage.
Did, however, see Neil Young and Wilco in Worcester last night. I didn't know that Wilco was even playing until the car ride down. Mike and Jesse, the two guys I went with, had never heard Wilco. Mike had never even heard of them.
We sat in the high rafters of the DCU center and down and to our left we watched Wilco open. They played the Spiders song, Don't forget the flowers, the Echo song, Jesus etc., I'm the man who loves you, and a few I didn't know. I may have forgotten a song or two. They didn't play for long.
A short break, and Neil rode on stage (not literally on a horse, but you could smell horse as he shuffled). But then he stopped shuffling. He teetered and rocked and jumped (a bit) and played with gusto and lust-o. Hey Hey My My, Cinnamon girl, Cowgirl in the Sand, Rockin' in the Free world, some more. He split these rockers up with acoustics, Old Man, Heart of Gold, Lonesome Me, Needle and the Damage done, and his voice was as strong as ever. No rust at all. He also debuted a bunch of new songs, I think Mike said something about a new album of his. The songs all dealt with gas, energy, cars, the economy- that kind of stuff. Couldn't really get into them, but I have to admit, I wanted him to drop the electric at times and snuggle up to the piano. He didn't do much at the piano.
For an encore, he did "A Day in the Life," and it didn't disappoint. He sang the bridge-"woke up, got out of bed" etc.- with so much enthusiasm, you could tell he loved what he was doing. After the long sustained chord (still the longest in pop music history?) he trudged up to the xylophone, grabbed the sticks and stood behind it like a tyronic alchemist, struck two plates (the wrong note) pretended to look for the right and then found the right one, struck it, looked out at the audience, satisfied, waved, then walked off the stage.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Notice
I'm now back in Maine and living in Old Orchard. I was on the road for two weeks and bouncing between Breanne's and my parents's home. This is the first time I've really used the internet in over three weeks. I haven't listened to Theme Time Radio in almost a month, and I have decided to cease blogging on the subject. I still don't have the internet at home but I will resume regular blogging once I am connected. I'm at the library in Scarborough right now, dehydrated, and trying to figure out how to sign up for the NET's at SMCC.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thank You, Guitar Center
I hate Guitar Centers. I hate chain stores. And I hate chain restaurants. I guess I hate chains. I particularly hated the guy in chains and pimples that made me wait for an hour at the Guitar Center in San Francisco.I had brought in my travel guitar last Thursday to be fixed because I couldn't get any sound of the headphone jack. I figured it was nothing serious, and wasn't looking forward to the bill, but I wanted the guitar in working order for the trip. It's lap sized, for playing in a car or in spots without space or electricity. I was informed a week ago, on the 30th, that someone would call me in the next couple of days and that the repair wouldn't take more than a week. Well, yesterday was a week, and since I'm moving Saturday, I decided to just go get it back and say thanks for calling, eat a candy bar out of my ass, or something witty like that.
When I stepped up to the counter and showed the guy my receipt he was confused.
"You say it hasn't been fixed yet?"
Yes, I told him. He couldn't believe it had been a whole week and no one had worked on it. That never happens, he said. He said he'd go get it from out back.
He was gone at least 15 minutes, and when he got back he couldn't figure out how to void the transaction in the computer and so had to call his manager over. His manager was half his age, had straight black hair falling over his shoulder, a nose the size of an orange, a mustache of patchy black hair and a beard of pimples. After about 5 minutes of fiddling on the computer, he was unable to void the transaction as well.
I asked if I could just go, with my guitar, because there hadn't been a transaction. I hadn't given them any money and nothing had happened.
The manager said it would be a red tag on the computer so he had to have it voided properly. I assume he meant red flag. He said he was going to try it on the other computer and was gone, literally, 30 minutes. I know this because there was a big neon clock above the strings and picks. When he got back, he still didn't have it voided, so he said, "You can just go." Golly, thanks so much.
At the Guitar Center on Van Ness in San Francisco, they're extremely paranoid about thieving, so much that you have to check in and check out everything on your person. When I went to leave, the girl at the front counter stopped me to check my guitar, to make sure it was mine. She took it out of the case and while reading off the serial number asked: "Where's your receipt?"
So, while she went off to find the manager I zipped up my guitar case and left.
I spoke to my brother on the phone later that night, and he mentioned a similar problem he had with a guitar years ago. He suggested I remove the headphone jack and pieces under it, clean them, put them back on and make sure everything is tight. I did that and now the guitar works fine. Thank you Guitar Center.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Inscriptions
Had a weird dream last night. I've forgotten most of it, but at one point I was moping because my writing was so bad. And my mom was telling me, "it's not that bad, you can write my eulogy," which cheered me up, or cheered up my dream-self, for some reason. Then she said, "why don't you take all the inscriptions and make a book out of them?" which struck me as a good idea, and still did upon waking up. I'm going give it a shot.
On a side note, I threw that shitty blue laundry bag away today. Actually I left it under the table at the laundromat because the bag itself is still in OK condition, it just won't retain it's shape and will no longer fold. There are a few bums that go in and out of there so maybe one of them will take it and put it to use.
On a side note, I threw that shitty blue laundry bag away today. Actually I left it under the table at the laundromat because the bag itself is still in OK condition, it just won't retain it's shape and will no longer fold. There are a few bums that go in and out of there so maybe one of them will take it and put it to use.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Bob Dylan Theme Time Radio 11/5/08
What a great day. Obama is President, Free Zoo day (though I didn't go because I've already been three times and had packing to do), The Onion comes out on Wednesdays and so does Theme Time radio hour.
The topic this week was beginnings, middles and ends. "The three stages of being," Dylan borrows, and jumps in with a quote by Winston Churchill.
Now is not the end. It's not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
I like to think I'm at the beginning of the beginning, but I'm probably not.
The first tune of the show was Anita Day's "I Can't Get Started," a classic by Gershwin. "You're my Waterloo," and "Superwoman turns out to be a flash in the pan," were two of the more memorable lyrics. Likely why Dylan selected it. There was nothing transgressive or terribly interesting about the instrumentals- it wasn't adult Disney either- but it was the lyrics that made the song.
Here's an interesting subject that Dylan segued into, somehow. The topic was a rare neurological paralyzatin called Locked-In syndrome. There's a lot to it so I just created a link to a page that contains more links if the subject interests you. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is a book by Jean-Dominque Bauby, who suffered from the syndrome. Not sure how I'd never heard of this. He was paralyzed with the exception of limited movement in his left eye. His book was written with the help of a transcriber who recited a specialized alphabet to Bauby, who would blink when he heard the letter he wanted. It was a frequency-ordered french alphabet (E, S, A, R, I, etc.). One cannot help but blush at this loud reminder of the incredible feats of the human spirit.
A Dylan favorite, Peggy Lee, sang "I'm Beginning to See the Light." Dylan said it was recorded in the same session as "Fever," her big hit. You could definitely hear it. Had a similar vibe.
On the subject of beginnings, middles and ends, Dylan tried to come up with things that lacked all three. One example is the Oroborus. That's a fancy name for the serpent or dragon that eats it's own tail. Apparently to sustain life or so it can roll like the fat kid in Hook, it's hard to say. I suppose if I had a tail I might chew it, but not to symbolize anything. Then we heard Manfred Mann The One in the Middle, a skiffle sound with a backing keyboard that sounded like a chirping, maybe dying, insect. It reminded me of the Them.
Dylan then played Ray Charles' "Smack Dab in the Middle" because it had the best snapping he'd ever heard on a record. What, Dylan asked, is smack dab in the middle of the United States? The answer is a spot in a small park in Lebanon, Kansas. This was discovered by a low-tech method, and it's something you can even discover on your own. Cut out a piece of cardboard in the shape of the continental 48. Now, balance the cardboard on a point. This may take a while, but once you have it perfectly balanced, mark the point's spot with a marker. Now simply lay the cardboard over the map or the other way around, and see where the spot lands. This is a good method for determining the center of any complicated shape.
Dylan accepted another "miscellaneous" call, this one from a man named Frank George. Dylan asked him "do you have a middle name Frankie?" "Yes," said Frank. "It's Carl."
Wanda Jackson was next, In the Middle of a Heartache. Wanda sounded like she was 5. And in the middle of a heartache nonetheless. Probably from Texas and in love with her older brother. It was a straight country song.
Than the subject was Jules Verne. At age 11, Jules ran away from home and snuck onto a ship, planning to work as a cabin boy. His parents discovered him before the boat retrieved it's anchor. He was mentored by Alex Dumas, the guy who wrote Count of Monte Cristo. Verne's first success was Journey to the Center of the Earth. Verne had a crazy nephew, Gaston Verne, who was kept under house arrest due to his unstable mind. One day, Gaston escaped, stole a revolver, and went to uncle Jules's house, ostensibly to kill his uncle. Jules tried to wrestle the gun from Gaston when he arrived, and in the process was shot just below the right knee. He survived, but walked with a cane for the rest of his days.
Nick Lowe, Half a Boy and Half a man, sounded like a mix between an Armed Forces (E. Costello) track and a Beach boys song. A cruisin' melody over a rocking (like a cradle) organ and bayou drums.
Dylan talked about hermaphrodites, and recommended Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. Dylan said, sardonically, that he read it because it was part of the Oprah book club.
Next was Skeeter Davis' The End of World. It's one of those indisputably great pop tunes. It was a remarkable success, reaching #2 on the Billboard Hot 100, #2 on the Billboard country singles chart, #1 on Billboard's adult Contemporary chart, and #4 on the Billboard rhythm and blues chart. A top 10 finish on four separate Billboard charts (not to mention top 5!) has never been duplicated by a female artist.
The end of The End of the World reminded me of the penultimate scene in Edward Scissorhands, when the old Winona Ryder finishes telling the story of Edward to her granddaughter, coupled with shots of Ed hanging around in the mansion looking depressed and making snow carvings. Listen to the last part of the song, when Skeeter reads two bars rather than singing them and you may agree. The key is only a half-step off too.
Theme Time switched to the subject of Native Americans and mythology. Paiute Native Americans, of Southeaster California originally, believed that the white man's world and all it's works would one day roll up like a carpet and disappear, and the land would once again be teeming with buffalo and all the Paiute dead would rise again to hunt and run. A romantic idea. Another good song, thrown in there somewhere, was J. Geils band's Start All over Again. A live cut, it sounded like the Stones in the 70s before they started writing computer anthems.
And of course Buddy Guy with This is the End. Guitar licks like fiery ribbons and a voice big, high and loose.
Dylan ended with a poem by Robert W. Service called The End of the Trail. Here it is:
Life, you've been mighty good to me,
Yet here's the end of the trail;
No more mountain, moor and sea,
No more saddle and sail.
Waves a-leap in the laughing sun
Call to me as of yore. . . .
Alas! my errant days are done:
I'll rove no more, no more.
Life, you've cheered me all the way;
You've been my bosom friend;
But gayest dog will have his day,
And biggest binge must end.
Shorebound I watch and see afar
A wistful isle grow wan,
While over is a last lone star
Dims out in lilac dawn.
Life, you've been wonderful to me,
But fleetest foot must fail;
The hour must come when all will see
The last lap of the trail.
Yet holding in my heart a hymn
Of praise for gladness gone,
Serene I wait my star to dim
In the glow of the Greater Dawn.
The topic this week was beginnings, middles and ends. "The three stages of being," Dylan borrows, and jumps in with a quote by Winston Churchill.
Now is not the end. It's not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
I like to think I'm at the beginning of the beginning, but I'm probably not.
The first tune of the show was Anita Day's "I Can't Get Started," a classic by Gershwin. "You're my Waterloo," and "Superwoman turns out to be a flash in the pan," were two of the more memorable lyrics. Likely why Dylan selected it. There was nothing transgressive or terribly interesting about the instrumentals- it wasn't adult Disney either- but it was the lyrics that made the song.
Here's an interesting subject that Dylan segued into, somehow. The topic was a rare neurological paralyzatin called Locked-In syndrome. There's a lot to it so I just created a link to a page that contains more links if the subject interests you. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is a book by Jean-Dominque Bauby, who suffered from the syndrome. Not sure how I'd never heard of this. He was paralyzed with the exception of limited movement in his left eye. His book was written with the help of a transcriber who recited a specialized alphabet to Bauby, who would blink when he heard the letter he wanted. It was a frequency-ordered french alphabet (E, S, A, R, I, etc.). One cannot help but blush at this loud reminder of the incredible feats of the human spirit.
A Dylan favorite, Peggy Lee, sang "I'm Beginning to See the Light." Dylan said it was recorded in the same session as "Fever," her big hit. You could definitely hear it. Had a similar vibe.
On the subject of beginnings, middles and ends, Dylan tried to come up with things that lacked all three. One example is the Oroborus. That's a fancy name for the serpent or dragon that eats it's own tail. Apparently to sustain life or so it can roll like the fat kid in Hook, it's hard to say. I suppose if I had a tail I might chew it, but not to symbolize anything. Then we heard Manfred Mann The One in the Middle, a skiffle sound with a backing keyboard that sounded like a chirping, maybe dying, insect. It reminded me of the Them.
Dylan then played Ray Charles' "Smack Dab in the Middle" because it had the best snapping he'd ever heard on a record. What, Dylan asked, is smack dab in the middle of the United States? The answer is a spot in a small park in Lebanon, Kansas. This was discovered by a low-tech method, and it's something you can even discover on your own. Cut out a piece of cardboard in the shape of the continental 48. Now, balance the cardboard on a point. This may take a while, but once you have it perfectly balanced, mark the point's spot with a marker. Now simply lay the cardboard over the map or the other way around, and see where the spot lands. This is a good method for determining the center of any complicated shape.
Dylan accepted another "miscellaneous" call, this one from a man named Frank George. Dylan asked him "do you have a middle name Frankie?" "Yes," said Frank. "It's Carl."
Wanda Jackson was next, In the Middle of a Heartache. Wanda sounded like she was 5. And in the middle of a heartache nonetheless. Probably from Texas and in love with her older brother. It was a straight country song.
Than the subject was Jules Verne. At age 11, Jules ran away from home and snuck onto a ship, planning to work as a cabin boy. His parents discovered him before the boat retrieved it's anchor. He was mentored by Alex Dumas, the guy who wrote Count of Monte Cristo. Verne's first success was Journey to the Center of the Earth. Verne had a crazy nephew, Gaston Verne, who was kept under house arrest due to his unstable mind. One day, Gaston escaped, stole a revolver, and went to uncle Jules's house, ostensibly to kill his uncle. Jules tried to wrestle the gun from Gaston when he arrived, and in the process was shot just below the right knee. He survived, but walked with a cane for the rest of his days.
Nick Lowe, Half a Boy and Half a man, sounded like a mix between an Armed Forces (E. Costello) track and a Beach boys song. A cruisin' melody over a rocking (like a cradle) organ and bayou drums.
Dylan talked about hermaphrodites, and recommended Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. Dylan said, sardonically, that he read it because it was part of the Oprah book club.
Next was Skeeter Davis' The End of World. It's one of those indisputably great pop tunes. It was a remarkable success, reaching #2 on the Billboard Hot 100, #2 on the Billboard country singles chart, #1 on Billboard's adult Contemporary chart, and #4 on the Billboard rhythm and blues chart. A top 10 finish on four separate Billboard charts (not to mention top 5!) has never been duplicated by a female artist.
The end of The End of the World reminded me of the penultimate scene in Edward Scissorhands, when the old Winona Ryder finishes telling the story of Edward to her granddaughter, coupled with shots of Ed hanging around in the mansion looking depressed and making snow carvings. Listen to the last part of the song, when Skeeter reads two bars rather than singing them and you may agree. The key is only a half-step off too.
Theme Time switched to the subject of Native Americans and mythology. Paiute Native Americans, of Southeaster California originally, believed that the white man's world and all it's works would one day roll up like a carpet and disappear, and the land would once again be teeming with buffalo and all the Paiute dead would rise again to hunt and run. A romantic idea. Another good song, thrown in there somewhere, was J. Geils band's Start All over Again. A live cut, it sounded like the Stones in the 70s before they started writing computer anthems.
And of course Buddy Guy with This is the End. Guitar licks like fiery ribbons and a voice big, high and loose.
Dylan ended with a poem by Robert W. Service called The End of the Trail. Here it is:
Life, you've been mighty good to me,
Yet here's the end of the trail;
No more mountain, moor and sea,
No more saddle and sail.
Waves a-leap in the laughing sun
Call to me as of yore. . . .
Alas! my errant days are done:
I'll rove no more, no more.
Life, you've cheered me all the way;
You've been my bosom friend;
But gayest dog will have his day,
And biggest binge must end.
Shorebound I watch and see afar
A wistful isle grow wan,
While over is a last lone star
Dims out in lilac dawn.
Life, you've been wonderful to me,
But fleetest foot must fail;
The hour must come when all will see
The last lap of the trail.
Yet holding in my heart a hymn
Of praise for gladness gone,
Serene I wait my star to dim
In the glow of the Greater Dawn.
Michael Crichton, 1942-2008
Michael Crichton died of cancer today. Crichton wrote Jurassic Park, Andromeda Strain, Timeline, among others, and created the show ER. Crichton obtained his MD at Harvard, lectured on anthropology and biology- but I've already devoted a blog to his multiple titles and accomplishments. Crichton was also an unabashed supporter of Bush and refused to accept the notion of Global warming. He also didn't believe secondhand smoke was harmful. Though I don't agree with him on the former point and don't know much about smoke, you have to respect him for standing up for his beliefs. Conservatism and fiction writing rarely co-exist, if you think about it.
I was really hoping for Jurassic Park 4.
I was really hoping for Jurassic Park 4.
New Prez
It's hard to believe but I'm actually excited about the outcome of a Presidential election. For the first time in my life, the obvious choice to me was also the overwhelming popular choice. I would go as far as saying I feel proud to be an American today. When I was driving through Oakland last night, after watching the election results at a friends, people were celebrating in the streets. I'm sure that's a first, at least in a long time, following an election.
Hopefully Obama can be true to his word and do what he sets out to do. I'm not usually one for acceptance speeches and political filibuster, but the one Obama gave last night after McCain conceded, was damn good. I noticed that he used the word enormity when describing the task that lies ahead for him and the country. It's strange because George H. W. Bush, our 41st President, used the same word to describe his sweeping victory in the 1988 electoral college. He meant to comment on the great scope of his victory, the immensity, or what he should have said: enormousness. What he ended up saying was he was surprised at the wickedness or atrocity of his landslide victory. A fitting malapropism.
It's not a big deal, but I am glad our new President knows the meaning of the word. I'm betting he didn't realize that it was likely the first word H. W. screwed up upon becoming Prez.
Thanks Pennsylvanians and Ohioans.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
106
Sad news about Obama's grandmother dying. Just one day before the election and a chance to see her son become President. I was thinking that if McCain's grandmother were still alive she'd be at least 106.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Screaming Drunk Guy
Drunk guy staggering up and down my street tonight, yelling "fucking faggot asshole!" and "you fucking bitch!" from 11:30 till about 1 am. He was weaving up the the middle of the street and then he kicked out at a cab. On his way back down the street, which is very steep and a tough climb even for a sober pedestrian, he took a mighty fall, legs splayed out, the kind of fall usually reserved for rollerbladers. He crouched in the shadow of a telephone pole for a few minutes and then went on. A couple people across the street were watching from their balconies too. It was really amusing.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Phillies
Phillies win the World Series. Brad Lidge appropriately closed it out. 48/48 in save opportunities in 2008. And Philadelphia wins it's first sports championship since the 76ers won in 1983. Way to go Phillies. The second installment of Game 5 was much better than the first, and had as much excitement as some complete postseason games.
Xbox runaway
http://videogames.yahoo.com/feature/microsoft-offers-reward-for-missing-xbox-gamer/1260470
Just read this article about a 15 year old who ran away from home because his dad took his Xbox away. He left his house, on his bicycle, on October 13th, which is the day Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving (for some reason).
"I just took away his identity, so I can understand why he got so mad and took off. Before, I couldn't understand why he was taking off for taking his game away."
This is an excerpt from the article, quoting the boy's father. What the hell is going on here? If I read this story without knowing the boy's age I would guess that he was 7. And he's either hiding at his grandmother's house or his best friend Jeff's.
I'm not entirely sure if the father is claiming to be in the wrong or not. At one point he compares taking the Xbox away to "cutting his legs off." WHAT? If taking your son's video games away is tantamount to cutting off his legs, your son has a problem.
When Parra took away my Crash Bandicoot in college I didn't ride off on my bicycle and hide in a shed somewhere. I took it like a man and allocated that block of time for napping and interacting with people.
Just read this article about a 15 year old who ran away from home because his dad took his Xbox away. He left his house, on his bicycle, on October 13th, which is the day Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving (for some reason).
"I just took away his identity, so I can understand why he got so mad and took off. Before, I couldn't understand why he was taking off for taking his game away."
This is an excerpt from the article, quoting the boy's father. What the hell is going on here? If I read this story without knowing the boy's age I would guess that he was 7. And he's either hiding at his grandmother's house or his best friend Jeff's.
I'm not entirely sure if the father is claiming to be in the wrong or not. At one point he compares taking the Xbox away to "cutting his legs off." WHAT? If taking your son's video games away is tantamount to cutting off his legs, your son has a problem.
When Parra took away my Crash Bandicoot in college I didn't ride off on my bicycle and hide in a shed somewhere. I took it like a man and allocated that block of time for napping and interacting with people.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Theme Time Radio 10/29/08
Another wonderful broadcast of Theme Time Radio Hour by Bob Dylan. This week was an unannounced, "super-sized," President's show. The theme was loosely Presidential. In honor of President's day, Dylan made something of a President's Day sale out of the show. Many of the songs he played were leftovers (from other shows), like the knick knacks you see in store windows on the aforementioned holiday. Dylan called it "cleaning the shelves," but most of the songs were hardly back-of-the-closet material.
Dylan talked about almost all the Presidents. I wouldn't be surprised if he mentioned all of them over the course of the 2 hour special. Lincoln's name popped up often. The most interesting factoid concerned Honest Abe's son, Robert Todd Lincoln. He was present, or nearly present, for three presidential assassinations. The first, naturally, was his father's. He was supposed to be at Ford's theatre watching Our American Cousin with his father, but was tired from a long wagon ride the previous day. In 1881 he was to meet James A. Garfield, our twentieth president, at a train station in D.C. He was late, but not too late to witness Garfield's assassination. Then in 1901, he was to meet William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo. Though he was not late for this meeting, by the time he arrived McKinley had been shot through the stomach, kidney, and colon. Ouch. Mr. Robert Lincoln was around for 75% of the presidential assassinations.
Jack White, of the White Stripes, spoke for a moment, from a local video store, about George Washington and his refusal to shake hands while in office. White mentioned that Washington was the only President to not belong to a political party. Interesting. Ruth Brown sang an enthusiastic version of Hello Little Boy that sounded as if her larynx might explode. Dylan then surprised me by playing a They Might be Giants song. It amuses me to imagine him listening to songs like Shoehorn with Teeth or Birdhouse in Your Soul. Naturally the song he played on Theme Time was James K. Polk, an informative summary of the effective single term of our 11th president.
We listened to an audio clip of Jackie Kennedy giving the first television tour of the White House. She sounded more like British royalty than American royalty, which she was, in a way. She spoke about a painting of George Washington that hung in the WH, the only remnant existing from before the fire of 1814, when British troops set it ablaze in retaliation for the Battle of York.
At about the halfway point of the show, Dylan accepted a call from a "listener." The call was clearly bogus- the "caller" was clearly reading off a card- probably someone who works on the show. He asked a question about Presidents with beards, which Dylan instantly spun and announced that only Republican presidents had grown them. The caller then asked for a song that Dylan presciently played, seemingly before the caller had even finished his request. It was much smoother and more amusing than having some real caller fumble through compliments and some silly question about the White House.
The first half of the show wasn't as mellifluous as last weeks', but it improved in the second half. A much sampled song by Roy C. and the Honeydrippers, and then Dylan was talking about FDR and his black cabinet. Now this is something I'd never heard of. Apparently, Roosevelt had a collection of African American advisers, officially known as the Federal Council of Negro Affairs. The council kept Roosevelt aware of increasing needs and opinions of black Americans. They spearheaded the civil rights movement of the '30s and several members of the council held prominent roles in the administration. FDR did it all.
Dylan talked about Nixon "losing" the 1960 Presidential debate to JFK. It was the first televised debate, and many viewers at the time said that's what lost it for Tricky Dick. His 5 o'clock shadow, lack of makeup and bulging sweaty forehead was a grotesque site in comparison to Kennedy's natural and composed good looks and thick shock of hair. Radio listeners almost universally agreed that Nixon won the debate with his superior knowledge of the economy and foreign affairs.
While Dylan promoted the show as an "emptying out (the) closets in honor of presidents day," most of the music was superb. He played a song by Clover, called Mister Moon, which had a swing bite to it that was reminiscent of Elvis Costello's first release, My Aim is True. I say this because Costello fans will recall that Clover was the backing band on My Aim, and the band eventually evolved to become the News of Huey Lewis fame.
The next piece was entitled Gloomy Sunday. A song penned by two Hungarians, it's often referred to as "the suicide song," and it was banned in Hungary because according to legend multitudes of fans killed themselves while listening to the song. Countless reports of people found dead, with this song click click clicking in the groove at the middle of the record. Dylan played Billie Holiday's version. It was a sad song but it didn't make me wanna kill myself. It made me wanna eat toast but I was out of bread. One of the songwriters, Laszlo Javor, took his life by jumping from a building in 1968. Here's a terrific lyric from the song:
Angels have no thought of ever returning you,
would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
This was followed by an excellent track by Ella Johnson about getting rough with her man. It was called "Go Upside your Head." What a sweet honey voice she had. One can be introduced to so many great artists with just one episode of Theme Time Radio Hour. The presidents everyone loves, Dylan said, are the dead presidents. The ones that "jingle in your pocket." No jingle better than the paper rustle of a Salmon P. Chase at your hip. He was a senator, than a Treasury Secretary and finally a Chief justice. But more importantly, he was on the $10,000 bill. Not sure wy they don't have those anymore. Little Walter, blues, "Dead Presidents."
We heard Randy Newman's Have Pity on the Workin' Man, one of many Newman songs about the President and American politics. When complimenting Randy's sardonic lyrical cries and insults, Dylan got on the subject of song poems. Song poems are poems put to music, done professionally, and often through magazine ads. You still see them in the back of magazines. Send in your poem and 50-500 dollars and someone will make a song out of it. Dylan called it a racket and a scam, songwriters busting out as many as 12 songs an hour. He played snippets from a few and they were hilarious. My favorite was about Jimmy Carter, and it could be roughly described as Disco marching band style. Here's a line from it:
can our government be competent,
jimmy carter says yes, jimmy carter says yes.
The show ended with Elvis Presley singing If I Can Dream, an apropos tune, possibly about Elvis' presidential aspirations, which showed off Elvis' gnarling bobcat voice, that was common in his later albums. Another good tune I failed to mention was It's All in the Game, sung by Tommy Edwards. Apparently this song was written by Charles Dawes, who was later vice president under Calvin Coolidge.
***More Wetness
Just found this tasty morsel. Game 4 of the 1911 World Series between the New York Giants and Philadelphia Athletics was postponed six days due to rain. IN PHILADELPHIA. So, this whole business isn't unprecedented after all.
Of course, this isn't the first time a World Series has been postponed. In 1989, in this here city of San Francisco, the WS was held off for 10 days in the wake of a quake.
So it's raining in Philadelphia, and they've got some shit-hole Orange Juice shack of a stadium in Tampa Bay, with catwalks and on field bullpens. Hopefully the rest of the series is exciting or this is going to go down as one of the lousiest WS ever.
Of course, this isn't the first time a World Series has been postponed. In 1989, in this here city of San Francisco, the WS was held off for 10 days in the wake of a quake.
So it's raining in Philadelphia, and they've got some shit-hole Orange Juice shack of a stadium in Tampa Bay, with catwalks and on field bullpens. Hopefully the rest of the series is exciting or this is going to go down as one of the lousiest WS ever.
A Wet One
Major League Baseball is finally suffering from their avarice. After striking a multi-billion dollar deal with FOX, covering the next few World Series's, it all came crashing down last night, much like the torrential rain that turned Citizen's Bank park into a wading pool.
FOX made a deal with MLB to start the games at 8:30pm, EST, instead of 7 o'clock. Idiotic. Playoff games, like any fan knows, take at least 2 hours. The Sox have had multiple postseason games that have gone longer than 5 hours in the last four years. You can't start a game at 8:30 and expect it to end at a reasonable time. This, of course, is complicated by inclement weather. Now, after rain made play impossible in the 4th, 5th and half of the 6th inning on Monday night, they were forced to postpone the game till tonight. Well the weather in Philadelphia is even less lovely or brotherly tonight. It's just as windy and rainy. So they're pushing it to tomorrow. Or later.
Bud Selig, baseball's unpopular commissioner, is out of excuses. Naturally you can't end a World Series with a shortened game, but you also shouldn't start a game an hour and a half late, because of weather, when the game is already starting at 8:30 pm! It blows my mind that he thinks this makes any type of sense. It's bad enough nobody is watching because it's Rays (who have a handful of out-of-the-woodwork bandwagon fans) vs. the Phillies. I just hope Selig doesn't do to MLB what Bettman has done to the NHL. Maybe it's an unfair comparison but it makes me worry when Selig would sign a deal with FOX that alienates tv fans and ballpark fans alike. FOX, what a joke.
FOX made a deal with MLB to start the games at 8:30pm, EST, instead of 7 o'clock. Idiotic. Playoff games, like any fan knows, take at least 2 hours. The Sox have had multiple postseason games that have gone longer than 5 hours in the last four years. You can't start a game at 8:30 and expect it to end at a reasonable time. This, of course, is complicated by inclement weather. Now, after rain made play impossible in the 4th, 5th and half of the 6th inning on Monday night, they were forced to postpone the game till tonight. Well the weather in Philadelphia is even less lovely or brotherly tonight. It's just as windy and rainy. So they're pushing it to tomorrow. Or later.
Bud Selig, baseball's unpopular commissioner, is out of excuses. Naturally you can't end a World Series with a shortened game, but you also shouldn't start a game an hour and a half late, because of weather, when the game is already starting at 8:30 pm! It blows my mind that he thinks this makes any type of sense. It's bad enough nobody is watching because it's Rays (who have a handful of out-of-the-woodwork bandwagon fans) vs. the Phillies. I just hope Selig doesn't do to MLB what Bettman has done to the NHL. Maybe it's an unfair comparison but it makes me worry when Selig would sign a deal with FOX that alienates tv fans and ballpark fans alike. FOX, what a joke.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Olympic Ballots
It's October 25th, and you (nobody) know(s) what that means: ballots are due.
I sent out the ballots on September 10th, giving people 6 weeks to fill them out and return them. They could be mailed to MOC (Maine Olympic Committee) headquarters (my parents house) or simply returned in an email reply. Most people have told me it took about 3 minutes to fill out. Well, I've received exactly half of the 22 ballots that went out in September. And that's counting two that were sent home that I've yet to tally. My sister seems to think that's a fair response, and I suppose it would be if I was sending out some boring chain letter but this is a 2009 Maine Summer Olympics ballot. Come on! It took me 10 minutes, tops, to fill it out, and I feel like I put a lot of thought into it.
Either way, it looks like we'll have an alright turnout. At the moment, I've received more ballots from females than males. Usually, the problem with any sporting event or team is acquiring female interest. Breanne says it's just because females are better at returning ballots and that sort of thing. She's probably right (KEITH!).
I'm not at liberty to say much about the totals, but I can reveal that Eating Contest is not going to be one of the events. Probably for the best.
I sent out the ballots on September 10th, giving people 6 weeks to fill them out and return them. They could be mailed to MOC (Maine Olympic Committee) headquarters (my parents house) or simply returned in an email reply. Most people have told me it took about 3 minutes to fill out. Well, I've received exactly half of the 22 ballots that went out in September. And that's counting two that were sent home that I've yet to tally. My sister seems to think that's a fair response, and I suppose it would be if I was sending out some boring chain letter but this is a 2009 Maine Summer Olympics ballot. Come on! It took me 10 minutes, tops, to fill it out, and I feel like I put a lot of thought into it.
Either way, it looks like we'll have an alright turnout. At the moment, I've received more ballots from females than males. Usually, the problem with any sporting event or team is acquiring female interest. Breanne says it's just because females are better at returning ballots and that sort of thing. She's probably right (KEITH!).
I'm not at liberty to say much about the totals, but I can reveal that Eating Contest is not going to be one of the events. Probably for the best.
Run 10/25
Went for a run today with Breanne riding beside me. I wanted to try and run around the Presidio and try to avoid some of the big hills that climb up to Broadway street.
We entered the Presidio on Lyon street and ran by the cemetery and up Kobbe street, which is always empty and shoulders lots of tall old brick mansions. Doesn't look like anyone lives in them. After climbing Kobbe, which is just a long gradual uphill until the last 500 ft, we were at the ocean and we took a left and ran along the water. There was a sweaty bald man, running with his shirt in one hand, that I kept passing. I would look at things or take side streets and have to pass him all over again. He wasn't going terribly slow but I was feeling good and trying to keep up with Breanne and her bicycle.
Once we finally escaped the Presidio, we took another left on Lake street and started the long straight away back to the apartment. I crossed about 25 streets before getting to Clay and Washington, where I climbed an unbelievably steep hill that I'd overlooked when planning the route. Breanne had to get off her bike and I ran it up the hill for her and waited at the top.
By the time I got back I was sweaty and sore but I felt I could have gone further. It's so much easier to increase your speed when you have someone biking casually along next to you. It makes you feel like you're not working hard enough. It was around 9 miles all together, but it took me well over an hour. Not a tremendously good pace, but I started really slow and sped up over the last 3 miles. I determined that there is no way to run in my neighborhood without going up a giant hill, but it's good for my training.
We entered the Presidio on Lyon street and ran by the cemetery and up Kobbe street, which is always empty and shoulders lots of tall old brick mansions. Doesn't look like anyone lives in them. After climbing Kobbe, which is just a long gradual uphill until the last 500 ft, we were at the ocean and we took a left and ran along the water. There was a sweaty bald man, running with his shirt in one hand, that I kept passing. I would look at things or take side streets and have to pass him all over again. He wasn't going terribly slow but I was feeling good and trying to keep up with Breanne and her bicycle.
Once we finally escaped the Presidio, we took another left on Lake street and started the long straight away back to the apartment. I crossed about 25 streets before getting to Clay and Washington, where I climbed an unbelievably steep hill that I'd overlooked when planning the route. Breanne had to get off her bike and I ran it up the hill for her and waited at the top.
By the time I got back I was sweaty and sore but I felt I could have gone further. It's so much easier to increase your speed when you have someone biking casually along next to you. It makes you feel like you're not working hard enough. It was around 9 miles all together, but it took me well over an hour. Not a tremendously good pace, but I started really slow and sped up over the last 3 miles. I determined that there is no way to run in my neighborhood without going up a giant hill, but it's good for my training.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Return to the Beach
my artlessness got the best of me again. Today, after Breanne was cancelled at UCSF, we returned to the beach on the other side of the bridge. We discovered that not only is it an unadvertised nude beach, but it's a gay nude beach. We were the only ones there clothed and Breanne was the only one there without a dong, and I can say that indisputably because I saw everyone's white, brown, or black member dangling between their legs. Most of the nudists hung out around the corner, out of site of the main beach, which we discovered when returning to the main road. There was a single spot on the walking path that if you leaned over a bit and peered down, revealed a sandy carpet of flat rocks spotted with naked tanning men.
We probably won't return to the beach. Not because we're homophobic, but because I don't feel comfortable around naked people. I also felt that I was intruding on the nudist area. I actually like the idea of people being comfortable enough to swagger around, sans clothes, in the presence of strangers. It's just not for me.
Oddly, on the walking path on the way down to the beach, Breanne and I were 20 feet or so behind a man with an Ipod. Another man came up the path toward him and goosed him, in the crotch. The Ipod man flipped out, yelled something, but the gooser just walked on casually. I protected myself a bit with the beach bag, not really wanted my crotch grabbed. He ignored me. It occurred to me later that the gooser probably assumed the man with the Ipod was on his way to the nude spot. Still no reason to grab a stranger's knob. We saw another guy with the smallest pair of underwear I've ever seen, a child's speedo or something. Not fun to look at.
I probably should have realized that the nude man I saw yesterday wasn't an anomaly. You'd think I'd have lost a bit of my naivety having lived in Los Angeles in San Francisco for over a year. Not the case.
We probably won't return to the beach. Not because we're homophobic, but because I don't feel comfortable around naked people. I also felt that I was intruding on the nudist area. I actually like the idea of people being comfortable enough to swagger around, sans clothes, in the presence of strangers. It's just not for me.
Oddly, on the walking path on the way down to the beach, Breanne and I were 20 feet or so behind a man with an Ipod. Another man came up the path toward him and goosed him, in the crotch. The Ipod man flipped out, yelled something, but the gooser just walked on casually. I protected myself a bit with the beach bag, not really wanted my crotch grabbed. He ignored me. It occurred to me later that the gooser probably assumed the man with the Ipod was on his way to the nude spot. Still no reason to grab a stranger's knob. We saw another guy with the smallest pair of underwear I've ever seen, a child's speedo or something. Not fun to look at.
I probably should have realized that the nude man I saw yesterday wasn't an anomaly. You'd think I'd have lost a bit of my naivety having lived in Los Angeles in San Francisco for over a year. Not the case.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Nudes
Ran through the Presidio with Breanne leading and sometimes following on a bike. She took a picture of me next to a street sign that bore my last name. It was named in honor of a former Captain of the fort. His first and middle names were Erasmus Darwin. Clearly ambitious parents. Confusing too, for Erasmus was a famous Theologian while Darwin, well, he was Darwin. Erasy did believe in free will in an age of predestination, so we'll give him that. We rode/ran to the edge of the Presidio, to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean, as Walter Sobchak would say. We walked a winding path to the water, and were provided with a magnificent view of the Golden Gate Bridge, from "behind"- an uncommon angle for most visitors. The waves were tall and the undertow was strong, but not as strong as the inexplicable pull of seeing a nude person on the beach. It was a man, maybe 65, flipping like a fish from one side to the other. I tried not to stare and took a snapshot so I wouldn't have to. It came out well. I particularly like the other man in the forefront, passing with his head trained on his shoe tops.
We made our way over to Chestnut street and as usual had burritos at Los Hermanos. They were more delicious than usual, having just finished a 7 or 8 mile run (with a break to see the ocean up close). We plan to go back next week, maybe to take in some sun, but not naked.
1st show of Theme Time
Just listened to the first BDTTRH episode of season 3. BDTTRH, if it's not obvious, stands for Bob Dylan Theme Time Radio Hour. It was a tremendous episode. The theme was "night." Dylan was clever and funny and rolled out several good anecdotes. He played a dry cleaning jingle. He recited a few poems, the last and best, Goodnight by Carl Sandburg. He talked about Fred Astaire, lullabies, Film Noir, exotic plants, juju, Batman, the Great Blackout, Van Gogh- other bits that slip my mind.
He played two terrific songs before ending with Help me Make it through the Night by Kris Kristofferson. The two songs were by the Latin Playboys and Charles Brown, respectively. Forever Night Shade Mary was the first. It was the type of song that makes your skin crawl with it's simple perfection. I didn't catch the title of the second one but I hope to figure it out. Another great tune was Nightlife, by Willie Nelson.
I looked online to see if the first two seasons has been released on CD. Not yet. There was, however, a scathing review of the show on Amazon, posted amid angry reviews of a few Theme Time CD knock-offs from Britain. It was by a music fan who claimed to have over 200,000 CDs! How is it that this person even has time to listen to Theme Time Radio hour with all those CDs on the shelf? He claimed to know for certain that Dylan did not write what he reads on the radio, and even suggested he was embarrassed by the show. Why would Dylan continue the broadcast if it was a subject of humiliation? Hard to believe.
I'm excited to listen to Dylan every Wednesday. Something to chalk up on the calender and get me through the long months between October and spring training.
He played two terrific songs before ending with Help me Make it through the Night by Kris Kristofferson. The two songs were by the Latin Playboys and Charles Brown, respectively. Forever Night Shade Mary was the first. It was the type of song that makes your skin crawl with it's simple perfection. I didn't catch the title of the second one but I hope to figure it out. Another great tune was Nightlife, by Willie Nelson.
I looked online to see if the first two seasons has been released on CD. Not yet. There was, however, a scathing review of the show on Amazon, posted amid angry reviews of a few Theme Time CD knock-offs from Britain. It was by a music fan who claimed to have over 200,000 CDs! How is it that this person even has time to listen to Theme Time Radio hour with all those CDs on the shelf? He claimed to know for certain that Dylan did not write what he reads on the radio, and even suggested he was embarrassed by the show. Why would Dylan continue the broadcast if it was a subject of humiliation? Hard to believe.
I'm excited to listen to Dylan every Wednesday. Something to chalk up on the calender and get me through the long months between October and spring training.
XM Radio
Breanne and I got free XM radio for 12 months when we purchased our car a year and a half ago. We liked it so much that we resubscribed after a year. I've been obsessed with Time out of Mind, Dylan's 1997 album for the last two weeks, and in my hazy obsession I recalled that Dylan hosted a radio show every week on XM called Bob Dylan Theme Time Radio Hour. I'd heard it a few times in Lebanon, on the car radio, and loved it. Each show has a theme, and he displays his extensive knowledge of music with every show, playing everything- country, soul, rap, bebop, gospel, jazz- whatever. And it's not only reading. Dylan will take phone calls, play old jingles, recite poetry or dreams, give recipes, and discuss musicians and listen to musicians discussing themselves, among other things.So, for the first time, Breanne and I looked into the online side of XM. We'd only ever used our subscription in the car. It's supposed to be an easy process- setting it up online- but we had some trouble. First of all, our address had changed and for some reason we weren't able to amend this ourselves. Someone on the hot line did it for us. Then our login info wasn't working. We had to call a few times to get this worked out. The last call, Breanne had them change the password to make sure it worked. She told them to change it to "redsox" and they said it was all set. After hanging up, I tried the password. Didn't work. I did a password recovery and it sent the new password to her email. It was "redfox". Fox. Not sure why the person on the other end of the line didn't say, "so fox, the animal right?" or "fox, f as in farmer?" or something.
Either way, we got it hooked up and it works great. We listened to all sorts of shit last night. We went to sleep listening to some Brahms guy. Tomorrow I'll listen to Theme Time Radio hour.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Castro Theatre
Went to the Castro theatre a few nights ago with Breb and her brother Ryan to see "Cool Hand Luke." Breanne had seen it recently for the first time and loved it. Ryan hadn't heard of it. We took the bus down to the Castro district and got off at the corner by the theatre. It was the Gay/Lesbian district so there were rainbow flags everywhere. We stopped in a tiny bakery and bought some rainbow M&M cookies. Three for 7.50 because the M&M's weighed so much. The walls of the bakery were covered with pictures of naked people.
We bought are tickets and went inside to sit down. It was an attractive ancient looking theatre with a high arched ceiling and fancy box seats. On the small stage in front of the screen was an organ player with his back to the old chairs half filled with an audience. He played a three tiered organ, a small light illuminating his fast moving hands, while his feet rolled across the bass pedals. It made an incredible sound- like a giant band.
As he was finishing the final tune, the stage started dropping slowly until his head was as low as the front seats and his organ light went off. People clapped and he bowed and left through an invisible door.
The movie began. When Paul Newman's face filled up the screen every applauded. It was sad- he just died a few weeks ago. He starred in some of my favorite films.
It was easily the coolest movie theatre I've ever been in. It's one of the oldest in the country and last of it's kind. They show mostly older movies and appropriately are showing the world premier of "Milk," the Harvey Milk story. http://www.castrotheatre.com/
Greatest Comeback Ever
The Sox pulled off the "2nd greatest" comeback in the history of the postseason last night. I put that in quotations because I looked at that game, from 79 years ago, and the two can't be compared. The game in question is a Phillies comeback against the hapless Cubs in 1929. The Phillies were down 8 runs going into the bottom of the 7th and scored 10. They ended up winning 10-8. No doubt this is an incredible comeback. But let's talk about context.
The Phillies already owned a 2-1 lead in the series. They weren't facing elimination in the bottom of the 7th, only a tied up series. Neither team had made it to the World Series in over a decade so it wasn't an underdog deal.
Now in the Rays/Sox series, we're looking at an entirely different beast. The Rays are indisputably the hottest team in baseball right now. 38 runs through 5 games including Thursday's game at Fenway, and for the third consecutive game they jumped out to an early 5-0 lead. The Sox have been in a stupor since dropping a slugfest in game 2, having only scored 5 runs in 25 innings up to the 7th last night. And they were facing elimination against one of baseball's best bullpens. Also, scoring 8 runs over three separate innings is often harder than scoring 10 in one. They scored 4 in the 7th, 3 in the 8th, and the final run a walk-off in the bottom of the 9th. Ortiz finally did something, pumping a low fastball deep into the grandstand for a three run homer. Drew hit a 2-run dinger the next inning on a fast ball out over the plate. Coco had the best at bat of the game and poked a run scoring single in the 8th. And of course, Drew delivered again in the 9th with a rocket over Gabe Gross's head in right.
So I consider it the greatest single game comeback in postseason history. Maybe I'd feel different if I'd seen the game in 1929. In fact, I probably would because it would have had time to expand and morph in my mind until it was a 23 run deficit with 2 outs in the 9th and all Phillies had broken legs.
Last night was amazing. A miracle. Inexplicable. Really. When they won I leaped off the carpet and screamed a piercing scream. It made me feel like I did in 2004 against the Yankees. I only hope they can carry this momentum into Tropicana field.
The Phillies already owned a 2-1 lead in the series. They weren't facing elimination in the bottom of the 7th, only a tied up series. Neither team had made it to the World Series in over a decade so it wasn't an underdog deal.
Now in the Rays/Sox series, we're looking at an entirely different beast. The Rays are indisputably the hottest team in baseball right now. 38 runs through 5 games including Thursday's game at Fenway, and for the third consecutive game they jumped out to an early 5-0 lead. The Sox have been in a stupor since dropping a slugfest in game 2, having only scored 5 runs in 25 innings up to the 7th last night. And they were facing elimination against one of baseball's best bullpens. Also, scoring 8 runs over three separate innings is often harder than scoring 10 in one. They scored 4 in the 7th, 3 in the 8th, and the final run a walk-off in the bottom of the 9th. Ortiz finally did something, pumping a low fastball deep into the grandstand for a three run homer. Drew hit a 2-run dinger the next inning on a fast ball out over the plate. Coco had the best at bat of the game and poked a run scoring single in the 8th. And of course, Drew delivered again in the 9th with a rocket over Gabe Gross's head in right.
So I consider it the greatest single game comeback in postseason history. Maybe I'd feel different if I'd seen the game in 1929. In fact, I probably would because it would have had time to expand and morph in my mind until it was a 23 run deficit with 2 outs in the 9th and all Phillies had broken legs.
Last night was amazing. A miracle. Inexplicable. Really. When they won I leaped off the carpet and screamed a piercing scream. It made me feel like I did in 2004 against the Yankees. I only hope they can carry this momentum into Tropicana field.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Elvis in the Park
Elvis Costello performed in the park on Sunday in San Francisco as part of a free concert called "Hardly Strictly Bluegrass." MC Hammer was one of the opening acts on Friday. Allison Krauss and Robert Plant headlined friday night but I opted to watch the Sox game in Oakland. There were about 50 bands in all but I'd only heard of a few of them.
I heard that they had valet bike parking over the weekend in the Golden Gate park so I rode my bicycle over on Sunday. It was a short ride, mostly down hill, and I found the bike lot without any problems. They gave me a ticket and "parked" my bike for me. It took me a little while to find the Star stage but I got there early enough to get a patch of grass under a tree about 75 to 100 feet from the stage. I was fortunate that an annoying country and western cover band was playing, which probably deterred a lot of early arriving Costello fans from sticking around till the show. I read and ate some cranberries and pumpkins seeds I'd brought along.
Ben Kweller was the act before Elvis. I'd heard some of his much before. It was OK, generic but he had a good voice. He sounded like he was trying to be Ryan Adams. The fans started to roll in and soon I was surrounded by a lot of hippies and dogs and families with folding chairs and blankets. It was sort of annoying that I'd been there for about two hours and then some dumb couple shows up 10 minutes before the show and basically sits on my lap but I didn't say anything. I guess that's standard at outdoor shows.
Elvis came on at 2:30, as planned, and kicked it off with Angels wanna wear my Red Shoes. His back up band, roses and whine or something, wasn't spectacular but Elvis sounded great. He seemed into it too, bouncing around in front of the mic stand. He did a couple more standard Elvis concert tracks and then Wild Night
by Van Morrison. A lot of the songs were countrified, fittingly. A few more songs, then back to back great performances with Friend of the Devil and a track off his new album, My Three Sons. The latter wasn't received all that well but I thought it sounded perfect.
After a duet with some guy who's name I missed, Emmylou Harris joined him for Love Hurts and Scarlet Tide. The Tide was his last song, and it was a good choice. Emmylou can really wail. She was almost overpowering Elvis.
I picked up my bike, tipped the valet, and made it home to watch the Red Sox.
They lost, in 12 innings, but they won the series tonight in dramatic fashion with a Jed Lowrie walk-off single that scored Jason Bay from second. Now for the Rays.
I heard that they had valet bike parking over the weekend in the Golden Gate park so I rode my bicycle over on Sunday. It was a short ride, mostly down hill, and I found the bike lot without any problems. They gave me a ticket and "parked" my bike for me. It took me a little while to find the Star stage but I got there early enough to get a patch of grass under a tree about 75 to 100 feet from the stage. I was fortunate that an annoying country and western cover band was playing, which probably deterred a lot of early arriving Costello fans from sticking around till the show. I read and ate some cranberries and pumpkins seeds I'd brought along.
Ben Kweller was the act before Elvis. I'd heard some of his much before. It was OK, generic but he had a good voice. He sounded like he was trying to be Ryan Adams. The fans started to roll in and soon I was surrounded by a lot of hippies and dogs and families with folding chairs and blankets. It was sort of annoying that I'd been there for about two hours and then some dumb couple shows up 10 minutes before the show and basically sits on my lap but I didn't say anything. I guess that's standard at outdoor shows.
Elvis came on at 2:30, as planned, and kicked it off with Angels wanna wear my Red Shoes. His back up band, roses and whine or something, wasn't spectacular but Elvis sounded great. He seemed into it too, bouncing around in front of the mic stand. He did a couple more standard Elvis concert tracks and then Wild Night
by Van Morrison. A lot of the songs were countrified, fittingly. A few more songs, then back to back great performances with Friend of the Devil and a track off his new album, My Three Sons. The latter wasn't received all that well but I thought it sounded perfect.
After a duet with some guy who's name I missed, Emmylou Harris joined him for Love Hurts and Scarlet Tide. The Tide was his last song, and it was a good choice. Emmylou can really wail. She was almost overpowering Elvis.
I picked up my bike, tipped the valet, and made it home to watch the Red Sox.
They lost, in 12 innings, but they won the series tonight in dramatic fashion with a Jed Lowrie walk-off single that scored Jason Bay from second. Now for the Rays.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Cubs Lose
The Cubs were just swept by the Dodgers. What is wrong with that team? Alfonso Soriano just struck out on a check swing to finish 1-14 in the series (3-28 over the last two seasons with three singles). But it's not just Soriano and his Mendozaic playoff numbers that are at fault, it's the Cubs. I listened to all three games and they were never really close in any of them. They're so frightened of not breaking the century slump that they can't concentrate on playing good baseball. I was reading Three Nights in August while listening to the games tonight. Though the book chronicles a three game series between the Cubs and Cardinals during the 2003 season, several of the players mentioned in the book are still with the former club. Jim Edmonds was on the Cardinals at the time and now he plays with Chicago. I love playoff baseball. I like the teams that are involved this year too, specifically the Rays and Dodgers. Hard to believe they could end up facing each other in the World Series.
Last night I watched the Sox beat the Angels, in Anahiem, on a large Plexiglas protected television in a bar in Oakland. J.D. Drew, partial villain of Three Nights in August, hit a tie-breaking home run off K-Rod in the 9th. It was a thrilling victory and puts the Red Sox in firm position to win the series with Josh Beckett squaring up against Joe Saunders at home in Boston tomorrow. Beckett, arguably the most effective postseason pitcher ever, isn't 100% but hopefully he can get through 6 or 7 strong innings.
Clearly I was wrong about the Cubs winning the World series, and it looks like I'll be wrong about the White Sox getting to the ALCS as well, but I'd rather be wrong anyway.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
God's Obituary
"ATLANTA, Ga., Nov. 9—God, creator of the universe, principal deity of the world's Jews, ultimate reality of Christians, and most eminent of all divinities, died late yesterday during major surgery undertaken to correct a massive diminishing influence. "Reaction from the world's great and from the man in the street was uniformly incredulous . . . From Independence, Mo., former President Harry S. Truman, who received the news in his Kansas City barbershop, said 'I'm always sorry to hear somebody is dead. It's a damn shame." -Methodist Student Magazine, Atlanta, 1965
I didn't write this. I lifted it off the internet.
I didn't write this. I lifted it off the internet.
Crichton
THIS IS NOT A NEW BLOG.
I am simply recycling some older blogs in hopes of expanding my readership (is that a word?). Some of the newer blogs will be previous posts from Myspace, Facebook, and Manspot (which doesn't exist yet but will probably be the next big thing).
Damn that Michael Crichton. He's sort of like Dan Brown except intelligent. Dan Brown only had one good idea, and it wasn't even his. Crichton has more ideas than a day has jiffies. I love the Jurassic Park movies, I don't care how bad the acting is: Dinosaurs. 'Jurassic Park' was the first Crichton novel I picked up. Even though I knew the story, and the characters were described like it was a pulp novel, the story was just so God damn gripping, and again, I knew the ending! So then I had to read 'Lost World'. Then I read 'Terminal Man'. Then 'Congo'. Keep in mind that there are so many other things I want to read. But Michael Crichton makes it so simple. One can almost doze off while reading one of his books, its that light and fluid. And they read like screenplays. Things develop at that pace. I think nowadays he probably writes the book with a screenplay in mind. And his books are riddled with identical characters. There is always an athletic man, who was very precocious as a kid, could fix anything by taking it apart, graduated college when he was 19, etc. And his love interest, same story intelligence wise, but she's a bossy know-it-all with no desire in a relationship, her only goal is to find the antidote/ancient city/portal/sunken treasure, etc. All disparaging comments on his writing ability aside, Crichton has to be a moderately smart guy. He graduated from Harvard Medical School, was a visiting lecturer for two years on Anthropology at Cambridge, worked at MIT. He also created the show 'E.R.'. But mainly the guy shits best-selling books. And it's obvious why they're bestsellers. They talk about aliens, time warps, dinosaurs, apocalyptic shit, robots. Ask your everyday guy on the street and those are probably his 5 most favorite things.I'm reading 'Timeline' right now. This is it, really, my last one. I just need to find out how that modern bifocal was buried in that catacomb that hadn't been entered in 650 years. How did it get there?
*NEW INFO: following this original blog posting, my opinion of Crichton was boosted greatly. Apparently in his upcoming book he has a character named Mick Crowley, a Yale graduate and a Washington, D.C.-based political columnist. Crowley is also a child molester. Coincidentally, Crichton was publicly derided last year for his stance on global warming by one Michael Crowley, a Yale graduate who happens to be a political columnist in Washington, D.C. Fuck yeah, Crichton!
Baseball Playoffs
It's October, which means it's time for the playoffs. I'm excited that the Red Sox made it in as the wild card. Considering all the injuries, the loss of Ramirez and the fine play of the Rays, a 95-67 season is very good. In the first round, the Rays are up against the White Sox while the Angels square up against the Red Sox.
RED SOX/ANGELS
The Red Sox are 6-0 in the postseason against the Angels since 2004, 9-0 since game 4 of the 1986 ALCS, the last time the Angels beat the Sox in postseason play. However, the Angels won 8 of 9 contests between the two teams this season, sweeping the last two series. Granted the Red Sox weren't playing their best ball of the season when they were swept at home in July, the Angels outscored them 59-33 on the season, with the one Sox win coming in their first meeting of the season with the Sox fighting back after an atrocious start by David Pauly.
And though the Red Sox are limping into October, I wouldn't count them out just yet. Most scouts are giving the Angel's the upper hand in regards to pitching. I would take Lester, Matsuzaka and Beckett (even at 85%) over Lackey, Santana and Saunders any day of the week. No one can dispute that the Angels, thanks to the acquisition of Hunter and Teixeira, have a better offense at the moment. Though Vlad tends to disappear during the postseason, I would still swap him for a Bay or Lowell or Drew. Not to mention Anderson, Figgins, Kendrick, and possibly Gary Matthews.
The Red Sox have to rely on pitching to win this series. The bullpen has to be tighter and the Sox have to use their proven playoff experience as leverage. With a little luck and a good series from the big three of Pedrioa, Ortiz, and Youkilis, the Sox can prevail.
PREDICTION: Red Sox in 5.
WHITE SOX/RAYS
The Rays have definitely impressed me this year. No one predicted their sudden rise to excellence, I don't care what anyone claims. Even so, the Rays slowed down over the last month and a half and have yet prove they can win when everything is on the line. They are an extremely young team, and they're bound to be good for a long time with one of the strongest farm systems thanks to a handful of no.1 picks. The White Sox have numerous players who were on the team in '05 when they won and they have veteran pitchers in Buerhle and Vazquez. The Rays staff had a better regular season but in a short series I have to give the White Sox the advantage. They're hot at the right time and I have to wonder if the Rays can rise to the occasion with only a half-filled Tropicana field. Rays fans should be ashamed at their attendance numbers.
PREDICTION: White Sox in 4.
Let's assume that I'm right about the both of these. I'm usually not, but imagine and all Sox ALCS. If the Red Sox can get here I definitely pick them over the Whiteys. Better staff, comparable offense, better defense, better managing, and more experience. Perhaps even a healthier Lowell, Youk and Coco.
PREDICTION: Red Sox in 5.
I'm not going into detail concerning my National League picks. I'm just going to lay it out. Phillies in 4. Cubs in 4. Cubs defeat Phillies in 7 games.
WORLD SERIES PREDICTION: Cubs over Red Sox in 7 games.
For the record, last season I correctly predicted each stage of the American league playoffs (Sox over Angels, Indians over Yankees, Sox over Indians). I did not foresee the Rockies making the World Series, but I did correctly guess the Red Sox would win. Of course, I always predict the Sox to win. It's not so much foresight as wishful thinking.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thieves!
Had my car broken into a few days ago. I must have left in unlocked after getting back from Oakland recently. It may have happened the day before yesterday, or the previous day- we don't drive very often.
Clearly whoever broke into the car didn't spend long doing it. They only took things from the front. On the back seat were two LL Bean sleeping bags and in the storage space behind the seats we keep cooking gear, a tent, fireworks, tools, roller blades- all sorts of fun stuff.
Instead, the thief opted to take four dollars, two flashlights, a Sudoku book, a few CDs, a phone charger and Joseph.
Joseph is the only thing that pisses me off. He was a tiny brown figurine, a gollum, that my sister had given me years ago and that I never drive without. It was some Jewish creature from folklore that rose out of the mud and protected townsfolk. It was on the corner of the dashboard, tucked away and honestly hard to see unless you're sitting in the driver's seat. I know there will always be crooks in the world, but what would possess someone to take something like that?
I guess that's just part of living in the city though.
Clearly whoever broke into the car didn't spend long doing it. They only took things from the front. On the back seat were two LL Bean sleeping bags and in the storage space behind the seats we keep cooking gear, a tent, fireworks, tools, roller blades- all sorts of fun stuff.
Instead, the thief opted to take four dollars, two flashlights, a Sudoku book, a few CDs, a phone charger and Joseph.
Joseph is the only thing that pisses me off. He was a tiny brown figurine, a gollum, that my sister had given me years ago and that I never drive without. It was some Jewish creature from folklore that rose out of the mud and protected townsfolk. It was on the corner of the dashboard, tucked away and honestly hard to see unless you're sitting in the driver's seat. I know there will always be crooks in the world, but what would possess someone to take something like that?
I guess that's just part of living in the city though.
Fort Mason Book Sale
San Francisco just held the biggest book sale on the West coast down in one of the warehouses in Fort Mason. It was a four day event, beginning on Thursday at 10am and ending some time Sunday night. Breanne and I had been looking forward to it for a couple weeks so we walked down early Thursday morning and got there a little before 10, and were surprised to see a line of maybe 100 or 150 people already waiting at the door. People had backpacks slung over both shoulders, giant boxes, and some even had their own shopping carts. Breanne and I, novices, had brought along two tiny canvas bags we usually reserved for groceries.
The warehouse would be more accurately described as an enormous hanger, the kind you see stuffed with old war planes. Sectioned off along long tables were the most books I'd ever seen in my life. Sci-Fi, westerns, DYI, music, politics, fiction, science, sports, religion, cooking, psychology, children's- basically anything you can think of that comes in book form.
We were there for about 4 hours on Thursday, with a lunch break in between, and bought about 100 books, sheet music included, for 140 dollars. We found some great stuff, but I'll get to that later.
On Sunday, anything that was still there was a dollar or less. Previously, books had been priced anywhere from a dollar to 5. Being cheap, I hadn't selected anything that was more than 2 dollars and rarely bagged a book that was more than 1. We weren't in the mood for the crowds on Sunday so we only picked up about 20 books (for 20 dollars of course).
All told, we purchased about 120 books for 166 dollars. Good deal if you ask me. Here are some of the highlights:
1. The Unabridged Jack London ($1). Everything London ever published in one fat paperback. I know that one can only hear so much about wolves but they're good stories for all ages.
2. The Spire, The Pyramid, Pincher Martin and Free Fall ($4). Four books for four dollars by one of my favorite authors, William Golding. Three of the books have unbroken spines.
3. Don't Know Much about... ($3). The Bible and the Universe, two more fun books by Kenneth C. Davis. The first one I read, History, I purchased from a Smithsonian gift shop many years ago. I recently read Geography.*
4. The Greatest of All Irish Songs ($1). Sheet music of traditional Irish songs. I've tried a few of them and the parts that I can play sound good. They sound exactly as I imagined they would.
5. Roger Angell ($2). Two hardcover books by Roger Angell, Game Time and Late Innings, a dollar a piece. Perhaps the greatest baseball writer ever, these books would have cost me 30 bucks, at least, in a book store.
6. Playboy Stories ($1). The best of forty years of short fiction published in Playboy. Bradbury, Updike, Cheever, Baldwin, Kerouac, Philip Roth, Malamud, Dahl, Garcia Marquez, Nabokov, Irving, Mailer, Coover, to name a few.
7. Lord of the Rings box set ($3). One of those box sets that include The Hobbit and have pictures from the movies on the book jackets. Couldn't pass that deal up.
*Noticed today that Don't Know Much about the Universe is signed by the author. It's also inscribed with the words, "To Rick, Best Wishes." Why would Rick give up a book autographed, with a personal (or impersonal) message from the author? We'll never know.
The warehouse would be more accurately described as an enormous hanger, the kind you see stuffed with old war planes. Sectioned off along long tables were the most books I'd ever seen in my life. Sci-Fi, westerns, DYI, music, politics, fiction, science, sports, religion, cooking, psychology, children's- basically anything you can think of that comes in book form.
We were there for about 4 hours on Thursday, with a lunch break in between, and bought about 100 books, sheet music included, for 140 dollars. We found some great stuff, but I'll get to that later.
On Sunday, anything that was still there was a dollar or less. Previously, books had been priced anywhere from a dollar to 5. Being cheap, I hadn't selected anything that was more than 2 dollars and rarely bagged a book that was more than 1. We weren't in the mood for the crowds on Sunday so we only picked up about 20 books (for 20 dollars of course).
All told, we purchased about 120 books for 166 dollars. Good deal if you ask me. Here are some of the highlights:
1. The Unabridged Jack London ($1). Everything London ever published in one fat paperback. I know that one can only hear so much about wolves but they're good stories for all ages.
2. The Spire, The Pyramid, Pincher Martin and Free Fall ($4). Four books for four dollars by one of my favorite authors, William Golding. Three of the books have unbroken spines.
3. Don't Know Much about... ($3). The Bible and the Universe, two more fun books by Kenneth C. Davis. The first one I read, History, I purchased from a Smithsonian gift shop many years ago. I recently read Geography.*
4. The Greatest of All Irish Songs ($1). Sheet music of traditional Irish songs. I've tried a few of them and the parts that I can play sound good. They sound exactly as I imagined they would.
5. Roger Angell ($2). Two hardcover books by Roger Angell, Game Time and Late Innings, a dollar a piece. Perhaps the greatest baseball writer ever, these books would have cost me 30 bucks, at least, in a book store.
6. Playboy Stories ($1). The best of forty years of short fiction published in Playboy. Bradbury, Updike, Cheever, Baldwin, Kerouac, Philip Roth, Malamud, Dahl, Garcia Marquez, Nabokov, Irving, Mailer, Coover, to name a few.
7. Lord of the Rings box set ($3). One of those box sets that include The Hobbit and have pictures from the movies on the book jackets. Couldn't pass that deal up.
*Noticed today that Don't Know Much about the Universe is signed by the author. It's also inscribed with the words, "To Rick, Best Wishes." Why would Rick give up a book autographed, with a personal (or impersonal) message from the author? We'll never know.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
New Shoes
Got myself a new pair of running shoes at the Shoe Pavilion downtown. I actually stepped outside of the Adidas store in the Westfield mall to throw away my smoothie cup and lo and behold there was a shoe store across the street having a going-out-of-business sale. I couldn't believe my luck. The prices were incredible. Breanne tried looking at womens shoes on the first level but it was so crowded and competitive she gave up and helped me look.
There were lots of brands-New Balance, Reebok, Nike, etc., but after trying on a few pairs I went with a gray pair from Adidas that had a neon green trim. They breathed well but more importantly were exceptionally light. And even more importantly, they were marked down from 79.95 to 40 bucks.
I wore them a few times to try and break them in- to the Safeway, for a few walks, down to the Marina- and jogged in them a bit in preparation for my next long run.
Today I decided I would finally run across the Golden Gate Bridge. I attempted it a few nights ago, around 9 pm, foolishly trying to navigate the steep path and dark low ceiling tunnels that lead to the bridge. At one point there was a bright light shining directly in my eyes and I couldn't see 2 feet in front of me, and after tripping a few times, I turned around. This time, I left at the other 9, and made my way along the Marina, up the winding stairs and through the tiny tunnels up to the bridge in daylight.
I may have picked the worst day of the year to run across the bridge, from an aesthetic view point. From the Marina, the entire bridge, cables and pillars and all, was completely encompassed in a fog bank. There wasn't a sliver of Golden Gate red anywhere to be seen. Even once I was on the bridge, I could only see the walk way and a few feet up the cable lines.
Of course, this made for light pedestrian traffic as there couldn't have been more than 50 people along it's 9000 ft walking lane. Tourists still dotted the scenic points, snapping off shots of clouds, photos that could have been taken anywhere. It was terribly windy near the bridge ends. At one point my hat blew off of my head but it was stopped by the rail. I held it in my hand till I was back on land.
I ran to the end of the bridge, into Sausalito, and turned around and headed back. The moisture in the fog made it cool, running, and crossing the bridge was probably the easiest part of the run.
I was exhausted when I got back, and with only two blocks to go I noticed that my right foot was bleeding. It didn't hurt- it was probably just chaffing but it did permanently stain my new right shoe. I guess I didn't break them in all that well.
I ran about 12 miles according to Yahoo! maps, which explains why when I got home I ate pudding (4 servings), a clementine, a power bar, a handful of dried cranberries, a handful of pumpkin seeds, a piece of toast with honey, a packet of yellow raspberries, a salad, a bowl of chips and salsa, two pieces of pickled garlic, and I drank two large glasses of Orange flavored drink, which in turn explains why I continue to grow fatter.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Hanky Needs A Hanky
Hank's at it again. This time he's complaining about the divisional setup. It's funny, I don't remember the Rays complaining that Jeter and Giambi make more money than their entire roster. Hank will not be satisfied till the AL eliminates the wild card and instead creates a fourth division in the American League, consisting of the Yankees and the Royals, to decide the last spot in the playoffs. Seriously though, does he really think the Yankees are the first team to suffer from a competitive division? In 1961 the Tigers won 101 games and didn't make the playoffs. The Yankees will be lucky if they win 90 games this year. Since when does 90 games guarantee you a playoff spot? In 2000, the Tribe won 90 and didn't make it. In 2002, the Sox won 93 and missed the postseason by 5 games. In 2003, 93 didn't cut it for an unlucky ball club. In 2004, 91 wasn't enough. '05, 93. See the pattern? That's baseball, fat head, get used to it.
Here's the article.
Here's the article.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Brute Force
Recently borrowed the movie Brute Force from the library. Made in 1947, it stars Burt Lancaster, Hume Cronyn and Charles Bickford. Directed by Jules Dassin, it's a melodrama about a desperate prisoner who will go to all lengths to escape and a masochistic guard who intends to make Warden and transform the prison into the cruelest of infirmaries. The film was well acted and very violent and subversive for something from the 1940s. In fact, in the booklet that came with the movie that described the making of the film and what not, was a letter from Motion Picture Academy Production Code Head Officer Jospeh Breen to producer Mark Hellinger. Breen and the Production Code had to accept the script before filming began. Here are some of the details brought to attention by Breen:
Page 33: At the outset, we direct your attention to the need for the greatest possible care in the selection and photographing of the costumes and dresses for your women. The MPAPC mas it mandatory that the intimate parts of the body- specifically, the breasts of women- be fully covered at all times. Any compromise with this regulation will compel us to withhold approval of your picture.
Page 43: Please omit the exclamation "For God's sake."
Page 65: We understand that you will omit this action of the guards clubbing the prisoner after he has surrendered.
Page 94: We understand that you will omit he line "High octane gas."
Page 120: We understand that the detailed showing of men lighting he fuses with their cigarettes will be omitted entirely, or at least kept down to once scene.
Page 126: Here and throughout the picture, please bear in mind the clause in the Code which forbids the showing of policemen, guards, etc., dying at the hands of criminals.
There were several others that sounded ludicrous when you look at today's cinema. Perhaps the most interesting fact is most of these "details" were ignored. I recommend this film to anyone. I actually did a fist pump during the climax.
Ghost Town
Just saw Ghost Town, a new film starring Ricky Gervais and Greg Kinnear. It was very strange to see Ricky Gervais in such a sappy and predictable movie, but he did a fine job in it. There were several humorous scenes and pretty much every good joke in the movie fell out of his mouth. The story was basically Ghost without the pottery wheel, but swapping Whoopie for Gervais was a more than fair trade. Anyway, I'm not sure I like seeing Gervais perform roles that he didn't write. I'm not saying that this wasn't a good character for him, it's just that a lot of the jokes and gags that his character, Dr. Pincus, made were below him. I think Hollywood could suit him fine, I just hope he doesn't do too many cameos or too many more movies with Tia Leoni and Greg Kinnear, nothing against Greg. The Other Side of the Truth, which Gervais wrote and stars in, is do out next year. And Karl Pilkington has a bit part in it. I was telling Breanne as were leaving the theatre that I want to see a movie starring Gervais, Pilkington, and Merchant- the three hosts of the podcast. I suggested that Karl's wife is kidnapped and the three of them have to get her back, and a side story pertaining to Monkey news. But anything with the three of them talking to each other would do just fine.
Mt. Tamalpais State Park
Went on a hike today in the Tamalpais state park. We were originally planning on Muir woods but the parking lot was packed and we weren't in the mood for tourists so we aimed for something more ambitious and left Muir for another day.
After driving up the coast a bit further we found the Pantoll ranger station which marks the starting point of several coastal trails. It was already noon so we set off on the moderate trail that covered Coastal, Cataract and Old Mine loop. The woods were quiet and we only saw maybe 5 people all day. About 2 miles in to the hike we happened upon two deer, one with enormous antlers. The other was a baby and they were only about 20 feet, or a little less, from the hiking trail. We actually spotted them before they saw us so we were able to watch them for a long time from close proximity.
The trail offered a nice view of the ocean and the golden gate of the Pacific, or the mouth between Sausalito and San Fran that opens into the bay. We climbed a few bluffs and took some photos, though are camera isn't much for landscapes.
I gave Breanne a 3 second head start in racing up one of the hills but the moment I took off I was bitten by a wasp. It took a little chunk of flesh off my ankle, somehow getting inside my sock. After a short cry, I continued onward.
We came to a meadow and followed a trickle of a creek for a few miles. After a minute or so of trying, I snatched up a quick lizard and Breanne stroked it's head. It didn't try to bite me though it may have been playing dead in my hands. It ran off the second I put it on the ground.
We walked roughly 7 miles by the time we made it back to the car but it didn't feel like it. We're going to try something longer, perhaps more strenuous, next time out.
After driving up the coast a bit further we found the Pantoll ranger station which marks the starting point of several coastal trails. It was already noon so we set off on the moderate trail that covered Coastal, Cataract and Old Mine loop. The woods were quiet and we only saw maybe 5 people all day. About 2 miles in to the hike we happened upon two deer, one with enormous antlers. The other was a baby and they were only about 20 feet, or a little less, from the hiking trail. We actually spotted them before they saw us so we were able to watch them for a long time from close proximity.
The trail offered a nice view of the ocean and the golden gate of the Pacific, or the mouth between Sausalito and San Fran that opens into the bay. We climbed a few bluffs and took some photos, though are camera isn't much for landscapes.
I gave Breanne a 3 second head start in racing up one of the hills but the moment I took off I was bitten by a wasp. It took a little chunk of flesh off my ankle, somehow getting inside my sock. After a short cry, I continued onward.
We came to a meadow and followed a trickle of a creek for a few miles. After a minute or so of trying, I snatched up a quick lizard and Breanne stroked it's head. It didn't try to bite me though it may have been playing dead in my hands. It ran off the second I put it on the ground.
We walked roughly 7 miles by the time we made it back to the car but it didn't feel like it. We're going to try something longer, perhaps more strenuous, next time out.
Trivia Night 9/18/08
After a few weeks away, maybe a month, I don't know, Breanne and I made our hardly triumphant return to the Rogue Ale House trivia. It was just the two of us and we neglected to check the brainstormer site for the heads up on two of the rounds but we did respectable. We finished 5th out of maybe 20 teams. We beat one team that was a table over from us that had 12 members. I felt good about that.
Per usual, we did shit in the general knowledge round but kicked ass with the hand out. The subject was golf and you had to match up golfers with their home country. I filled in the obvious Asian ones and then Breanne filled in the rest. I have to give her all the credit though because I hadn't heard heard of most of them. We ended going 10 for 10 in the match up and after two rounds we were tied for second. I failed to identify Jesper Parnevik for a bonus point.
The picture round really knocked us back. Even though Breanne is in charge of all Southern Hemisphere countries, we missed Ecudaor and Paraguay on the map section. Ecuador was my fault- I changed our answer before turning it in.
Another round was movie quotes. Rick, the DJ that runs the trivia, would name a movie quote and we had to write down the movie. I know a lot of movies so we made up some ground there. Blues Brothers, Pulp Fiction, Casablanca, and some more obvious ones with Dirty Harry and Forrest Gump. I can't remember the others but we almost got all 10.
The music round was intolerable. Though there supposed to be songs from all genres, the only one that didn't sound like a dance/techno song was something by Yes, which we got. I think Gloria Estefan was the answer to two questions.
We lost some ground in the final round but all together had a respectable place.
Five Major Trivial failures of the night
1. Failed to identify Jesper Parnevik. All I could think of was the Jarvik heart so I put Payne down. Bad guess. Would have nailed that one 10 years ago when I watched golf a lot at my grandmothers.
2. Didn't get the South American countries. By next August and the Olympics, in which World Geography is an event, I'll have 'em down pat.
3. Couldn't name a female actress nominated for an Oscar in 2002. Still can't.
4. Neglected to name the 1996 film starring Alec Baldwin and James Woods. It was Ghosts of Mississippi. I'd never heard of it but I looked it up and it sounds alright. Even so, I should do Alec better.
5. Named the last Spice Girl to have a baby. It was Sporty, the only one I could remember.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
September Olympic Training
I am still training for the 2009 Maine Games. Over the last 3 weeks I've ran every other day, except for one two-day break when I went camping and to the Aquarium in Monterey with Breanne.
The running is getting easier. Plagued by knee problems since high school, I realized that it has been over 10 years since I've been able to go for so many runs in so short a stretch of time. Usually, when I decide to try and get back in to running, I go for a short run and then I can't walk for a week. My brother has the same problem- maybe it's genetic. Either way, I started running two months ago when I got to San Francisco and I've slowly been increasing the run-load. Eventually I'd like to be able to go whenever I feel the itch, four days in a row if I so desire, but I'm not quite ready for that. This morning, upon waking up, I instantly felt like running but I stopped myself because I went for a particularly long one last night, inadvertently getting lost in the Presidio barracks area.
I'm not sure what it was that made the difference this time with my knees. There are several things I'm doing differently than I had in the past. For starters, I'm eating better. I eat a load of proteins and my diet is better balanced, giving me more energy. More importantly probably, I took a few years off from running and rebuilt my leg strength during that time. After every run, I do squats and lunges and calf exercises. Also, I'm not pushing myself too hard yet. My natural inclination when running is much like a dog's: I see something or someone ahead of me and I must pass it. In a city like San Francisco, with it's active population, this would be a serious folly. So instead of running myself in to the ground, I purposely put rhythmically slow music on my Ipod and try to ignore other runners.
Of course, just going for runs isn't going to allow me to medal in the 2009 Maine Summer Olympics. One of the four preselected events is the mile run, and the 100m dash is on the ballot. So I'm concentrating more on speed than endurance, though the latter still needs work. To account for this, I've been going on runs of varying distance with interspersed sprinting. There are plenty of enormous hills around my place and two of the steepest ones have stone steps running along the sidewalks. Every run I end by sprinting (or something close to it) the two sets of steps on Fillmore and Webster. My plan is that, when nearing the end of the Olympic mile when I need to turn it up a notch, I'll have trained specifically for it.
As for other events, I've been doing Sudokus in case that is selected. We bought another World map shower curtain so we can have one at our next place but I've yet to start studying countries. I don't have a ping pong table to practice on and other than weight training I can't really train for the tug-of-war. All other events will be decided in late October after all the ballots have been returned. The Olympics are still 11 months away but I intend to be in the best shape of my life next August.
The running is getting easier. Plagued by knee problems since high school, I realized that it has been over 10 years since I've been able to go for so many runs in so short a stretch of time. Usually, when I decide to try and get back in to running, I go for a short run and then I can't walk for a week. My brother has the same problem- maybe it's genetic. Either way, I started running two months ago when I got to San Francisco and I've slowly been increasing the run-load. Eventually I'd like to be able to go whenever I feel the itch, four days in a row if I so desire, but I'm not quite ready for that. This morning, upon waking up, I instantly felt like running but I stopped myself because I went for a particularly long one last night, inadvertently getting lost in the Presidio barracks area.
I'm not sure what it was that made the difference this time with my knees. There are several things I'm doing differently than I had in the past. For starters, I'm eating better. I eat a load of proteins and my diet is better balanced, giving me more energy. More importantly probably, I took a few years off from running and rebuilt my leg strength during that time. After every run, I do squats and lunges and calf exercises. Also, I'm not pushing myself too hard yet. My natural inclination when running is much like a dog's: I see something or someone ahead of me and I must pass it. In a city like San Francisco, with it's active population, this would be a serious folly. So instead of running myself in to the ground, I purposely put rhythmically slow music on my Ipod and try to ignore other runners.
Of course, just going for runs isn't going to allow me to medal in the 2009 Maine Summer Olympics. One of the four preselected events is the mile run, and the 100m dash is on the ballot. So I'm concentrating more on speed than endurance, though the latter still needs work. To account for this, I've been going on runs of varying distance with interspersed sprinting. There are plenty of enormous hills around my place and two of the steepest ones have stone steps running along the sidewalks. Every run I end by sprinting (or something close to it) the two sets of steps on Fillmore and Webster. My plan is that, when nearing the end of the Olympic mile when I need to turn it up a notch, I'll have trained specifically for it.
As for other events, I've been doing Sudokus in case that is selected. We bought another World map shower curtain so we can have one at our next place but I've yet to start studying countries. I don't have a ping pong table to practice on and other than weight training I can't really train for the tug-of-war. All other events will be decided in late October after all the ballots have been returned. The Olympics are still 11 months away but I intend to be in the best shape of my life next August.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Worst Fantasy
Mighty Like a Rose, my "exceptional" fantasy baseball team that was ranked 1st pretty much from day 1 in the Barnstorming Union, has officially lost. It wasn't pretty either.
The offense had it's most anemic week of the season. Ken Griffey Jr., Michael Cuddyer, J.D. Drew, Howie Kendrick, Bobby Abreu, Alex Gordon, Josh Hamilton, and Jhonny Peralta, for various reasons- injuries, assholeness, jerkishness, and gluttony- combined to hit 1 HR and drive in 5 runs in 7 days. Thanks a lot guys.
The pitching was even worse. Felix Hernandez, Francisco Liriano, Joe Saunders and Brandon Morrow, combined to collect 0 wins this week. That's right, zero. And my closer, Jonathan Papelbon, blew a save and allowed 4 runs in 3 innings, and managed only one strike out.
It was an embarrassing end to the fantasy season and there's going to be a lot of off-season moves. I'm not settling for anything short of 1st next year.
The offense had it's most anemic week of the season. Ken Griffey Jr., Michael Cuddyer, J.D. Drew, Howie Kendrick, Bobby Abreu, Alex Gordon, Josh Hamilton, and Jhonny Peralta, for various reasons- injuries, assholeness, jerkishness, and gluttony- combined to hit 1 HR and drive in 5 runs in 7 days. Thanks a lot guys.
The pitching was even worse. Felix Hernandez, Francisco Liriano, Joe Saunders and Brandon Morrow, combined to collect 0 wins this week. That's right, zero. And my closer, Jonathan Papelbon, blew a save and allowed 4 runs in 3 innings, and managed only one strike out.
It was an embarrassing end to the fantasy season and there's going to be a lot of off-season moves. I'm not settling for anything short of 1st next year.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Twilight Bicycles
Breanne and I went out for a walk after the second game of the double header today. We usually walk around the Marina but we decided to walk up Broadway towards the Presidio tonight. A couple streets over we stopped to look across the bay and saw a big commotion down on Union street. Tall light towers and people gathered behind metal barriers lining the streets. I stepped in some dog shit,very fresh, and then we decided to go see what was going on.
Having spent time in downtown L.A., we both immediately assumed they were filming a movie. It was not so. People were gathering to watch the San Francisco Twilight Criterium bike race. We arrived just in time; the riders were warming up and about to begin. There were probably 100 riders in a mass when they took off out of the chute.
I picked no.55 to win from the get-go. He was hanging around in 3rd or 4th but he looked sleek and poised to attack. He also had a lot of riders with his colors in the top 15 or so, so I figured he had a good team to back him up.
We weren't sure how big of a loop they were traveling so we walked around the perimeter. It was probably a little under a mile, it covered about 8 blocks all together. There were two guys with microphones doing the color commentating and trying to get the crowd riled up. They said at one point that there were an estimated 50,000 people watching. It didn't seem like that much but there were a lot.
Near the lap line was a closed off area with couches and a buffet, presumably for race coordinators and VIP. There were three bleached-blond haired woman with sashes on, sitting on a couch and texting. Breanne heard someone say one of them was Miss California. From across the street I couldn't tell them apart.
There were loads of people wearing those tiny bike caps and the bars and restaurants all along the bike route were crammed with spectators. I suppose if you count them there may have been 50,000 present.
With four laps to go, I lost sight of no.55. He'd been in the top 10 the whole race and suddenly he was nowhere to be seen. After the pace motorcycle had whizzed by I saw him coasting along the side. He had a flat and it was too late to catch up.
With three laps to go, no.5 and no.112 broke away from the pack. They had a commanding lead until the final lap when everyone started sprinting. No.5 won easily and I believe no.112 was passed just before the finish line but I couldn't say for sure.
I'm glad we decided to go for a walk, even though I stepped in shit.
Having spent time in downtown L.A., we both immediately assumed they were filming a movie. It was not so. People were gathering to watch the San Francisco Twilight Criterium bike race. We arrived just in time; the riders were warming up and about to begin. There were probably 100 riders in a mass when they took off out of the chute.
I picked no.55 to win from the get-go. He was hanging around in 3rd or 4th but he looked sleek and poised to attack. He also had a lot of riders with his colors in the top 15 or so, so I figured he had a good team to back him up.
We weren't sure how big of a loop they were traveling so we walked around the perimeter. It was probably a little under a mile, it covered about 8 blocks all together. There were two guys with microphones doing the color commentating and trying to get the crowd riled up. They said at one point that there were an estimated 50,000 people watching. It didn't seem like that much but there were a lot.
Near the lap line was a closed off area with couches and a buffet, presumably for race coordinators and VIP. There were three bleached-blond haired woman with sashes on, sitting on a couch and texting. Breanne heard someone say one of them was Miss California. From across the street I couldn't tell them apart.
There were loads of people wearing those tiny bike caps and the bars and restaurants all along the bike route were crammed with spectators. I suppose if you count them there may have been 50,000 present.
With four laps to go, I lost sight of no.55. He'd been in the top 10 the whole race and suddenly he was nowhere to be seen. After the pace motorcycle had whizzed by I saw him coasting along the side. He had a flat and it was too late to catch up.
With three laps to go, no.5 and no.112 broke away from the pack. They had a commanding lead until the final lap when everyone started sprinting. No.5 won easily and I believe no.112 was passed just before the finish line but I couldn't say for sure.
I'm glad we decided to go for a walk, even though I stepped in shit.
Mafioso
Was at Safeway with Breanne when I was approached by a short Italian man. He had pearly white dentures and a smooth round hairless head. His Italian accent was thick. He asked me to get him some milk off the top shelf. The milks near the bottom were all nearing expiration and he wanted milk that would last. I picked a milk carton from the top row.
What's a-the date?
I told him what it said, the 25th.
Perfect, he said. He put his hand on my arm and walked over to my cart with me cause he wanted to talk. He said I looked familiar, asked me if I was some one's brother, some guy named Pavorelli or something. I told him it wasn't me. He couldn't believe it.
How old are you? 18?
I'm 26, I said.
Whoa! he brought the hand that wasn't on my arm quickly up over his head, brushing back invisible hair.
It's a gooda thing you gotta the milk for me. I'm a mafioso. You not get the milk. Pow, Pow! he shaped his hand into a little flesh gun and shot both me and Breanne in the heart.
He assured us he was joking and gave us a God bless you before shuffling away.
What's a-the date?
I told him what it said, the 25th.
Perfect, he said. He put his hand on my arm and walked over to my cart with me cause he wanted to talk. He said I looked familiar, asked me if I was some one's brother, some guy named Pavorelli or something. I told him it wasn't me. He couldn't believe it.
How old are you? 18?
I'm 26, I said.
Whoa! he brought the hand that wasn't on my arm quickly up over his head, brushing back invisible hair.
It's a gooda thing you gotta the milk for me. I'm a mafioso. You not get the milk. Pow, Pow! he shaped his hand into a little flesh gun and shot both me and Breanne in the heart.
He assured us he was joking and gave us a God bless you before shuffling away.
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