We Got Beets!

What we have here is a failure to communicate

2011-09-20T22:32:00.000-07:00

I have to say it, the time has come. It is the year Two Thousand freaking ELEVEN, people.

You need to get right with technology.

And I don't mean you need to shell out mad coin for that iCandy that everyone seems to blithely tote around as if it hasn't just blasted a rent-draining hole in their pocket book. No, what I mean is LEARN THE RULES.

Rule 1: Social networking exists. Deal with it.
"I hate Facebook!" or "Facebook scares me, I don't know how to do it!" are excuses that will not any longer, as dogs, hunt, as it were. Facebook (which I'll use as a catch-all for social media here) is the evolution of how we communicate with each other. That's not my opinion, it's a fact.
If you decided to join, you need to accept the fact that people - your real-life friends, even - will try to get in touch via Facebook. They might not even use email and they certainly won't call you. But it's okay, you can handle it, you can figure out the weird and conFUUUUsing world of the social network... just try to KEEP UP. If you choose not to join, great. I hear HAM radio's making a comeback.

Rule 2: I asked you a KWISCHIN, boy!
RSVP, let me know, confirm receipt, tell me you got this, holler back, blink once for yes, twice for no, PLEASE. If you got the inquiry I sent you, could you at least do me the solid of tapping the web to let me know my note isn't hanging in techno-limbo somewhere. It's not just helpful for my sanity, it's JUST EFFING POLITE. I don't even need a definitive answer, not even close. Call me insecure and neurotic (maybe you're right, what are people saying??!), I just need to know where we stand.

Rule 2a: I know you're out there, I can hear you tweeting.
I sent you that text message request a week ago, you sent me a link yesterday to that super-HIlarious cat video, updated your profile picture, reply-all'd to the party invitation we both got. It's not like I can't see that you're online, dude. Take a quick moment between guffaws and Cheeto bites and ANSWER ME.

Rule 3: Everyone has emergencies, not just you.
My biggest pet peeve: "Hey, send me your info RIGHT AWAY so we can get tickets!". Okay, so then I do. Right away, just like you asked. Then I send you a follow up to make sure you got it, then I send you a note saying hi, how are things, then I post to your wall a few days later, then a text a few days after that- okay look, I'm not stalking you. I'm not gonna open a vein because you won't talk to me, but seriously? When it's your problem, I gotta jump to prevent the earth being swallowed by the sun, but you can't spare .14 seconds to craft even a rudimentary emoticon in response??!! Sorry, I gotta say friend I love you but you suck.

Of course, phones get dropped in toilets, computers explode, people have life issues that (bizarrely) take them away from their devices. I understand completely. I am down with the need for quiet solitude and an escape from the constant buzz. That's what vacations, nights and weekends are for. That's why baby Jesus invented the out-of-office auto-reply and the "offline" status icon. You see, just as there are tools and behaviors appropriate to being online, so are there also allowances for being off line. But you have to OWN that. Be a hermit, fine. Resist technology, get angry and move to the mountains to grow hemp and have a great life off the grid. People do it. But ignoring or judging the way people are choosing to conduct their platonic interpersonal affairs because you don't agree or are too scared or lazy to learn is not my fault, nor am I responsible for teaching you. Though my rates are quite reasonable.

I'm sorry it's come to this, but if you can't give me a good reason why you can't or won't come into the second decade of the 21st Century with the rest of the known universe (seriously, teenagers in Zimbabwe know what Twitter is), well, I'm afraid I will have to unlike you.

Beets: Origins

2011-06-07T13:55:00.001-07:00

Because it was just on my mind the day I started this here we blog...

Miss L. Simpson

That is all.

The New Job

2011-05-31T23:47:00.000-07:00

[Just found this unpublished post from last year. Reading through it, I was happy to find that it still resonates with where I am now, which is encouraging. I may actually be on the right track. Still struggling, still broke, but a year wiser and with some pretty encouraging developments in the interim. -Beets Ed.]

6/14/10

Sometimes to my detriment, I'm not usually one to get all rah-rah about landing a role. That's what actors are supposed to do - land parts. You, astute reader that you are, have undoubtedly surmised by now that this is an exception.

I just learned today that I've been cast in an episode of a fairly popular cable series and I'm a bit unsure of what to do with myself at the moment. Thrilled? Yes, of course. And how quickly things can turn around (another thing that should not surprise and actor yet always does). Last week, I felt like I couldn't get arrested in Seattle. I had come up empty-handed at a bunch of auditions earlier this spring (including two for this very show) and the day-job market wasn't looking any more promising. Now there's this opportunity. I realize it's a small part, I also realize that it's probably not one of those career-jump-starting small roles either. But it's something, finally, where there was nothing.

I think I've been doing this long enough to quit pretending ego doesn't (or shouldn't) matter as a performer. Everyone's got an ego - it's our armor and our rudder, socially and emotionally - but an actor's ego necessarily needs to be extra durable to protect against our uniquely potent workplace hazards. For my part, I haven't tied my self esteem to acting or performing as is often the stereotype, but there is a very real and palpable craving to simply work. To be asked to do a job for which you are trained, that you enjoy and do well. There is no shame in wanting that, of course, whether you're an actor or a software developer or a ditch-digger. Mostly, I've grown tired of not working, and specifically, not working in my field.

I've spent the last year or so trying to re-tool my mind to accept the fact that I should be pursuing work that I'm good at, work that fulfills me and pays me and challenges me. The simple equation that dawned on me is that I have a better chance of succeeding if I pursue the type of work in which I have a considerable level of expertise and experience (HINT: it's not office work). As hard as it is to be a self-sustaining performer, and all things being equal in this crappy economy, I think it's a path worth pursuing, if only because the alternatives are pretty unappealing to me.

So this is simply, wonderfully, thankfully work. Celebrity is not the goal here, it really is the universal satisfaction of doing the job well. Since being unemployed, I've found that following my nose and making it up as I go along, while scary as hell, is infinitely more gratifying than trying to fit in where I don't belong.

An Actor Despairs

2011-04-01T14:59:00.001-07:00

Q: How do you get an actor to complain?

A: Give him a job.

Yes, this tired joke is probably only funny to theater people, but not entirely untrue. And while it's not regarding me getting a job, I have a brief beef to bring up here on "Beets".

As actors who audition, we're all too familiar with the phrase, "[the producers] decided to go in a different direction." This, of course, is one of many codes for "you didn't get cast." It's usually assumed that there's more to be said about your audition, but no one's going to press the issue. It's quick, polite and, after all, that's just the way it goes - actors audition and don't get cast, it's a hazard of our workplace and we develop a thick skin for it.

In a fit of fantasy today, though, I imagined a universe where a producer is able to say - in a manner simultaneously respectful and succinct - "your audition wasn't very strong". As it stands, going in a "different direction" already suggests that the direction you were going was the wrong one (as paranoid as it sounds. Welcome to actor-brain). A small, nagging part of me almost wants to dispense with the "it's not you, it's me" line in favor of a professionally-delivered (prepackaged, even) message of "you didn't show us what we wanted, try harder next time. Thank you." Sure, I'd cry in my pillow that night, but maybe the next day, I'd have a clearer idea of my limits and my strengths. Maybe even clear enough to inspire me to take action to improve. Who doesn't have pity and scorn for that actor whom no one's ever told they're crappy? How can we get better in an environment that always says yes? Personally, I don't believe grad school is the only answer.

Now of course I know it's not the producer's job to manage my career decisions or to offer critical feedback of my performance (or, truly, any feedback at all), and I believe people change their minds about the character or script. As I said, this was a fantasy moment. Realistically, my ego is just fine with the current arrangement, especially since entertainment professionals are not known for their bedside manner. But I'll always be curious about that "different direction" and why I'm not headed there too.

Let's be honest

2011-03-26T11:03:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I'm not so hot at blogging these days. Don't think I haven't noticed. As is true with the rest of the world, the TweetyFaceTubes have hijacked my short attention span and my longer-form ramblings and musings have become fewer and father between.

Of course, there will be more, as there always is - looking back, I tend to have crazy writing jags every few months - so I'll reserve the right to keep this post up as a placeholder for grander things to come.

Cheers and happy Spring!

Words have meaning: parts 1 & 2

2011-01-10T21:07:00.000-08:00

Part 1: The Audition

Read a scene for a play this afternoon that deals with the tricky issue of how sensitive words (an order of execution) from certain people (royalty) can influence and be interpreted by their recipients (the ill-fated messenger), sometimes with disastrous consequences (so long, Mary Queen of Scots). No need to say what's already been said better and at length re: current events in AZ. Just thought it was grimly fitting.

Part 2: The Coffee Shop

After the audition, I stopped off at a cafe in my hyper-liberal, super-hip, culture-savvy neighborhood. It only took a few moments to realize that the speakers were blaring some pretty severe hip-hop. Words common to the medium and which are banned on television (and often less-than-flattering to black people and women) filled the air. Lest I sound like an old man, I love hip-hop and am no puritan when it comes to language. But looking around the room of nearly all white faces (none darker than the few Asians), I was amazed at the collective unspoken agreement that seemed to have happened: If someone walks in the door and starts screaming obscenities and racial and sexist epithets, we'll rise up in righteous indignation and expel them with the power of a liberal mob. But put a beat under those same words and play it over the loudspeakers, well, that's just what they play here and it's art and art is sacrosanct and if you don't like it why don't YOU get out, you clod.

Or so that's maybe what everyone thought everyone else thought. But I wonder how a black person would have felt in that room of white lefties with this (well-DJ'd but lazily-MC'd) music playing? Were the female customers just ignoring it? If so, does that mean these ideas are dead? Can we finally move past ignorance and bigotry and blithely start calling each other whatever we feel like without repercussion? I'm thinking not.

Unless we put it to music, maybe.

Playground Anonymous

2010-09-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

I hear some weird things on the playground. They come from parents most of the time. Kids are pretty boring, actually...

Grandpa pushes young granddaughter on the swing while "keeping an eye on" the older one. He calls over to her:

"Jennifer, swing. Swing, Jennifer!"

She has never not been swinging.

"Hold on, Jennifer. JENNIFER HOLD ON! JENNIFER!! You hold on now."

She has never let go of the swing the entire time.

"JENNIFER. Just swing and hold on. Jennifer..."

She is swinging like a champ all by herself. She seems to have tuned Grandpa out. Grandpa gets the message:

"Jennifer, got off the swing. GET OFF THE SWING JENNIFER. Go take a break. GET SOME WATER AND TAKE. A. BREAK, JENNIFER!"

Jennifer sighs and gets off the swing. She goes over to the bench, takes out her water bottle and sips casually. Grandpa is still pushing the younger granddaughter rather forcefully as he glares at Jennifer. After a loaded pause, he can't take it anymore:

"Jennifer, relax. RELAX! Drink you water and sit back. Drink your water and sit back. TAKE A BREAK JENNIFER."

He then turns to me and confidentially says:

"Sorry about that, guy. You know, you just gotta INSTILL it in them, or..."

I smile knowingly and mumble something about how I hear that, boy howdy. I continue pushing my sunny, giggly kid on the swing and silently make a vow not to try to "instill" anything in her for the rest of the day, at least.

Anyone checked in on Skynet lately?

2010-09-26T17:27:00.000-07:00

I recently downloaded a virus-scanning app to my phone the other day. It works pretty well, except that it's ad-supported which sometimes makes for a confusing narrative.

Case in point, last time I ran a virus scan:

"Your phone is very clean."

read the screen as usual, followed by a green-checked list of clean files. However, the small banner ad at the bottom (for life insurance?) was made up of a single, jarring sentence:

"When will you die?"

Taken together as two sentences (excluding the bullet-list), I was looking at the beginning of a very odd, existential conversation that I couldn't resolve for the better part of the day.

I'm still having trouble not thinking my phone has it out for me.

One... Crazy Summer

2010-08-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

Or was it Fall? Don't trust any temperature over 30!

The weather in Seattle this summer has mirrored a bit of the nutzoid, roller coaster-y business that we here at Beets Central have been experiencing, career-wise. It's been lots of great stuff, to be sure. The type of opportunities, along with their all-at-once-ness, has made this a rare and welcome season of bounty. I suppose I wouldn't be a Westerner if I didn't sit back and soak it up a bit. Not to say I'm entitled beyond being the right person for the job, but, well, it's nice to be the right person for the job for a change. More than once, even.

Of course, I wouldn't be an East Coast kid if I didn't also squint into the bright lights a little. I want to hang on to these successes, to bank them a bit and leverage them into more things like them. Less greedy than hoarding, I think. Perhaps more difficult than the lack of film and TV work in Seattle is the uphill struggle to produce any momentum with your successes here. Once the summer is over, these exciting new credits sit quietly on the resume and become old news. Holding the top positions for months, perhaps longer, before another "big job"rolls through.

Not to get all gloomy, though, and truthfully my overall ambition is pretty focused. I'm working with the good folks at WA FilmWorks to help keep local actors informed about what's going on to bring, keep and foster film production here in the Northwest. And I do know it's not about waiting for those big jobs. There are plenty of opportunities that come up locally, between indie film stuff, voice-overs and commercial work. As always, though, it's a matter of continuing to be the right person for the job - as a friend recently said, "it's all about the hustle." Indeed, the mantra this summer has been I just want to work.

And just to round out the summer, I managed to get cast in another indie feature. Stay tuned for more info there. In the meantime, check out "The King George Job" episode of Leverage on TNT, this Sunday at 9/8c. I'm the British customs chap at the end. Cheerio!

Try it! It's delicious!

2010-07-21T16:05:00.000-07:00

I was cleaning out some of my accumulated Internet gatherings today and stumbled across a nearly-abandoned del.icio.us account of mine (apparently just called delicious.com now that Yahoo! owns it).

If you're unfamiliar, delicious.com a web-based bookmarking service that I used for about 5 seconds before getting distracted by LOLCats or FaceTube or my own reflection or snack food... yummmm...

Nonetheless! It was kinda fun going through some of the sites I wanted to remember once upon a time. So now, I'm passing the weird savings* on to you, gentle reader:

Want to learn how to make your own Kombucha Tea?
Mac users! Ever wonder how to make those tricky French accents?
Need to buy a $12 Rap from a Rap Master?
What about learning how to take a nap (from a nap master)?
Say, you office cutup! Where's that instant rimshot when you need it?
You guys, learning about Seattle's history is awesome!
So is this photoset of my band, "Awesome"!
Are you having a baby, or would you rather visit Saint Louis**?
How would you translate this entire post into binary? And for Pete's sake,

when do you use "that" and when do you use "which" in a sentence?

*actual monetary savings subject to not existing.
**recommendation: do the latter before you do the former. Got that? It's former after latter, or, latter first, then former. Not vice versa. FOR GOD'S SAKE ARE WE CLEAR??

Late to the party... again

2010-05-31T14:35:00.001-07:00

So I went and joined Twitter for real this time (over to the right, third section down). I'm not usually an impulsive person, but sometimes I study and weigh an issue for a stupidly long time, come a decision and then proceed to completely do a 180 when someone makes even a remotely good argument against what I'd decided.

In this case, the decision had been "I'll use Twitter under a mysterious handle and refuse to say anything informative. By keeping it cryptic, I'll fly in the face of the very shorthand that is Twitter culture! Using guerrilla poetry tactics, I'll knock the system on its ear!" What happened, what always happens when I get a wild hair to rage against the machine, is simply that people didn't notice and got confused. The truth is, I'm not really an against-the-machine rager. More like a make-a-reasonable-change-from-inside-the-machine- while-providing-team-building-spirit-and-good-humor. Also in this case, the agent provocateur was my dad. As is his way, he managed to inadvertently point up, once again, a simple truth: Some things just aren't important enough to use for any purpose other than what they're meant for. Like using a screwdriver as a swizzle stick. Sometimes a cigar is just a euphemism for a long thing that you put in your mouth and light on fire. Life is short and often boring. Pick your battles. He didn't say all this, I'm still working out some guerrilla poetry.

So yeah, Twitter. Getting to know you... just don't try anything funny. I've got whole machine in here just waiting for a reason to get all raged against. I mean it this time!

Why I love living here: part 837

2010-04-14T13:33:00.000-07:00

I know this stuff is old news to Seattle folks in-the-know, but just this week I've used all three of these and thought 'pon how insanely convenient they are. And the only thing better than insane clowns is insane convenience. I totally missed my calling as a copywriter.

Anyhoo:

1) BECU's Snapshot ATMs - Man, do I love these. No deposit slips, just pop in your card, press a few buttons, in goes your signed check or cash, and you're done. It'll even spit out a receipt with a snapshot of your check on it (hence the name, duh). Fight the power: join a credit union!

2) ORCA Card - Just so much easier than cash or even a bus pass. No worrying about zones or transfers or switching from KC Metro to Sound Transit or whatever. I'm testing my limits of nonchalance whenever I get on the bus now. Just how little energy can I use to pay my fare? It's a fun game.

3) OneBusAway.org - A few minor glitches and negligible functionality oversights are nothing compared to the fact that this is like having a magic, real-time bus finder in your pocket (or on your desktop). Honestly, once I found this, I rethought our current car situation (we still need a car, but hey: rethinking!). It made me love public transit all over again... for the very first time.

Simply enchanted by the sound of my own voice

2010-04-06T23:06:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't deduced that I tend to let things go for a while by the frequency of posts on this blog (oh, hello April 2010!), I am proud to announce that after more than 12 years of procrastinating, I have finally recorded a Professional Voice Demo. TaDa!

No more idle complaining that I never get hired for voice work, to say nothing of the fact that this is a long-overdue checkbox for my agent who took me on specifically to cast me as a voice talent (at least I had acting to fall back on... uh, right?).

Well, better late than never. Let the Pizza Hut radio spots commence!

It was 20 years ago today

2009-12-30T16:12:00.000-08:00

Well, not today as much as this year...

Before we say goodbye to 2009 and the first decade of the 21st century, I must direct Beets' attention toward a point worth remembering:

The year was 1989 and, for some reason, it was an astounding year for music. Watershed releases from De La Soul, The Stone Roses, 2Live Crew (I know!), Fine Young Cannibals, Fugazi (x2), The Grateful Dead (x2), Tom Petty, Milli Vanilli (x0, turns out), Queen Latifah, The Pixies, The Beastie Boys, XTC, The Cure, The Offspring, The Sugarcubes (say, what kinda name is "Bjork"?), Faith No More, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Replacements, Prince, The B-52's (comeback!), David Bowie (comeback!), Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden- oh hell, just visit the link and see for yourself and be amazed.

It was a year book-ended by some great albums as well. Public Enemy got us coming and going at the decade mark with It Takes a Nation of Millions... in '88 and Fear of a Black Planet in '90 ("WTF happened to hip-hop that matters" is a subject of another very long, table-pounding discussion we should have sometime over a 40 of OE). The Sundays also punctuated the beginning of crush-pop with 1990's precious (in a good way) Reading, Writing & Arithmetic. Oh, how I would have kicked a boy for you, Harriet Wheeler...

Sure, I was just getting into music and out of high school that year, so perhaps my hindsight lens is stuck on its greatness along with senior year, driving, making out and generally poor risk assessment. And of course, there were great albums that came out since then, but really, anyone who considers 3 Feet High and Rising, Doolittle, Paul's Boutique or Don't Tell a Soul non-essential listening obviously hates music. Oranges and Lemons? The Raw and the Cooked? 13 Songs? Come on! And while Billy Joel and Elton John continued to wage their war on rock-and-roll that year, 1989 answered back with Suicidal Tendencies' underwhelming-yet-expertly-titled Controlled by Hatred/Feel Like Shit... deja vu. We heard overtures of greatness from misfit power-trios called Nirvana and Green Day. Even Paul McCartney and Bob Dylan made respectable showings that year*.

What was it about 1989? Anyone?

So here's to 2009, okay sure, see ya later. Musically, though, you're no 1989. Now get off my lawn, Lady Gaga!

*I will leave this point to be debated at length by the rabid fans/haters of said artists. I'm not about to get into a slap-fight over those two dinosaurs.

Dear CNN.com

2009-10-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

Do you even read the headlines you write?

Optional public option enters health care talks

First of all: "Enters" health care talks? Like, "oh hi fellas, it's me, Public Health Care Option. I know you haven't been thinking about me a lot so I'm just gonna go ahead and enter all up in your considerations right about now. Hope I'm not a polarizing factor in the discussion or anything! LOL!!!1!!!"

And second, an "optional public option", huh? That grammar makes me want to drive my vehicular motor vehicle into a brick wall brick wall.

I bet Olympia Snowe totally does not approve of that headline. Watch your stock price.

With concern,

Beets

Internet immortality in 3... 2... 1...

2009-10-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

I have just invented the opposite of Rickrolling.

I call it Rushrolling, and I bet you can figure out what it means.

See you suckers on the cover of Wired!*

*That's a print magazine devoted to cutting-edge technology, btw. I know, it's ironical.

Explain please

2009-10-14T00:10:00.000-07:00

I really don't know what to make of this.

"I think, therefore I'm single"

Misogynistic? Self-effacing? Passive-aggressive?

I spent way too much time weaving in and out of traffic trying to figure out this bumper sticker today. Help me, The Internet!

Now it can be told

2009-08-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

I'm [an extra] in the new Pearl Jam video:

I'm in the front row of the crowd - first glimpse of me if you pause it at 0:15, in the green shirt just to the right of the singer. Arms up, mouth open, bearded. Then in various cutaways after that. At 1:28, for example. Not that I kept track...

I was legally bound (BOUND) to keep my mouth shut about it until it was released, but it was a fun shoot. I've never been an enormous PJ fan (extras weren't told what band we'd be cheering til we got to the set. Super secret!), but they rocked it. Total pros and amazing musicians to see up close.

And I have to say, the song is pretty good too. Heard it once and tapped my foot. After hearing it 12 more times during the shoot, I was genuinely, as they say, rocking out.

You waited this long...

2009-08-21T16:46:00.000-07:00

...just for a stupid meme:

It would take 15 Manhattans to kill me
So there you go, would-be assassins. But I warn you: I get pretty "handsy" around #5, so leave your boundary issues at the door when you come to do me in.

It is all about me right?

2009-07-18T16:04:00.001-07:00

Really, why post at all unless I have something completely selfish and commercially relevant to talk about?

Hang all your sordid flaming invective: I'm in pictures, see. My friends do things that make them (and by extension, me) very important. Perhaps someday you too will understand what it's like to have your likeness made available for online purchase AND rental, but until then, take my word for it, friends. It is a heady and exhilarating sensation. It would probably be too intense for you to handle, actually.

To life! To celebrity! To effortless brilliance!
Avast!

Attention Summer

2009-05-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

You were made for classic rock, ideally from a car stereo, volume at maximum, car windows fully lowered.

Air guitar not necessary. Steering-wheel drumming OK.

That is all.

An open question

2009-04-07T15:10:00.001-07:00

Following this article, I wonder yet again about the purpose of maintaining a trade embargo with Cuba.

Am I missing something very important? Help me understand, blogosphere! This issue seems as irrelevant as communism!

(I know, politics??!)

UPDATE: Holy crap! Apparently, this blog kills fascists.

Pretty much

2009-04-05T23:18:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Seattle Public Library gift shop for having the courage to say what we're all thinking.

Auto bailout

2009-03-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

Let it never be said that I am not the fan of The Cars.
Classic rock devotee that I am, Ocasek and company are solid radio friends in my book (at least with their early- and mid-career material). This was not always the case, and now it is. I am without shame on the matter. Full stop.

That said, I just got a little creeped out by "Let the Good Times Roll" in a surprising iPod revelation.
The tune by itself seems a little dark for the subject matter, though I always thought this was kind of an ironic juxtaposition and never really paid much attention to it. It sounds like something you'd find in a New Wave haunted house (I just made that up, but wouldn't such a house be kind of awesome? "Aaaare we not mennnnnn? WE ARE DEEEEEVOOOO!!! BOO!! BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!").

Coupled with the lyrics, however, the song takes on a decidedly sinister, cult-like tone:

If the illusion is real

Let them give you a ride

If they got thunder appeal

Let them be on your side

Let them leave you up in the air

Let them brush your rock and roll hair

Let the good times roll...

First of all, I do not know what "thunder appeal" is.

Second, "let them brush your rock and roll hair"? What kind of hackneyed, Malibu Barbie-gone-bad, freshman-level beat peotry is that? I must call lyrical bullshit. Besides, isn't the goal of rock and roll hair to remain unbrushed? I mean, combed, maybe (or even picked for the cork-screw-haired artists), but definitely not brushed.
Okay, so that one's just a stumper.

Third, I can't help picturing a 'luuded-out, feather-haired, glassy-eyed, 80's dance club acolyte being led up to the VIP room where questionable activities are sure to take place on or around her person with or without her consent:
"Yeah baby, come on up, let's keep the party going... it's a gas, isn't it? They all love you, baby, everybody loves you, yeah, it's a big party and you're the star. Ride the tiger. Very groovy... You need another bump? Sure you do. You look sleepy, you want to lie down? Say, I've got a brush right here in my desk, why don't you let me take pass at that rock and roll hair of yours. Right on, right on..."

You, sirs, are SKEEZING ME OUT!

Then the chorus is chanted about 400 times at the end:
"Let the good times roll, let the good times roll, oooo won't you let the good times roll...", no doubt with the goal of coaxing even the coyest of wallflowers into the party trance imperative. You have to hand it to The Cars for their sheer tenacity here. But still. Jones, party of 500? Your Kool-aid is ready.

Now, rock bands playing Pied Piper to our precious, feather-haired and 'luuded-out children is not news, of course. Rock and roll, combined with youthful stupidity, peer pressure and illicit substances, has been The Debbil's most successful tool in leading the youth of today/leaders of tomorrow out into the dark territory. That is the way it has been, is and should always be forever and ever, world without end, amen.*

I suppose it's mainly that the good times I always associated with this song were not, in fact, the rolling good times its authors meant to conjure. So color me naive.

Or maybe I'm wrong and they were exactly the same good times. I'll have to take another listen. And then another,
And then another,
And another...

Gosh, all this blogging is making me... a little sleepy. I'm gonna go take a nap up in the VIP room.

[*I will deny this statement if my daughter ever brings it up. This blog post never existed. I don't even know you.]

If I was ever afraid of a black planet...

2009-03-17T12:20:00.000-07:00

... it's safe to say that fear has passed.

[l.-r.: Calendar from an auto parts company, Public Enemy poster]

Crappy phone photo taken in the common room of my band's practice space. Apologies to Ida, to whom I already told this joke.

Office scene

2009-03-03T14:32:00.000-08:00

Lights up on the kitchen at my office. Enter ME with empty coffee mug to put in the dishwasher. At table stands NANCY, talking to MONA and JUDY:

MONA
Did you say there's a shoe sale at Barney's?

NANCY
Yes! I'm going this afternoon! They're' serving free cocktails and appetizers, too!

JUDY
Are you serious?! What time?

NANCY
Five o'clock! Wanna come?

MONA & JUDY
OhmyGodYES!

They exit effervescently. I close the dishwasher and silently begin to wash my hands. DON enters.

DON
So, shoe sale at Barney's, huh?

ME
Yup. Free booze too.

DON
Good for them.

Fin.

Is there anything that cannot be sold with free alcohol? Fork lifts and maternity wear, perhaps. PerHAPS.

Also: What economic crisis?

This is not a blog post

2009-02-18T23:15:00.000-08:00

It's like the Price Is Right, where the cameras sweep the audience while the drum rolls, until...
"Come on down!"
Zoom in on amazed expression, screaming, crying.
Now down the aisle through other screaming, clapping non-winners.
And hold on the podium.

As of this week, we - the American arts community - are the next contestants in the wacky game of government bailouts.
Our dreamy new president and his bad-boy congress gave the NEA some walking-around money from the stimulus package to the tune of $50M. Don't take my word for it: Google "2009 stimulus package arts" for all the opinions and info you could ask for (but finish reading this first!).
Now, forget that this is essentially chump change, a small sliver of a fraction of the total package and equivalent to the combined annual operating budgets of roughly 6 regional theaters (I'm guessing). In this case, it really is the thought that counts. We had to fight for it, the undisputed underdogs, and we won.
Whoa.

You know what this means, don't you? It means now we're on the radar. That fabled golden government egg that always goes to the military or Area 51 or illiterate kids in Yemen? That mean old government that refuses to support the arts in this country like they do in Amsterdam or wherever and how come we don't get the props we deserve from those jerks in Washington?
Well, it ain't Amsterdam, but it's a start. Some good people in DC, along with a lot of very vocal arts advocates, just stood up for us - all of us - and made a difference. And don't think they're not gonna watch where that money goes with hawk-like attention.

So, thank-you notes. First and foremost.

And then it's time to face up to a new, long-dormant idea about the arts: we're part of the marketplace. Someone just put a value (however nominal) on the life of the arts in this country. Artists got to stand front and center among The Big 3 Automakers and the Wall Street scavengers, all with their big puffy hands out, and we got a piece of the pie. The arts directly contribute to the well-being of our society. That statement is a matter of public record now, and it's got the cash to back it up. It's weird to hear someone else say it for once, isn't it?

We are part of the marketplace.

Does this mean we are compelled now to make corporate art for our new BFFs in congress? To kowtow even more to nonprofit funders? Nothing but landscapes, tap dancing and smooth jazz? I hope not. Corporate rock still sucks. Everyone knows that.
But maybe we can step away from the post-modern fraud of art-without-an-audience that helped make the idea of arts funding such a toxic event for so long. Elitist, offensive, impenetrable - all slings and arrows suffered by modern artists and not entirely without cause.

Can we now also revisit, and perhaps de-claw, the concept of "selling out" as an artist? Truly celebrate the craft of art along with the art of art? Is a furniture maker is less of an artist than a wood sculptor? Hard to say. I'd have to see the chair. And the sculpture, I suppose. But really, what's so funny 'bout peace, love and a little populism in your art?

We can no longer afford to deny that what we do has real value, and that value is indeed a commodity that can and should be traded, bartered and appraised like any public consumable. It is the stronger, smarter artist who must navigate the world of commerce according to their own needs and desires instead of simply opting out altogether.

And really, if anyone can do it, we can. Creative thinkers and generative artists who can work collaboratively can do great things for a community. Besides the art itself, things like city planning, infrastructure, law enforcement and neighborhood development would hugely benefit from the artist that decides to come out of their hovels and start to play nice with the other kids. Just, you know, don't forget the sunscreen.

The camera has finally stopped on us.
Amazing, yes. Now we have to head for the podium.

Artists of America, come on down.

Overheard in the car

2009-02-06T11:57:00.000-08:00

"...but if they can't replace the tires before Sunday, how will I get to the roller skating party?"*

*said by Ida, thinking aloud.
Yes, there really is a roller skating party on Sunday. These are the conversational moments I live for, frankly.

I do not know what these things mean

2009-01-29T22:10:00.000-08:00

This (unretouched photo), I can take a pretty good guess at:

I assume it's got something to do with helping "the red man get ahead, man", or whatever Obama plans to do about racism in crosswalks, I didn't pay very close attention to his inauguration speech. But, you know, hope and change and all that.

This (unretouched photo), however, has me quite flummoxed:

While I do look forward to someday dwelling on the logical and syntactical corn maze that the statement itself presents, I can't quite get past the, um, cavalier attitude towards punctuation here. Punctuation that exists on a billboard, by the way. Who was at that design meeting?
All I can figure is the sign's underwriters (The Concerned Citizens for a Better America, is what the small print in the lower right says) feel that America is simply too awesome for an ellipses with only three dots. The fourth dot stands for Freedom! And this statement is so powerful, it needs to be put in quote! Get it up on that billboard outside the YWCA! People need to be shocked and awed by its bad punctuation, questionable rationale and jingoistic message! No time for a proofreader, they are tools of the corporatist elite!
If we stop shrieking, the terrorists have won!

Pea soup

2009-01-23T10:48:00.000-08:00

I haven't yet decided if this fog is better or worse than the cloudy drizzle we usually get this time of year. There is something nice about being prompted by the weather to draw your focus in closer, like pulling the blankets up over yourself for a little while. And I do like walking around in it, pretending I'm all mysterious and literary. You just can't do that in the sunshine.
But I would like some more sunshine. Soon, please?

And now, the late, great Stephen Stucker:

Hahahahahahaaaaaa!

2009-01-20T11:59:00.000-08:00

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAHHAHAHAAA!
HAHAHAHAAAHHAHAHAHAAAAA!

(sorry, I just...)

BWAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAA!! HAHAHAHAAAA!

(Okay, really.) mmmmmMMMAAHAHA!

(It's just hitting me now that) hee! (I don't have to think about NOT calling him "President" Bush anymore) HOOOOOAAAAHHHHAAAAAA!!
(Man, that is a load off!)
WHEW!
(Also, I just watched a room full of old white men stand the hell up for a black president. You're damn right you gotta.)
WAAAAHOOO!!
(Also also - happened to walk by a Nader '08 bumper sticker this morning. Felt a little puzzled and impatient. Resisted defacing it. In other news:)
LAAAAAHHAAAAAAAHHAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEYYYYY!

(More coherent musings here.)

The Bold and the Musical

2009-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

John Osebold of local funtime dork-pop orchestra "Awesome" has a pretty, um, fantastic alteregosideproject he calls Jose Bold. He's got a new album that's, um, really really good and available for free download on his website and he's playing at the Rendezvous here in Seattle on Jan. 29.

Listen here.
Check it out.
It's going to be, uh- oh hell, it'll be awesome.

(Fancy customized Jose Bold TuneWidget^tm provided by ReverbNation. Which I'm guessing you already know by now.)

A rant to begin the new year

2009-01-05T14:03:00.003-08:00

I'm trying to be more patient this year.
I'm trying not to let the weather get to me.
I'm trying to remember that I like snow, I grew up around snow, I used to ski on snow.

But King County Metro FAILS.

When, after 2 weeks of system-wide communication meltdown, unannounced route closures, inaccurate re-scheduling information, jack-knifed buses and surly, snippy drivers...
After at least ONE yearly snowstorm to ostensibly clue us in that we need some kind, any kind, of comprehensive backup plan...
After the deafening silence from city and county "leaders" about just what the hell kind of World Class City leaves one of its major infrastructure elements to basically swing in the breeze (Do we even have a mayor?)...

After all of this, about which I have been relatively even-headed, to this morning put my bus on an UNPUBLISHED REROUTE is the final straw. What the hell does an "unpublished reroute" even mean?
If. The Route? Is Unpublished? How. Do. People? Find. The Bus.
Question Mark.

Can we please stop pretending, in our heart of urban hearts, when we pull a major civic boner like this, that we are a World Class city? Because, um, hell no.
We need to once-and-for-all admit this to ourselves. It'll be okay. Other cities will still think we're cool. Right now, though, I can't even imagine how utterly foolish and impotent we must seem to a city like, say, Minneapolis.

World Class cities don't behave this way. Junior high school students don't behave this way. The World Class stoner in my junior high school English class didn't behave this way.
Maybe that's it. Maybe Metro is totally DUI. Or else maybe they should be. I can't tell anymore because apparently I'm now residing in Ridiculouston.

We have snow nearly every year.
We have heavy rains, floods, Windstorms^tm and other inclement weather, too. Every. Damn. Year.
There are six major, treacherous, steep hills that have been in this city EVERY YEAR since literally forever.
Why do we act surprised every year when the sky becomes white instead of grey?
Why do we sit slack-jawed watching this familiar train bear down on us every year?
How do we think it will turn out differently? Snow falls, people act stupidly, city shuts down. Sound familiar?
Why has no one thought that maybe, possibly this kind of stuff should be anticip...ated...? Planning isn't necessarily major spending. It's just planning! Making a plan and communicating that plan is NOT THAT DIFFICULT in the scheme of things. I plan things and they generally seem to make my life easier. People do it all the time, don't they? Or am I now the Mayor of Ridiculouston, living on Ridiculous Avenue in Ridiculous Mansion?

Okay fine then.
My fellow citizens:
The people that tell us that nothing could have been done, that they don't control the weather, that, gosh, we sure learned some valuable lessons from this and we sure won't let it happen this way again are MORONS. We will let it happen this way again, we HAVE let it happen this way again. It happens this way, to some degree, EVERY YEAR.

Seattle, your youth is fading, so you better damn well get some smarts behind those wrinkles. You can be a pretty attractive middle-aged city if you can figure out how to swing it. Right now, though, you're still fooling around with lip gloss and Mai Thais.

Fix please.
And how about no more fare increases until I can trust you not to do this again?

When the laughter stops

2009-01-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

It's over between me and Graphjam.com
What used to be clever "song chart memes" and "music and culture in chart form" (their words!) has devolved of late into AOL-grade Seinfeld rip-offs.
Witness the titles of some of the latest charts:

"Things that go wrong in public restrooms" (where to start)
"Reasons I do stuff" (wow, gripping)
"Usage of my back seat" (are we still using the term "hanky-panky"? Really?)

I'm going to unsubscribe so hard from your RSS feed, Graphjam. I'm sorry. It's not me, it's you. Next time, try to use less suck and more good. Please make a note of it.

And no, this has nothing to do with my graph not getting enough votes to be featured on their main page (Dame Celebrity, why do you ever spurn me?). But come on, The Beatles and Highlander? How is that not better than "Reasons I do stuff"?

Spam and Smapsibility

2008-12-22T12:11:00.000-08:00

Actual, unabridged contents of a spam email I just got from one Yoshi Chestnut:

She had never forgiven Robert for killing him.That made him angry too. Dareon was not supposed to be making up songs about courtesans. He

Check Stunning Low priced Medication http://www.newyearsalebargain.cn

continue with this folly?is going mad. What of our brave Ser Loras? How often does he call upon his sister? Garin reined up beneath the willow. Wake up, you fish-eyed lagabeds, he called as he leapt down
It’s the same Hotmail®. If by “same” you mean up to 70% faster. Get your account now.

Wait! I agree that Dareon's songwriting had crossed the line and sure, Ser Loras can be kind of a freak with his sister (WTF's up with that, am I right?), but I'm dying to know what happens to the fish-eyed lagabeds!

Tell me more about the lagabeds, Yoshi!
I guess I'll just have to wait for faster Hotmail. Blast!

How to deal with the economic downturn

2008-12-12T14:44:00.000-08:00

Stand on your head. Then it's an upturn!
It's that easy!

If you're wondering if this photo was taken at the company holiday party, umm...

No comment.

Grammar, please

2008-12-07T21:32:00.000-08:00

For the last time:

Breath is what you take, breathe is the act of taking breaths.

Spelt is a grain, spelled is the past tense of spell.

Their, There & They're - Possession, location & contraction, respectively. There shouldn't have to be a Facebook quiz about this!

Width = how wide
Depth = how deep
Heighth = NOT A WORD. Were you thinking of height? Yes, I think you were.

That is all.

Dork out.

Thanks December!

2008-12-05T16:44:00.000-08:00

End of the day, end of the week, almost the end of the year.

I don't care what anyone says. I'm a sucker for a good wintertime sunset.
(reproduced poorly here by my camera phone, but trust me, it was breathtaking...)

Downsizing

2008-11-11T15:53:00.000-08:00

Since I've been thinking WAY too much about my online activities or lack thereof, I've realized that I'm nearing the bursting point of my own personal tech bubble, as it were. Don't get me wrong, I'm crazy about the new web toys and tech buzz and all that, but it's getting kind of top-heavy and time-consuming.

That said, some changes are in order. I've decided to make some networking layoffs:

Twitter: I really tried, but my attention span is just too long for this. Or maybe not long enough. See? I don't even know what this service is good for. I don't work for Obama, I'm not in a touring band and I'm not a Mars lander. No one wants to hear what I'm doing every 5 minutes, least of all me. Tweet you later.

MySpace: I honestly can't remember the last time I spent more than 30 seconds on MySpace. I used to go there all the time and it's still great if you're a band that wants a free website, or if you enjoy testing your seizure threshold for Flash banner ads, or if you need to stay current with what [alt/metal/hip-hop/teen movie superstar-of-the-minute] is up to. Facebook's got me firmly under its minimalist, Web 2.0 spell for all my personal e-socializing needs. ByeSpace.

Under review:

This blog: Ha! Just kidding, I could never quit this blog. I mean, unless you think I should. Would you like me more if I blogged less. Or less if I blogged more? Because I can change, I swear I can! This was just a goof. That is, unless you take it seriously, then it's totally for real. Whatever you want, baby.

LinkedIn: The only reason this one didn't get the pink slip is because if my paranoia that I will someday need it to find another job. And LI just sits there until you use it, which is refreshingly unobtrusive. Plus, my dad is on it. LinkedIn stays in for now.

IM: Mixed feelings. I hardly ever use IM (nor am I in high IM demand, truth be told), but there are a few people that I would otherwise never talk to without it. Plus, it's faster than texting and usefully linked to my email. IM on the fence.

Skype: Our home internet sucks, but someday it might not and Ida and I have loved ones outside the US that would really dig the free VoIP calling. Do I believe the Skype?

Staying on:

Email, duh
Text messaging, also duh.
Facebook
Youtube
Flickr

Additionally, you'll find a bit more info over on the sidebar now, as I've deleted the old basilharris.com site and just redirected the URL traffic here. It's like moving in with your parents! If your parents were a website and you were a collection of links to loosely affiliated, narcissistic web accounts and pages.
Which, apparently, I have now become.

So now that ducks are slowly assembling in a row, this should be the last of the blog posts about blog posting. What to talk about now? Fashion? Politics? Opera?

Greetings from the new vanguard

2008-11-10T15:42:00.000-08:00

An ~~excuse~~ explanation has presented itself for my lackluster blogging schedule of late.

Apparently, it's called Slow Blogging and I for one welcome our new web-slacker overlords who're advocating for:

"...a willingness to remain silent amid the daily outrages and ecstasies that fill nothing more than single moments in time, switching between banality, crushing heartbreak and end-of-the-world psychotic glee in the mere space between headlines. The thing you wished you said in the moment last week can be said next month, or next year, and you'll only look all the smarter."

Well, well well. Looks like there's room for a seasonal, roadside, homegrown, variable-hours farmstand in the world of Mega-mart blogging after all. Just goes to show that "behind-the-curve" can quickly become "cutting-edge" once everyone else reverses direction.
It's like that scene in Modern Times where a loitering Charlie Chaplain finds himself suddenly (and literally) waving the red flag at the head of an angry mob that happens to be sweeping through.

Yeah, it's exactly like that, I think.

MoveOn said I should post this, but I think they're paranoid

2008-10-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

First of all, YES, we do need to keep the pressure on. We need to keep fighting, we need to behave tenaciously, determinedly and with focused and tireless effort for our will to be realized. We need to behave like the Republicans would if their man kept getting good news served up on a plate.
However, I got this email from Adam at MoveOn.org today and I have to take issue with all 5 of the reasons he gives for keeping the heat on [italics are mine]:

TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY [sez MoveOn.org]

1. The polls may be wrong. This is an unprecedented election. No one knows how racism may affect what voters tell pollsters—or what they do in the voting booth. [Yeah, they may be, but the moon might also crash into the earth someday. Humans are stupidly addicted to peer pressure. Colin Powell, The Salt Lake City Tribune, the Chicago Tribune - all conservative outlets, btw. Don't discount the human nature to follow the masses. Racists don't say they'll vote for Obama just because they want to please pollsters. They call themselves undecided or hang up the phone at the words "political poll". If anything, I'd predict more self-identified Republicans and conservatives secretly voting for Obama.]

2. Dirty tricks. Republicans are already illegally purging voters from the rolls in some states. They're whipping up hysteria over ACORN to justify more challenges to new voters. Misleading flyers about the voting process have started appearing in black neighborhoods. And of course, many counties still use unsecure voting machines. [Too little, too late. An effective GOP smear machine would've planted these seeds months ago. McCain's and Palin's attacks have thus far been duds. This one has no strategy - no Karl Rove - and won't hold any real Swiftboat-style weight. ACORN's not Whitewater, it's a voter's rights org. Pass.]

3. October surprise. In politics, 15 days is a long time. The next McCain smear could dominate the news for a week. There could be a crisis with Iran, or Bin Laden could release another tape, or worse. [See above scenario vis-a-vis the moon crashing into the earth. Eyes on the ball people.]

4. Those who forget history... In 2000, Al Gore won the popular vote after trailing by seven points in the final days of the race. In 1980, Reagan was eight points down in the polls in late October and came back to win. Races can shift—fast! [Numbers are so scary! Seriously, what's the point here?]

5. Landslide. Even with Barack Obama in the White House, passing universal health care and a new clean-energy policy is going to be hard. Insurance, drug and oil companies will fight us every step of the way. We need the kind of landslide that will give Barack a huge mandate. [So, you mean we have to keep working AFTER the election? Gosh, I thought we just pressed the Obama button and a better country popped out! Landslide? Try rolling avalanche. Again, think of what the opposision would do and has done to keep their agenda front and center these past 8 years. We need to do that. Only, you know, with less evil.]

It's true we shouldn't rest easy yet, I'm just miffed that MoveOn thinks they have to stir up scare tactics of their own to remind us of that. Anyway, sign up to volunteer at your local Obama office. It'll make Adam happy.

Wired magazine says I should stop blogging

2008-10-20T10:38:00.000-07:00

They told me I should quit behaving like it's 2004 and get on board with Facebook posting and Twittering (see left [UPDATE: see right]) and Flickr live feed video conference update yadda yadda blah blah. Nobody cares about me, the casual and erratic social blogger, anymore. It's all about actual "news" blogs and LOLcats now. These beets are made of dinosaur dust and dodo dreams.

But I enjoyed 2004. Things were different back then, before the iPhone, back when a text message really meant something, you know? I miss those days. How long until regular blogging becomes retro-chic? I can wait, I don't have to be anywhere til 3:30 today.

I know my posting has been anemic of late - the Google analytics graph of this site looks like a Kansas cornfield in December >rimshot!<.

So maybe they're right. Maybe I should stop blindly following the imagined demands of those who rely on weekly updates from me and begin blindly following the imagined demands of those who crave up-to-the-minute, CNN ticker-style tweets. Imagined demands are still demands, after all.

But I'll never stop fondly recalling the days before Vista and Leopard. When Internet video was still code for "adult entertainment" the kids still vaguely remembered VHS. Those were the good times, people.

Beets never forgets.

How to go insane

2008-08-26T17:11:00.000-07:00

Step 1.

Search keywords Clinton, Obama, DNC, McCain, Economy, Iraq, etc.

Step 2.

Select news item from the findings (washingtonpost.com for best results)

Step 3.

Read article, vow not to read comments.

Step 4.

Read entire comment thread.

Step 5.

Lose mind.

It's that easy!

I've been published. Kinda...

2008-08-19T10:34:00.001-07:00

I submitted a dumb graph to GraphJam, my new favorite time-wasting site. Check it!

'S'funa, right?

You can vote on it here (or somewhere in the vicinity) and if it gets enough votes, they'll post it to the main site.

Support my stupidness! I command you!

Who sent me this shirt?

2008-08-16T23:58:00.001-07:00

This came to me in the mail on Friday with no name or note included.

Don't get me wrong, I love free t-shirts and all, and this one comfortably rides the line between ridiculous and juvenile (c'est moi!), but um...

Who do I have to thank/reprimand/by a beer?

Did I win something?

Will this shirt get me in trouble?

How come all these awesome things keep happening to me?!?!

City of Contradiction

2008-08-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

I have a pretty great view from my desk at work. On particularly slow work days (like, um, today), I've been known to pause mid-keystroke to watch a ferryboat trudge across the bay or to consider the real estate value of one of those condos perched on Alki point. Even in bad weather, the view is still pretty great. This is a realization I came to while working at the Space Needle, actually: Seattle looks good almost all the time.

Since our offices are located in a older building (no double-panes here) above a busy street near Pike Place Market, though, my daily soundtrack is a series of events I can hear but not see - tires screeching, unattended car alarms, sirens, blaring horns, those damn Duck Tour loudspeakers, obscenities and random shouting (alternately frightening and entertaining and sometimes in connection with the Duck Tours), and a guttural chorus of engines large and small. Regardless of the auditory assault, the corresponding imagery always looks something like this:

It's a bit of a disconnect, I must admit.

Release the brilliance!

2008-08-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today, in honor of my mother's 60th birthday, IFC Entertainment releases My Effortless Brilliance as part of their Festival Direct series, among other things they do.

No time to talk - I must clear off my box spring for the piles of money that I will soon use as a mattress. For you see, in the eyes of cable TV subscribers everywhere, I will, no doubt, presently become like unto a star. A distant and tiny dim star, to be sure, but somewhere in the flooded galaxy of digital media, I will have arrived.

Where do I pick up my baggage, I wonder?

Also, I have a used mattress which I will let go for $300,000 OBO.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

I hold you partly responsible for all this.

Legalize it

2008-08-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

Dear Santa-

This year for Christmas, I would like for you to legalize marijuana for all the good boys and girls. Even for the bad boys and girls. I don't really care.

I know Christmas is a long way off and you're still probably on vacation in Tahiti or somewhere, but I needed to get my request in early because it is so important.

Here's why:

Today at my job, two of my coworkers were talking to each other about buying weed. Of course, they didn't use that term ever. They said things like, "I was interested in meeting up with your friend" and "When is your friend in town?" and "Should I contact your friend directly?" Then they would giggle and exchange knowing smiles and agree with each other about nothing in particular.

I have to be honest, Santa, I hate potheads with an unreasonable and probably unwarranted passion. They speak in riddles have insipid little rituals. I hate them because they let me know they're potheads by trying to keep it a secret and they get all mad when I call them on it, usually in a loud and irritating tone. I must admit, it gives me great satisfaction to see them act as if the DEA is about to burst through the door at the very utterance of the word "marijuana." Ah, good times.

Nonetheless, I am asking you to legalize pot so I don't have to put up with their intricate and futile rites of secrecy and self-righteous pseudo-politics about how alcohol is worse for you than pot and there are no documented cases of lung cancer associated with smoking dope. First of all, I KNOW alcohol isn't good for you, that's why I drink it. That's why everyone drinks it. Do you know what we call people who go on and on about the benefits of alcohol, Santa? We call them a cab! Get it?

Seriously, Santa, everyone knows the war on drugs is a joke. Recreational pot use is all but accepted by the general population, or at least ignored. It's being prescribed by doctors and state laws are actually protecting sanctioned growers. Can we please just close the loop and make it official?

I'm not sure I can deal with much more incessant tittering and badly-veiled tokers' code in my social life, let alone my workplace.

Legalize it, tax it, make it as normal as buying a 6-pack at 7-11. Maybe that'll shut those stupid hippies up.

Thanks Santa. Have a great summer.

Your friend,

W.G. Beets

When the lightning strikes

2008-07-03T16:22:00.000-07:00

Something great about hearing throughout the day that more than a few people were jolted awake last night by the same, soul-shattering thunder clap around 5 a.m.

I remember thinking, in my sleep-intoxicated, partial dream state, "This is so cool. I hope the baby doesn't get scared. Thunderstorms are the best. I wonder if that just hit a treezzzzzzzz..."

A cool, muggy summer night with gigantic electrical explosions coming out of the sky:

It is a divine thing, indeed.

Classic lit or classic rock?

2008-06-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

The answer is not always so easy.

Twain's Huckleberry Finn

Rush's "Tom Sawyer"

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

"Frankenstein" by The Edgar Winter Group

Melville's Moby Dick

John Bonham's drum solo in the middle of "Moby Dick" by Led Zeppelin

Orwell's 1984

Van Halen's 1984

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

Breakfast in America by Supertramp

Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre

"Jane" by Jefferson Starship

Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

"Uncle John's Band" by The Grateful Dead

Nathaniel West's The Day of the Locust

"Hocus Pocus" by Focus

Henry James' Portrait of a Lady

"Lady" by Styx

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

"Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)" by Jimi Hendrix

Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage

"Tied to the Whipping Post" by The Allman Brothers

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

"8 Miles High" by The Byrds

There are no correct answers. Or rather, no incorrect answers.

Only small actors.

Who never ask stupid questions.

Or something.

Addendum

2008-06-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

...to this post.

(With props to Dakwallah. An old friend and smartypants with a boyish grin and an adorable family. Seriously, you should meet them.)

Now, unleash the fury, my stupids!

Cotton

2008-06-17T10:29:00.000-07:00

Two years ago today, we got married. Still, the only thing I can pull from memory about that day is a series of colorful sketches - clothing, jewelry, flowers, the sky, green grass among faded brick. It's all still a warm, broad-stroked blur. I'm glad there are photographs to put sharp edges on some of those impressionist images.

I remember smiling so widely and for so long that I had to physically pull down on my facial muscles to ease the strain.
Trembling on the verge of tears as I read my vows and as Ida read hers to me. Embracing as a married couple for the first time as if our brief moment on the stage had been an eternity and we'd been miles apart, even though our apartment was right down the street.

The day was color and sun and music, out-of-town family and well-dressed friends all sunglasses and smiles, buoying up our already full and racing hearts. It was Dave J.'s getaway car with classic rock blaring out of the speakers literally carrying us off into the sunset, tired feet and wet cheeks and all.

I'm proud of what we did that day. I'm proud that we did something so regular and everyday and made it our own. I'm proud that we even made Mr. Rich cry and that we were still able to say our vows on the upswing of the minute-hand like we wanted, despite a late start.

I'm proud of our life together, G. Thanks for saying yes. I hope we'll both always keep saying it.
Happy marriage, long life.

Cheesed off

2008-06-11T15:45:00.000-07:00

It doesn't take a genius to gather how much I love tacos and types of food associated with tacos. I'd say the main clue would be the fact that I have a functioning digestive system, because come on: Tacos!

What you may not know is that Ida and I are a bit choosy when it comes to Mexican food. Our honeymoon was guided, in large part, by our proximity to quality authentic posolé and homemade tortillas. However, we don't consider ourselves complete snobs about it, since as we all know, tacos should only be used to promote unity and love, never conflict. (I got your "immigration reform" right here...)

So it was with increasing frustration yesterday that we circled the grocery store three (3) times in search of queso fresco to use in Ida's delicious and easy-to-make enchilada pie:

First pass - Hm. We must have missed it.
Second pass - Let us ask someone. [ask] Okay, she said it's in the other cheese section. Of course!
Third pass - All right, you stay here, I'll go alone. We can't both freak out in front of the baby.

A store that carries every type of cheese from virtually all of the recognized cheese-making nations - France, Italy, Russia, Greece, England, Turkey, Spain (I know!), Ireland, Scotland, Canada, Germany - fails to carry (fails to carry!) the most basic staple of great authentic Mexican food besides corn, chilies and avocado.

Unacceptable!

But gee, why not just use sharp cheddar or Colby jack like Red Robin does? Or grab one of those bags of pre-shredded "Mexican blend" cheeses? Might it be because those cheeses have NOTHING to do with actual Mexican food? Per-effing-haps!

Hear this, grocers of America: The Mexicans are coming, despite your best efforts, and they are bringing their delicious delicious food with them. So try as you might to distract us with your uninformed, vaguely xenophobic and quasi-racist, "that kind of cheese is only available at specialty cheese shops" line (you mean like one of your other stores, Mr. Corporate Grocer?!), you'd best believe that the soft, crumbly, salty queso will be on your face when it comes time to pay the cheese piper.

And also, what in the DAMN HELL is THIS?!

Don't tell the Tin Man

2008-05-22T14:34:00.001-07:00

Though I believe you might run into a problem here.

Robot plays dumb until robot sees its chance...

[Muchas gracias to habeas cornchip for the image. The colors match so well with the blog, don't you think?]

Some Changes

2008-05-15T18:27:00.000-07:00

Re: your Lexicon of Current Acceptable Pop Culture Slang, category 12d, terms of derision/excitement/adoration/food/geography/cats/human anatomy/music/movies/popular first-time novelists/the Internet/sharks, please note the following updates for the 2008 spring session:

Both douchebag and the shortened d-bag are replaced with "a-hole." You may still use the douchebag hybrid beta test, "deeb."
Similarly, and as a protective measure, awesome will be shortened and made slightly less easily-accessible by converting to "a-some."
Used in its adjectival form, "fucking" is replaced with the lighter, more portable "effing". Its verb usage is unassailable and remains unchanged.
When absolutely necessary, nachos and vacation may be shortened to "'chos" and "vacay", respectively.
"Resto" is not an acceptable substitute for restaurant, since no one ever says "resto" under any circumstances whatsoever because it is stupid and pretentious.
Using "va-jay-jay" when referring to the vagina has been retroactively banned universally forever, especially in print. Because what are you, 19?
New York City may only be referred to as "NYC" in print or in the context of the musical "Annie."
When someone remarks, "I don't care anymore", any reference to Phil Collins should be avoided thereafter. The same rules apply to all other Phil Collins songs that contain lyrics.
"Your mom" has been temporarily replaced with "YOU are" as the default answer to any question, regardless of subject, tense or context.
While private enjoyment of LOLcats is always encouraged, public conversation regarding them is no longer appropriate.
Any phrase that appears in a t-shirt advertisement on MySpace has obviously jumped the shark and will no longer be tolerated.
"Jump the shark" may only be used if the speaker can accurately track its origin.
Chuck Norris was pretty good in The Delta Force and the Missing in Action movies. That's about as far as it goes with him.
The phrase "Succotash my Balzac, Dipshiitake" is now hilarious again.

More updates as they happen.

That is all.

Sources: Dave J., Ida S., Harper, JSF, The STFU Institute

We're Going to the Movies!

2008-05-08T23:46:00.001-07:00

I don't often use this sacred space for shameless self-promotion, but-

Wait, can we take that again? I didn't feel like I sounded sincere enough.

Do you think I sounded genuine?

Okay, are we still rolling? Okay, let's just take it again.

Ahem.

Dear readers,

I do hope that you and all of your friends will come see the films that I am in this year at the Seattle International Film Festival, of which there are three. You can find out more about the wonderful festival - the largest on the continent! - here. Specific details about the films I'm in can be found here.

Really, if you want to see anything at the festival, you should act now, as people in Seattle do love their artsy, indie, filmy-films so. You wouldn't want to end up in the lobby, crying in your popcorn, because you couldn't get into the big show.

Because, come on. That's a waste of perfectly good popcorn.

Don't embarrass yourself.

Best Wishes,

W. G. Beets

Great mystery of life #276 (at last I've found you)

2008-05-05T22:27:00.000-07:00

File under: "That one thing? I can't remember what it's called. I saw it years ago on PBS, I think- what was it? I wonder if it's on YouTube somewhere?"

Less a cutting-edge bit of cleverness these days than an effective learning tool. But I'm still glad I finally found it. Let's hear it for Canadian women making indie films in the 80's!

The Boy at the Door

2008-04-29T22:42:00.001-07:00

A short play in one act

(Based on actual events)

Scene: A Sunday afternoon. A couple and their young baby sit on the couch in their apartment, reading. There is a knock at the door. The MAN gets up to answer it. He opens the door to find a ten-year-old BOY, slightly stocky and dressed in camouflage pajamas, looking up at him.

MAN:

Hi there.

BOY:

Um, uh...

The BOY looks at the MAN, then at the wall, then the floor, then shifts nervously, then looks at the MAN again, then at the wall, figets, looks back at the MAN, figets, is about to say something, hesitates, looks at the floor.

The MAN smiles patiently and says nothing. Then,

MAN:

What can I do for you?

BOY:

Um... uh. Um. Um... uh. Are you new here?

MAN:

Nope.

The BOY looks at the MAN, then at the wall, then the floor, then shifts nervously, then looks at the MAN again, then at the wall, figets, looks back to the MAN, figets, is about to say something, hesitates, looks at the floor. He takes a breath, lets it out, fidgets, looks at the MAN, then the floor, the wall, the floor, the MAN, the wall, figets, is about to say something, stops, looks at the wall.

The MAN smiles patiently and says nothing.

BOY:

Oh, um... never mind.

The BOY turns and walks away. The MAN closes the door after him and returns to the couch with his WIFE.

WIFE:

How'd that kid get in the building?

The BABY fusses slightly. There is silence.

Blackout.

Fin.

iFeelings

2008-03-31T17:32:00.000-07:00

Not that I feel shamed into writing by a recent commenter (posting funny pictures is NOT a cop-out!), but I notice that if I don't have anything clever to write, I don't write anything at all. Which is why I'm daring myself to write now.

Already, I've slipped into that double-trap I most despise about blogs - writing about writing and writing about one's feelings. Someone once said that the internet has given unprecedented rise to the validity of uneducated opinions. Anyone who spends 4 seconds reading the comment threads of any major (or minor) news story online knows this. Opinions are like, uh, armpits (said the new dad), and as I've always said to myself in the privacy of my own brain: People are idiots.

The best way to stave off idiocy? I say humor. Or mockery or absurdity or, in this case, radio silence. The last one serves me best in the long run, but the silence is inevitably replaced with anger and restlessness and spite. Because it's not that I'm not paying attention to the asinine goings-on of the government/art world/music scene/media, I'm just choosing not to respond. And that's usually fine.

When it's not fine is when I can't seem to joke my way out of it. I know I'm getting older, too, since I'm being more deliberate about my sense of humor. I firmly believe that the heart of comedy is beauty and the heart of beauty is truth (I know, here we go...). Now, you can define "beauty" and "truth" (and "comedy" , for that matter) however you like, but in my mind, they are the holy trinity. If I can truly laugh at something, it is divine.
If something's not funny, well... courtesy laughs are for the weak. And I'm through making dull people feel better about themselves.

Perhaps I haven't had time lately to laugh as much (and how I do so miss 30 Rock). Things aren't bad, just moving at a very different pace with The Baby (the ultimate combination of truth, beauty and humor), so maybe I don't have to go looking for a reason to laugh at the world now. It's right in front of me with a drooly grin and fat little thighs, pulling my heart out slowly through my ribs. No more idle cynicism, I can dial down the toxic language and self-aggrandizing ego campaigns. Babies don't care about elections or wars or economies right now and it's kinda nice living in that world for a change.

So I guess I've been checked out for a bit - which must crush my fours of readers, I'm sure - but rest assured, I'll be back soon at full cleverness, wit and charm. Though I may have gained a little weight. And I may be wearing more Seahawks gear.

Thanks for indulging this moment of introspection. We now return you to your regularly scheduled internet, already in progress.

Area man finds physical copy of Onion

2008-03-11T14:05:00.001-07:00

"It's easy when you don't have to type in the 'dot com' part."

Let the iMocking commence

2008-03-07T12:29:00.000-08:00

After buying one of these for Ida (you know, just because), I requested and was given one for my birthday.

I admit:

Holy crap. It totally rules, and
I am a gadget whore. There, I said it.

I'd also like to formally apologize to all those iPhone owners I mocked for their geekishness.

I now humbly submit to the taunting slings and arrows of both of this blog's readers.

Le Geek, C'est Moi.

Syntax update

2008-02-25T23:41:00.000-08:00

The following are terms and expressions I look forward to using and overusing in the weeks to come. When you see me next, I might only be interested in stringing these together somehow throughout our conversation. You have been warned.

"This... isn't over." - Used in personal-action-movie-style drama (spoken in a harsh whisper through clenched teeth)

"You'd better have a roommate because I don't know how you can live with yourself." -Used when imparting feelings of utter disgust in a friend or family member (it happens more than you think)

"I know where your mama parks your house." - Used when forced to insult a redneck

Deproblem (v): to fix or eliminate the problem. (ex. My wife asked me to deproblem our daughter's diaper situation) - Made-up office terminology. Can be used outside the office.

Feel free to try these yourself, they are for public use. Just as long as you credit me or the TV shows I stole some of them from.

I'll probably have moved on to new and better expressions by the time these get popular anyway. It's how tastemakers like me deproblem a boring life.

It seems like only yesterday...

2008-02-06T00:20:00.000-08:00

... that I was asked by a co-worker if I thought we'd ever see a woman president in our lifetime. I said yes, of course, or a black president, for that matter.

Optimistic but reasonable, I thought. Probably not before 2012, though. I mean, let's be realistic, this country needs a backboard and a neck brace before it can be moved.

Right?

Well, here we are at the primaries and it's going to happen. HRC or The Big O - one or the other is moving in and Whitey The Man is literally getting his walking papers. This is the year we see it happen.

(Potential Fallout: Punk rock ceases to be relevant. Maybe?)

If that doesn't get you worked up in some way, check your pulse.

You might be dead.

Or Canadian.

These R not the droids UR looking for.

2008-02-01T16:17:00.001-08:00

U don need 2 see teh paperz.

Today, I wore sunglasses on the bus

2008-01-23T14:18:00.001-08:00

What'd you do today?

Oh hello!

2007-12-28T12:58:00.000-08:00

Forgive the blog silence here lately.

I seem to have become a father in the past week. Wha??

At the risk of over-saturation, I will direct you here for all baby-related goodness.

And now, I must stare into the face of this new person and forget about everything else.

It's fun! Here, try it:

The new kid

It's not me, it's you

2007-12-12T12:04:00.000-08:00

I call it the Flight Attendant Effect.

Ida thinks I'm just paranoid, but I swear it keeps happening to me.

Here's how it generally goes:

I'm on a plane watching the flight attendant come down the aisle taking drink orders and handing out snacks. She's got the pleasant flight attendant smile, she's chatting up the other passengers, things are chirping along nicely. When she gets to my row, I, being a pleasant, often chirpy, mostly harmless fellow, ask for a ginger ale, posing the question as a full sentence with a friendly smile and punctuated with a non-haughty "please". At this point, almost imperceptibly, her eyes narrow and her lips draw taught. She manages to squeeze out some kind of acknowledgment as she goes for my ginger ale.

She does not say "you're welcome" when I thank her. I'm pretty sure she's crushed all the pretzels in the bag before handing it to me.

She resumes her pat, effortless charm-dance at the very next row behind me.

Paranoia? Is there something hanging out of my nose? I'm hideous, aren't I?

Before you answer, consider scenario #2. It's a variation on the FAE I call the Checkout Line Effect and it goes like this:

I'm in the checkout line at a grocery store, though it can be any store, really. The checker is engaged in friendly, if somewhat tired banter with the older woman in front of me. The woman is not very talkative and appears to have no desire to be engaged in this or any other kind of chit-chat, judging from her body language.

Regardless, the checker happily and confidently assists the HELL out of her, right up to, "do you need a hand out?" She doesn't and curtly shuffles away with her provisions.

Then, in the moment from turning his attention away from departing customer and towards current customer, the checker changes gears. At first, I'm not so sure it's me since he's looked at or near me exactly zero times so far. How can he hate me already? He hasn't even seen what I look like!

And yet, no "hi there" or "how's it going today?", sincere or otherwise. No banter. No feigned interest in my purchases. No "paper or plastic?" (In a supposedly green city like Seattle, I don't know why plastic is even still an option.)

He chooses plastic for me.

I'm pretty adept with the debit card/keypad apparatus, I don't need to be told to press 'Enter', so the first thing said to me is also the last thing said to me:

"Here you go", mumbles the checker, handing me my receipt. Again, my thanks are gone unheeded. Again, he's back to smiles and chatter with the next person in line.

This phenomena has happened to me enough times that I've started experimenting with the variables: I say nothing until spoken to, I say hello, I smile, I don't smile, I make a joke, I make a stupid joke.

I suppose a lot depends on the employee and their disposition, but what I still can't figure out is the interruptive effect I seem to have on their otherwise jovial routines. I don't actually care if I'm treated with violent indifference by these people. I did grow up on the east coast, after all - truly the place where customer service goes to die - but if everyone around me gets treated like guests at a cocktail party, why not throw me some vacant small talk? Or at least wait til I leave to break out the bubbly.

My only theory, which really only works in the case of flight attendants, is that friendliness is THEIR territory. That's what THEY get paid to do. My function as the consumer is to behave righteously indignant at worst and asleep at best. Perhaps, much like showing fear to a grizzly is asking for an armload of your own entrails, showing friendliness to a flight attendant is considered a challenge to their livelihood, a type of professional insult.

Or perhaps I do have something hanging out of my nose.

Conversations with my wife

2007-12-05T18:52:00.000-08:00

[Watching TV:]

TV: "...the right hand isn't talking to the left hand..."
Ida: That's because hands can't talk or listen!
[Considers this statement. Then, a la The Who's "Baba O'Riley",]
They're all WASTED!

[Unpacking a box of books:]

Ida: Do you want to keep this "Why Big Fierce Animals are Rare" book?
Me: What's it about?
Ida: Why big fierce animals are rare.
Me: Oh, it's not like a Dave Eggers book or something?
Ida: No.

[Unpacking more books:]

Ida: This one I saved from my house that burned down. It's a little brown but books don't burn very well so it's still-
Me: Did you just say 'books don't burn very well'?
Ida: Yeah, they're too dense.
Me: What about all those book-burnings?
Ida: Well, if you're just burning books, they go up pretty well. They don't burn well if you're not throwing them on a big pile of other burning books.
Me: Then they burn pretty well, I guess.
Ida: I guess.

That's not blog-stick on my collar, honest!

2007-11-27T16:47:00.001-08:00

Okay, I admit it: I've been two-timing on Beets.

See, I have this band and we have a website and this website is kind of a blog and we all agreed that we'd take turns blogging so the site doesn't become, you know, lame. And one thing led to another and everything went all sideways and now my wife is pregnant and the Patriots are undefeated this season and I just needed my SPACE, you know??

Not MySpace, mind you. I'm totally over that effing site. If I get one more spam about a free $500 Macy's gift card, I might just... um, quit MySpace. That'll show Tom.
But now Facebook is invading my privacy...
What's a guy to do??

So I just figured, you know, the Europeans are cool with having more than one blog, so what's the big deal? Heck, I bet the King of France has tons of blogs and look at him! He's the King of France!
America needs to loosen up.

I'll always love Beets, though, I swear. They're my first love.

Except on Tuesdays.
And except when Wired Science is on. This show will save the world.

Oh Don't Worry

2007-11-15T17:12:00.001-08:00

If only we could find a way to tell her...

We are SCREWED

2007-11-02T11:29:00.000-07:00

I hate to say I told you so, especially because I never did, but I feel that THIS might just be the beginning of the end:

"Like cows, once robots taste blood, their hunger for human flesh can never be satiated."

Is anyone else COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT right now?!
We've played God and now it's ALL OVER.
Did you even know cows ate human flesh?!

Danger! Danger Will Robinson! I'm gonna tear you up like a pork roast and slow cook you in robot mole sauce! CTRL+ALT+DELICIOUS!

Confidential to &rea: thanks for the heads up. I hope we get assigned to the same robot work camp.

Thanks for clearing that up

2007-10-18T12:51:00.001-07:00

Because where would we be, as a society, without some sense of moral boundaries?
In Mexico, apparently.

OMG, I'm STARVING!

Huh? (AKA My First Camera Phone Blog)

2007-10-04T17:56:00.001-07:00

I don't get it. John. Paul. Ringo. George... SARS??

Home is where all your stuff is

2007-09-15T15:14:00.000-07:00

So we've moved.
That is to say, we've almost completely moved.
Which is then to say, we have done the actual moving of stuff. The unpacking, arranging, rearranging, positioning, repositioning and finally, the repositioning/rearranging (temporary) is yet to come.

But we have a new apartment in a new 'hood and it's more lovely than we could have hoped for. A park across the street, a rooftop deck, friends in the building and blessed, merciful quiet at night. Not to say that we didn't love our old neighborhood, but the 2am drag racing, the drunken frat-pods stumbling back to their cars (drive safe, kids!) and the increase in vandalism and car thefts had been starting to put a strain on the whole bohemian lifestyle Ida and I were playing at. (Seattleites - I'm talking about Ballard, if you can believe it.)
It's finally time to embrace our inner Old Fogie, we thought, and go for peace and quiet over, well, noisy drunks and petty theft. I know, whatever!

In a delightful turn of fortune, our new place is in a fairly central and desirable neighborhood, with access to everything we do - theater, work, social, food, drink - it's safe, hip (but not too hip), walkable/bikeable and a great place to raise Futurebaby.
There's something about a neighborhood that truly embraces urban culture. The urban-ness as well as the culture-ness. People living in close proximity but not on top of each other, a good spectrum of economic and social diversity, access to transit and a sense of embedded community. Of course there are dirty, rough spots, but that's the joy of true urban culture. It's freaking urban! You're not supposed to be able eat your organic pita sandwich off the sidewalk, but it's nice to know the little place that makes really good organic pita sandwiches.

Now I'm hungry, maybe I'll grab some lunch.
If I can just remember which of these boxes has my pants.

I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it

2007-08-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

All I have to say is, I'm clearing my entire fall calendar for this.

Hold all my calls. Feed my plants. I've been 'loured' to this even though they have a new 'base' player.

(AHN News - How's that search for a proofreader coming along?)

Masters of the single entendre

2007-07-25T13:30:00.000-07:00

This poem appears on the sidewalk near the building where I work. It's very simple, some might say too simple and safe even for public art in Seatte, but I've always liked it. The idea is that art can be changed, even slowly destroyed, by its own audience. It can be as simple as a lame punchline etched in cement, subject to the ignorance and abuse of all who pass by it. Art doesn't always have to be precious or even profound, and that often makes it more beautiful.

So I'm walking to the bus stop after work, a few feet behind three amicable-looking dudes (yeah, pretty much dudes), and they notice the poem on the sidewalk:

Dude #1: "A Poem To Be Worn". How do you wear a poem?
Dude #2: I don't know. Is it supposed to be like fashion or something, maybe?
Dude #3: You just lie down on it! That's how you wear it!
(laughter)
Dude #2: No, 'cause then it would be wearing you!
(more laughter)
Dude #1: Seriously, what the hell does that even mean...?

I had to stop listening at that point, otherwise I would have torn off my own arm and clubed them to death with it.

Sigh.

Is this what art critics feel like all the time?

I'm not lovin' it

2007-07-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

McDonald's, your advertising confounds me lately. And before anyone asks:
Yes, I pay attention to commercials. I find them interesting barometers of what people who want to sell me stuff think of me. I am very sensitive to what people think of me.
And yes, most commercials are shallow, pandering and infantile, but at least I can understand what they're trying to say without having to use my brain at all.

So I must ask, what is happening over in the McDonald's ad department?

Example #1: The Cold Guy and His, um... Lady-friend
Setup: Man & woman sit on couch. Their relationship is unclear. Husband/wife? BF/GF? Roommates? First date?
Woman is dressed in tank-top and shorts, drinking cold McBeverage. Man in tight shirt (relationship to her still unclear) is obviosly freezing.
He gets up to turn up the thermostat. Relationship still and again unclear.
She comes over and turns it back down, saying "I like it cold" while sipping coyly on her straw.
Man is visibly "smuggling raisins" (see also, tight shirt + cold) and miserable but reacts by sheepishly turning the thermostat ALL the way down, apparently in deference to his...
What, dominatrix? Sister? Student? Pastor? Cleaning lady?

Who are these people and why don't they talk to each other like normal human beings?

"Are you cold?"
"No"
"Well, I'm freezing"
"Put on a sweater, then"

FIN

Moreover, is his - uh - physical reaction to the cold supposed to lead us to believe - "Dude! If HE'S nippin' out that much, SHE must be popping out of her shirt!! Think about it! Right ON!"?
Is that it?
Because 1) That's a big leap for me to make in order to have even slightly dirty thoughts about the woman. I need to, you know, think about stupid stuff like relationships and physics and biology first, not cold drinks and hot chicks, and B) Since when was McDonald's ever sexy?
And why DOESN'T he just put on a damn sweater? Stupid American.

Example #2: The Breakfast Buddies
Setup: Two guys eagerly eating McDonald's breakfast sandwiches. They talk about how great they are. They get really into how great these sandwiches are. Really REALLY into how great they are. Okay, got it. And then for no reason, the camera cuts to a wide shot and we see a third person at the table: A young guy, ostensibly their chum, in a full neck-brace-type getup. He is miserable. He eats no such breakfast sandwich and mutters, "I hate you guys."

This, people, is not only inaccurate (um, his hands can still reach his mouth right? Or is his jaw wired shut too, and HOW WOULD WE KNOW THAT?!), it's offensive (to, you know, people with real disabilities who can't actually feed themselves) and just plain mean. Who makes fun of their friend for breaking his neck? And why would they bring him along just to sit there and not eat? I NEED MORE INFORMATION!!

Does McDonald's not know this is happening?
My guess is they just don't care: They're McDonald's. People would still eat there if their ads were 30 seconds of footage from the Chicago race riots or a mall security camera or a rerun of "So You Think You Can Dance".
Who cares? Just slap on the golden arches and that insipid jingle at the end and watch America get fatter.

The least they could do is keep their advertising predictable, forgettable and marginally tempting. It seems to work for everyone else.
I just hope they don't go with the whole giant cartoon head thing like Burger King. That stuff creeps me the heck out.

Get right

2007-06-20T23:46:00.000-07:00

Now, back to this trip I mentioned.

One of my favorite southern expressions is "Getting right with God."
It generally means getting your ducks in a row, getting your act together in a very profound and overarching kind of lifestyle way. See also, "Come to Jesus". We're not talking "Hey, that shirt doesn't go with those pants." It's more like, "Quit dicking around because you'll probably die from this."

I like this saying because, like many southern expressions that sound overtly religious, "Getting right with God" really isn't about God. Or depending on the breadth of scope with which you view religion as a concept, it really, really is. But it's from the south, which makes it more exotic. In the end, it has everything to do with dropping the narcissism and kicking yourself in the ass.
After spending some quality time on one of the most amazing patches of real estate this country has to offer, I submit that more of us need to Get Right with The Land. It's not about Al Gore or global warming or Green Party politics. Or, depending on the breadth of scope with which you view your environment as a concept, it really, really is. In the end, it has everything to do with kicking yourself in the ass. The Land is the great unknowable, it is the ultimate justice, the one place to be unique and anonymous, huge and insignifigant at the same time. It's beautiful and hostile and it would just as soon pose for a picture as crush the last breath out of you. The Land shelters lizards and kills baby deer. You don't have to hold a degree in theology to get where I'm going with this.

The Jemez indians of Northern New Mexico got it:
"In our culture, there is no word for 'religion', it is simply the way you live with the land"
(paraphrased from the interpretive center)
We don't quite get it yet, but sometimes we come close. We have to Get Right with The Land, we have to quit dicking around and recognize, get real, come to Jesus, make it count, win one for the Gipper because, well, this sh*t is serious.

To illustrate my point, I invite you to get right with this (from Flickr):

Now call your mother, stop antagonizing your co-worker and quit feeling guilty about things that have nothing to do with you. You're going to die soon.

Overheard conversation #46

2007-06-20T11:20:00.000-07:00

In the Denver airport, waiting to fly back to Seattle:

Dude: You live in Seattle?
Guy: Yep.
Dude: I couldn't live there. I mean it's nice, but...
Guy: You don't like the rain?
Dude: It rains all the time there!
Guy: The summer's really nice, though.
Dude: It's raining there right now.
Guy: Is it?
Dude: I don't know. Probably.
Guy: I don't think it is, actually.

(Pause)

Guy: It's nice, too, because you take out your cell phone or PDA and you can read what's on the screen.
Dude: You mean 'cause...?
Guy: Yeah, 'cause there's less glare. You don't have to, you know, worry about covering the screen with your hand or whatever.
Dude: Yeah, that's pretty good, I guess.

Seattle, Washington: Less glare!

And if you're wondering why we were in the Denver airport, it's because Ida and I took a trip here for our anniversary. Hot rocks!

Get your mind out of the space gutter!

2007-06-10T16:14:00.000-07:00

I don't blog on a daily basis, so I don't usually blog about daily news items, but this article was just too good to pass up.

Alternate headline: "Shuttle, space station dock successfully dispite thermal blanket tear. Station to undergo routine pregnancy test"

Come on! Am I right? NASA is getting DIRTY!

Truth Hits Everybody (Live)

2007-06-07T12:26:00.000-07:00

I've seen a lot of reunion tours, it's true. I also own a lot of Greatest Hits compilations, which, according to my band mate E., are for "old women and high-school girls". This may also be true, but let's be honest, classic rock owes its continued appeal to these compilations. Anyone want to delve into Foghat's second album? How about some live Eddie Money?
Er... no, thanks. Hits only, please. And maybe some long-time faves of the band. Or maybe just one.

Last night I saw The Police play their first show on an American stage in over 20 years. [I just like the way that sounds.] And in the end, it was the best thing about the show. Which is not to say that boys disappointed, but The Police have never been anything other than pretty much mainstream pop-punk-ska-reggae-Sting, and they've never apologized for it. They missed the punk movement altogether, largely because they were too good, too handsome and too well heeled. Last night's show proved that (at least in the case of the first two) they still have nothing to apologize for.

I went with my pal K., a longtime arena-show companion from way back - Boston, REM, Yes, CrosbyStillsNashandsometimesYoung - we've seen a lot together. Though I hadn't been to an arena show since I last went to the dentist. And I reeeeeeally need to see the dentist.
The Police, as K. said, are one of The Three Bands. The ones that you pay $xxx/ticket and climb over your own grandmother to see, if only on the principle that it is your rock and roll duty to see them live.
I think my Three and K.'s Three are different (besides The Police, his includes Talking Heads and mine includes DLR Van Halen), but the idea's the same. Confidential to K.: I swear to G-O-doublehockeysticks I will pay you back for the ticket.

The Show:

Concert-going wardrobe rules (as remembered from high school):
No jacket, dress in layers.
No collared shirts. You're not at work, you're here to rock.
No t-shirts from other bands/tours. No one cares who else you've seen.
Shoes you can stand in for a long time
Use your pockets for essentials (drugs and booze included) but keep it simple. Bulging pockets are SO uncool.
You don't really need to buy the t-shirt.

Number of times I made this joke: "I can't believe The Cops are playing Key Arena!" - 1.
No one there was young enough to get it anyway, and K. didn't think it was that funny.

Sting and I had the same haircut: Advantage, Sting.
I have more hair: Advantage, me.

Stewart and Sting never came to blows onstage, which was a drag but probably good for Stewart, who looked like a winded skeleton throughout the entire show. With all the Tantric crap Sting does, he could most likely snap Stewart in half. With his mind.

Songs not played (of course) we wish were:
"Mother"
"Be My Girl (Sally)"
"On Any Other Day
"Does Everyone Stare"
"Miss Gredenko"

Song we wish they hadn't played: "Don't Stand So Close to Me". Trying to split the difference (almost exactly) between the original and crappy '86 versions, they failed failed failed. Yuck.

Unexpected highlight: "Invisible Sun", complete with video images of war, starvation and poverty. Subtle. Simple. Impactful. Best Buy.

Gold Star for doing all his musical homework and nailing the extra credit bonus solos: Andy Summers

While most of the evening's numbers came from ZenyattaGhostSynchronicity timeframe, "Next to You", the first song from their first album, closed out the set. Get it? It's like a circle!

Number of beach balls in the crowd - 1
Number of camera and camera phone displays visible from our seats - 1,000,000
Number of terrible photos I took with my phone before putting it away and watching the damn concert - 4

Sting kept saying, "This is Seattle, right?" and we all kept saying yes, so I don't know why he kept asking.

Stewart Copeland seriously looked like Skeletor. With glasses. And a headband. And golfing gloves. Conclusion: Stewart Copeland is a TOTAL DORKWAD.

So they played The Rock Hits, we all had some fun and they made, and will continue to make, a veritable sh*t ton of money playing this tour. Strangely, I feel no ill will towards them for this. Not like I do towards, say, The Eagles. The Police never have to apologize for being old, well heeled and precocious hit-makers any more than I have to apologize for buying Message in a Box: The Complete Police Recordings. That's what people like about them and, I hope, about me.

Fact of the Day

2007-05-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

Of the dozens of people who display the "Starfleet Academy" sticker on their cars, very few have actually attended Starfleet Academy.

We Got Beef

2007-05-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer:
I'm fully aware that the following statements may inflame some and infuriate others as I am about to attack a well-known and beloved Seattle carnivore landmark. Nevertheless...

Dear Red Mill Burgers:
I know everyone thinks you're the local burger-patty heroes, a Mecca for all those avowed meat lovers who want to support the little guy. I know your name evokes involuntary and Homer Simpson-esque groans of pleasure amongst the aforementioned "in-the-know-ers". I'm not faulting your small-business pluck (which I appreciate in any burger joint that doesn't occur nationally), nor do I think your food is especially bad, but this leads to my first point:

1) Your burgers are good, but not that good. Let's be honest, the secret is in the sauce, and yours is a B+ on its best day. Fresh greens and veggies, sure. Great. But really, I could make better burgers on my grill. If I had a grill, I mean. I know, I know, the point of a restaurant is that you don't have to make the food YOURSELF. Still, don't let all those "Seattle's Best Burger" awards go to your head.

2) What is it about you and large to-go orders? Anything over 4 servings in one order and you fall apart. Missing fry orders, the wrong burger, drinks we didn't ask for - seriously, you suck at it. Which brings me to...

3) High-school counter help. Nothing against teenagers, but it might be a good idea to have your quality-control person actually be old enough to vote. While we're on the subject, is it a coincidence that 95% of your counter staff is made up of cute high-school girls?
Order up for Mr. Nabokov! Is there a Vladimir Nabokov here?
What is up with that?
Never mind, I'm sure I don't want to head down that rabbit-hole. Still, kinda creepy...

4) Okay, no one in the service industry likes to deal with a customer on a cell phone. Your No Cell Phones policy is fine and should stay, but you have to know that you are the exception in this respect. The days of mounting a grassroots rebellion against cell phone users in your place of business are over. I don't like it any more than you do, but we all use cell phones and we're not about to take scoldings about it from a burger joint. Stop threatening people like you have a self-righteous leg to stand on. In exchange, I'll make sure to leave my cell phone off when I'm in line at Red Mill. All you had to do was ask nicely.

5) Finally, start taking debit cards. It's quicker and more convenient for most everyone. "Cash or checks only" is no longer cute, nor is it "sticking it to the corporate world" (see also, #4 above). Does anyone born after 1970 even use checks anymore? I mean for purposes other than mailing your gas bill payments? You're popular and busy enough to afford the service fees. Get over yourselves and let your customers use plastic like the rest of the world does.

6) Finally, finally - The Rolling Stones stopped releasing good music on August 24, 1981*. Please please please stop forcing us to listen to "A Bigger Bang" every time we come in. I could make better music in my own studio. If I had a studio, I mean. At least play some of the deeper cuts off of "Let It Bleed" or "Exile on Main Street". But really - enough with the Grey Pony Tail-worship. No one cares.

In conclusion, Ida and I often bask in the guilty pleasure of your greasy goodness. You make great shakes, pretty good fries and onion rings worthy of an engagement proposal (Simpsons reference #2, for those of you playing at home). You could be so much better if you'd just get out of your own way in some respects. Otherwise, you might as well be a less-efficient version of TGI Friday's. Just sayin'.

Yours truly,
W.G. Beets

PS How about a Grilled Beet Burger? I just thought if it! Delicious!

*Estimated date, album quality debatable. Though "Waiting on a Friend" is the real gem.

Le Retour d'Ida

2007-05-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

She's been in France for the past two-and-a-half weeks and flies back this evening. I wish I could say the time has flown by and I barely noticed she was gone, but such is the point and the responsibility of being hitched: you miss 'em when they're not around. A bit like crazy.
I also wish I could squeeze out a few tears in fond remembrance of my bachelor days, but really... they weren't that great.
Not a hater, but never a Player. At least not the kind with a capital "P" that rhymes with "C" which stands for "commitment-phobic".

In other news, Bandor smash!

Diversions are helpers.

Tunnel fever

2007-04-24T13:16:00.000-07:00

Seems like burrowing wanderlust is catching. Especially the completely ridiculous kind.
A London to Moscow to Washington express, eh? Hmmm.
68 miles of tunnel under 250 feet of Arctic Ocean? Sure, why not!
It's not tempting fate, it's courting destiny. What could possibly go wrong??

Seattle and Boston, are you getting all this? Maybe someone should propose a Bering Straight Viaduct!

HAHAHAHA! LOL! ROTFLMAO!!!

Ah, me.

Live Free or Die

2007-04-06T09:54:00.000-07:00

I tend to have a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to seeing items from my home state all the way out here in the northwest. I always strain to see if that window decal says "University of New Hampshire" (it doesn't), I shamelessly accost folks who can't disguise their "ah"s (as in, "Uh, sure I'm a Seattle native, I was born in Madison Paahk". Aha! Wicked busted!)
I make sure to gleefully point out New Hampshire license plates to Ida or whomever I'm driving with - a habit I tend to forget about when I'm actually driving IN New England. Hilarity then, of course, ensues.

So it is with no small amount of local and cultural pride that I direct your attention to this story.
While I'll always toss my cap in the air for the progress of civil equality, it's especially gratifying seeing the nor'easter of change blow through a place I was sure would be forever stuck in the dahk ages with regahd to the queeahs. I'm proud of you NH. Way to show those Vermont hippies and freakin' Massholes.

In other news, I'm obliged to post this:

And, accordingly, this:

(image lifted from the blog of my good friend md)

The Low End Theory

2007-04-02T15:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, I bought this bass amp yesterday.

No, I really didn't have the money to pay for it up front - and here's where I have to give props to Mega Super Guitar Mart's painfully tempting sale offers. No money down, no-interest payments for a year, a really helpful and enthusiastic sales associate named Matt (but, Matt, please pick a name for me besides "bro" or "dude", won't you?). Plus they're lit'rally the only chain in the country that sells these particular goodies.
(So unofficially, hooray for Guitar Mammoth Music Centers Inc. this time. I'll still go on record saying that place gives me a headache, though.)

Yes, I really needed it.

Yes, it's as small as it looks AND it's way lighter and more powerful than my old one.

No, I don't know how they do it. Neither did Matt. Maybe Marco can explain it to you. Or maybe you just shouldn't question the rock.

Yes, I used it at a show last night. Mon Dieu! Si, si bon!!

So the rebuild from last year's grand theft auto is finally complete (with no help from USAA Insurance, you dirty cheap bastards).

Did I mention I'm kind of a dork?

Lead with the Baby Killer story!

2007-03-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

Awkward headline grammar once again courtesy of the Seattle P-I.

Profiles in Public Service: The Federal Trade Commission

2007-03-21T16:11:00.000-07:00

You know what I say to all those hippies out there who trash their own government?
Check out the FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION, you stinking' hippies! Go back to aviation repair college and quit begging for me to put my size ten-and-a-halfs up your Jefferson's Airplane.
Now listen, this under-appreciated government agency just wants to help you. They're not trying to "drag you down", they don't want to "harsh your vibe" or make you "part of the machine". The good men and women at the Federal Trade Commission have dutifully put together this unbelievably helpful and comprehensive website to help you keep on the sunny side and flying through clear skies.
Why would they do something like this for a stupid, ungrateful hippie like me, you ask? Check it out: It's their JOB. Speaking of which, try getting one, long-hair. You'll earn money to buy reefer or drive to Burning Man or whatever the hell else you blow your trust fund on.

Okay back to the FTC.
Did I mention that they're just trying to make your miserable lives a little more manageable! Why can't you simply see that?!

Tired of paying for your credit reports?
POW!

An easy way onto the glorious National Do-Not-Call List?
SHAZZAM!

Can't stand spam?
BOOOYA!

Losing sleep over identity theft? Don't worry, because
HERE COMES THE GOVERNMENT!

Tune in to this, degenerates: I know there's a lot of crap going on with our country these days. The Man is still trying to keep the leaf off the streets and our young folks on the front lines. In the words of The Godfather of Soul, we're all just trying to get over before we go under. I can dig it.
All the same, sometimes it helps to know that there are still people out there who care about the little guy. And those people work at the UNITED STATES FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION.

Good night and good luck.

Brad Delp 1951-2007

2007-03-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows that I'm a shameless classic rock devotee. I love it for its actual irony (the literary, clever, lyrical kind, not the kind that fuels an apathetic and artless lifestyle), its take on Lemons, American Bands and Highway Stars and of course, its killer riffs. I've gotten used to that look when people discover this about me: the look that waits for the punchline or some ironic jab at hippies then slowly fades into something resembling a mix of confusion and pity.

But here's the truth:
My first album was Van Halen II - thanks mom & dad!
I was introduced to the finer points of notebook art copying the logos of Rush, Def Leppard and The Grateful Dead
The first song I learned on bass guitar was Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimmie Three Steps"

And my first concert was Boston.
It was the 6th or 7th of their nine sold-out dates at the Worcester ("Woostah") Centrum supporting their much-anticipated "Third Stage" album. I remember not much caring for the hit ballad "Amanda", but the rest of the record pretty much blew my mind. The show was no less amazing. Hometown boys back in the game after 10 years, crazed and sweaty fans screaming along gleefully, my young ears getting their first dose of concert deafness. I literally bought the t-shirt.

Brad Delp seemed like a nice guy, in the general scope of Nice Guys of Rock, no doubt a club with few members. He was born in Massachusetts and died in New Hampshire, a 40 minute drive, round trip. Everyone seemed to like him, he had one of the most improbably high and clear voices in music (Geddy Lee who?) and he had a pretty killer 'stache. In the end, can a man ask for anything better?
You could say he just closed his eyes and slipped away, but I like to think that he finally hitched a ride on that huge rocket-guitar spaceship and didn't look back.
Classic.

There is NOTHING funny about chauvanism

2007-03-09T17:02:00.000-08:00

I forgot to blog against sexism yesterday. Thanks to ECB for the reminder. She's a kicky little dish, that one.

Al Gore Angry! Al Gore Smash!

2007-03-07T11:55:00.000-08:00

I can come back if this isn't a good time, Mr. Vice President...

(photo shamelessly ripped off The Slog)

87% Cocoa

2007-02-19T15:22:00.000-08:00

Oh right, offices and sugar. I'd almost forgotten.

Subj: Homemade cookies in the break room!
Subj: Leftover Halloween candy - UP FOR GRABS!
Subj: Girl Scout cookies
Subj: Extra doughnuts on the conference room.

And now you're 20 pounds heavier. Thank goodness you've been sitting on your ass all day, too. That helps.

I'm now begging (almost literally) my female co-workers to eat the weapons-grade dark chocolate I bought last week. Aren't women supposed to loooove chocolate? Did I waste that much money on Valentine's Day gifts in college?
Please don't make me have to eat another piece. It's sitting right there! Crap.

Now I'm so amped up on the stuff that I think I might be able to bend light rays with my mind.
Working on it... working on it... Damn! Distracted by imaginary itch. No wait, real itch. Better take care of that... oops, just scratched through to bone. That'll probably need a looking at. Oh wellhahahahahahahahahaha. Why won't my legs stop bouncing?!?

Sometimes you need to make hard choices

2007-02-11T23:33:00.000-08:00

In case you were hoping to see me playing with my band opening at this sold out show:

I regret to inform you that I will not be there that night.
I've made a prior commitment to appear in this world-premiere theatre play instead.

If you could split yourself in twain, I'd recommend that you suppport both causes simultaneously. Since you likely cannot perform such amoebic imitation, perhaps you should attend the former on the 17th (if you already have tickets, I guess) and the latter on another night?
I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but in an almost impossible convergence of fortune, I can safely and honestly recommend both and defer neither to one nor t'other.

You have my personal ass-urance that my re-bass-ment at the Presidents' show will be as good if not better than me. Though perhaps not as good-looking.
Let's be honest.

Oh, hello!

2007-02-11T00:19:00.000-08:00

We must be pretty close friends, which must be why I'm on the gigantic cc: list of the e-mail you just sent me regarding... let's see, what is it today?

Bill Gates is giving away $1000? To me? Why, this is the first I've heard of THAT!
Is my cell phone number about to be deleted from the Do-Not-Call list in 11 days without my permission? Holy Crap! Can they DO that?!
I need to be kept aware of someone planting an AIDS-infected needle in the back seat of the next taxi I take.
Thank you so much for thinking of me! We can't let the terrorists win!

Moreover I thank you, dear net buddy, for making sure that my name and e-mail appear alongside all those of all the other people on the list I don't know. Let's all be friends! That's what the internet is about, right? I hope each of them will "Reply All" when they congratulate you on your heads-up attitude!

Lastly, I'm sorry for replying to you suggesting that maybe you should check your facts before you send stuff out to a million of your close buddies. I understand that these kinds of messages are meant to be FRIENDLY WARNINGS that have REALLY WORKED for A LOT of your other friends. I shouldn't be so ungrateful to you and I should certainly understand that while you SHOULD be able to send me spam hoax messages I didn't ask for, I have NO RIGHT to reply with anything less friendly than this:

"THX! I totally DID NOT know this! I'm DEFIN8LY gonna pass this along to EVERY1 I know!!! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxotla cul8r!!!"

After all, you can't be expected to worry about contributing to the useless and impersonal drivel that clogs up the internet - you hardly ever even use the internet! Why would you?! It's such a scary place, with all those online predators and viruses and fonts and identity thefts and iPod offers. You really should send another letter to your AOL tech support and let them know about all these terrible things going on in the world of the wide web.

Better yet, just keep sending me all of those warnings with your plea to "pass it along".
I don't mind. I don't use the internet for work or anything. In fact, I hear most people don't.

Looking Minnesota, Feeling Rochester

2007-01-25T16:53:00.001-08:00

In a bizarre test of The Universe's of Unknowable Humours*, I got hit with a stupid headcold on the same day that we finally got the internet back in our house**.

PRO - I can check NewJob email from home. Can end subject lines with "wfh".
CON - Phlegm. Everywhere.

PRO - Daytime internet is way better than daytime TV.
CON - Daytime internet is pretty boring if you're not wasting company time.

PRO - More time to write in my blog.
CON - More time to write in my blog.

So you see how it is. I don't know which end is up anymore. I've missed 2 days of work now, which should make my Friday seem like a Monday and next Monday seem like the Friday I had this week after missing two days of work. Know what I mean?

I have to get out of the house.

* Note the Old Fashioned use of the word, meaning not "haha", but rather "health". And sometimes "women problems".

** The same day we started paying for it was also the same day a local pasword-protected network in our 'hood randomly turned un-password-protected, and thus, free. Insert 3 Stooges gesture here.

No, I am not half-stoned

2007-01-19T15:17:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering, the reason my right eye is still bloodshot is....

Anyone?
Anyone?

I have no idea. I thought you would.
It doesn't hurt and I can still see out of it. Still, it's a little disconcerting.
And scary to look at in the mirror.
Come oooooon Newjobhealthbenefits.....

Next week: My Searing Foot Pain and Why You Should Care

Back on the Bus

2007-01-10T13:02:00.001-08:00

I've lasted 256 days without a job.

Food and supplies are getting low, the raft has taken on some bilge water
(are you calling me fat?), however I've sighted
land finally.
I must confess, there's a part of me that really loved being unemployed.
I got to hang out with my wife a lot, I did a bunch of cool things with
the band and with my acting "career" (some of which actually generated
some money and restored some of my faith in the artistic process... and
some didn't).
Sleeping in is always a plus, pretending I'm a retired-at-26 software
magnate spending the day on my computer in a coffee shop - you know, the
Seattle Thing.
I got to drink on Sunday nights, which I may or may not miss. I'm a big
fan of booze, but there's only so much sympathy your friends can spare
when they announce they have to get up early next day while you casually
order another round. To quote the band Primus (speaking of college and
other days of carefree drinking):
"Funny thing about weekends when you're unemployed/They don't mean quite
so much/'cept that you get to hang out with your working friends."

Mostly though, I'm pretty relieved. It's a good job that I held out for,
perhaps even loaded all my eggs into one basket for. I'll be working for
good instead of evil, alongside other creative-minded types in a field
that will afford me training, resume fodder and (eventually) some good
money. And there's really only so much sleeping-in I can do.

So I bid unemployment a bittersweet farewell again, possibly for the last
time in a long time. Time to re-set the snooze alarm.

Pardon me, but would you mind jump-starting my heart?

2007-01-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

Is there any way to un-read a book?
I can't stop thinking about this one. Also, I'm constantly shouting at the Devil. He won't keep his yard clean and steals my newspaper every day. What an a-hole!

Petty Victories!

2007-01-07T16:08:00.000-08:00

Unbeknownst to many, I launched a secret campaign to acquire 200 MySpace friends before 2007.

Mission Accomplished.

I'd like to thank each and every one of the MySpace 200, as I have since dubbed them. They are all (obviously), the ones who care for me the most. I know I could count on any of them to jump under a New York City subway train for me. As I very well may possibly do for them. Someday. Maybe.

Anyway, to all those "friends" #201 and up: Nice try, Idiots! See if I ever blog about you.