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It Never Changes to Stop [Jul. 10th, 2009|12:36 pm]
[music |The Books - Lost And Safe]

The move comes in a little over three weeks. I am continually feeling a combination of eagerness and trepidation, fortunately favoring the former. I look forward, in all ways. Forward to getting on with life, forward to having some freedoms not as possible before, forward to being able to plan the future to some degree instead of looking at a blank slate.
And yet, I am saddened to leave Adams Point. I've truly enjoyed the quiet neighborhood that feels so set away, yet is so close to the center of downtown, the aging grace of the building that has been a part of and been witness to the events of my thirties. Of course there are aspects I most certainly won't miss, but in general I've felt home here.
And still, the move to Dimond is terribly exciting. We have space, modernity, a rapidly changing neighborhood, something truly private and personal.

More than anything, during this process my love for this city has grown immeasurably. I drove down Piedmont a couple nights ago, on a late-ish quest for some moving supplies, and as I passed the crowded restaurants and wandering pedestrians I was filled with the sense of a city getting itself together and standing defiant in the face of so much negativity and spotlighted violence. The city has an inept mayor, budgetary nightmares and headline-grabbing unrest, but also an indomitable soul and an earthy pride that's practically devoid of self-consciousness and pretentiousness.

Perhaps it's a personal bias, but I think it might be the restaurants that save Oakland. The number of exciting, innovative and just plain excellent eating options in this town are exploding, and we have become a legit destination, which SF foodies increasingly can't ignore. Of course, Bay Wolf, Oliveto and Le Cheval have been around for years, but over the last few months the openings of Camino, Adesso, Commis, Marzano, Pican, Sidebar, Ozumo, Barlata and Flora have joined other newer gems in town, like Dopo, Luka's, Pizzaiolo and many more casual places like Somerset and La Taza de Cafe to form an undeniably ass-kicking dining scene.
That's not touching the excellent newer wine bars (Franklin Square, Zza's, Marc 49), bakeries (Bakesale Betty, Arizmendi, Montclair Baking), specialty bars/gastropubs (Mimosa, Penelope), tea makers/houses (Numi Tea Garden, L'Amyx), coffee (Blue Bottle, etc.)
Oakland: World Class Everything. Believe it.
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Rock With You [Jul. 5th, 2009|02:16 am]
Happy post-4th. I ate nothing barbecued yesterday, which makes me a socialist Muslim lover who doesn't support the troops. Thai food for lunch, Italian for dinner, some Spanish wine, a Dark and Stormy made with Bermudan rum and Australian ginger beer, and chocolates made by an expatriate German guy. Vive La Revolucion.

I read that 1.6 million people are trying to get tickets for the Michael Jackson memorial in LA this coming week. If I may declare the obvious- that's staggering.
I've been trying to make sense of the outpouring of need to "be there" to remember MJ. It isn't that I didn't like the guy on some level, or at least appreciate his contributions to music, but the magnitude of the need to publicly express this bottomless well of adoration in a unified contingent is beyond me.

I have to ask myself- have I ever liked music, ANYONE's music, enough to try beat out a million and a half other fans to get the opportunity to get myself to LA, fight what is assuredly going to be world-record setting traffic and congestion and run a media circus gauntlet never seen before by man, to cram into an event center with 18,000 other people just to be able to publicly say I liked that music and it meant something to me?
I have to say, no.
If John Coltrane had just died and similar circumstances magically applied, would I go?
No.
Tom Waits?
No.
Miles Davis?
No.
Steve Reich?
No.
Elvin Jones?
Well, I had an opportunity to go to what I was sure would be his last-ever performance while the guy was still alive to pay tribute to (which it was), in the same town I lived in, 10 minutes from my apartment, and I didn't go.
Had there been a public memorial there for him after he died, would I have gone?
No. Probably not.
Why not? Does this make me less of a fan of those whose work I consider to have enriched my life beyond all others?
I don't know. Honestly, I don't. Maybe.

I think that it has something to do with the fact that the artist ISN'T THERE. He's gone. The music ISN'T THERE. It's in the world, on my iPod, on the radio, on the DVD, in my memory. My memory ISN'T THERE. It's wherever I had those transformative experiences, back in another time and place. It's there. So why show up in a random place to commemorate something I have direct access to whenever and wherever I am? It's inside me, not at Staples Center on a Tuesday.
No matter how big an artist is, the relationship is personal, not public, and that's where my memory is. The part of the artist I so connected with is still here, as vital and alive as it ever was.

I don't deny the apparent need for people to express sadness or memory or gratitude publicly, but I guess I have a hard time really understanding it.

I'd posted on Facebook about the irony of "nothing succeeding like death," and that we have a textbook example of how a person who had gone from pop phenomenon to cultural punchline could have the "comeback" he seemed to want and financially need by simply dying. No new record or tour necessary. Right after he died, his records all re-entered the charts and in some cases dominate them right now, and it's a matter of time before the tribute concerts and wheels of memorial marketing and merchandising get rolling full-steam. Any new record of unreleased material will hit sales numbers out of the park effortlessly, and you won't be able to tune into late-night TV or pickup an entertainment magazine without being lambasted with ads for the Danbury Mint King of Pop Commemorative Plate.

I am curious about the record sales of MJ's existing albums though. I wonder, who's buying them? If you're an MJ fan and didn't have Thriller already, you're not a fan.
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The Twitch Is Back [Jun. 26th, 2009|12:37 pm]
[music |Jack DeJohnette - Music We Are]

Back on the crazy train. My FaceTubeSpaceTwitBook has gotten whatever energy I've had for pointless net-centric yammering over the last few months, though the thrill of the new has largely worn off.
At best, I'm finding the whole thing not much more than an easy and direct way to send dumb crap to friends I still maintain contact with, while largely ignoring or deleting the interference from schoolmates I barely remember, former co-workers I added as a courtesy and had no interest in conversing with, and other various people I've known only peripherally and have no reason to delve deeper into their day-to-day. That's not to say it hasn't been interesting to get some snapshots at what people are doing now without that extra awkward step of actually talking to them, but in most cases a single update to bring me up to speed was plenty. I don't need to know that a guy I sat in a fourth grade class with is going to pick up his kids from soccer this afternoon, or that he really likes Bud Light. Similarly, I don't expect that same guy cares that I have desiccating strawberries in my fridge or shares my love of black tar heroin.
To that end, I've endeavored to make my updates either 1) ridiculous 2) nonsensical 3) completely false, or 4) "inside" enough to only make sense to one or two specific friends.

During a break during the gig last Friday, I was sitting with S at her regular table when she comes to visit, talking about the tightrope walk in progress because the pianist never showed up, when the older of two people sitting at the next table interrupted us, saying "nice playing."
They were a father & son visiting from LA, and as the father mentioned during our following conversation, the son was a soon-to-be freshman music major. I immediately recognized the wide-eyed expression on the son's face, that "bursting with creative possibilities" look that I've seen so much and that I know I had at that time in my life.
Of course, for me now that look is tempered with a better understanding of the realities outside academia and the real world that waits beyond it, but which still persists in some form or another or I wouldn't still do what I do.
I fear I might have been overly commandeering of the conversation regarding my own path, though they were asking questions I felt I could responsibly answer about music and making a life of it, and I tried to be clear and honest without attempting to diminish the kid's enthusiasm or proselytizing.
The main point of my talk with him, other than my own evolution and experiences as someone who has tried (partially sucessfully) to straddle the worlds of jazz, rock and symphonic and chamber music, was that the music schools are excellent at turning out people prepared to play music, but not prepared to be musicians in a real world sense. He will learn theory, counterpoint, repertoire, appreciation, history, performance, composition, arranging, etc.
However, one thing clearly lacking is perhaps the most important thing, and it's something that isn't included as part of the coursework, because to include it would probably cause attrition rates to skyrocket.
It's "The Real Music World 101."
How to deal with fewer and fewer live music venues, a collapsing retail music industry, club owners who don't pay you, bandleaders on the take, dealing with perpetually drunk and/or stoned bandmates, impossible load-ins and load-outs, clicks and politics, endless no-win performance situations, etc. In other words, everything EXCEPT how to flawlessly execute swiss triplets around the kit at 220 bpm. Of course, the neophyte will learn these things eventually, but I do think there's something irresponsible about sending bushy-tailed music school graduates out into the world with ridiculous levels of technique and ability and no knowledge about what is waiting for them, or perhaps more painfully, NOT waiting for them.

The best advice I got in college came from the CSU Hayward trumpet professor Jay Rizetto, who said "get out there" in no uncertain terms. Learn what it is to work for a living as a musician outside of this cocoon of recitals and lessons and safe acceptance. The other bit of sage advice came from my percussion professor Artie Storch, who echoed Jay's sentiment when he told me "I've never known a person who got a PhD in music performance who could play their way out of a paper bag." In other words, learn what you need to prepare you technically and provide you a foundation, then let the real world ass-kicking begin.
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Sunday Night's All Right [Mar. 27th, 2009|01:50 am]
Sunday night at Anna's was a good gig in the most important way- that the purpose of the evening was served appropriately, that we were able to create an environment of positivity and good will. The music gelled by way of the amped energy we all seemed to have, even if there were elements of diminishment from some mental errors all around. I dropped a drumstick twice, which is something I almost never do even once, let alone again. There were some blown cues, endings not as smooth as we would have liked, etc. But, I left Anna's with the feeling that we sounded like a band, and that was good enough.
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How can I miss you if you won't go away? [Mar. 18th, 2009|02:39 pm]
[music |Yoshie Fruchter - Pitom]

With my workload and a lot of my internet socializing centered on my Facebook contacts, I've intentionally and yet non-intentionally neglected the 'ol LJ. This will change somewhat as I have a series of "road stories" coming up that I'll be posting on the ADP Livejournal and linking from here.

S and I are seemingly locked in a quandary about the next global destination for food, folks and fun, and we have it narrowed down to Eastern Spain or Viet Nam. Over the next few months we hope to have reached a decision, though with the recent obsession we've had with Pho, Bun Cha and those flavors (and my current obsession with Trader Joe's Tom Yum Cashews isn't helping), Southeast Asia is currently in the lead. That will change, I'm sure.
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A quick rant-let before I run off to the gig... [Jan. 30th, 2009|04:57 pm]
Is the Republican Party THAT transparent? Is the thought process within the power center of this increasingly irrelevant group SO predictable? I guess so.

"A woman is a stone's throw from the Presidential nomination! We gotta get us one of them! A new marketing angle- we never thought of it! Women! Of course! Never really considered them before... Okay, so we get a hot chick with our own hateful values, and that'll sew up the confused and angry Democratic Female demo, 'cause after all, they only care if a candidate has a vagina. Plus, we get masturbation fodder for our own bloated NASCAR Dad base! Genius!"

Now, it's Michael Steele as chairman of the RNC. Unbelievable. The "tokenest" negro ever.

"Holy shit! They really elected one of them! Do we have one somewhere? We gotta compete.. you know, keep up with the (Basketball) Joneses and all that... Black people don't care about their own best interests- we just gotta put a thrown-together minority face on ourselves so we don't appear to be as scared, sexually confused and white as we actually are! Get me a black person!"
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End of an era, and an error [Jan. 28th, 2009|05:48 pm]
[music |Blind Idiot God - Cyclotron]

I haven't been very interested in writing since the inauguration - I can't recall a time I felt as proud to see the Democratic process in action. The hope of repairing years of internal and external damage, of re-earning our place in the world as a respected and just superpower, blah, blah, dewy-eyed hopeful granola-crunching rhetoric. Add to that the looks on the faces of legions of formerly disenfranchised Americans who've never felt a reason to be hopeful, who never expected to see the events of January 20th. You can't help but be moved by that. I can't. Of course, reality dictates that the past can only be repaired slowly, and it's far, far too much to instantly expect some utopian nirvana with jumping bunnies and rainbows. As a friend of mine said rather succinctly, "we must first get un-fucked"
In addressing Bush's crimes, I was a little crestfallen to hear Obama basically say that we need to focus on the future and not dwell on the past. However, since Bush and Cheney are now private citizens, it would be up to the private legal sector anyway.
I strongly recommend reading Vincent Bugliosi's newest book, The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder, in which he, as a prosecuting attorney, would try the ex-pres for war crimes. I wonder how my parents, who have always spoken reverently about Bugliosi, would react to knowing that this long-time conservative wrote this book. The man who put Manson away, wrote Outrage about the OJ Simpson trial and successfully prosecuted 105 of his 106 felony jury trials.

I found out the other night that an idol of mine, Bill Bruford, has decided to retire from public performance effective the first of this year. Wow. That's huge to me.
I mean, on one hand it's totally understandable. The man is now 60 and has endured over 40 years of this relentlessly abusive lifestyle and is still standing. Yes, King Crimson, Genesis, UK, Bruford, Earthworks, etc. Back of the van to four star hotels and back. Bars, dingy rock clubs, arenas, festivals, jazz clubs. Patching the kit together to survive one more show and hoping that snare head won't break, to a monumental electro-acoustic drumkit on a rotating stage with multiple techs and thousands of watts of stage lighting and amplification, and back to setting up a modest kit himself on a tiny stage. Bill's paid his dues a thousand times over, and has made an indelible mark on the art of drumming through years of innovation and individuality. He doesn't want to continue living out of suitcases and dealing with the myriad bullshit a professional musician endures. I completely get it.
Still, a part of me wonders how he can just walk away from the direct interaction with the audience that an artist feeds upon. I hope, like with Glenn Gould, that the medium of recording is good enough, and I wish him well. I feel fortunate to have seen and heard Bill live on numerous occasions, and to have met him at Catalina's in Hollywood after an Earthworks show in 2003. The enormity of meeting this influence, the guy I drummed along with on Yes records in my bedroom at the age of 13, was never lost on me.
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RIP Bob Wilkins [Jan. 10th, 2009|01:35 am]
I can't imagine how "normal" and "well adjusted" I would have grown up if it wasn't for Bob Wilkins. I thank him profusely for screwing me up and scaring the crap out of me during my formative years.

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Drink it. [Dec. 31st, 2008|06:37 pm]
Early days yet this NYE, but here's what we've got goin' after some trial, error, and trial error:

Storm Chaser

2 1/2 oz. Gosling's Black Rum
1/2 oz. Hangar One Kaffir Lime Vodka
1/4 oz. cinnamon syrup
1/4 oz. Monin ginger syrup
1/4 oz. lime juice

shake, add to rocks glass with Bundaberg ginger beer

repeat ad nauseum till nauseous.
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Ready for Freddie [Dec. 30th, 2008|03:12 pm]
Okay, who didn't know this story was fake? Well, apparently a lot of people. I received it as a chain letter probably four or five times from my mom and others. The gingerbread wrapping of a horrific holocaust story always sounded ludicrous to me from the first time I heard about it, but people eat this type of shit with a backhoe. As Dana Gould says, some things are just fun to believe.

Goodbye Freddie Hubbard.

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No quiero comprar un tiempo compartido. [Dec. 24th, 2008|07:30 pm]
Snapshots of a travelogue:

Monday, December 1st - 12:28 PM local time - Terminal 1, Benito Juárez International Airport, Mexico City.
Trying desperately to make a two square feet of vinyl airport seat into some sort of surface conductive to sleep. Impossible. Been up for almost 30 straight hours. I note the grease stain on my pants from my hi-hat stand, and wonder for a second why I didn't wash them, then realize I haven't been out of these clothes since playing that gig at the Cannery in SF. Seems like several days ago.

Tuesday, December 2nd - 2:48 PM local time - Machado Fish Taco, Plazuela Machado, Calle Carnival, Mazatlán
Lazy walk around the square followed by simple, amazing tacos. Masa, camarones, chiles, Mexican slaw. First taste of the old Centro, and it was cheap and delicious. The tequila seems to be completely functional as well.

Wednesday, December 3rd - 3:36 PM local time - Acuario Mazatlán, Av. de los Deportes No. 111 Fracc. Tellería, Mazatlán
A sea lion sees us peering through the outdoor tank porthole at him, seemingly the only visitors of the aquarium at that moment. He does a couple "drive-bys", checking us out, and then speeds up his orbits of the tank, making sure he still has an audience.
We decide against entering the exotic bird enclosure, which seems abnormally dangerous. The utter desertion of this part of the park doesn't help- after being clawed and pecked to death by a flock of ravenous mccaws, our feces-coated bodies might not be discovered for days.

Thursday, December 4th - 10:58 AM local time - Vinata Los Osuna, near Tamacochi, Sinaloa
A shockingly colorful group of butterflies covers a huge slab of freshly cooked agave pina, which we are told is like candy at this point in the tequila making process. Drinking straight tequila at not-quite-11 in the morning is not my usual routine, though it seems strangely easy to do.

Thursday, December 4th - 12:42 PM local time - Leather worker's shop, La Noria, Sinaloa
Making friends with young black cat patrolling the leather shop and saddlery. Scratching the head and cheeks are fine- he's unsure about the chin.

Friday, December 5th - 7:09 PM local time - Topolo Restaurante, Constitucion #629, Centro, Mazatlán
It all comes down to one brief encounter with, complete surrender to and acceptance of a moment of perfection. I don't just mean the meal, which was far and away the best I've ever had in Mexico, but everything. The meal, the setting, the weather, the company, the feeling of complete ease and carefree contentment. It all focused here, and it's rarely been better.

Friday, December 5th - 10:21 PM local time - somewhere along the Olas Altas, Malecón, Mazatlán
Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. No shit. With the hundreds of Pulmonias pounding the pavement, the odds of getting an insane driver is seemingly high. Hairpin turns around blind corners, bullying through unrestricted intersections against much larger & heavier vehicles, flying haphazardly over rough and broken asphalt, chasing wayward pedestrians onto sidewalks. I guess we shouldn't have talked the guy down to 70 pesos for the ride.

Sunday, December 7th - 10:53 AM local time - El Patio, El Cid Castilla, Av. Camarón Sábalo, Zona Dorada, Mazatlán
Enjoying a leisurely brunch, marveling at the surreal music coming over the speaker system. An exacting, disturbingly studied Mexican pop band who have meticulously absorbed every instrumental and vocal idiosyncrasy of The Police. I mean everything- chorusy upstroke guitar rhythms, an early 80s pseudo-Sting screech, mid-song reggae breakdown that sounds just like Can't Stand Losing You, and a drummer who has memorized every 32nd note hi-hat flurry, splash cymbal interjection, cranked-to-hell snare blast and cross-stick double-time Stewart Copeland ever played and felt compelled to regurgitate them all over the course of the one song.

Monday, December 8th - 7:25 PM local time - Security Screening, Terminal 4, Sky Harbor Airport, Phoenix
A group of tired, hateful travelers and even more hateful TSA screeners and an endless line to get to the gate. A screener takes aside an older couple behind us who have matching leopard-print luggage, saying "We need to have a chat. Right now." I spent the flight home wondering what the hell that was about.

Monday, December 8th - 10:50 PM local time - International Baggage Claim, Oakland International Airport
Goddamn it's cold. S is already sniffling and succumbing to a cold, and the extreme temperature shift from 83 degrees is shocking to the system. Back to reality.
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The Day After [Nov. 28th, 2008|11:33 am]
[music |Shostakovich Quartet #7 - Emerson String Quartet]

I am most definitely glad for a quiet Thanksgiving Day. Several recent Thanksgivings come to mind which were anything but quiet, so today I am thankful for the lack of drama. I went to my folks' house after spending a pleasant afternoon with S's family, and the "quiet" was replaced with a distinct emptiness as I awaited my parents' return from the extended family. My thankfulness took a more wistful turn which reflected a deeper meaning for me. It was appropriate.

In about 59 hours I will be leaving for a Sinaloan adventure and a general unplugging that I've been more acutely needing over the last couple of months. I will eat marlin tacos until I lose consciousness and will do my best to forget about the financial desperation and hateful consumerist preoccupation in this country that would cause something so multi-dimensionally horrifying as this. The combination of media-enforced consumerist holiday pressures and a national economy on the brink of collapse is more toxic than sarin gas. The story would almost be funny if it wasn't so stupid.
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There cannot be light without the dark [Nov. 12th, 2008|02:14 pm]
[music |George Marsh - About A Time]

Why can't all national journalism be this clear and "journalistic" and not so lazy and "observational"?

The Daily Dish


Rest In Peace Mel Graves.
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(no subject) [Oct. 20th, 2008|12:34 am]
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Try not to suck. [Oct. 16th, 2008|02:19 am]
[music |John Zorn - Masada V.5: Hei]

Tired. Between jazz gigs, ADP gigs, recording sessions and rehearsals, I've been working 11 of the first 13 nights of this month. Not that I am ungrateful for the upswing in activity. I am thankful for it, and it serves a couple of purposes. Besides the monetary factor, I feel like the activity has been a way to force myself through a very trying, troubling time that is in part directly related to this intensive activity.

To balance the shifts in personal dynamics, the moral quandaries and redefinition of relationships, there has been the continual requirement to remain committed to the creative process. I don't mean that to sound as pretentious as it no doubt does. I simply mean that it's been compulsory that I engage in a creative (and therefore positive) series of activities in light of circumstances that I can only see as negative. The fact that these two extremes are directly related makes for a highly unusual situation for me. I find the idea of fully committing to the music to be something I consider grudgingly, and yet I must and it helps get me through.

I have to say that as the marathon drags on there has been a nagging feeling of insecurity as well. As the time passes, I've found myself staring at the drums and almost felt like I've been continually dared to come up with something. When sitting in the middle of a circular recording studio, lights focused on the kit, microphones hanging over everything, reinforcing the point that everything is magnified and scrutinized, there's a challenge happening. Not that I'm unfamiliar with that scrutiny, but with everything else that's been going on it feels like my dealing with these dichotomous situations is being analyzed.
Along those lines, I do wish my first taste of sitting behind a drumset on the stage of the new SF Yoshi's location had felt more auspicious and grand, but numerous mitigating factors relating to the gig diminished what I wanted to somehow feel more significant. In any case, there we are. Another drumset (one having been played at some point by several heroes of mine) seeming daring anything inspired to come out. "Come on, motherfucker. DO something...." No real soundcheck? Too bad. Can't hear the pianist since there was no amplification or sound reinforcement provided? Sorry. Are you a professional or not? Make it happen.
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Hoist That Rag [Oct. 1st, 2008|12:25 am]
[music |Anthony Braxton - Beyond Quantum]

Another Humboldt/Eureka/Arcata trip under our collective belts, jam-packed with activity. Glad to be home.
Three gigs in less than 36 hours- a college, a club, a radio show. All successful to varying degrees, though the last two were eventful beyond the actual playing of the music.
Jambalaya was fun, though the crowd was somewhat thin for a Friday night, but we had the good fortune to meet the two members of Universalia Jane, who we shared the bill with. A cool and highly idiosyncratic pairing of a vocalist/keyboardist and drummer who made me think of Kate Bush fronting the Dresden Dolls. Great stuff.
KMUD was okay, though I made some mental errors and several technical and gear problems made the show more loose than I'd have liked. KMUD archives their programming for a couple weeks, and our segment can be found about 15 minutes into this hour:

KMUD Planet Humboldt

Finally, NPR is streaming the Atlanta show from Tom Waits' Glitter and Doom tour, featuring my friend Seth Ford-Young on bass. I was delighted to see that Seth appeared on Tom's 3-CD set from a couple years ago, and with the sudden un-availability of Larry Taylor for the tour, Seth got the call. My happiness for him is only slightly colored with deep, seething envy.

Tom Waits Live in Atlanta
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Guys & Gals, We're going to Hell [Sep. 25th, 2008|12:04 am]
Better put by Sam Harris than I could ever express it:

When Atheists Attack
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Are we clear? [Sep. 17th, 2008|12:15 am]
[music |Joe Henderson - Power to the People]

First, RIP David Foster Wallace.

Words of mine would certainly be lacking if I tried some didactic "sum up" of this genius mind, so I'll just say another voice badly needed on this planet has decided to pack up and move on, and what does that say about the world? If anybody's the least bit curious, I'd recommend his amazing 2005 Kenyon College commencement speech, which is a jackhammer reality check to those (like me) whose tendency toward absolute sureness of everything they know becomes a self-awarded hipster high ground. Although the motivations and mindset are (hopefully) different, unwavering sureness is what has poisoned the executive branch of this government for the last eight years.
You might also check out Wallace's frikkin' hilarious '96 Harpers essay on his experiences on a luxury cruise called Shipping Out (pdf file). It's the reason I've never been very interested in taking such a voyage.

Over the last two months I have been lulled into an grinding, icy numbness with the onslaught of diminishment, loss and death that currently surrounds so many things I care about, and Wallace was one more onto the misery pile. It's certainly not that things just bounce off now, but there's a palpable lack of fresh impact- rather, it's like a bumpy continuation.

-

I was mulling some comparative facts about the two warring political factions, and I instantly gave up when I read this, which is much better than anything I could have put together:


If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you're "exotic, different."

Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, a quintessential American story.


*

If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.

Name your kids Willow, Trig and Track, you're a maverick.


*

Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.

Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well-grounded.


*


If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.

If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.


*

If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.

If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.

*

If you teach responsible, age-appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.

If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant, you're very responsible.

*

If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America's.

If you're husband is nicknamed "First Dude", with at least one DWI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.
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Coda, and Out [Sep. 4th, 2008|12:06 am]

Peace BJ. Thanks for looking after me and so many others, and thanks for the friendship and the music.

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What was that "experience" argument again? [Aug. 29th, 2008|11:19 am]
After Obama's masterful, near perfect acceptance speech, which methodically dismantled every criticism leveled against him and set a new standard for mixing bedrock policy ideas, stirring rhetoric and laser-focused attack, McCain counters with a fundamentalist former beauty pageant contestant who's currently being investigated for ethics violations? Is this some hamfisted attempt to court disgruntled Hillary supporters? "As long as it's a woman" must have been the criteria, regardless of whatever anti-choice, regressive political self-hatred she spouts. I think it's insulting to women that McCain (no fan of women himself) would think that gender, not issues, is at the heart of women voters' concerns and that it apparently doesn't matter how diametrically opposed her neo-conservative stance is from Clinton.
She is a gift to the Democratic chances in November.

Here's a little vid clip of Tony Bourdain's visit to Oakland on my birthday last year. He was getting his taco on out at El Grullo on International and 26th.

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