Movies of Myself

Tomorrow the sun will be brighter, the water will rise and wash us away.

Mid Week Mini Music Mix

This week I wanted to send a huge thank you out to you all. To each and every one of you who stops by to check out what's going on my little corner of the world, who comes to share my excitement over wonderful music and food, who tolerates my rantings and ravings about the craziest things. You guys are truly amazing and I can't tell you how much it means to me. 

The past few years I've been working a lot on gratitude in my life and lately have felt an urge to try to express the deep-seated happiness and goodness that so many people and things bring to me. So I had 1,000 balloons printed and I am gonna use them to start telling folks how I feel. 

And I got so many damn balloons because I want you to join me! Don't you want to tell those nearest and dearest to you how completely amazing they are? Send me your mailing address (beckietran at gmail.com) and I will send you some balloons. All I want in return is the story of what is amazing to you. 

There's so much bad news and unbelievable difficulty everywhere we turn. Won't you help me spread some love instead, in the form of custom-printed latex balloons? :D

To go along with this, here are some of my favorite songs ever. Absolutely amazing songs.

The Latest Toughs - Okkervil River - If Okkervil River only ever recorded one song, and it was this song, they'd still be one of my favorite artists. An honest, fierce anthem that is somehow still full of hope. It takes a lot of talent to get you singing along to the words "and if you're crying to be tossed they'll toss you down the oubliette", but these guys can do it. 

Upward Over The Mountain - Iron & Wine - Sam Beam is like my fricking guru and I think this might be his prettiest song of all. I heard him perform this acoustic in a silent theater full of people who could barely breath because of how beautiful it was. Wistful, moving and endlessly gorgeous.

The Cedar Room - Doves  - Heck yeah, this song! If you can ride along with this song blasting in your car without singing along and feeling like you could do anything, then you are a stronger person than I.

Red Moon - The Walkmen - This one, this one is almost too much to talk about. It does strange things to my heart. Chokes me up and makes me feel everything, everything. When you hear this one, think of me, okay?
 

Up, Up and Away

I've got a thing for balloons. A couple dozen or a single one. Whether it's a three foot long Thomas the Tank Engine mylar stunner that sings the Birthday Song when you tap on its side, or an el cheapo toxic latex number with an advertisement for AT&T printed on it, they always make me smile. How can you be unhappy if you have a balloon?

The last couple of weeks I've been very excited to work on a balloon project which will launch(!) very, very soon. It's a big, uplifting(!!), international social venture and I'm hoping many of you will participate with me. 

In the meantime, please to enjoy my gallery of balloon photos on flickr. It's balloonalicious and I hope it will bring a smile to your lovely face.

Balloon - Arizona

In Bloom

In all the collective years I've lived in the Bay Area, this is the first that I have been any sort of a regular visitor to Golden Gate Park. There is so very much to see there and I'm kicking myself for not venturing more frequently. I'm making it my goal to explore more of this Bay Area gem. The Park is huge (much bigger than NYC's Central Park) and I haven't seen three quarters of it. I had a photo outing at the Park this past week and it was a cool 58 degrees Fahrenheit, overcast but still quite bright. It was my first trip to the Conservatory of Flowers and Dahlia dell. This meant a day of gorgeous, sultry bloom. Cue pic spam:

Remind me never to move to the Rainforest. One big wing of the Conservatory was devoted to Orchids of the Americas and, while the flowers were an astonishing site to behold, the Conservatory has to keep these buildings at a humidity level of about 95%. These purple orchids haven't been watered. It's condensation and like, pure flower sweat. I cannot even express the mortifying havoc wreaked upon my head in this greenhouse. By the time I'd had my fill of photos, it looked like someone had replaced my hair with a a scale model of an Egyptian pyramid made out of cotton candy. But it was completely worth it.

Seriously lovely and exotic things in there. I'm saving up for some new lenses and once I have them I'm going back with a vengeance. Orchids of the Americas will have no freaking idea what hit it.

After the steam room Conservatory I walked to the nearby Dahlia Garden. Did you know that the dahlia is the official flower of San Francisco? I didn't before visiting the Dahlia Dell. Heck, I had no idea this garden even existed and that there were so many varieties of this flower, every last one of them showy, glorious and shockingly beautiful. The Dell is not large by any means, but it makes up in splendor what it is lacking in size.

What a lovely surprise it was to see a garden in full bloom in the fall. What a happy, hopeful thing.

And it's the darkest side of my heart that dies when you come to me.

Last week I started the task of listening to all the loose songs I've download from various music blogs since January. I tend to favor whole albums, with the exception of an occasional hip hop single, so I had a playlist of 100 random songs to go through.

Well, I didn't make it very far at all. Only a handful of tracks in, these two songs from The Middle East came on and they've kept their steady hold on me ever since. The sound is very reminiscent of two bands whom I love and have raved about here before: The Acorn and Horse Feathers. There is so little information available about this Australian band, and it appears that their only release is a brief EP.

I can tell you that it's beautiful folk music, sweeping and wistful, telling little stories about life woven up in pretty tunes that make your heart ache. They have male and female vocals, both ridiculously gorgeous. I sincerely hope the Middle East are recording more music.

Blood - The Middle East

The Darkest Side - The Middle East

The Recordings of The Middle East is available on Amazon.

On Wine Writing

Dear Person Who Writes the Wine Tasting Notes at Nectar Lounge in Burlingame,

Hello, I am in love with you. Surely, you must understand the high regard which I hold for fine prose. Couple that with my admiration for your unique trailblazing voice and damn, baby. Call me?

Because I'm bad at describing wines myself. My notes go no further than "yum" for an enjoyable glass or "functional" for the not so pleasing. But you, my dear, you have taken wine notes to a whole new mildly alarming level.

Take for instance my favorite of the three wines in my "Bad-Assed Red Flight". I would've called it "expansive and delicious". "Richly jammy" maybe. I never would have dared to pen anything close to your glory:

2005 Beaulieu Reserve "Dulcet", Napa, California - "a lush rhumba of plums and red-currants concludes with a rough shove onto a velvety cocoa scented divan as musk-winged doves flitter about overhead in a miasmic frenzy"

Oh my goodness. Gentlemen, attention please. This is what all the girls want, okay? To be rudely hustled onto a food-stained sofa while deranged birds swoop down at our face. (Or maybe it's just me??)

And then, beloved Wine Notes Writer, there is the description that I consider to be your masterpiece:

2006 Decero Malbec, Mendoza, Argentina - "a shot of black currant liqueur in a warm oak demitasse to wash down an après dinner espresso while a mysterious widow in a salami dress whispers stories of herb gardening in your ear"

Salami dress??? Does that actually mean...a dress made out of meat?? This wine tastes like a lady gardener wearing fermented beef bits??? I have no words.

But I guess that's what you're here for! Seriously, you have fabricated your own incomparable genre of writing, a sort of soft core porn for line cooks, and I kind of want to hire you to pimp out my site. Instead of "hey, guys, check out the new Radiohead single, it's fantastic!" I could have "a naughty gambol with Thom Yorke in a bower of aromatic cran-raspberries, being hand-fed bon bons and a smoking haunch of juicy, chipotle rubbed roast beast".

We need to rendezvous, Wine Notes Writer!

Yours,

Beckie

Check out the full Nectar Wine Lounge drinks selection for more amazingly descriptive, tognue in cheek writing. They really do have delicious, skillfully-prepared food and wonderful wines. Maybe not ones that fulfill the promise of a curvaceous beauty in a salted meat dress, but almost.

Tell me all you know, what was that old story that you told?

It's warm here this week in the Bay Area, though it feels only mildly balmy compared to the Southern California summers I grew up with. The days are still long and full of sunshine and make you feel like your road is long, that you'll have forever to do the things you want to do.

But oh, I can already feel autumn walking towards us, and soon it will peek its head around the corner to tell us this isn't true. And I wonder what life will be like in the fall. I hope it will be something like this stop-motion animation video for Australian band Firekite's "Autumn Story". It took six months to prepare the chalkboard drawings and film them and it is a thing of true beauty.

Feelings lived here once, before our time.

We hear the bells on every hour.
I will always love you.

Says she loves to dance,
and she loves red cross til the end.
We don't want these days to ever end.

Autumn Story - Firekites

I really want to know you, really want to go with you.

I posted a song from Jim James' George Harrison covers EP, Tribute To, a few weeks back. Yesterday I found myself listening to this EP again over and over, and to one song in particular:

My Sweet Lord - Yim Yames

It's absolutely one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. Jim James' voice, which I've raved about continuously, sounds like it's coming straight from heaven and his own repeated backing refrain of "hallelujah" here is gorgeous enough to send me to my knees. We all need a little bit more of this in our lives.

Queneau

via Thomas Guest

What is this strange and beautiful book? It's a copy of French poet Raymond Queneau's Cent mille milliards de poèmes (One hundred million million poems). According to the bevrowe.info page on the Sonnets:

Queneau’s Cent Mille Milliards de Poèmes is derived from a set of ten basic sonnets. In his book, published in 1961, they are printed on card with each line on a separated strip, like a heads-bodies-and-legs book. All ten sonnets have the same rhyme scheme and employ the same rhyme sounds. As a result, any line from a sonnet can be combined with any from the other nine, giving 1014 (= 100,000,000,000,000) different poems. Working twenty-four hours a day, it would you take some 140,000,000 years to read them all.

How cool is that? The sonnets have been translated into English and the site even has a page where you can view randomized sonnet combinations or make specific medleys of your own. This is the first one I put together. The Sonnets themselves are both fanciful and unusual, so they make for a great creative pool to wade into.

I Was A Kaleidoscope

Things that made me smile this week:

1. 
   Imagine seeing this set to her hysterical laughter and the proclamation that, "Hahaha, so many yous! You have a hundred mouths! You have millions of glasses on!"


2. Discussing Gywneth Paltrow's "frenemy" with Kerry. I think this is mainly because I love the word "frenemy".


3. Padding Ghost - Dan Deacon
    
   Dan Deacon's latest album, Broomst, is kicking my ass with its awesomeness. I love how the end of this track veers off into almost a kind of pirate chantey.


4. Bacon, gin and butter chicken. Not all together (thought that might be awesome, too.)


5. S: All right, So...I don't want you to shat your pants...
   
   BUT WE HAVE FLIPPING TERRACE BOX SEATS FOR DEATH CAB.
   
   I hope you're excited. Because I am.
   
   b: OH. MY. GOD.
   
   I am completely swooping around the room in crazy bat happiness. This is INSANE!! Maybe we can even bring a picnic!
   
   S: Um, yes. Can you say, "Bucket of KFC?"

Everything fades from sight because that's alright with me.

I love days like this. Texting my sister all morning who is on vacation in Vancouver while I eat maple banana oatmeal. Reading Wendell Berry poems about birds and lawnmowers. Going to lunch in my favorite dress, drinking watermelon beer and walking by South Park on a day that feels like summer. Singing in the car, singing like crazy. Vanilla bean ice cream and the Discovery Channel, talking history and spirituality while the cookies that were supposed to go with the ice cream bake (but who can wait?). Then home to read things that made me burst out laughing and to finish something simple and pretty, something that I actually need. Washing the ink off my hands, brushing my hair. And now, with the cool night air breezing in the open windows, about to lie down on my bed that smells like meadow flowers and clover and listen to Guided By Voices. I love days like this.

I Am A Scientist - Guided By Voices

Parking

from xkcd

As a California driver, and especially as a person who learned to drive in Los Angeles, I felt a fierce and tremendous happiness when I saw this.

So soldier on, soldier on.

A picture, a poem and a song for spring:

Portrait of a Lady
by: William Carlos Williams

Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze—or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
—As if that answered
anything.—Ah, yes. Below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore—
Which shore?—
the sand clings to my lips—
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
—the petals from some hidden
appletree—Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.

Fitz and the Dizzyspells - Andrew Bird

She gave me these feathered breaths.

About a year after I moved to the Bay Area from Southern California my mom suddenly started calling me a lot, like four or five times a week. She works the graveyard shift, so the only time we were both free to talk besides weekend afternoons was when she took breaks or ate dinner at work. Neither of us had that much to say to each other and it always felt suspiciously like she was checking up on me even though I was way past the point of checking-upableness.

Eventually though, the calls slowed down to about twice a week and, for the past six months, she's only been calling about once a week, if that. Whenever she does we have ourselves a chat fest, catching up on anything and everything that's been going on, talking for a couple of hours. I tell her about the cards I'm making and the new fun places I've discovered. She catches me up on family news and talks about her ballroom dance class.

She didn't call this weekend and, when I really wanted to talk to her on Sunday, I remembered she'd gone in for some sort of work project. It suddenly dawned on me that my mom is a pretty fun friend. Don't tell her I said that, though. And don't tell her I miss talking to her a lot. She'd only gloat and say, "yeah, you miss talking to me" and my sister and I would have to roll our eyes for, like, eight years. Momo's got a day off on Wednesday. I can't wait to see what she's been up to.

Oh! My Mama - Alela Diane

Busy, Busy Town

I recently bought a copy of Richard Scarry's Best First Book Ever! for Elysa and Kristen. Richard Scarry books were favorites of mine all when I was growing up, and the Pod also asked for them continuously at storytime. I loved his illustrations and all of the charming animal characters that populated his busy towns. My imagination ran wild when I was little and I found it difficult to differentiate the reality of books from that of the world I actually lived in. Of course these cats and pigs and bears went to school, docked tugboats and shopped for radishes at a produce stand. Of course the worm wore a feathered cap. "Rainbow pencil car," I pronounced, invisibly underlining the words with my finger. "That's what I want to drive when I grow up."

I fell openly in love with the Scarry illustrated dictionary we used in my second grade classroom. It was a thick, handsome hardcover volume and I took to ignoring the regular lessons, preferring to pore through the bright and irreverent alphabetized pages, day after day. For Christmas that year I declared to my grandparents that I would very much like to buy a dictionary. That was easy enough, they thought, But of course, none of the painfully dull non-Scarry children's dictionaries would do (I'm guessing the book I sought was a special edition done up for schools.) "The one I want has a bear in a green suit!" I insisted, to my grandparent's beffudlement. "It has pickle cars!"

Bloodsucking Fiends

These are my sundews, carnivorous flowering plants I bought from California Carnivores in Sebastopol. Are they not beautiful?

Truth be told, I've killed a few venus flytraps in my time, so I had no faith in my ability to keep these guys around for more than a couple of days. But it's been three weeks since I brought them home and they're kicking ass.

All three plants have new growth and two of them have the most remarkably delicate and tiny flowers opening from the tall feelers they send out. The sundew is a tenacious and well-adapted carnivore. Both the ground rosettes and the stems are covered with thousands of pinprick small tentacles, all the better to trap and melt you with, my dear.

I absolutely love them and I baby them accordingly. They prefer a water dish environment and have no qualms about turning moody and droopy if the system isn't replenished every couple of days. They also adore sunlight and I will carry their tray from window to window throughout the course of the day, to maximize light exposure. The little flowers refuse to open up without enough sun. In the mornings or on the weekends I'll also let them outside for a few hours so they have the opportunity to attract a variety of flying bugs that don't make it indoors. Right now I'm mostly giving them ants. I'll pick them up with my fingertips and drop them right onto the plants, sending them to a gruesomely slow and torturous demise. It is utterly fascinating and also makes me feel a little bit vile. This is what I have become in order to appease these sundews. Bug mangler. Ant murderer!

Blood Flower - Tilly and the Wall

Explored

How fun is this? A random picture I took of office supplies made it to the front page of flickr Explore last week. The quick summary for non flickr users: Explore is a compendium of the 500 most "interesting" (according to a site algorithm) shots of the day. You don't indicate to them that you'd like your pictures considered. There's no rhyme or reason to the algorithm used, but there's some freaking awesome pictures picked, so I was stoked. My pictures have been plucked by Explore a few times previously, but I've never been on the front page before. I think the photo peaked at the #5 position for the day. What does this mean? Nothing, really. I see beautiful things on the site and I love the community. And it inspires my imagination. If this is a small indicator that my picture takin' is improving, then that kicks butt. :)

I Turn My Camera On - Spoon

Happy Three

My sweet little goddaughter Kristen had her third birthday party last Sunday. Her princess tea was a gorgeous, smashing success! Auntie Marianne is in town and helped out a ton and Auntie Joanne also came up from Orange County and cooked up a damn storm. The decorations and the food were SO impressive. I remember for my sixth birthday I had a Strawberry Shortcake birthday cake and I thought I was hot shit. Well, Kristen had a tower of handmade mini-cupcakes, games, a piñata, a pile of balloons and dress-up costumes. This party was a little girl's dream come true. Check this magic out:

Besides the buffet of kid-friendly food they prepared (including organic mac and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches cut into crown shapes which I could not stop cooing over) there was also an amazing spread for the adults, with things like stuffed mushrooms and prosciutto-wrapped melon balls. Dude! What three year old has prosciutto melon and florentine quichelets at their birthday? Kristen is such a baller.

And I can't believe she's three! Where has the time gone?? At one point she and I ended up sitting alone at a table together, during the very middle of the party. Just like me, she likes a lot of quiet time and doesn't enjoy being the center of attention. It's why we get along so well and it was a lovely little moment to share with her. What a nice day. Everyone had such a great time and she couldn't deserve it more. <3

Buoyancy

I have several copies of this poetry collection, one of the few books I read regularly. I turn to it, and my other Coleman Barks translations of Rumi, almost religiously; with both faith and fervor. These words must be read repeatedly, so fleeting is the feeling they contain. They remind you constantly to live, and that fire dies out so easily in the drizzle of our everyday lives. Each time I turn the pages, they nudge me right into life again.

I keep one copy in a breakdroom drawer at work, for afternoon inspiration. Three weeks ago I saw it on the lunch table and figured that one of my co-workers was flipping through it. This past week I found a small stack of loose leaf papers in the drawer, with bunches and snippets of the poetry hand-copied on both sides.

I finally realized that our dear refugee is using the Rumi as writing practice. She's enrolled in an English language class which meets several times per week and, in addition to filling out the vocabulary and grammar worksheets she's constantly poring over, she's been writing out pieces from my book.

I wonder if she understands a single word of it. In a way, it's perfect. To learn letters by rewriting the modern adaptation of the words of a 13th century Sufi mystic. There is poetry, there is life, in this. "Does sunset sometimes look like the sun's coming up?" What could this say to her? Last week she asked us what "if" means. I want to say, it means to keep asking.

We are the mirror as well as the face in it.
We are tasting the taste this minute
of eternity. We are pain
and what cures pain, both. We are
the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.

Into the Sunspots We Like Vanish Away

 

So this is what my summer looks like so far. Are you jealous? Well, you should be because I'm jealous of myself, it's so damn gorgeous here. I've got the hots for the beach again and, since it's only an hour drive to this place, I find myself here quite a bit.

Next time I head there I know what I'll be listening to on the way: Summer in Abaddon. Seriously great album for warm weather, sunny days and feeling free, light and happy. Thanks to my recent drunken lie about, I've gleefully rediscovered its merits.

Come on, Pinback already did all the work. They actually put the word "summer" in the title. What? Do they have to come over and press play for you?

3x0 - Pinback

Fortress-Pinback  

What are these songs about? I'm not sure. And it doesn't matter in the least. All I know is that I could listen to them over and over again. And I do. I do.

"3x0" is also one of the songs on the latest incarnation of my Muxtape, if you should require more lazy, soft summery goodness.

Death Cab For Cutie - Nokia Theater, Los Angeles (6/23/08)

 In November of 2004, Steph and I had a mini joint b-day celebration by going to see Death Cab for Cutie play a show at the Wiltern on their Transatlanticism tour. It was right before Death Cab blew up big time. Last week we met up again to watch the band play at the new Nokia Theater in downtown L.A. I was anxious to compare notes both with her and with the past.

What Has Changed

• Much larger, much nicer venues, at which you can purchase champagne (in a paper cup?) and organic trail mix. Oh, brother.
• Ben Gibbard has been working on his fitness. He looks like a skinny little lion.
• I believe every band member has gotten more skilled at playing their respective instruments. But I miss the baby drum kit (they didn't even play "We Looked Like Giants".) I even miss the drum pads from "Title and Registration".
• Chris Walla did not once go on a three minute ramble in which you can't make out 3/4 of what he is saying in his falsetto voice.
• Roadies galore. Way back when, Ben Gibbard liked to alternate between about six guitars. He kept them all on one rack and had to keep walking over to change them himself. 
• "Bixby Canyon Bridge" has replaced "The New Year" as the bands usual opener. That works for me--they killed it.
• The audience. In '04 we were all pressed up against the stage in little rooms. We were all enthralled. That night at the Nokia Theater I looked around the pit and people were just staring blankly during songs like "405". I'm sure most of the attendees don't even own The Photo Album.

What Has Not

• An air of pleasant reserve. Just because Death Cab are more popular than ever doesn't mean they've changed their stage banter (or lack thereof.) This is the least I've heard them speak during a show.
• They played "Company Calls" immediately followed by "Company Calls Epilogue". I've seen them do this once before and it is awesome. Nerds that we are, Steph and I actually high-fived when we heard this. Oh, lordy.
• Still closing out with the heart-stopping glory that is "Transatlanticism". "Do you think they get tired of playing that as their last song?" Steph wondered. I don't know, but we sure as hell don't get tired of hearing it.
• Smarts. Death Cab almost always plays such thoughtful and well-crafted set lists. They keep a really good flow of pacing and energy and they are very aware of which songs sound best live.
• Heart. I've heard a lot of people say that this band is boring live. Obviously I couldn't disagree more. They play hard and they play with warmth, spirit and affection. I think the boys put every bit as much of themselves now, maybe more, into their live performance. And I'm happy I can say this about my favorite band. Great show, great times.
• Steph and I still know when to hit it and quit it.

Why You'd Want To Live Here - Death Cab For Cutie

Toy Story

Okay, these toys? I'm not really allowed to have them.

I cannot embark down the road of any "collect them all" set. Especially when it involves blind assortments. Sooner or later (usually sooner) I look around and realize I've spent two hundred dollars trying to finish a ten piece collection of, like, tofu blocks dressed in costumes from around the world. I wonder what I would do if I ever did get a complete set of something. My guess is, same thing as I do with these toys now: tuck them into a bedside drawer that is full to almost bursting with knicknacks. Normally I have to seriously drag myself away from these things.

However, because I'm a huge fan of Heidi Kenney's work, I had no qualms picking up one of her Kidrobot-produced Yummy Breakfast keychains. They're all impossibly cute, but I think my little cracked egg is the greatest. As you can see, my minimal self-restraint led to the acquisition of a Friends With You "Wish Come True" blind box as well as something from the Kidrobot Adult Swim Mini Series.

Which is how I now find myself the proud owner of a tiny model of Assy McGee. Come on. Assy McGee, you guys. An angry, violent, clinically depressed exposed buttocks. Who is an alcoholic as well as a cop. Is it possible for toys to get better than this? I think NOT. Assy McGee is the law.

come rise up with me

Mid Week Mini Music Mix

b: Is that a Colonel Sanders picnic basket???

s: Yes, I got us KFC for dinner and it came free with the meal. I think it's just a cooler. Do you want it?

b: Hells yes, I want it. The wicker is printed on. No, no, wait. Forget it. The last thing I need is an insulated KFC bag.

Two days later:

s: I saved you the KFC cooler. I knew you'd want it.

b: Oh thank god! I've been thinking about it.

s: I figured. The Colonel looks so happy!

Isn't it great when your friends know you better than you know yourself? Well, I took my precious fake wicker basket down to L.A. and my sister and I had a lovely makeshift picnic with it at Lacey Park. It wasn't crowded, but there were several friendly dogs playing catch. No mosquitos or spilled drinks. And the weather was perfect: sunny but 75 degrees in the shade.

It was the most peaceful day. This week's mini mix is like that picnic: quietly uplifting. Each of these songs is beautiful and each has much to say about lazy, happy afternoons.

Wasting Time - Elvy

Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping - Grouper

Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes

That's All - The Old Believers

Keep It Fresh

I got home from work early enough one night last week to take some extra time putting dinner together. Ironically, this dinner didn't need to be cooked (only the corn required a few minutes of heat), but I did linger over many small details. I had a pleasant bottle of Columbia Valley Riesling and a fridge full of vibrant produce. The perfect thing to accompany my wine was an assortment of barely prepared tastes. A vegetarian panchan, if you will. An almost raw food tapas. I had:

• super-sweet and crunchy corn on the cob
• my beloved baby beets from Trader Joe's, already steamed and ready to eat
• radishes two ways (preparations from Orangette): First, radishes sliced neatly in half topped with a swipe of butter and a sprinkling of red Hawaiian alaea salt. The second style was radish toasts. Slices of fresh toasted baguette topped again with butter, salt and the radishes sliced very thin. So, SO delicious. I foresee radishes appearing quite often at my table this summer. For those who don't like their arteries that clogged, they're also tasty with just the salt, no butter.
• Nantes carrots, smaller and more cylindrical than the typical supermarket carrot. They have a nice sweetness and I feel they stay crisp longer.
• cotija cheese and strawberries - So proud of this little dish! I grew the tiny organic strawberries myself and every time I walk by the plant I'm all smiles. I can't believe it thrived and produced good, edible berries. Not sure why I thought to pair them with Mexican cheese. I've been obsessed with the crumbly, salty goodness of Mexican cheese lately and have deluded myself into thinking it goes with everything.

This dinner was such a nice change-up from what I'd usually have. I was as full from the bright colors, fresh flavors and fanciful arrangements as I was from the good food. Probably more so--dude, this was totally a rabbit food meal. But it was an unexpected feast for the senses.

I traced my finger along your trails.

I had a long-winded post all ready about my drive down to L.A. this past Saturday. This post was about changing my mind a zillion times about how best to travel. This post talked about farms and forests, wildflowers and wild winds, lizards and elephant seals. The post also discussed, in tedious length, how my decision to take the long, curving coastal route down Highway 1 was an almost ridiculously apt metaphor for the past few years of my life.

But I have brought a great deal of this drive's peace and quiet back with me and I value brevity at present. So all I will say is that the view was like this for hours on end. I must have gasped in wonder hundreds of times. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Most perfect song of the whole trip was this hauntingly lovely track first pointed out to me by Tim (word up!) It makes my breath catch in my throat:

Your Rocky Spine - Great Lake Swimmers

I was lost in the lakes
and the shape that your body makes,
that your body makes.

And the mountains said I could find you here.
They whisper the snow and the leaves in my ear.
I traced my finger along your trails.
Your body was the map,
I was lost in there.

Early to Bed, Not So Early to Rise

Some of you know of my longstanding war against the hellbeast known as insomnia. I try to make mention of it only once in the longest while here because I know how dreadfully boring it is. In summation, many nights over the past twenty years I've wondered if and when I'll be able to rest. So you'd think I would know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I've been sleeping an awful lot lately and it's starting to creep me out.

For the past three weeks or so I've been averaging about 9 or 10 (sometimes even 11, sweet gee that's nearly HALF the day) hours of shuteye a night, which is tantamount to a miracle. I usually start my evening's work at 10 p.m. but now the siren call of bed is heard in my brain at that very hour. The first week of Massive Bedtimes I at least had the decency to get up at seven. Now I stay dead asleep til nine in the morning most days. It's unnerving and I almost want it to stop. I surmise, though, that the recent purchase of new comfy p.j.s and that bedding that is made from t-shirt material is not helping my cause out at all.

"But you feel good, don't you?" J asked me yesterday. "You feel alert even into the afternoons?" That is true. I'm drinking less caffeine now which is good because I am so in love with Blue Bottle coffee that I never want anything else, and I haven't found a place in Santa Clara that brews it. Ever since I had a double-dose of this delicious stuff while making the pilgrimage to Blue Bottle Cafe a couple of weeks ago, I have craved it intensely. I dream of this coffee during my very long hours of sleep. And I couldn't think of a nicer way to spend Sunday morning than to pop up to Fraiche with my Eee PC and enjoy a made-to-order single drip mug of their Bella Donovan blend. Lazy, thoughtful and awake, writing and reading and dreaming; which I think is an almost perfect morning.

Black Coffee In Bed - Squeeze

That's The Ticket

Dude, how sweet is this scrapbook that I got at the thrift store? I held it and stared at it for like 10 minutes in the shop, uncertain about its purchase. It's pretty big (11.5" x 14") and, at the time, I had no idea what I'd do with it.

But it was just too neat to pass up. The flying cds. That guy in the black Converse doing the downwards robot. The fake school glamour shots of "Dawn" and "Brian". When I inspected it closely I could even read some of the lyrics on the sheet music printed up top. They read " look out world, uh, you know". SO badass. I'm pretty sure this book was produced in the early 90's but it's definitely rocking some 80's flair, too. And it also has saddle shoes.

What really sealed the deal, though, was that a family had already started using the scrapbook before donating it to the thrift store. There's a torn out newspaper recipe for microwave fudge inside as well as tickets for a whale watching tour and a receipt for a ride up the CN Tower in Toronto on August 27th of 1995. It's pretty funny and sad at the same time.

I'm definitely keeping their pages in there. I'm using the book to display the big pile of ticket stubs I've amassed over the past few years. It's just perfect :)

Oh L'amour - Erasure

Frogs

Years ago I had a pair of these African Dwarf frogs. I was quite fond of them so now that my worktable is permanently cleared off enough to fit a five gallon tank, I decided to bring home some new desk companions. Now whenever I'm working, I've got three froggy friends with me.

African Dwarves grow to about an inch and a half in length and usually live for several years. They're about as easy to take care of as beginner level fish and they've got really interesting, unique personalities that make them very rewarding pets. Already I can tell my three apart quite easily:

• Elizabeth: This teeny little thing tickles me pink. It's quite fitting that Chris gave her the name I thought would suit me well, because if I were an African Dwarf frog, I would be Elizabeth. She's random as all get out, darting around--quite excitable, never comfortable in one place, sometimes floating and drifting in the most bizarre manner. She's nifty.

• Snoop Froggy Frog II: Named in memory of one of my previous froggies (RIP, dude). He's the middle frog, in both size and mannerisms. Snoop Frog seems happy enough with his new digs, but he's a tough one to read. Dislikes: the front of the aquarium. Likes: the silk plant. And chilling the most.

• Vasco de Gama - the biggest and the shyest of the lot. Named after the Portuguese explorer and sea captain whom I portrayed in a fourth grade classroom play. He spends a lot of his time hiding in the pagoda or sticking close to Snoop Froggy Frog II (maybe they were pre-established friends?) but I think he's starting to warm up already.

And get this--sometimes they sing, they hum to each other. What fun!

Heart of Glass

I haven't been thrifting in ages, but this week I'm working on a project that calls for the sourcing of lots of decorative objects, so it was the perfect opportunity to also look around for additions to my milk glass collection. Didn't have much luck in that department; the only decent piece I found was a little rectangular ashtray with fun little milky bubbles all over it.

I did manage to score lots of cute little porcelain ephemera, some marvelously delicate Noritake cups and saucers, cool apothecary jars and, oh my goodness, this:

This photo does this little flower bowl absolutely no justice. The edges wave in and out to little points like the soft crinkle of real petals. Hundreds of fluid corrugations score the underside, creating the most marvelous texture and allowing for beautiful shadows on the wall and on the tabletop, all leading to the center, eight graduated concentric circles made up of smaller circles. I fell in love with it the instant I saw it on the shelf. It's at once dazzlingly simple and complex. At a glance it's just a clear glass bowl, but there's so much going on underneath.

Por Toda A Minha Vida

I've begun to fulfill a longtime dream. (How often do you get to say that?) I'm learning Portuguese! Last week I started my mission to work through all three levels of the Rosetta Stone system and so far it's been pretty cool. It will be nigh on impossible to gain fluency just studying on my own, but I think I'll still learn a ton. Maybe I'll just have to travel to Lisbon or São Paulo afterwards.

The desire to learn this language first came to me in high school when Sophia and I used to drive around after school listening to Bossa Nova cassette tapes that our friend Chuck had copied for us. These were probably dubs of dubs of dubs, full of satisfying pops and crackles. We had never heard anything like this before and we fell instantly in love. I wanted to understand what these artists were trying to say. I could feel it, but I needed the words:

Águas de Março - Antonio Carlos Jobim

Insensatez -João Gilberto

Since then I actually attempted Portuguese classes a couple of times, but something always got in the way. Then recently a couple of things inspired me to finally just do this thing already.

I was talking over some unpleasantness with my Brazilian friend Ea; beautiful Ea, sweeter than a sugar lump. 

b: And I couldn't explain myself. She just could not see things that way because she hadn't gone through all that.

e: Of course she would not understand. Pimenta no cu dos outros é mel!

b: What does that mean?

e: Literally it means that pepper in someone else's asshole is honey to you.

b: ....

e: Because she doesn't know how hard it was for you, see? She feels fine, but she didn't face it.

b: But....but. Ea, what does that have to do with putting a pepper in someone's ass???

I decided that I HAD to learn this language :) But on a more serious note, what truly decided things for me was saudade.

Saudade. A word that's almost impossible to translate from the Portuguese but basically describes a sort of hopeless longing for the things which are lost to you. The A.F.G. Bell book In Portugal puts it best at:

The famous saudade of the Portuguese is a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present, a turning towards the past or towards the future; not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness.

It reminds me of the feeling you get when you listen to an amazing sad song. It's beautiful isn't it, but the kaleidoscope of feeling it brings, some of that is definitely saudade. Think of your favorite breakup song. That feeling. The Portuguese have a single word that describes that. There's no way I'm not learning this.

Daft Punk is playing at my house.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present the plush versions of Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem Christo:

Or as I like to call them, Soft Punk.

This is one of the projects I was determined to finish last week. I started planning and sewing my Daft Punk softies some time in August, soon after their epic show at the Greek Theater in Berkeley. I'd never made anything like them before, and the initial results were not pretty. I ended up with something reminiscent of a demented Black Knight from Monty Python. A lot more "'Tis but a scratch" than "Technologic". Frustrated, I put the materials aside for a later date.

I finally launched headlong into the project again a few days ago, inspired by the softies books I'd recently read. My little robots still turned out a bit messy and the detailing isn't 100% (I'm trying to figure out the best way to write Daft Punk on the back of their suits) but come on! Daft Punk dolls!

Now all they need is a little light up magic pyramid shaped dollhouse.

Perfect Example

Three years ago, during a visit to Golden Apple Comics, I discovered the work of John Porcellno. Porcellino has been quietly self-publishing an autobiographical zine called King Cat Comics since 1989. I've been lucky enough to get hold of a few single issues of King Cat and they have always been a delight. Now I've been reading little bits of the hefty collected King Cat Classix each night.

Porcellino's art is almost unbelievably spare, just line drawings with no shading. His text, especially in the recent years since he's started to study Zen Buddhism, is equally simple. But together, the effect is revelatory.

Porcellino has become a master at capturing the small moments that truly make up our lives, the seemingly inconsequential thoughts that flow constantly beneath the mind's surface. He makes present the precious things we forget so easily; the immense quiet of the desert night, freaking out over a moth fluttering around bedroom, the strange sense of our dreams.

Reading his work always make me wonder, how can I better understand my life? Or more importantly, how can I better remember to accept it? Inspired by the Top 40 feature in King Cat, I've written out a quick Top 12 for the last couple of weeks.

If you happen to see Porcellino's books, especially Perfect Example or Diary of a Mosquito Abatement Man, please give them a try. This isn't just for those of you who like comics. This is for absolutely everyone.

Something to Talk About

Talk about procrastination. I bought these letters to decoupage for Elysa a few months back and finally completed the project last week. It took a while to figure out exactly what look to go for in terms of the paper. She loves the color red right now, but her room isn't super red based. Elysa also loves the color pink and the whole princess theme, but I wanted to make something that she'd like for the long term, too. I finally settled on some papers I found at Scrapbook Territory, from the Penelope's Potpourri collection by SEI. I just wish they'd had the whole set at the store. I enjoy how the bright florals pop, but would like to have paired them with some more subtle patterns.

But it was perfect timing to give Elysa the gift of letters because all of a sudden she's started talking up a storm! I noticed a big difference once she started preschool. She learned a lot of new words and phrases there, and I guess the timing was just right, too. But I just love how Elysa expresses herself. She's funny, demonstrative and rather articulate for a three year old. The way that children speak very much reflects the way they think, much more so than it does in adults. Some of my recent favorite examples of Elysa Talk:

She's got a mind-bogglingly strong memory. As we walked past a hallway with some framed diplomas, she pointed to one whose sheet of glass was missing: "Ohhhh. One time I hit that and I broke it and Daddy was SO angry and he yelled a lot and I cried." The funny thing is, I was actually present when that even occurred. "You remember that?" I exclaimed. I had completely forgotten.

She's very expository. Upon presenting me with a pair of Hello Kitty flip-flops she had hand-picked for me in Taiwan: "See, these have Hello Kitty, so I know you'll like them. They're shoes, and you can wear them." The best part is that Judy had thought the sandals were lost. Apparently, Elysa had squirreled them away amongst her own things so she could give them to me herself :)

She uses Kid Logic, which I love. After I set a paper box of Beard Papa's onto the table: "Auntie Beckie, can I have a Papa's?" "How do you even know what that is??," Judy asked her. Elysa points to the graphic of the pipe-smoking fisherman-looking guy and patiently explains, "He's right there. That's Papa." How great is that.

Funyuns

Things That I Heard This Weekend:

• "We'll have two Hormone, because I have spoken and I'm always right."
• the new Tegan & Sara album
• "What is a tostaataa?"
• I don't think you're ready for this jelly."

Things That I Ate This Weekend:

• crispy cake
• beef intestines that I grilled myself, bitches
• best. fries. ever.
• Piccomolo

Things That I Saw This Weekend:

• a very, veeeeery long movie about Pirates
• the beautiful gardens at the lovely home of a very gracious family
• those shoes. the ones that we shrieked at.
• Opus One

Things That I Smelled This Weekend:

• feedlots
• rubber cement
• popcorn in a Transformers bag
• way too much perfume

Things That I Touched This Weekend:

• orchid petals
• hand-knit scarves
• a nerf football
• your goddamn hearts, perhaps

Hope everyone had a good Memorial Day weekend.

Neighborhood #1

There is a little block of Vine Street in Berkeley right off of Shattuck that has fast become one of my new favorite places.

There is a beautiful stationery store there with some amazing vintage letterpress machines and a small but excellent selection of cards. Lots of Snow & Graham things and other pieces in the same style.

Then there's the cupcake store, Love at First Bite. Their name is no lie. This place is the shiz. Satisfying but not too sweet. Decadent but never heavy. Everything here is just delicious here but I'm especially enamored of the Red Velvet, and the Hummingbird cupcakes ("a delicious Southern cake with bananas, pineapple & pecans, topped with cream cheese frosting" Yum, yum, YUM.) And the Pretty in Pinks, a strawberry cake with strawberry frosting that somehow manages to tases real and fresh, are pure heaven.

Now, a new find: Vintage Berkeley. This charming little store has been open for a couple of years now, housed in an old water pumping station. There's lots of small-run wines from small wineries all over the world. The owner hand-picks everything and there are informative and intriguing handwritten descriptions of each wine, listing the different notes and describing what foods the wine should be paired with. Best of all, it's so affordable. Most bottles are under $20.

God, I miss living here.

Oso fantastic

First there was this bear:

He was just walking down the street. Just straight traipsing. Christina hollered at him when he was a block away and made him come back to take a picture with us. I'm so proud of this picture. "Do you want to see Amy and me and the Bear?" I asked everyone all day. It was agreed that this was a very nice picture.

Then a few days later I get this in the mail from Sophia:

Hello. I am a Bear. My first thought upon seeing this was, "Nooooo! No little French boy!! Don't shake his paw with the razor sharp claws!!!!" What a fucking great card.

There is a growing trend here and I sense something weird and wondrous here. Something fantastic is afoot. Bears.

Hola qué tal?

So I've been listening to my iPod a lot more lately. But not to music. I decided to check out some of the educational podcasts on iTunes after reading an Open Culture post on the topic. There are some fascinating podcasts available which are both entertaining and useful. I'm especially enamored of the language tutorials and am currently building up a bit of conversational ability in Italian, Japanese and Mandarin, as well as brushing up on my Spanish.

This led me to another incredible resource: complete lectures for over 50 classes at Berkeley have been made into webcasts which you can download for free, either on iTunes or through Podcast RSS feeds. The class selection runs the gamut from the broad core curriculum courses which are amongst the most popular classes on campus, like Intro to Nutrition or my nemesis,  Chem 1A, to more specialized courses such as Advanced Analog Integrated Circuits.

I hope to "attend" some courses I never had time to take while I was at Cal. And I'm even trying to review some courses I already took. Last week I fired up the first lecture from Psych 1 and within 25 minutes I'd fallen asleep to his talk of dendrites and axons, dreaming fitfully of the nervous system. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Fighting the Vapors with Vapors.

Recently I've gotten into using these Sudacare Vaporizing Shower Tablets, in Vanilla Mint. It's basially a big Alka Seltzer for your shower that they sell in the cold medicine aisle. You put it on the floor while you're in there, turn the water up as hot as you can stand it and then bask in a bathroom full of vanilla-scented, sinus-clearing vapor. It's the bathroom equivalent of an electric-blanket + humidifier + Vick's Inhaler + like, a slice of cream pie that your mama baked me.

In other shower news, the Lush store at Valley Fair mall has finally opened. Now I'm only a fifteen minute drive away from my favorite exorbitantly priced bath and body goods! Yes, that is the sound of my wallet crying.

Message in a Bunny

This is one of the presents Chris got me for Jesus' b-day, my Nabaztag (warning: this page loads the most annoying vocals which include the phrase, "toot, toot, express kiss delivery!)

What is a nabaztag? It's the first smart rabbit. What does that mean? It's a little hard to explain. After I stopped cooing over how cute he was I kept asking, "What is it? What does it do? Can you buy clothes for him? And what is it?"

Nabaztags link up to your wi-fi connection and they are basically communications tools. You use the nabaztag site to send messages to rabbit owners: ear movements, colored light flashes, mp3 clips, actual speech messages, etc. If you link 2 bunnies together, moving the ears on one will automatically move the ones on another. My nabaztag does tai-chi, tells me its moods (sometimes he even sneezes--so cute!!) and gives me the weather forecast. As the Nabaztag server gets back on its feet, he'll be giving me RSS feeds, teaching me French phrases and sending me music podcasts, too. Also he'll hopefully be correcting some of his current activities (on Sunday he proclaimed the temperature to be 70 degrees Celsius-yikes!!).

What an awesome, fun and engaging product. My only trouble with him is picking a good name for him! Archer? Giacomo? Burrito? We shalll see, The Internet. We shall see.

I'll be right beside you, dear.

Two of my best friends got married on Friday. Kerry's been my best friend for fifteen years and will be forever. No queston. And John's pretty much squirmed his way into my heart in the past year, too, the bastard (We Heart Optimus Prime.) These people are my family and it makes me boundlessly happy to see them happy. Actually, as Kerry and I were driving down to Laguna Beach before the wedding I realized that this was one of the happiest days of my life.

And it was a perfect day. Bright sun over the Pacific; a spare and intimate ceremony and reception. Family, friends and love. Everything you could ask for.

Let go the string.

My new tattoo. I originally wanted to get this placed back in June but I missed the small window of time that felt "right" to get it done. That feeling came around very strongly again recently, so this past Saturday I put everything aside and just went for it, even though my day was already packed. I managed to slide it in between a Minty Fresh job, outlet shopping in Gilroy, dinner at Arcadia and the Borat movie. It was bizarre, but I don't regret it for a single minute. For personal reasons, this tattoo was extremely important to me, not just a whim or something I thought might be cool. It turned out wonderfully, and though it's currently scab-acious and itchy as all get out, I am content.

It took 45 minutes to ink this. Forty five endless minutes of intense pain, and I have an extraordinary tolerance for pain. The artist asked me to tell a little bit about my design. So I explained that it was the image on the back cover of my favorite book of poems: Galway Kinnell's The Book of Nightmares. The first week I had this book I read it six times straight through, until it was a blur of strange and grievous beauty. And I knew that it would take the rest of my life to really understand it. In the years since then I've returned to this volume again and again. There are strophes in it that almost allow me to grasp what it means to be alive. As I explained to my Reading Triad three years ago, there is a piece in here that is the poem I want to read to my children one day. Sometimes I feel like these seventy-five pages with its red covers has all I know, and all I need to know.

The artist did not respond to this for a few minutes. He was busy filling in the solid circle, coloring like a child would with a crayon. Only forever. Then he asked if I would be able to read some of the poetry while he worked. I said I could try. So there I was, sitting on the tattoo bed next to a man getting a flaming Superman insignia inked onto his arm. And I was reading Galway Kinnell's masterpiece out loud, in a voice that skipped depending on the pressure of hot needle points tearing mercilessly into my back. There I sat, leaning lightly into the pain, my whole heart, my whole body, radiating with everything I had lost. And in that moment I knew exactly why I had needed to do this.

The witness trees heal
their scars at the flesh fire,
the flame
rises off the bones,
the hunger
to be new lifts off
my soul, an eerie blue light blooms
on all the ridges of the world.

Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine.

You know what I love? The Soft. You know that fabric? It's like fleece, only it's not fleece. It's thinner and not as smooth. It kind of feels like chenille, only not as textured. It's just super, super Soft. Like the softest thing ever. I like to touch fabrics. When I go shopping, I have to touch everything, even things I wouldn't dream of buying. But I especially like to touch the Soft. Amy bought me a blanket made of the Soft recently. The tag says "Oversized Serasoft Throw, 100% Polyester Shearloft", so I guess it's exalted polyster. Whatever they want to call it, it's just awesome. i don't know why they don't make clothes out of this stuff so that everyone can be in perpetual comfort. But I guess no one would get anything done. You'd probably die of softness.

And all I got was Super Lover.

So Susan, Judy & Co. are back from Taiwan, which is awesome because I really missed them. It's been quite nice just to see them and hang out with them again. But the added bonus is they brought souvenirs back, some of the most, um, interesting presents I've ever received.

Judy picked out some gorgeous shoes for me, shoes I might look at in a store and long for with tenacious desire, but that I couldn't buy because they weren't practical enough. They're exactly what I'd been wanting: super fun and funky high, high heels. The kind of heels where the second you put them on your ass looks about ten times better than normal. It's just all a bit curious. I've never received dressy shoes as a souvenir before.

Tommy and Judy also have a knack for picking out the best bags for me. My much-loved Acme Made laptop case and a bunch of my Hello Kitty totes are items they graced me with. This time was no exception as I am now the proud owner of a totally random messenger bag with a pink bear and the phrase "Super Lover" printed on it. I don't get it! Is he the Super Lover? Or am I, as the carrier of the bag, the Super Lover? Why would this uber cute canvas bag make you a Super Lover? But why on earth would that bear be a Super Lover. Maybe it's his little wagging tail.

And then Sus brought me what might be, hands down, the awesomest present ever: a box of penis shaped chocolates. I think I've seen stuff like this sold as gag gifts at the mall before (I'm harkening back to when a group of us were going to have the gay film fest and eat penis pasta and penis gummies.) But this box is rather different than ones I've seen because it's just so serious! Despite the fact that there are bananas printed on some of the wrappers and cartoon legs and the words "Pretty Pudding" printed on the others, I just don't really see this as a joke. SO much painstaking design and thought has been put into the manufacture of these penis candies. It comes in lovely packaging, and check out this poem that is printed in elegant script on top of the box:

I cried a tear, you wiped it dry
I was confused, you cleared my mind
I sold my soul, you bought it back for me
And held me up and gave me dignity
Somehow you needed me.

It's all so earnest I can hardly stand it. As Jess would say, every time I look at this box I'm in agony. And really, does the word "dignity" have any place on a box of penis shaped chocolates? Agony, I tell you.

Tiny Vessels

My Moo flickr cards came yesterday and they are quite wonderful.

I love the stock they're printed on, falling in somewhere between the 110 lb. stuff I use for my printing jobs and a mini blind slat.

I love how smooth they are with their silky matte finish. But I also love the sharp, curt corners. Four hundred preposterously sharp corners.

I love how they write new algorithms, fix my computer and scare the neighborhood children (did I mention that I bought the Special Edition Haunted Robot Moo pack?)

Some of the crops on the pictures weren't what I expected; there are mouths missing or unexpected white borders. But 95% of the cards are little perfect babies, and the Sea World picture is better than ever. I'm giving them away a few at a time, spreading joy amongst the populace. That'll do, Moo. That'll do.

Count

This makes me happy. This makes me SO heppy! That crazy "Wwwwwwwoaaa!" at the beginning rules my world. Can this please be my new theme song? Whenever I walk into a room: Wwwwwwwoaa! One two three fourfive...

Happy One!

This past Friday my goddaughter, Kristen, turned one.

They had a nice dinner for her at home with two cakes and lots of raucous friends and family. Last night we spent some quality time playing skeeball and eating pizza at a Chuck E. Cheese's (which I assure you is still a hellmouth of sensory overload) and then went back home to eat yet another cake. I'm beginning to think the only reason my friends had childrens was to have an excuse to eat cake.

It is unfathomable to me that it's been an entire year since my little Mad Scientist was born. She still all smiles and still has the sunniest attitude a baby could possess, but I can't believe that she's walking around now with her Rod Stewart hair. Happy, happy birthday.

Mmmm, coffee.

Major Costco run today.

We bought some organic Rainforest blend coffee beans for the espresso machine. When I opened the three pound bag I was assaulted with the most amazing smell that I have ever been lucky enough to inhale. I consider it a great privilege to exist in the same time-space continuum as this smell.

Each individual bean coated with the glossy oils of divine freshness, each clamoring to explain which of the the three hundred flavor elements it contains that combine so gloriously together into...blealrhfghenekelz.d.39.dkd. I CANNOT stop smelling this bag of coffee beans.

b: Would it be bad if I put my arm in this bag? I'm going to put it in up to my elbow.
c: Aw, don't. I want to use those beans, too. Let me smell them again.
b: Someday I'm going to buy my own three pound bag, pour it into a big mixing bowl, bury my whole face in it and then throw it away.
c: The most awesome visual of that just flashed through my mind.

Public Libraries OR Hammocks

One of the webcomics that I read on a regular basis is xkcd. It's at varying times funny, moving, droll, crazy and thought-provoking, and it's often a happy combination of these qualities. All the "characters" are stick figures, which I love.

A few weeks ago I discovered that xkcd has a subsidiary project called The Best Thing. Basically, the artist is trying "to determine the best thing ever through majority vote mediated by decent algorithms". You're offered a choice of two things and you either vote for one of them as being awesomer than the other, or call it a draw.

It's a really fun idea and I get a huge kick out of the contrast of some of the offerings. Some of my faves so far:

• "Making a time machine and going back in time to undo past mistakes" OR "Clicky Pens"
• "Female Genitalia" OR "When stupid people shut up"
• "Diabolical Fiddle Competitions" OR "A miniature walrus you can hold under one arm"

Modernity

Last weekend I went up to San Francisco to eat some cream puffs (green tea puff!) and to escape the suffocating heat of the South Bay. Unfortunately the early afternoon weather in San Francisco was just a touch on the scorching side, too, so we had to seek out an indoor activity.

Enter the Museum of Modern Art. I'd wanted to go up and see the Matthew Barney exhibit for a while, so things worked out great. And what an exhibit it was. I really cannot adequately describe the incredible arc that his massive Drawing Restraint project has taken. The premise behind it was to create art against physical limitations, but it's somehow come to include a movie that features Bjork, japanese whaling ships and gargantuan installations made using some sort of petroleum jelly plastic stuff.

I was also delighted to see the most blatant stereotypes about modern art museums come out in full force. I'm happy to anounce that there was a canvas that was painted entirely white. Just white. Hee!

What I thought about a lot during the museum trip, though, was museum theory. How do they make the decision, I wondered, to put this Mondrian piece next to this painting here, in this room, with these other items? Why is this felt cutout piece across from the big metal sphere? The art of arranging art.

Sweetness

Last week I met a man with a fascinating story, like something straight out of a book or a movie.

This man lives in Santa Clara part of the time. And the rest of the year? He spends his time on a twenty acre spread on Easter Island.

"How does one," I asked, "come to live on Easter Island? How do you go about buying property there?" "Oh, I don't own it," he said. "It's my wife's land. She is Rapa Nui." "Tell me your story," I urged. He explained:

I knew her from long ago. When I was sixteen I went to Easter Island on an archaeological expedition. She was a little girl then, nine years old, and her mother was assigned as the cook for our crew. They were a nice family, and I kept in touch with her mother through the years, even though I left Rapa Nui and didn't return for thirty years. She too left the Island to do other things, for over twenty years.

Then there came a time when we went back to the Island, basically to heal. Terrible things had happened in both of our lives and we didn't know what to do next. We were each of us looking for some place quiet. On one of my first days back on Rapa Nui I went to her mother's house to catch up on things. And then she appeared.

"Did you remember each other?" I asked, enthralled.

"No. We looked entirely different. It had been over thirty years!", he laughed. "But when I saw her again, I knew I would never forget."

Gotta be down because I want it all.

So astonishingly enough we did every single thing that I'd set out to accomplish on Friday, with time to spare. I of little faith had imagined we would hit up maybe half of the places. We're officially rock stars.

Timeline:

• 11:30 a.m. - Grande Americano of fruitlessness. For some reason caffeine has become completely non-operational in my universe.
• 12 p.m. - The HHR pulls up to my parent's house and we head out for ramen lunch at Ajisen. A security guard yells at us for walking up a "cars only" ramp. He's so worked up that he tells us, "You'll be sorry if you die," and starts hitting a gate with a small double-ended light saber that he is inexplicably carrying.
• 1 p.m. - Volcano Tea - Lychee Jelly Juice for me, then we walk to the next block for Giant Robot 1 & 2. Comics are read, shirts are perused, Mark Ryden objects are salivated over. The Boy is acquired.
• 2 p.m. - The Museum of Jurassic Technology. Awesome. Nothing had changed from when Chris and I went there two years ago. I especially liked when Jen screamed at some stranger in a dark room full of holograms with a wheel of bells. Yes, this place is as weird as it sounds and seems. And so much more.
• 4:30 - Pink's. Oh, Pink's! This was a tricky decision, because Pink's makes for an intense snack and it was kinda late in the day. But we decided that you only live once, so you might as well live balls to the wall. Eating a hot dog with bacon and pastrami on it is v.v. balls to the wall. God, so fucking good.
• 5:00 - Amoeba. They actually didn't have a lot of stuff I was looking for (Wilco vinyl, Voxtrot & Final Fantasy albums) but it was fun to fall into the Amoeba trance nonetheless. Best part: when I was looking for the Eastern Stars cd a guy turned to me with Music for the Masses in his hand. "Hey, is this any good?" he asked. "It's great," I said. "Pick up Violater, too, and you'll be set." "Thanks!" he smiled. Hmmm, when I think about putting that album in and listening to the opening strains of "Never Let Me Down Again" for the first time...I get chills, I tell you. Chills.
• 7:30 - Roscoe's on Lake. A couple of us were still digesting Pink's but this was still a great meal. Great in the way that only fried chicken and waffles can be. Steph highly recommended the side of giblets and she was totally OTM. A long table full of friends, way too much food, tons of laughter and catching up. Good times.
• 9:00 - Lucky Baldwin's - We didn't snag a patio table and had to alternate cell phone and smoke breaks, but this remains my favorite bar in Pasadena, with an absurdly eclectic jukebox which we raped and pillaged. "I'm putting in five bucks," I declared. "It's fucking on." Because of my overindulgence our "setlist" was playing almost the entire time we were at the pub. When "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" came on (I always like to start my jukebox jags with Queen, if available) I clapped, "this is our first song. Let the good times roll!" The highlights: 1)"Three Times a Lady" which led to a discussion about Lionel Richie and a bet for "something embarrasing" between Ryan and myself about whether or not Nicole Richie is adopted. I won and he said I could pants him in public sometime. 2) Our Bob Marley picks, especially Redemption Song, and Stevie Ray Vaughan's "Little Wing", which were all so much enjoyed by the people sitting next to us that they applauded our jukebox prowess when we got up to leave. 3) "Woah, they have Foreigner", noted Jen. I have a soft spot for them after owning so many of their vinyl singles when I was little, so of course I totally hit it. Well, someone must have really wanted to know what love is. The speakers at Lucky Baldwin's are turned on pretty loud, but this was completely outrageous. We were all screaming the song and we couldn't hear each other. Our ears were bleeding with the plaintive cries of Foreigner. Positively screaming, "I want to feel what love is. I know you can show me!" Oh yes.