jeremiah: how does it work?
marya: they look for the job they want and then search for the franchise closest to them to apply.
jeremiah: so i'd type in 93401?
marya: yeah, and it would come up with the bakersfield franchise and you'd say "bakersfield? i'm not moving to bakersfield!" and close the window.
jeremiah: egggzactly.
Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Monday, December 30, 2002
chimayó
In an email to a friend today I relayed last Christmas's Car Trip Adventure (dad, his gf, evan [then 14] and myself). 6 states in 10 days. Three "big" personalities. One country girl. One city girl. One head strong father. One lost purse (that happened on the first day). One night in Vegas (I never need to go back again). One brother who would be happy playing video games in the backseat 24-7 who became the only "neutral" one. Yeah, it got stressful. Slightly. Ha. But it also had some highlights, like Chimayó.
My mexican side of the family is c-razy about the chiles in Chimayo. The chapel there supposedly is built upon healing earth. People travel from all over the world to say a prayer and touch the soil. Crutches hang from the walls, proof that the spot heals. Little stores peddle saints and candles and prayers. And chile. And chile. And more chile. My dad bought out the entire town's supply of ristras.
Meanwhile, Chimayó has a calm, almost stand-still quality. Even the air whispers. The sky seems an expansive blue. And the town seems to take you back to a bygone era that you can't quite place: somewhere between today and a mythological time. Maybe it is its own mythological time.
My mexican side of the family is c-razy about the chiles in Chimayo. The chapel there supposedly is built upon healing earth. People travel from all over the world to say a prayer and touch the soil. Crutches hang from the walls, proof that the spot heals. Little stores peddle saints and candles and prayers. And chile. And chile. And more chile. My dad bought out the entire town's supply of ristras.
Meanwhile, Chimayó has a calm, almost stand-still quality. Even the air whispers. The sky seems an expansive blue. And the town seems to take you back to a bygone era that you can't quite place: somewhere between today and a mythological time. Maybe it is its own mythological time.
Saturday, December 28, 2002
the two towers... life out of balance?
i've been wanting to get to l.o.t.r., the two towers since it came out, but night after night seemed to miss the chance. last night we watched koyaanisqatsi instead. freakin' brilliant. loved it. especially the first twenty minutes or so. but then it just gets crazy with people and machinery. and while watching TTT tonight, i saw some parallels. unfortunately there are no hobbits, ents, or elves to save the day in koyaanisqatsi.
i've been wanting to get to l.o.t.r., the two towers since it came out, but night after night seemed to miss the chance. last night we watched koyaanisqatsi instead. freakin' brilliant. loved it. especially the first twenty minutes or so. but then it just gets crazy with people and machinery. and while watching TTT tonight, i saw some parallels. unfortunately there are no hobbits, ents, or elves to save the day in koyaanisqatsi.
Friday, December 27, 2002
overheards
rem: if this were old france and i was an aristocrat and naturally had a young boy lover, you would definitely be my wife, because i adore you so. but this is the u.s. of a and i'm rooting for the oakland raiders.
Thursday, December 26, 2002
bittersweet
bittersweet is one of my favorite words. it sums up life -- everything -- so perfectly.
jb and i just had a little chat while waiting for the coffee to brew. we are picky coffee drinkers. it needs to be strong. it requires cream. we're also resigned coffee drinkers, cuz push comes to shove and we will add non-dairy creamer instead. we'll even maybe drink the flavored coffee.
today we talked about our grandmothers. we both had seen our grandmothers last night. his is 88. mine is 80.
how can you talk about your grandmother and not get a little teary? i love her so much. she is such a kick in the pants. and that's the thing about 80: you get to be a kick in the pants and everybody thinks it is the cutest thing in the world.
meanwhile, we also discussed coffee. jb was pouring his full cup out as we waited for the new pot to brew.
jb: it's flavored coffee...
m.: we call that foo-foo.
jb: more like crap foo foo.
m.: let's just call it what it is: [insert strongbad accent] crap.[end sb accent]. yet, it's provided with the best intention. it's Best Intention Coffee.
jb and i just had a little chat while waiting for the coffee to brew. we are picky coffee drinkers. it needs to be strong. it requires cream. we're also resigned coffee drinkers, cuz push comes to shove and we will add non-dairy creamer instead. we'll even maybe drink the flavored coffee.
today we talked about our grandmothers. we both had seen our grandmothers last night. his is 88. mine is 80.
how can you talk about your grandmother and not get a little teary? i love her so much. she is such a kick in the pants. and that's the thing about 80: you get to be a kick in the pants and everybody thinks it is the cutest thing in the world.
meanwhile, we also discussed coffee. jb was pouring his full cup out as we waited for the new pot to brew.
jb: it's flavored coffee...
m.: we call that foo-foo.
jb: more like crap foo foo.
m.: let's just call it what it is: [insert strongbad accent] crap.[end sb accent]. yet, it's provided with the best intention. it's Best Intention Coffee.
happy december 26th
the love affair with peter gabriel continues. am listening to up. so good. so, so good. i want to buy this cd for everybody. i have to say, though, that it does indeed get better after you see the concert. but for now you can read a completely biased concert review from steve m., fellow participant in pg audience goodness on december 15.
other things... i am still working a lot (nine hours yesterday; how pathetic is that?) but somehow my attitude has never been better. i don't know how to explain it. my undying gratitude and appreciation go out to alex who has been the superstar throughout. specifically for making sure that the little things don't fall through the cracks. but i can't call out alex without calling out shawn, craig, jeremiah, and carrie who have gone above and beyond. and everyone else who worked on the project. i actually get a little teary thinking about all of the help and dedication these guys have shown in the face of true challenges. [insert grateful sigh]. and pulling through the late nights and no days off.... wow.
looking for meandering goodness online? check out nigel's page, specifically his photographs. nigel's photographs have populated my desktop wallpaper for over three years now. his is an amazing eye. other places i get photos: carsten (here's my all time favorite carsten photo; also check out his travel images which are excellent.). mirror project. and catherine jamieson when she had her site up. i miss her photos.
other things... i am still working a lot (nine hours yesterday; how pathetic is that?) but somehow my attitude has never been better. i don't know how to explain it. my undying gratitude and appreciation go out to alex who has been the superstar throughout. specifically for making sure that the little things don't fall through the cracks. but i can't call out alex without calling out shawn, craig, jeremiah, and carrie who have gone above and beyond. and everyone else who worked on the project. i actually get a little teary thinking about all of the help and dedication these guys have shown in the face of true challenges. [insert grateful sigh]. and pulling through the late nights and no days off.... wow.
looking for meandering goodness online? check out nigel's page, specifically his photographs. nigel's photographs have populated my desktop wallpaper for over three years now. his is an amazing eye. other places i get photos: carsten (here's my all time favorite carsten photo; also check out his travel images which are excellent.). mirror project. and catherine jamieson when she had her site up. i miss her photos.
Saturday, December 21, 2002
life is funny that way
well... i know i won't be scoring any points by saying that i worked 31 hours in a row thursday/friday. and in three days have gotten less than 8 hours total of sleep. but that is indeed the case.
not having sleep is a very bizarre strange feeling. it's kind of like being on drugs. actually, it's a lot like being on drugs. have you noticed that when you don't sleep enough you need more food and when you don't eat enough you need more sleep?
cocktail party last night. was not going to go [see above paragraph]. kristin is on vacation and gave me the keys to her apartment. "stay there," she instructed. "get some sleep." and so i slept for a little bit when i finally could. until midnight when dan called me from the party.
darryl purpose turned up at our party. darryl was in town for a hoot so steve s. brought him around afterwards.
somehow i rallied. party dress/party shoes. and headed out. but by then they were gone.
still, i stayed up until 4am talking and chatting. it was a great party -- everyone dressed to the nines. fun music. lots of dancing. a fire outside. and lots of people to talk to.
which is why in three days i've still only had a total of 8 hours of sleep.
darryl is a folky guy with a voice like james taylor. check out mr. schwinn or child of hearts.
three years ago darryl played live oak and his songs seemed to stick in my throat as i made a concerted effort not to cry. specifically child of hearts. that one just gets me. darryl seems to be the king of the bittersweet lyric.
he played twice that weekend at live oak. the second time was with utah phillips in a less formal setting. again his songs just touched me. to the point that i decided to tell him so afterwards. so, i got up my courage and went up to talk to him. it was a really hot day. my hair was in braids and i was wearing a hat and sunglasses.
"i just wanted to let you know that your songs really touched me," i said.
"take off your glasses," darryl said, motioning with his hands.
so i took off the glasses and simultaneously burst into tears.
it was very strange. it caught me by surprise and, surrounded by people and embarrassed by the emotion, i felt the need to get away as fast as possible.
i wrote him an email a few days later to say "hi i'm the crazy girl who burst into tears after the show and had to quickly get away." since then we wrote back and forth a couple of times. i always tried to get to his gigs when he played in the county, but it never seemed to happen. finally, with him playing a hoot in december, i'd be able to see him perform again. but then life stepped in and i worked 31 hours straight. steve and he came to the party and i wasn't there. i think we are on paths that don't intersect.
life is funny that way.
not having sleep is a very bizarre strange feeling. it's kind of like being on drugs. actually, it's a lot like being on drugs. have you noticed that when you don't sleep enough you need more food and when you don't eat enough you need more sleep?
cocktail party last night. was not going to go [see above paragraph]. kristin is on vacation and gave me the keys to her apartment. "stay there," she instructed. "get some sleep." and so i slept for a little bit when i finally could. until midnight when dan called me from the party.
darryl purpose turned up at our party. darryl was in town for a hoot so steve s. brought him around afterwards.
somehow i rallied. party dress/party shoes. and headed out. but by then they were gone.
still, i stayed up until 4am talking and chatting. it was a great party -- everyone dressed to the nines. fun music. lots of dancing. a fire outside. and lots of people to talk to.
which is why in three days i've still only had a total of 8 hours of sleep.
darryl is a folky guy with a voice like james taylor. check out mr. schwinn or child of hearts.
three years ago darryl played live oak and his songs seemed to stick in my throat as i made a concerted effort not to cry. specifically child of hearts. that one just gets me. darryl seems to be the king of the bittersweet lyric.
he played twice that weekend at live oak. the second time was with utah phillips in a less formal setting. again his songs just touched me. to the point that i decided to tell him so afterwards. so, i got up my courage and went up to talk to him. it was a really hot day. my hair was in braids and i was wearing a hat and sunglasses.
"i just wanted to let you know that your songs really touched me," i said.
"take off your glasses," darryl said, motioning with his hands.
so i took off the glasses and simultaneously burst into tears.
it was very strange. it caught me by surprise and, surrounded by people and embarrassed by the emotion, i felt the need to get away as fast as possible.
i wrote him an email a few days later to say "hi i'm the crazy girl who burst into tears after the show and had to quickly get away." since then we wrote back and forth a couple of times. i always tried to get to his gigs when he played in the county, but it never seemed to happen. finally, with him playing a hoot in december, i'd be able to see him perform again. but then life stepped in and i worked 31 hours straight. steve and he came to the party and i wasn't there. i think we are on paths that don't intersect.
life is funny that way.
Friday, December 20, 2002
argh
and the shakiness steps in. maybe if i just had an egg to eat. that might help. other things that have helped: fun desktop image from chester. funny graphic from alex. and little pics from rbean my little nycbean, newly married and with new conjugal apartment. i will link later.
shoot
i just realized i'll probably be missing both darryl purpose's show tonight at the hoot as well as the cocktail party as i know i will crash hard and be really out of it later today. shoot. bummed. sigh. craig is powernapping in the design lab. shawn is determinedly staring at his computer screen. i'm gnawing on some licorice. alex, carrie, jeremiah have gone home, but they will come back earlier than we will. have put the ibook/itunes on random shuffle. it just hit hothouse flowers "trying to get through." i love liam m'oureowohalain. (heh). sweet lyrics. okay. back to el grinderooni.
hmmm
no. that wasn't working. have switched to zydeco. beau jocques. if beau can't do it, i'm a gonner.
also: teen girl squad. (key tip: click "record" at the very end) (if you are super dorky about homestar) (or ever worked in a record store) (or are a music geek) (or all of the above).
also: teen girl squad. (key tip: click "record" at the very end) (if you are super dorky about homestar) (or ever worked in a record store) (or are a music geek) (or all of the above).
ahhh
i just realized i was listening to all this slow, kinda sad music. not the right plan. just switched to badly drawn boy. this should help.
Thursday, December 19, 2002
who took my brain and where did it go?
i'm just stupid today with tiredosity and stress. cannot think straight. am a hairwidth away from being completely inappropriate. like breaking out in laughter or crawling under my desk and sleeping. my stress fallback reaction tends to be "mellow out kick back." meaning things get heavy and all i want to do is boldly go back to bed.
that isn't good.
meanwhile i am starving and realized i'd had, at one point this morning, a fairly decent-sized bowl of oatmeal and sliced pears in my hands. i remember eating parts of it. i remember walking around the office with it. but now i can't find it. or the bowl. hmmmm... i just got back from patroling desks to see if i left it somewhere.
marya: my cereal is missing.
bret: are you saying that there is a cereal killer?
[and the invisible crowd groans]
meanwhile, stephen m., the previously mentioned partner-in-peter-gabriel-concert-seat-squatting-crime, has uploaded a couple of pg tasty treats on his site. if i was cool i would you link there too. but i don't have permission. and with such big bandwidths i probably shouldn't presume. so why am i writing this? i think i am too tired to edit or stop the momentum of my fingers.
that isn't good.
meanwhile i am starving and realized i'd had, at one point this morning, a fairly decent-sized bowl of oatmeal and sliced pears in my hands. i remember eating parts of it. i remember walking around the office with it. but now i can't find it. or the bowl. hmmmm... i just got back from patroling desks to see if i left it somewhere.
marya: my cereal is missing.
bret: are you saying that there is a cereal killer?
[and the invisible crowd groans]
meanwhile, stephen m., the previously mentioned partner-in-peter-gabriel-concert-seat-squatting-crime, has uploaded a couple of pg tasty treats on his site. if i was cool i would you link there too. but i don't have permission. and with such big bandwidths i probably shouldn't presume. so why am i writing this? i think i am too tired to edit or stop the momentum of my fingers.
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
captured by tony levin
i know we're in the rectangle area.... i think we're in the oval area. see the real pic on tony's site.
overheards
the design room seems to fluctuate between almost-breaking-a-sweat warm to really-needing-a-sweater chilly.
marya: this room is menopausal.
wyeth: and mental-pausal.
marya: wait. lemme think about that...
marya: this room is menopausal.
wyeth: and mental-pausal.
marya: wait. lemme think about that...
what would barbie do?
If You're Happy And You Know It Bomb Iraq
by John Robbins
If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets are a drama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi,
And your alibi is shoddy,
And your tastes remain quite gaudy,
Bomb Iraq.
If you never were elected, bomb Iraq.
If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq.
If you think that SUVs,
Are the best thing since sliced cheese,
And your father you must please,
Bomb Iraq.
If the globe is quickly warming, bomb Iraq.
If the poor will soon be storming, bomb Iraq.
We assert that might makes right,
Burning oil is a delight,
For the empire we will fight,
Bomb Iraq.
If we have no allies with us, bomb Iraq.
If we think that someone's dissed us, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections,
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.
If corporate fraud is growin', bomb Iraq.
If your ties to it are showin', bomb Iraq.
If your politics are sleazy,
And hiding that ain't easy,
And your manhood's getting queasy,
Bomb Iraq.
Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq.
For our might now knows no borders, bomb Iraq.
Disagree? We'll call it treason,
It's the make war not love season,
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.
If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets are a drama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi,
And your alibi is shoddy,
And your tastes remain quite gaudy,
Bomb Iraq.
If you never were elected, bomb Iraq.
If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq.
If you think that SUVs,
Are the best thing since sliced cheese,
And your father you must please,
Bomb Iraq.
If the globe is quickly warming, bomb Iraq.
If the poor will soon be storming, bomb Iraq.
We assert that might makes right,
Burning oil is a delight,
For the empire we will fight,
Bomb Iraq.
If we have no allies with us, bomb Iraq.
If we think that someone's dissed us, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections,
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.
If corporate fraud is growin', bomb Iraq.
If your ties to it are showin', bomb Iraq.
If your politics are sleazy,
And hiding that ain't easy,
And your manhood's getting queasy,
Bomb Iraq.
Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq.
For our might now knows no borders, bomb Iraq.
Disagree? We'll call it treason,
It's the make war not love season,
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.
Monday, December 16, 2002
peter gabriel rocks the s.j. arena
it could not have been a better concert.
seats. our purchased seats were fairly decent: on the floor, but in the back. steve m., my partner-in-seat-squatting-crime, and i headed toward the stage during the opening act of the blind boys of alabama. first we had fourth row. then a different section of the fourth row. before peter came on we had found a completely empty seventh row section (at least ten empty seats) where the people just didn't show up! this equalled an amazing view and great room for dancing and me and steve tore.it.up. sweaty amazingly awesome good time.
the concert. amazing. (this will be the overused word of this post). two words: energy. intensity. the place was rockin. there was no lag -- even the slow songs kept up a pace that carried through the entire show. this is the first concert i've been to in over ten years where i just did not want the music, the night, the show to end. check out tony levin's tour journal to get an idea about the show, as well as backstage stuff, too. this is a really fun journal to read.
the sets and props. peter and melanie walking and running while hanging upside down on a lowered track. the hamster ball. the hamster ball bouncing. the lightbulb jacket. the bike for solsbury hill. it was all so creative. so well thought out. so light with humor. so filled with fun. none took away from songs. none took away from the other.
the band. wow. incredibly tight. tony levin's got a new fan. he is matrix cool. all the men had shaved heads or buzz cuts. the women had past the shoulders dark brown hair. everyone was in black except the orange guys (roadies who scurried around between songs). peter was dressed as a jedi master (so i said.) tony levin had the coolest jacket i've ever seen. it seemed to be black silk (pieced together maybe?), like a japanese wizard's robe. the guitarist made a caftan seem all bad ass and rock and roll.... so if you can imagine that. and the keyboardist had a totally wendy-and-lisa thing going on... black gloves with cut out fingers. the guys sitting behind us seemed to let out appreciative "mmm's" anytime she came our way.
there's a lot to say about the music, but i'm not sure i'm the one to go off about it. i'll see if one of the musicians i was with want to contribute... (NEW!! scroll down to read stephen's review).
concert overheard one
marya: i love peter gabriel.
steve: i love peter gabriel more.
marya: but would you sleep with him?
steve: [ponders]
marya: i win.
concert overheard two
[a few songs later]
marya: so... think you'd sleep with him now?
steve: maybe mess around a bit.
concert overheard three
before the show, on the drive up we had a discussion about mustaches. steve says he's never just had a mustache alone and considered shaving off his goatee to try it out. i remarked that the only men who tend to have mustaches-only are cops and gay guys. so, at the concert...
steve: hey, tony levin's got a mustache-only.
marya: yeah, but he's a cop during the day.
concert overheard four
marya: what's his web site, tonylevin.com?
steve: worldsfuckingbestbadassbassplayer.com?
marya: i'vegotthecoolestjacket.com?
steve: it doesn't matter, they all point to the same url.
and now for the concert review... a la s. matteson...
Peter Gabriel has Grown Up! [cracking knuckles]:
I feel like Peter Gabriel's songwriting and lyrics in the last few albums have been a vehicle of catharsis, a coming to terms with life and relationships rather than just expressing/describing them. I sometimes wonder what Peter Gabriel is going through in his life to write such songs. His music seems to be diverging slightly from a rythm based genre and is now focusing on Melodies, harmonies. Peter Gabriel has always been fascinated with Africa and it's music, but it seems like Peter Gabriel is experimenting more with vocal melodies and harmonies from African Heritage then before.
Peter Gabriel has always self-admitted that his music originates from a rythmic structure, and possibly he is adding more to that mix in the way of melodical and harmonic methods.
I was surprised by some of the songs that he played during the performance. I would not have thought his voice would have been able to handle Here Comes The Flood (1st song) as well as some of the others, but he pulled it off quite nicely. I wished they would have performed "Excuse Me", which had a barber shop quartet at the beginning, but can't have everything!!
As an extra note, Peter Gabriel doesn't seem to have long extended "jams" on his songs. The musicians didn't improvise too much either, that i saw. Did they? Like...a drum solo or something? Some of the other music I listen to that I like a lot do this. I'm wondering if he will ever get into that or not? Part of me wants to see him try it. Almost every song he writes is a masterpiece though, so I don't mind if he keeps doing what he is doing! ;-)
Overall, one of the BEST shows I've ever been to!!
-S
seats. our purchased seats were fairly decent: on the floor, but in the back. steve m., my partner-in-seat-squatting-crime, and i headed toward the stage during the opening act of the blind boys of alabama. first we had fourth row. then a different section of the fourth row. before peter came on we had found a completely empty seventh row section (at least ten empty seats) where the people just didn't show up! this equalled an amazing view and great room for dancing and me and steve tore.it.up. sweaty amazingly awesome good time.
the concert. amazing. (this will be the overused word of this post). two words: energy. intensity. the place was rockin. there was no lag -- even the slow songs kept up a pace that carried through the entire show. this is the first concert i've been to in over ten years where i just did not want the music, the night, the show to end. check out tony levin's tour journal to get an idea about the show, as well as backstage stuff, too. this is a really fun journal to read.
the sets and props. peter and melanie walking and running while hanging upside down on a lowered track. the hamster ball. the hamster ball bouncing. the lightbulb jacket. the bike for solsbury hill. it was all so creative. so well thought out. so light with humor. so filled with fun. none took away from songs. none took away from the other.
the band. wow. incredibly tight. tony levin's got a new fan. he is matrix cool. all the men had shaved heads or buzz cuts. the women had past the shoulders dark brown hair. everyone was in black except the orange guys (roadies who scurried around between songs). peter was dressed as a jedi master (so i said.) tony levin had the coolest jacket i've ever seen. it seemed to be black silk (pieced together maybe?), like a japanese wizard's robe. the guitarist made a caftan seem all bad ass and rock and roll.... so if you can imagine that. and the keyboardist had a totally wendy-and-lisa thing going on... black gloves with cut out fingers. the guys sitting behind us seemed to let out appreciative "mmm's" anytime she came our way.
there's a lot to say about the music, but i'm not sure i'm the one to go off about it. i'll see if one of the musicians i was with want to contribute... (NEW!! scroll down to read stephen's review).
concert overheard one
marya: i love peter gabriel.
steve: i love peter gabriel more.
marya: but would you sleep with him?
steve: [ponders]
marya: i win.
concert overheard two
[a few songs later]
marya: so... think you'd sleep with him now?
steve: maybe mess around a bit.
concert overheard three
before the show, on the drive up we had a discussion about mustaches. steve says he's never just had a mustache alone and considered shaving off his goatee to try it out. i remarked that the only men who tend to have mustaches-only are cops and gay guys. so, at the concert...
steve: hey, tony levin's got a mustache-only.
marya: yeah, but he's a cop during the day.
concert overheard four
marya: what's his web site, tonylevin.com?
steve: worldsfuckingbestbadassbassplayer.com?
marya: i'vegotthecoolestjacket.com?
steve: it doesn't matter, they all point to the same url.
and now for the concert review... a la s. matteson...
Peter Gabriel has Grown Up! [cracking knuckles]:
I feel like Peter Gabriel's songwriting and lyrics in the last few albums have been a vehicle of catharsis, a coming to terms with life and relationships rather than just expressing/describing them. I sometimes wonder what Peter Gabriel is going through in his life to write such songs. His music seems to be diverging slightly from a rythm based genre and is now focusing on Melodies, harmonies. Peter Gabriel has always been fascinated with Africa and it's music, but it seems like Peter Gabriel is experimenting more with vocal melodies and harmonies from African Heritage then before.
Peter Gabriel has always self-admitted that his music originates from a rythmic structure, and possibly he is adding more to that mix in the way of melodical and harmonic methods.
I was surprised by some of the songs that he played during the performance. I would not have thought his voice would have been able to handle Here Comes The Flood (1st song) as well as some of the others, but he pulled it off quite nicely. I wished they would have performed "Excuse Me", which had a barber shop quartet at the beginning, but can't have everything!!
As an extra note, Peter Gabriel doesn't seem to have long extended "jams" on his songs. The musicians didn't improvise too much either, that i saw. Did they? Like...a drum solo or something? Some of the other music I listen to that I like a lot do this. I'm wondering if he will ever get into that or not? Part of me wants to see him try it. Almost every song he writes is a masterpiece though, so I don't mind if he keeps doing what he is doing! ;-)
Overall, one of the BEST shows I've ever been to!!
-S
nbc sinks to an all new low
i'm sure you've heard the story about the boys who fell into freezing water while walking on thin ice. two boys survived. their friends drowned. these are little boys, not in puberty yet.
this morning on the today show they had those two boys on. i had to turn the tv off. the first boy seemed as though the reality of what had happened had not sunk in yet, as he very quickly related the events that happened in a monotone, flat voice. then katie goes for the jugular, asking the second little boy to describe what it was like to cling to one of the drowning boys, trying to save him. cut to the boys face and it is scrunched up in a painful, traumatized way and he is out-and-out bawling on tv, tears streaming from his eyes. "oh, i'm sorry," says couric.
i had to turn the tv off. this is the lowest of the low. have we really sunk to this place where we have no decency to take a little child's grief and honor it in some way? in a way that does not exploit? have we no compassion? no decency at all? it was an all time low for the american news.
this morning on the today show they had those two boys on. i had to turn the tv off. the first boy seemed as though the reality of what had happened had not sunk in yet, as he very quickly related the events that happened in a monotone, flat voice. then katie goes for the jugular, asking the second little boy to describe what it was like to cling to one of the drowning boys, trying to save him. cut to the boys face and it is scrunched up in a painful, traumatized way and he is out-and-out bawling on tv, tears streaming from his eyes. "oh, i'm sorry," says couric.
i had to turn the tv off. this is the lowest of the low. have we really sunk to this place where we have no decency to take a little child's grief and honor it in some way? in a way that does not exploit? have we no compassion? no decency at all? it was an all time low for the american news.
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
things come into our lives; things leave our lives
got the call from san luis little theatre: i'm in the play!
no one knows who is playing what role yet. next tuesday is our read through all together and the last time most of us will rehearse with each other. carrie and michael are in, too.
carrie came up to me tentatively at the end of our work day. "did you get a phone call?" she asked cryptically. i said, no... did you? and i knew within a nanosecond that she'd been cast. go home go home go home was her cry to me and check your messages. call me as soon as you find out. call my cell. i have to know. and i had a very nice welcoming message on my machine from the assistant director and i did a little happy dance by myself in my room until i decided i had to share the news down the hallways.
smashing perfectly good guitars
about a month ago i broke my guitar. the guitar is strictly sentimental. well, not strictly, as it had, for years and years, one of the sweetest sounds you've ever heard. a beater, it was the guitar i could take to live oak and not worry about. it was a guitar everyone else wanted to play because of its sweet sound. a hand-me-down from my ex, it had hundreds of songs written on it. gigs played. campfires serenaded.
it bit the dust after a particularly long day at work. i was well past hour 16 at that point, and it was a sunday night. had been working all weekend. we all had. someone said "check your email, check your email, check your email" with great urgency and as i headed to my keyboard something just barely disrupted my guitars propped up position. and in abc-super-slo-mo i watched the guitar begin to fall. i tried to steady it with my foot, which instead hastened its union with the floor. it snapped at the top fret.
tonight i finally had someone look at it. i hadn't even opened its case since it broke. i couldn't. seeing it again tonight left me a little woozy. a little nauseous. as if i couldn't keep eye contact with it, or something. peter, the guitar guy (friend of steve s. who so graciously introduced me), kinda shook his head. it would take hundreds of dollars. and even then he couldn't guarantee it would be "fixed" or even sound good.
so i don't know what to do with it. contact the xbf, i guess. get his input. to fix, or not to fix. that is the question.
i figure things come into our lives. things leave our lives. and so it goes.
no one knows who is playing what role yet. next tuesday is our read through all together and the last time most of us will rehearse with each other. carrie and michael are in, too.
carrie came up to me tentatively at the end of our work day. "did you get a phone call?" she asked cryptically. i said, no... did you? and i knew within a nanosecond that she'd been cast. go home go home go home was her cry to me and check your messages. call me as soon as you find out. call my cell. i have to know. and i had a very nice welcoming message on my machine from the assistant director and i did a little happy dance by myself in my room until i decided i had to share the news down the hallways.
smashing perfectly good guitars
about a month ago i broke my guitar. the guitar is strictly sentimental. well, not strictly, as it had, for years and years, one of the sweetest sounds you've ever heard. a beater, it was the guitar i could take to live oak and not worry about. it was a guitar everyone else wanted to play because of its sweet sound. a hand-me-down from my ex, it had hundreds of songs written on it. gigs played. campfires serenaded.
it bit the dust after a particularly long day at work. i was well past hour 16 at that point, and it was a sunday night. had been working all weekend. we all had. someone said "check your email, check your email, check your email" with great urgency and as i headed to my keyboard something just barely disrupted my guitars propped up position. and in abc-super-slo-mo i watched the guitar begin to fall. i tried to steady it with my foot, which instead hastened its union with the floor. it snapped at the top fret.
tonight i finally had someone look at it. i hadn't even opened its case since it broke. i couldn't. seeing it again tonight left me a little woozy. a little nauseous. as if i couldn't keep eye contact with it, or something. peter, the guitar guy (friend of steve s. who so graciously introduced me), kinda shook his head. it would take hundreds of dollars. and even then he couldn't guarantee it would be "fixed" or even sound good.
so i don't know what to do with it. contact the xbf, i guess. get his input. to fix, or not to fix. that is the question.
i figure things come into our lives. things leave our lives. and so it goes.
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
overheards
today, bolstered by a mean sinus headache, jim k. went to the doctor.
jim: blocked eustachian tubes.
marya: what?
jim: blocked eustachian tubes.
marya: i don't think i know you well enough for you to be telling me this.
jim: blocked eustachian tubes.
marya: what?
jim: blocked eustachian tubes.
marya: i don't think i know you well enough for you to be telling me this.
the audition
yesterday morning i overheard carrie talking to ben. something about reading. something about an audition. something about how stoked she was that something like this was coming to our little town. my ears perked up. what, i asked her, are you talking about?
turns out that san luis little theater is doing the laramie project. over 50 characters. open audition monday and tuesday night. without even thinking further i asked, can i tag along?
so at 7:00, with a co-op mate in tow, i went to my very first audition. it was awesome. the most fun i've had in months. even if i don't get a part (does everyone say this?) i'm just stoked for the experience.
most of the characters are a reach out of my age range. well, some more reachable than others. there are a slew of university-aged girls. those would be less reachable. there are a pocketfull of 40-somethings (sigh. unfortunately becoming more and more reachable.). and then the rest were heading north: 50, 60, 70. i didn't know what to expect: would i be able to read for a part? would i have the opportunity to read something impressive? would i have just one line to paint with? i had no idea.
those of us without headshots got makeshift ones made out of a polaroid and a woodpaneled-wall backdrop. i tried to smile while i gave out the obligatory cheese. and then joined the herd heading into the audition room.
lady luck shone down upon me because when my name and number were called i got to read reggie, emotionally relating finding matthew's body tied to the fence. the only part of his face not covered in dried blood were his cheeks, which his tears washed clean. so moving. so sad. so bleak. later i read the part of a random lesbian, afraid to show any affection for her lover in public. afraid of being run down by a redneck-driven chevy. both times i got to read with an older guy who kicked ass and obviously has a lot of experience on stage. he was fun to read with.
tonight we are going back. me, carrie and michael. going back with our name tags, our bottled water, and our fingers crossed. meanwhile, if you live in san luis i'll be blabbling about showtimes when they arrive (late february) whether i'm in the play or not. and if you don't live in slo town, check out hbo's site, which gives a decent synopsis of what the whole thing is about.
turns out that san luis little theater is doing the laramie project. over 50 characters. open audition monday and tuesday night. without even thinking further i asked, can i tag along?
so at 7:00, with a co-op mate in tow, i went to my very first audition. it was awesome. the most fun i've had in months. even if i don't get a part (does everyone say this?) i'm just stoked for the experience.
most of the characters are a reach out of my age range. well, some more reachable than others. there are a slew of university-aged girls. those would be less reachable. there are a pocketfull of 40-somethings (sigh. unfortunately becoming more and more reachable.). and then the rest were heading north: 50, 60, 70. i didn't know what to expect: would i be able to read for a part? would i have the opportunity to read something impressive? would i have just one line to paint with? i had no idea.
those of us without headshots got makeshift ones made out of a polaroid and a woodpaneled-wall backdrop. i tried to smile while i gave out the obligatory cheese. and then joined the herd heading into the audition room.
lady luck shone down upon me because when my name and number were called i got to read reggie, emotionally relating finding matthew's body tied to the fence. the only part of his face not covered in dried blood were his cheeks, which his tears washed clean. so moving. so sad. so bleak. later i read the part of a random lesbian, afraid to show any affection for her lover in public. afraid of being run down by a redneck-driven chevy. both times i got to read with an older guy who kicked ass and obviously has a lot of experience on stage. he was fun to read with.
tonight we are going back. me, carrie and michael. going back with our name tags, our bottled water, and our fingers crossed. meanwhile, if you live in san luis i'll be blabbling about showtimes when they arrive (late february) whether i'm in the play or not. and if you don't live in slo town, check out hbo's site, which gives a decent synopsis of what the whole thing is about.
Monday, December 09, 2002
from stephan in arcata
i love stephan! and i miss him. he and his girly live in arcata and every once in a while he'll shoot me a gem of an email... here is a snippet i want to pass on and share...
* * * * * * * *
On a more serious note, if you've been following the news, you're probably aware that the Bush administration is refusing to fund much needed world-wide programs for reproductive education. Bush and cronies are outraged that the UNFPA, the United Nations Populations Fund, won't agree to Bush's rules that would prohibit their programs from mentioning that abortion even exists. Let me put that another way: As long as UN educators in developing countries don't pretend like they've never heard of abortion, no money. Meanwhile third world countries aren't receiving any help with family planning. That's okay, though. Better to have countries that are overpopulated to the point of not being able to feed their people, than countries that know about abortion.
The people at the UNFPA have started what they call the "34 Million Friends" campaign. If 34 Million people in this country all donate one dollar (or more), they could raise the funding that Bush cut. And let Bush know what they think of his policy. For more info, check out http://www.unfpa.org/support/34million.htm.
I think it's worth about 20 of my dollars.
hope to hear more from y'all,
Stephan.
* * * * * * * *
On a more serious note, if you've been following the news, you're probably aware that the Bush administration is refusing to fund much needed world-wide programs for reproductive education. Bush and cronies are outraged that the UNFPA, the United Nations Populations Fund, won't agree to Bush's rules that would prohibit their programs from mentioning that abortion even exists. Let me put that another way: As long as UN educators in developing countries don't pretend like they've never heard of abortion, no money. Meanwhile third world countries aren't receiving any help with family planning. That's okay, though. Better to have countries that are overpopulated to the point of not being able to feed their people, than countries that know about abortion.
The people at the UNFPA have started what they call the "34 Million Friends" campaign. If 34 Million people in this country all donate one dollar (or more), they could raise the funding that Bush cut. And let Bush know what they think of his policy. For more info, check out http://www.unfpa.org/support/34million.htm.
I think it's worth about 20 of my dollars.
hope to hear more from y'all,
Stephan.
overheard
Ben (catching up on email from the weekend): Hey, "lose 22 pounds while sitting on the couch eating pizza." That one's almost good enough to read! Deleted!
Marya: Their target market is women who make over $100,000 a year.
Steve: Hey, that's my target market, too.
Marya: Their target market is women who make over $100,000 a year.
Steve: Hey, that's my target market, too.
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
overheard from australia to america
Bryon: wyatt build a giant spider web throughout the entire house using string. it's pretty cool. he definately got julene's creative side as apposed to my... hmm, what side would that be.
Marya: snacky side?
Bryon: oh, that's right. my snacky back side
Marya: snacky side?
Bryon: oh, that's right. my snacky back side
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
overheard words of wisdom
heather: cuz she is great.
marya: she is great.
heather: why can't he see what a great girl he has?
marya: (shakes head in bewilderment)
heather: how come i can spot the great women and not the great men?
and so it goes. my friend carsten mused about such things a couple of weeks ago as well. so maybe it is that the men can spot the great men and think that all the women are nuts and the women can spot the great women and think that all the men are nuts.
and this, my friend, is the human condition. scratch that. the single condition.
what if we all just had the courage to be open and honest and out there just for a split second?
###
i had the 47 hour flu. started at 7:15 saturday night. ended 6:00 monday night. ended with me wanting pizza or enchiladas or lazagna or all of the above and now. i was hungry. this cracked me up as i couldn't even bear the smell of cooking the night before, much less eat or drink anything. luckily i was smart enough not to eat any of those things. 24 hours after that i was able to get back to the gym (i took it easy). i had super furry animals in my walkman. there are about three songs on that cd that i could listen to every day for a month and still love them as much. head bopping good.
and then to take a music detour, fun 2 hour western swing hours on kcbx tonight. hopefully stu is recording this for me. he said he would if he remembered. i have this weird interest in bob wills. more like merle travis. and speakina bob wills, heather and i saw asleep at the wheel last weekend. last minute tickets (i literally called the day before) and we wound up with front row center seats. we felt guilty because we weren't big fans and here we were at the PAC with the best seats i'd ever had there.
being so close was like having a very long guitar lesson. ray benson is an amazing guitarist and has amazing vocals to match.
marya: she is great.
heather: why can't he see what a great girl he has?
marya: (shakes head in bewilderment)
heather: how come i can spot the great women and not the great men?
and so it goes. my friend carsten mused about such things a couple of weeks ago as well. so maybe it is that the men can spot the great men and think that all the women are nuts and the women can spot the great women and think that all the men are nuts.
and this, my friend, is the human condition. scratch that. the single condition.
what if we all just had the courage to be open and honest and out there just for a split second?
###
i had the 47 hour flu. started at 7:15 saturday night. ended 6:00 monday night. ended with me wanting pizza or enchiladas or lazagna or all of the above and now. i was hungry. this cracked me up as i couldn't even bear the smell of cooking the night before, much less eat or drink anything. luckily i was smart enough not to eat any of those things. 24 hours after that i was able to get back to the gym (i took it easy). i had super furry animals in my walkman. there are about three songs on that cd that i could listen to every day for a month and still love them as much. head bopping good.
and then to take a music detour, fun 2 hour western swing hours on kcbx tonight. hopefully stu is recording this for me. he said he would if he remembered. i have this weird interest in bob wills. more like merle travis. and speakina bob wills, heather and i saw asleep at the wheel last weekend. last minute tickets (i literally called the day before) and we wound up with front row center seats. we felt guilty because we weren't big fans and here we were at the PAC with the best seats i'd ever had there.
being so close was like having a very long guitar lesson. ray benson is an amazing guitarist and has amazing vocals to match.
music to work to, part five and basically repeated
mentioned before, but cake, comfort eagle, is damn good work music.
Monday, December 02, 2002
read online / beautifully put
Politics seems to have a great ability to test our mindfulness, kindness and flexibility in addition to the 'easier' aspects of making points with clarity, knowledge, power and such. It's such a charged, polarizing arena.....where the lions prowl and the hyenas howl. Ego loves politics — in the words of Hunter Thompson, for ego politics is "better than sex." Maybe because it's harder to avoid tender intimacy with our clothes, and opinions, taken off.
Opinions are inevitable, but do we have them (as provisional, limited markers) or do they have us?
— Tharpa D
Opinions are inevitable, but do we have them (as provisional, limited markers) or do they have us?
— Tharpa D
The Ocean Is Closed for the Season
The ocean is closed for the season.
Hauled and stripped, her booms unshipped,
our playmate sits gathering snow,
her charts by the fire laid out to dry,
her main and mizzen, checked for wear,
to be stowed in the loft, not to mildew.
Rogue's Roost, Bald Rock, East Ironbound, the Ledges,
noteworthy anchorages, islands in the offing, hazards to avoid,
names in flying spray on the wind written large,
an expanse to the landbound no more tactile than a star,
if stars can be seen where they are. And now here we are,
returned to the heathen, with the ocean closed for the season.
Now the armored storms promenade, with the clear days
the coldest of all. More than bulletproof, the space
between Prospect and Betty’s, only three miles out, where autumn saw
a silver anniversary, champagne and cake and more, for the children
kites, kayaks, cranberry-picking, a trip to the lighthouse on the outer shore
(old Algiers laid out and snoring till the tide reached his privates).
And now Betty’s through the kitchen window is our contemplation.
Closed? The lobsterman says no, his red and green lamps in the grey dawn
glowing as he leaves the harbour, swallowed outside by the seas and the snow.
And now the amateur sailor concurs. Children, dinners, village issues intervene,
our own work if we have any, and as the frost flowers mask the pane,
love ever beckoning, an Atlantic within, without beginning or end.
Jim Lindsey
2 December 2002
Hauled and stripped, her booms unshipped,
our playmate sits gathering snow,
her charts by the fire laid out to dry,
her main and mizzen, checked for wear,
to be stowed in the loft, not to mildew.
Rogue's Roost, Bald Rock, East Ironbound, the Ledges,
noteworthy anchorages, islands in the offing, hazards to avoid,
names in flying spray on the wind written large,
an expanse to the landbound no more tactile than a star,
if stars can be seen where they are. And now here we are,
returned to the heathen, with the ocean closed for the season.
Now the armored storms promenade, with the clear days
the coldest of all. More than bulletproof, the space
between Prospect and Betty’s, only three miles out, where autumn saw
a silver anniversary, champagne and cake and more, for the children
kites, kayaks, cranberry-picking, a trip to the lighthouse on the outer shore
(old Algiers laid out and snoring till the tide reached his privates).
And now Betty’s through the kitchen window is our contemplation.
Closed? The lobsterman says no, his red and green lamps in the grey dawn
glowing as he leaves the harbour, swallowed outside by the seas and the snow.
And now the amateur sailor concurs. Children, dinners, village issues intervene,
our own work if we have any, and as the frost flowers mask the pane,
love ever beckoning, an Atlantic within, without beginning or end.
Jim Lindsey
2 December 2002
leveled
i don't get stomach viruses. something i am very proud of and have even been known to brag about. well, that's all over since the norwalk virus came a-knockin' at my front door. this is the same thing that is hitting the cruise ships and countless communities across the us. at ye old co-op, six had it before me and at work, there were two (well one, and then a coworkers wife). be careful out there. and even though i know it wasn't caused by what i ate, i doubt i will ever have pecan pie or whipped cream again (the last food i ate before hell's intestinal fire reigned down upon me.).
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