"We'll Have To Do Something Off Our First Album Now. TAKE IT DEE DEE!!"

When I was in 6th grade I was introduced to the new music known as punk via my older brother's interesting musical tastes. My brother had a large collection of 8-track tapes and the most notorious one was "Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols." As a nervous youngster I took to covering it up when I saw it because of the word "Sex" in the title. Later, I moved beyond my brother's influence with The Ramones.

I was never a punk kid even though I kinda wanted to be. I was very goody-two-shoes, everyone called me a "schoolgirl." I was drawn to punk because I wanted to shock people, I guess. Secretly, I wanted a mohawk haircut and to wear leather jackets. Punk was so pure, unencumbered, and straightforward with The Ramones music being the most straightforward of them all. I was surfing around on youtube tonight and there are several clips of The Ramones performing at the US festival in 1982. While viewing them I was reminded that Ramones songs are economical. Many of the songs are very short, less than three minutes long, so you get lots of songs in a short amount of time. The driving guitar style, the fast pace. It's spare and brilliant. Here's a clip. It clocks in at about 2 minutes.

Years later, sometime in the early 1990s, I was driving somewhere and listening to Live 105 in the morning and the Alex Bennett Show. He was interviewing frontman Joey Ramone and they were having a nice chat. It's strange but his speaking voice** was and still is instantly recognizable to me. I can't remember when and where I first heard it but it's seared into my memory. Alex and Joey were talking about how much they like housework. Joey was saying he likes vacuuming and doing the dishes. Alex was really getting into this conversation thread and ran with it asking him if he likes other household chores like dusting. Alex and Joey then had the following exchange:

Alex: "So what about ironing? Do you like that because I like ironing."

(Joey doesn't answer. A very long pause.)

Joey: "Ironing. I don't know. Does it look like I iron?"

Alex (spoken quickly): "No, no, no, of course not."

Alex quickly moved onto other topics, but even though the topic was over I was laughing so hard in my car I could barely see where I was going. I kept picturing Joey Ramone with an iron, holding it up and looking at it quizzically.

For some reason I seem to be the only person on the planet who heard that interview because I've mentioned it to others who like The Ramones and they've never heard it. I suppose I can count myself blessed.

Joey Ramone died on April 15, 2001 of lymphoma, eight years ago today. Two other members Dee Dee Ramone and Johnny Ramone died within three years. Thank goodness we still have their music.

**Note: this link redirects to an interview with Joey about Iggy Pop. Iggy's an extreme performer and his onstage antics are both legendary and groundbreaking. You'll get a small taste of them in this link.

Two More Unflattering Self-Portraits

I messed around with the two below. I've printed the first one for my wall, along with the two from yesterday (middle one and last one).

Three Unflattering Self-Portraits

I wasn't trying to take unflattering self-portraits but I have to admit I've always liked the pictures that came out of this particular evening. I was experimenting with taking photos using just the computer screen light to see how they would come out.

This evening I started experimenting with colors, exposure, contrast, etc. and the results are the pictures you see below.

I love how harsh this picture looks. I'm particularly enamored of blue around my eyes and on my hair. I look paranoid.

I love how the pictures contrast with each other, color-wise. The warmish colors really seem to suit my expression in this picture.

This is probably my favorite one. The original is even more unflattering. I love the color on my lips even though I'm wearing lip balm.

There's something oddly liberating about taking unflattering pictures of myself. Never one to shy away from the camera, I'm always ready with a smile so these pictures show a different side of me that I like very much. Besides I love portraiture and I'm always curious about where else you can go beyond the "stand there and smile" shots.

I've been slowly adding more decor to my stripped down apartment and have made good progress with rearranging my desk. I thought about finding some cheap, but interesting pictures to frame for the area above my couch then I thought I'd see if there were unusual photos I could modify and print. I'm not sure if I'll be using the above photos but I wanted to see how they'd look posted.

Oh, and below is another self-portrait from the same night in case you don't know me and think I must be an ugly troll.

2008 River Cruise: My Day Alone in Prague - Prague Castle

The next day my tour mates and I were having breakfast. We had a free day to ourselves and everyone else, it seemed, had booked excursions. I had not and explained this to G and N. They looked at me like I told them I was going to sell drugs in the lobby.

N: "What are you going to do today?"

Me (lying): "I'm not sure. I'll figure something out."

In fact, I knew perfectly well what I was going to do, I just didn't want anyone to talk me out of it or to give me shit so I chose not to share my plans. After everyone left for their excursions I got ready to go. I talked to the concierge and asked her how to get to Prague Castle. The directions were simple enough: take the subway three stops out and get on the tram going up the hill. She paused, looked at me with a little pity it seemed, and then told me to watch out for pickpockets. I rolled my eyes at her and then walked out of the hotel. I may be an American easy to spot five blocks away, but I can handle myself.

The subway was a piece of cake. Very easy to use, easy to figure out which direction you're going in. It was very much like riding on the London Tube even the trains were about the same size, that smaller size, like toy trains. I exited the station and found the tram stop right outside. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out which direction I was going in then I talked to a small group of tourists who were also going to Prague Castle. The young dark haired woman who was serving as tour guide said to exit the tram when they do since we were all going to the same place.

Riding on the tram gave me a nice little view of Prague. It was very much like riding MUNI what with easy to spot tourists, locals who looked curiously at me, unwashed homeless people sleeping in the seats, and students laden with book bags. To minimize attention to myself I chose not to take any photographs on the way up to the Castle. It was a beautiful day. Cold, of course, but very clear and sunny.

Once I got to Prague Castle I went straight to the National Gallery at Sternberg Palace. It was just off the main square located in front of the castle and not very expensive. There were very few people and I slowly wandered through the galleries. They had a nice little collection of art including a few paintings by Durer, Rubens, and Bruegel the Elder. It made me a little sad for although the building the collection is housed in is a palace they didn't have enough money to keep the collection in the proper temperature controlled environment, nor did they have a good control of the sunlight in the rooms. After my visit I found out that the Prague National Gallery collections are housed in several buildings around the city and I had only seen one.

I spent at least two hours walking slowly through and making sketches. Most of the time I had whatever room I was in to myself. After a while the security guards started following me around, taking turns, watching me. I suppose someone like me is a red flag for them.

The picture above is an excerpt from my sketchbook. The top sketch is a detail from Ruben's "The Expulsion of Adam and Eve", 1620. This was a small painting, perhaps 11 x 17. The signs didn't say what the medium was but it appeared to oil on canvas. Even so the original has a sketchy, watercolory feel to it. I love the movement in this small picture. You see Death grabbing Eve's hair in a strange kind of twisted dance. His other hand is grabbing Adam's arm but I decided not to draw him. On the far left of the original painting is a sketchy, much less defined picture of the Archangel Michael with his flaming sword and the gates of Eden.

The bottom sketch is a fragment of a marble relief from the 12 Century. It's a gryphon, of course. Since I went on my NYC/Washington D.C. trip alone I've been sketching gryphons wherever I can find them. I added the color later with my new watercolor pencils. You can double click on the picture to see more details. I took the picture at 8 megapixals so it's very large.

I went into one of the side galleries on the way out and wandered through to the end where there was a massive altarpiece with six huge panels. I couldn't find the sign with artist's name but I'm judging it was from the 16th century. At least it was in a darkened room. I spent a long time in that little room staring at this altarpiece. It was very interesting, the figures were brightly colored, and the entire piece had a cartoon feel to it. A security guard had followed me into the room and stood there as I looked and looked at the painting for close to 10 minutes.

I don't take photographs in museums anymore even without a flash but I found a nice website which will give you an idea of what the museum is like.

After I left I went out to the main square at the Castle. The light was perfect for some pictures of the square and the city:

Some very fine street musicians in the square. They are playing almost directly across from Prague Castle entrance.



As you can see Prague is a beautiful city.

To the left of these last two pictures is a big staircase leading to the bottom of the hill. I was happy I wasn't walking up them.

My attempts to get a picture without people in it was in vain. This was the best I could do.

Next post: My Day Alone in Prague - The Charles Bridge.

"If I did sell out, it would be ladies' garments."

So said Bob during his 1965 press conference here in SF. I'm sure all of you have seen Bob's infamous Victoria's Secret ad from a couple of years ago. It features underwear model Adriana Lima and Bob in Venice. Bob's song "Lovesick" is on the soundtrack.

Click here to see it on youtube.

The ad caused quite a bit of controversy when it first aired. It was the first commercial Bob had ever appeared in and plenty of people were upset. Some people said Bob had finally sold his soul.

I think the ad is hilarious and weirdly sexy at the same time.

Although I'm late to the party I have to say that Bob gets to do whatever he wants. Let's say you're a straight male between the ages of 18-99 and Victoria's Secret shows up with the following offer: we'll fly you to Venice for two days all expenses paid, you get to hang out with some ridiculously beautiful women cavorting about in their underwear, and we'll pay you a bunch of money. What male wouldn't say yes to that offer?

Or as Bob himself said, "Was I not supposed to do that?"

Movie Musings: Watchmen

I saw Watchmen last night. Initially, I didn't want to see it because I didn't understand the story from seeing the trailers, but plenty of people seemed to like it and it was getting good reviews.

I really liked it a lot. Even more so now that I've had a day to let it sink in. And it's worth seeing on the big screen.

It started out well for me. The opening title sequence was spectacular. I thought that was just my opinion because they set it to Bob singing "The Times They Are A-Changing" but apparently I'm not the only one who feels that way.

The story is unusual. It's not the typical superhero story so it will take some getting used to. Most of the characters are very well done. Both Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian and Jackie Earl Haley as Rorschach turned in great performances. I loved Jackie Earl Haley's vigilante borderline sociopath.

The real star of the movie is the story world itself in all its beauty and gritty awfulness. The sets, the costumes, the story world's technologies, how they used the music, the story world's history, the characters' back stories, and the cinematography all come together beautifully to immerse the audience in the Watchmen universe.

The movie has great action sequences and special effects. It's also really violent and gory even by my standards. A couple of scenes made me squirm in my chair. There's a very explicit sex scene filmed in slow motion. Still, I thought these scenes made sense in the Watchmen story world and made sense for the characters. Nothing was out of place.

I'm probably going to see it again tomorrow on the IMAX. I recommend it highly but you have been warned. The movie seriously earns its R rating.

P.S. Oh, and three of Bob's songs are in it. "The Times They Are A-Changing" as I mentioned, Jimi's version of "All Along The Watchtower," and an abbreviated punk cover of "Desolation Row" by My Chemical Romance.

The Earth Will Turn And Hold Out Its Secrets

His arms hurt and he can't walk. He dreams too much. He's a lost one. He stands around on broken asphalt and cracked sidewalks.

There's an old day lurking somewhere around here and it sings to him in his quiet despairing moments of non-clarity. He's always haunting those places of memories when the kitchen was down on Main Street. The days stretch like glue in his worn out eyes. He's a wonder that man with his writing mind and twitching hands. I can't stop dreaming, he says. He doesn't let himself go that way, too scary and too real.

He knows it's a gift, a friend, an apple go lucky. His heart races and his nose bleeds. It's a rough day to be a hero in the hero's days and nights. Days are flowing by in the ocean of run down time. Take a good look before it all leaves. I take all this fantasy seriously, you know.

Call down in a warm voice. The days will run on the road at all hours and the earth will turn and hold out its secrets. We are here for those rainy days. It's a bigger way up than down to you. Just don't bypass it this time and reach for what's coming. It's time.

Will Immersion Lead to Burnout?

My obsession with Bob Dylan continues. Earlier this week I galloped my way through "The Rough Guide to Bob Dylan, 2d Ed." It was a library book and I had to finish reading it but in my usual fashion I can't skim a book on a subject I'm interested in. I have to read every word. I wanted to read "The Rough Guide" because I needed an overview of the man's life and work before I start diving into the serious biographies and "Chronicles vol. 1." After that I started taking in "No Direction Home" the splendid documentary by Martin Scorsese. I was about 30 minutes into the second half and had to take a break. In between the book and the documentary I was listening to "Blonde on Blonde," "Bringing It All Back Home," and "Highway 61 Revisited" over and over. I've heard "Blood on the Tracks" several times now, a stunning specimen of an album, but I'm just not ready for the mid-1970s yet.

I woke up earlier this week and realized I had finally gone overboard. Yes, I had been dreaming about Bob. It's like I was following him around on his world tour in 1966. I leaned against a pole backstage and listened to the audience booing the electric half of the show. I followed him as he fought his way through fans and the flashing light bulbs of the press. I watched him pop amphetamines and smoke a whole lot of pot. I watched him stay up all night smoking and writing and refining his songs on his portable typewriter. I had to keep getting out of the way of various people in his entourage, visitors (the Beatles), and D.A. Pennebaker with his film camera. None of them could see me. I felt a little like Mr. Gryphon.

I decided I should take a break from Bob. I'd finished reading the book. I took a deep breath and tried not to play any Bob songs then I found something on the internet. Something wonderful and true. I found Dylanradio.com.

Dylanradio.com plays his songs 24/7 spanning a recorded career from 1962 to a live set from this past week's concert in Sweden. A hundred versions of his songs stream though my computer: bootlegs, covers, studio outtakes, alternate cuts, throwaway tracks, and live versions from barely-able-to-hear-the-words in coffee shops to massive stadium concerts. I've been playing Dylanradio.com for hours and I just don't get tired of it. Today, I've heard about six different versions of "All Along The Watchtower" (though not the definitive version by Jimi Hendrix) and about the same number of versions of "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall." "A Hard Rain's" a glorious song by the way.

One of my really good friends pointed out a character trait of mine that I never really thought about before. She said I tend to immerse myself in subjects I want to know about. This is true but I feel so single-minded about Bob. I feel like a unending absorbent sponge that's soaking up this man's music and life. I feel like I'm inhaling Bob Dylan like I used to inhale books when I was in grade school and an obsessive reader.

I'm sure my ardor for all things Bob will cool down. I might even burn out on him. Until that happens I'm going to sit here listening to his songs and marvel at the wonder of it all. Even with this somewhat embarrassing single-minded focus I'm still glad to be me.

Pictures of the Pink Church - Exterior

The sun's not in the right place for these pictures but I wanted to share them here anyway. These are close ups of the Pink Church in my blog header. My original intent was to go inside and snap some shots of the interior, but the church was shut up tight. I'll post interior shots when I get them.

I'm On A Boat - SNL Short

Biologist #1 at the Aquarium played this short for me today and I laughed my ass off.

Warning: Since it's a rap song, or rather a parody of a rap song, there's a ton of profanity.

"Take a good hard look at the mutha fucking BOAT!"

Octopus Floods Aquarium

I love this news article in the LA Times about a small octopus that dissembled a valve in her tank yesterday. Octopuses are widely believed to be the most intelligent of the invertebrates. I did a post with an octopus story a while ago. Click here if you want to read it.

Facebook

I told a friend I would never put myself on Facebook but after having several conversations about how useful it is for staying in touch with people, I caved in. If you want to add me as a friend send me an email at this blog address.

One thing I'm NOT doing is providing a link to this blog on my Facebook page. I rather like being somewhat anonymous and I don't know if all my friends would appreciate some of my rantings, my bizarre flights of fancy, or my characters (imaginary friends).

I must admit after being on Facebook for a short time I'm already starting to find it a little tedious. I like being in touch with people, but you can spend a hell of a lot of time on there. The time I spend checking my email accounts and attempting to read the news is more than enough time as it is. Someone told me I could do all or most of my blogging there instead of here, but I would hate to restrict access like that. People couldn't just stumble on this blog with random searches.

At least I didn't put myself on myspace.

2008 River Cruise: (Sort of) Lost in Prague

Powder Tower in Prague. We should have made a left here, but we went straight instead.

After our Prague city tour and shopping around Old Town Square, me and my new friends G and N made our way back to the hotel. I had spent a couple of minutes with the tour guide getting directions. As it was I was the only person who knew which way to go. We started out going down the right street and reached the Powder Tower and kept walking. We made it to a major freeway intersection, crossed under the underpass, and realized quickly we were in the wrong place.

G and N became a little nervous and in a couple of minutes were starting to panic. I didn't know it at the time, but we were butting up against their biggest fear: getting lost in a foreign city. We started asking people passing by if they knew where the hotel was.

The first two people we stopped were two very nice young women. One spoke very good English. They didn't know where the hotel was but said it was nearby and offered to call it on their cell phones. We had no luck as they got connected to a woman in England (damn corporate hotel central reservations!), then we were disconnected. I managed to flag down a cab and we said goodbye to the two young women. The cab started shouting at us when we tried to get inside, "No passengers!" I closed the door and he drove off.

We crossed the street and met a delivery truck guy who couldn't speak English but was able to understand mostly what we were saying. G asked him if he could drive us there, but he refused as there was no room in the truck. She became angry, but we calmed her down. She kept saying all we had to do was have the hotel send a car to pick us up.

My two new friends were really starting to panic. I suggested we go back the way we came and start over again. I felt a little sheepish as I would have never allowed a situation like this to happen if I was on my own. I would have gotten a map and made someone mark off where we were starting and where the hotel was. Still, I wasn't afraid even if it was the late afternoon.

We finally met George, our knight in shining armor. George turned out to be from Oklahoma and he was an English teacher. He'd been living in Prague for over 10 years. He gently explained to G and N the best thing to do was get bus tickets and take right bus to the next stop. At this G and N became very agitated then I realized they were afraid of taking public transportation. I thought that was a little odd because we were only going to the next bus stop. George got us bus tickets, took us to the bus stop, made sure we got on the right bus, told us how to stamp our tickets, and sent us on our way. We tried to pay him, but he wouldn't accept our money, said we were insulting him by offering it.

He also told us not to take a cab under any circumstance because they're legendary for charging astronomical prices if you're a tourist. George was very kind and took so much time to help us with the bus tickets and helped me calm G and N down. Such a sweet man!

We met a lovely young woman on the bus who talked to G and N for a bit. I could see this was making them feel less afraid. Eagerly I looked around on the bus and paid close attention to our route. I love public transportation. Sure enough we drove right past our hotel and got off at the next stop about half a block away. It was getting dark when we walked back to our hotel, but I was feeling really good. I had enjoyed our little mishap.

When we got back to the hotel I found out that we should have made a left turn at the Powder Tower instead of going straight.

***
Later, I found out that G and N were well traveled but had never done anything outside of taking a tour. They'd never ventured forth on their own at all even when there was free time. On tours they take excursions but they're so afraid of being lost in a foreign city that they won't attempt to take public transportation even though it's much cheaper and a better way to see the inhabitants.

They also have a bad sense of direction. I know plenty of people don't have a good sense of direction, but it didn't take me long to figure out the reason why they never know where they are or where they're going is because they don't pay attention to their immediate surroundings. I'm always paying attention to where I am and looking around for landmarks when I travel. Sometimes I get turned around, but I can always find my way back to my destination.

G asked me later what I would have done had I been alone and gotten lost. My reply was it would have never happened. I would have been prepared with a map before starting out.

Duncan Sheik and Spring Awakening

There's a moment you know...
You're fucked
Not an inch more room to self-destruct
No more moves, oh yeah
The dead end zone
Man, you just can't call your soul your own

But the thing that makes you really jump
Is that the weirdest shit is still to come
You can ask yourself "Hey, what have I done?"
You're just a fly
The little guys, they kill for fun

Man, you're fucked if you just freeze up
Can't do that thing, that keeping still
But you're fucked if you speak your mind
And you know, uh huh, you will

Yeah, you're fucked all right
And all for spite
You can kiss your sorry ass goodbye
Totally fucked
While they mess you up
Well, you know they're going to try

-"Totally Fucked" from "Spring Awakening"***

I just got back from seeing Duncan Sheik at the Palace of Fine Arts. I wasn't so familiar with Duncan although I realized later "Barely Breathing" was one of my favorite songs when it came out in the mid-1990s. In addition, "On a High" and "She Runs Away" were familiar when he sang them.

Duncan and his band at the Palace of Fine Arts

No, I was most familiar with Duncan because of the Broadway show "Spring Awakening." This is my favorite show. There are three shows I've seen in my life that really broke me open both in amazement and overwhelming emotion. The first was "Zorba" after "Zorba the Greek." I got to see Anthony Quinn do the same role in the musical that he did in the film not once but twice. The second show was "Black Rider" written by William S. Burroughs with songs by Tom Waits. It's difficult to explain to someone who isn't familiar with the show how incredible and unusual it was, but I can say that if all the shows weren't sold out I would have definitely seen it more than once.

I saw "Spring Awakening" three (3) times when it was playing here.

The show is groundbreaking with very adult (and quite grim) themes. It centers around a group of teenagers in late 1800s Germany and their various "awakenings." Sex, angst, teen pregnancy, abortion, homosexuality, teen suicide, profanity, rebellion and child abuse all figure prominently. Yes, it's dark and explicit but it's also an amazing, sometimes harrowing show. The music is fantastic and Duncan won two well-deserved Tonys for it. The show as a whole won eight (8) Tonys.

Back to the concert. Lauren Pritchard, who played Ilse in the original Broadway show, was part of Duncan's band so they sang some "Spring Awakening" songs including "Mama Who Bore Me," "Touch Me," The Dark I Know Well," and "Don't Do Sadness/Blue Wind." What a lovely treat! Duncan played some songs from his new album "Whisper House" which is also going to be a Broadway show. It's a ghost story and judging from the songs it's going to be another dark one.

Duncan did not sing "Barely Breathing" much to the great disappointment of the young man sitting next to me. He kept yelling "Barely Breathing!" at Duncan towards the end of the show and while we were applauding before the encore. Instead, Duncan sang "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead. I felt Duncan and his band deserved a standing ovation just for that song and I was happy to give it to them.

I wasn't expecting to go to this show, but one of my friends called me earlier today to see if I could go. Sometimes life brings you unexpected gifts.

***"Totally Fucked" is a welcome relief in the second act of "Spring Awakening." Several tragedies have occurred and during this song the main character stands his ground and speaks the truth even if the consequences are terrible for him. Towards the end of the song the kids are jumping around the adults on the stage in rebellious exhilaration. The song ends with the kids flipping everybody off in complete defiance. It's one of my favorite moments in the show.

2009 Job Hunt: Checking In

So the big news for now is...there are very few jobs and I still don't have one. I've been trying to review the written materials I got from the career transition outfit that was part of my severance package when I was laid off last year. I don't have access to their services or their website because I can't afford it but the written materials have proven to be very useful.

My first task was to survey my immediate professional environment so I spent a couple of days on law.com reading about the "Wall Street Crisis" and their list of layoffs. Last week was a particularly nasty week of bloodletting with over 1,000 jobs lost on Thursday. I learned that most folks in the legal industry see this crisis lasting for the rest of this year and through most of next year. That means more jobs will be cut, positions consolidated, and employers will be looking for creative ways to cut even more costs.

It's depressing stuff to be sure, but I have to say knowledge is power. People keeping shaking their heads and saying "What do you do?" The answer is I go out there and keep looking. It's going to take a long time to find a job what with the market being flooded with paralegals, but the jobs are out there. Getting crystal clear about my skills and experience so I can discuss and write about them well, boning up on my interview skills, and coming up with a targeted list of places to pursue a position are all very worthwhile ways to spend my time.

Things could be much worse for me. Consider the following: I could have a serious illness which would give a whole new meaning to the term "health care benefits." I could have a mortgage, and worse, a sub-prime mortgage I'm trying to dig my way out of. I could have a kid or kids and be a single parent. I could be employed at a place where everyone is waiting to see if layoffs will occur. I could be in a relationship with a guy who doesn't love me and will never love me. I could have a back injury, the flu, an addiction, no friends, and no way to watch the first season of "Lost."

So even though I have no job right now I count myself lucky. And if I can't get a job I have a backup plan. Many people don't have the kind of support I have. I'm a blessed person.

In addition to job hunting related activities, I'm going to try to make the very best of this time. I have been showered with even more time to do things I've been wanting to do. Now is the time to make real progress with my personal life. It is the silver lining in the middle of all these storm clouds.

View Outside My Window: A Break In The Rain

It's been a while since I posted one of these pictures. It's been raining lately.

Your Debutante Knows What You Need But I Know What You Want

It's been a week of My Listy and other efficiencies. The flushed-with-function working papers are piled up in black and white stacks just waiting to rush forward. Ideas fly around like small owls racing away from the cold dawning Sun. Bats open and close their wings in appreciation. They lean forward, teeth out, as I gently hand them their magic fruit breakfasts, juices running riot over my fingers.

It's also been a week of rollercoastering emotions. Just last week I thought I'd die or at least switch identities from the rising floods around here. Salt and waves were threatening to knock me off my lone rocky island. The tide sneaked in and surrounded me, unceremoniously. I stayed stranded (or maybe LOST) but only for 48 hours before my imaginary friend came to get me in a tiny boat with choking outboard motor, with the gasoline fumes overwhelming my olfactory sense. The rain made things more difficult but there's always a hot fireplace and welcome bathtub to crawl back to. That you can be sure of.

After the floods came the battle with the volcanoes, the roiling gray-white hot ash. The flooding hot mud. I was in the truck just ahead of the eruption's blast, my companion yelling "We CAN'T outrun the ASH!" I knew differently especially as I pushed the truck to 125 mph. It was a straight if bumpy road. We would find sanctuary soon even as I tried to unclench my teeth. The wind kicked up hot air but the truck didn't fall apart and I managed to keep myself grounded in the midst of hell's earthly appearance.

Now the volcanoes are reduced to the sometime desire to throw something against my apartment walls, but I'm willing to throw one of the dog's soft cushy toys so we know what that's about, and I'm sure you'll agree I've come far just in the past few hours.

Times sure have become a scarcity and conservative's wet dream. By conservative, I'm not talking elephants, not even the neo-con ones. I'm talking about people who don't want to rock the boat, money hangers-on is what I'm talking about. There are greenbacks to grip tightly in panicked fists and taxes to dry heave about. I'm in a good place even without employment. I believe in myself, and more importantly, I believe in the power of information and the scattering of ideas, albeit some unconventional ones.

Even with all that activity efficiency reigns in this place. Oh, and I still get to keep those desirable package deals with their swooning riffs and endless compliments. I didn't have to trade them in after all.

2008 River Cruise: Prague in the Morning

On my first morning in Prague, or Praha in Czech, our group had a city tour. The weather wasn't bad, somewhere in the lower 50s. I felt odd being alone but decided not to worry about it. In my usual fashion I stayed somewhat apart from people at first, but people in my tour group soon took an interest in me, particularly when they saw me attempting to take self-portraits.

A frantic shot of the Vltava river taken while the bus rolled over one of Prague's many bridges.

Our tour started at the top of Prague Castle. You can just see it in the photo above on the distant right. The weather was cold, but splendid. As we all assembled outside the bus we had to wait for our local guide. While waiting two older women, cousins who were traveling together, struck up a conversation with me. They clucked in disapproval when I told them I was traveling alone and before I knew it they had adopted me. I'll call them G and N.

It was colder at the top of Prague Castle. I had to put my gloves on. Prague Castle is a complex of the main castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, lessor castles, gardens and halls. The President of Prague lives there and it's a place where most Czech government functions occur.

A properly stoic guard although I did manage to get him to crack a momentary smile.

We were just in time to see the changing of the guard at the entrance of the castle. I watched the proceedings with curiosity since I missed the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace when I was in London a few years ago. Our tour guide explained that the guards are properly stoic, that is not allowed to smile, move, or speak, just like in London. People took tons of pictures of them, posing and giggling. I was wearing my ray bans when I snapped the picture above. I got the guard to smile just for a moment when I lowered my sunglasses, smiled hugely, and said "Thank You" in sugar-coated tones.

We were herded into one of the many courtyards in the complex. While our tour guide did some explaining I wandered off a little taking care not to venture too far off. I was not yet familiar with my group and worried about losing them as there were other tours coming in by the bus load.

One of the courtyards at Prague Castle.

We went through a side entrance at last and I saw our first destination: the grandiose St. Vitus Cathedral. I was terribly excited. I love church architecture.

The real deal complete with all the elements to make you look upwards so you feel properly humbled before God.

The cathedral is massive, dark, and cold. All that stone and stained glass everywhere. We were asked not to use a flash so I took plenty of pictures, but many of them didn't come out.

A particularly splendid stained glass specimen, the Mucha window.

I kept wandering around and soon realized that my new friends G and N were a little disconcerted with this behavior. They didn't say anything, of course. On the tour we had these headsets so we could still hear our tour guide even if I wandered off a bit. These pictures simply cannot show the grand size and scale of this place.

This picture might give you a better idea. Note the flying buttresses, one of my very favorite architectural features.

Here's the front entrance of St. Vitus' with its rose window.

Although the spectacular chapel of St. Wenceslas (his relics are kept here) was undergoing renovations we were still allowed to take a peek inside. There are over 1300 semi-precious stones and paintings here and the chandelier is made of gold and more precious stones. I couldn't get a very clear picture but you can still get a general feel for this place.

Absolutely breathtaking...

We left St. Vitus for the front entrance of Prague Castle and the huge courtyard. I took pictures from the viewing area on the hill, but was shooting directly into the sun so none of them came out well, but I'll post better pictures in a later post.

I continued to wander around without my new companions and away from the tour group. I noted happily that they had a National Gallery in the complex which would inform my plans for the next day.

We made a pit stop at the water closet and while everyone was waiting around, I noted that G and N were chatting with people from our group. I was more standoff-ish until a nice man offered to take a photo of me since I kept trying to take self-portraits. G and N introduced me to a few people and I talked them for a while. Then we piled onto the tour bus and made our way towards Old Town which is situated on the other side of the river from Prague Castle.

On the way to the Old Town Square we did get to see a bit of the Jewish Quarter (the Josefov) in Prague, but only just. The tour guide was moving too fast. G loves cemeteries and since N is Jewish she wanted to see the synagogue and the cemetery, but both were closed up tight. I was as disappointed as they were.

Old Town or Stare Mesto is where the Prague was first settled as our guide told us. We had been told by the tour guide that we would have a few hours to explore Old Town after the tour and then we could make our way back to the hotel on our own since it's within walking distance. I was getting antsy. I was feeling the confining effect of being on a group tour.

The Old Town Square is very beautiful.

We were told about the history of the Square and surrounding buildings. The tour was finished up by giving us a short history of the world famous medieval Prague Astronomical Clock which shows the positions of the Sun, Moon, and some planets.

The beautiful clock.

After getting directions so we could make our way back to the hotel, G, N and I left the tour group. G had been in Prague eight years earlier with her daughter and they had found a vegetarian restaurant just off the Square that she claims was the best vegetarian food she ever had. In the spirit of adventure, we set off to find it. After some twists and turns we finally asked a clerk in a jewelry shop down one of the side streets and she gave us general directions. I found out quickly that G has a terrible sense of direction, but we managed to find the place and she was very happy.

In front of the restaurant. If you take the street directly opposite the Clock and wind your way down the narrow street you'll see it off to the right side after the equivalent of a block or two.

The restaurant was very stripped down, cafeteria style. We gathered our trays and started piling food on our plates. N was very skeptical, apparently she's not a very adventurous eater. Each dish was labeled in English, but sometimes what the card said didn't correspond with what the food looked like. No matter, we pressed on. By the time we got to the cashier it became clear that this was a place were locals like to eat lunch. It was very cheap and we were the only tourists. The cashier barely spoke English, but we managed to pay for our food and find a table. The other folks at the tables looked at us in surprise as we passed them.

Here's a picture of my plate. Don't ask me what the food was. All I know is the soup was a lovely carrot soup.

The food was spectacular. As G promised it was the very best vegetarian food I've ever had. I couldn't believe it! Eagerly we gobbled up our food while N sat with us. She barely picked at her plate. I guess she didn't like it much. Most of the food was in a kind of casserole style with plenty of grains. Yummy! I highly recommend it (if you can find the restaurant) for a delicious, off-the-beaten-path experience.

After our meal the three of us wandered around the various gift shops around the Square. My feet were cold so I looked for socks, but there were none to be had. The search for socks became a running joke between the three of us. I bought a couple of things but wandering the gift shops isn't really my deal especially if you keep going into one gift shop after another that keeps selling the same shit over and over. I soon realized this seems to be how many people visit other countries: they go on a tour and afterwards go shopping in tourist gift shops. Yick.

After wandering for a while the ladies decided we should make our way back to the hotel. We thought we were following the proper directions, but I turned out to be wrong.

Next up: Sort of Lost in Prague

He's Hoping I'll Come Through

Won't you come with me baby ?
I'll take you where you wanna go
And if it don't work out
You'll be the first to know
I'm pledging my time to you
Hopin' you'll come through too.

- Bob Dylan, "I'm Pledging My Time," Blonde on Blonde, 1966

It's amazing how you can take forms of art, such as the above lyrics, and apply it to whatever is going on in your life. I feel like I'm on the verge of a faint blossoming, that I'll see the silver streaked road over the next rise on that hill of saturated green in the distance. The question is do I want to climb that hill?

The alternative is rather staid, but at least it won't be stifling. Haven't I always said I've wanted to hear the words: "Stay with me. Stay with me because it's better to be together than apart. Stay with me and we'll be unstoppable."

It sounds like I'm auditioning for a weird stage play featuring two superheros in Danskin tights who are on the verge of splitting up, but know that their strength lies in being as one. The stage is too small, wooden. The tights are too tight, they don't match exactly. The older superhero is so confused that he has to read from the script because he keeps losing his place. The curtains are tattered and yellow. And yet there's the fragrant note of optimism in the air which hovers as the audience rises to its feet at the end. It's a sweet time to be a superhero in a stage play.

It's an even sweeter time to listen to Bob Dylan who might just sway this situation with his harmonica, organ, and guitar. I keep asking myself if I trust Bob, but what I'm really asking is do I trust myself? I'm supposed to be fragile, but I know I'm not. Perhaps I need to stop acting so fragile. After all, a superhero is still a superhero even on a too small stage.

But There's Nothing Really Nothing To Turn Off

"That's some patient pup you've got there, Miss Turtle."

"Hm," I say in response. The apartment door has closed behind me and I am making my way down some burgundy heavily carpeted stairs. The apartment building is grand and old. The stairs are narrow and I hold the white painted banister with my right hand. I walk through the lovely lobby of the building, Mr. Gryphon behind me. I walk out of the building and turn right. I am approaching the corner of Gough and Broadway in my beloved City. It's a pleasant, cool night. The cool air feels good on my tear stained cheeks.

"Do you want my opinion?"

"You seem to want to give it to me," I say as we cross the intersection toward my car. I am making slow, almost swaggering strides. Lower Pacific Heights is a lovely neighborhood of beautiful houses, apartment buildings, and school buildings.

"The bones of your ghosts are seeping in compassion and trust. They cannot hold themselves together for long before they dissolve leaving you in a place of affection and friendship."

I turn around about a half a block from where my car is. I stare at Mr. Gryphon. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I put my hand on my hip. My trademark tears are starting up again. I am angry and hurt. Angry at myself for tender feelings. Hurt about the situation.

"I mean," says Gryphon as he walks slowly up to me and slides his arms around me, "I'm feeling an affinity for your pup, there." The way he's holding me is too familiar for comfort. I pull away and start walking back towards the car.

"Yes, Mr. Gryphon, you AND the dog are apparently in complete agreement." He says nothing in response, but I know that no matter what happens he will still be there with me. He will not leave me and he will always give me a place to come back to.

Some lines from a song plays in my mind:
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft

But there's nothing really nothing to turn off*

I stop next to my car. "Mr. Gryphon, why can't you be my boyfriend?"

He blinks slowly before responding. "I'm your imaginary friend. Boyfriend or no, it appears you've found the real deal, Miss Turtle. There's nothing to turn off here from what I can see." I glare at him and then make my way to the driver's side of my car. I get inside then open the door for him. He slides in easily.

"This sucks," I say my voice breaking a little. I have put my keys in the ignition, but have not turned them yet. I put my hands on the steering wheel, gripping tightly. "It appears, Mr. Gryphon, that I have truly found what I've been looking for."

"So you have, Miss Turtle. What are you going to do now?"

I grit my teeth. "You know what I'm going to do now." Mr. Gryphon smiles a rare smile at me. I turn the key in the ignition and pull away from the curb. It will be good to get home.

*Bob Dylan, "Visions of Johanna," Blonde on Blonde, 1966

2008 River Cruise: Introduction

In early 2008 I decided I would take my long awaited trip to Europe. I wanted to travel with someone else. I knew I had to see Nuremberg, Germany because I needed to see the place where my novel is set. My original itinerary was to fly into Amsterdam, go to Ghent and Bruges (in Belgium), take the train to Colmar, France to see the Isenheim Altarpiece, do a bit of wine tasting in the Alsace wine region, and finally spend the remainder of my vacation in Nuremberg and Ansbach, Germany.

I couldn't find anyone to go with me. As the time got closer to when I was supposed to leave I got more and more nervous about going alone. I've traveled on my own just fine, but was intimidated about going to the Continent by myself. I had read an article by Arthur Frommer about river cruising earlier in the year and decided to do that. I would still be able to see Nuremberg or at least get a decent overview of it and then go back on my own if I determined that would be a safe thing to do.

I selected a cruise down the Danube River with Avalon Waterways. It was very expensive because I paid the single supplement so I could have my own cabin, but I can tell you now it was worth every penny.

Below is the Itinerary
2.5 days in Prague, Czech Republic
Take a four hour bus ride to Nuremberg, Germany and board the boat there.
A half day bus tour of Nuremberg then back to the boat, boat leaves Nuremberg.
Arrive in Regensberg, Germany, take morning tour, afternoon at leisure
Arrive in Passau, take optional excursion to Salzburg, Austria, meet boat in Linz
Arrive in Melk, Austria for tour of the Abby
Arrive in Vienna, Austria for morning tour, afternoon at leisure
Arrive in Budapest, Hungary, morning at leisure, afternoon tour
Fly home

On top of everything this was a special wine cruise where we had tastings and special wine lectures/tours almost every day. No need to worry about drinking and driving!

One of the first things I realized was that I could easily travel in any of these cities by myself. It would be helpful to know some German, but I felt so comfortable and so many people speak English that I knew I could take those places on my own. Even though I'm still unemployed and ever broke, I'm definitely going back there on my own.

Next post: Prague in the Morning

City Life: Small Wonder on the 49 Bus

Yesterday I was riding the 49 bus up Van Ness Ave. around 12:50 pm. I was sitting in the back of the bus and I overheard an African-American guy and a Caucasian kid having the conversation below. The African-American guy was wearing a green track suit jacket with thin white stripes, jeans, short afro, and huge black aviators. The kid was tall and lanky wearing skinny black jeans, black jacket, and had a red scarf draped around his neck. His blond spiky hair was covered by a hat. He was holding a copy of the DVD "Planet Earth".

African-American guy ("Guy")(gestures at the DVD): "Hey, I seen that. How much did you get for it?"

Kid: "About 50 bucks."

Guy: "Man, I watch that shit on PBS all the time. I saw one called 'Under the Sea.'" And they go down deep in that one, man. I mean deeper than Jacques Cousteau. Like seven miles down there. And it's all dark and shit. And there are weird things down there, man. I mean that shit look likes it came from another PLANET!"

I smile and I'm tempted to turn around and engage the man in conversation, but decide not to. Another African-American man is in the middle of scamming some folks with the three cup shuffle trick that he's performing on a red fabric covered board. He scams them by taking bets. An Asian guy heckles him and we all laugh. The three cup shuffle guy continues with his scam without missing a beat as the bus rumbles on.

***
I've always been fascinated by deep sea life in the abyssal and hadal zones, but I have met very few people who have even heard of these animals unless they work at the aquarium. Hearing this man talk about it on the 49 bus pulled up a warm feeling of hope, and small wonder. I guess television is good for something.

Better Late Than Never and The Post Below

In the last couple of weeks I've been slowly getting to know Bob Dylan. I don't know how it came about. I was surfing around, saw a blurb about Cate Blanchett's performance in "I'm Not There," and decided to see if there were any excerpts on youtube.com. There were and I started watching them. I was amazed by her performance, but realized quickly that I had no reference point to compare it to so I clicked on a video to Bob's 1965 press conference here in SF.

I was amazed. I had no idea. I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't believe Cate's performance, but even more importantly I was completely mesmerized by Bob. And this was just the 1965-66 time frame I was looking at. That doesn't include anything before or after that.

I have a very superficial knowledge of his life and music. Sure, I know he's a legend. I'm familiar with a couple of his songs, but that's it. I know nothing else.

I still haven't seen all of "I'm Not There" but the film has provided me with a idea to start exploring. I read up on Wikipedia's entry for the film to get an idea of how the film is structured since it's been described as "confusing." I've been watching more youtube.com videos, such as "Bob Dylan (The Voice of a Generation)," the full outtake from "Eat the Document" of Bob and John Lennon in the car, and Bob's interview with Time Magazine. And I've continued to watch Cate's excerpts from "I'm Not There."

I spoke to one of my good friends who suggested I start with the following CDs: Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, and Blood on the Tracks. I'm a bit embarrassed to have come to Bob so late, but there's nothing I can do about that. It's all so ripe for exploring. I'm excited.

***
The post below came out of an argument I had with this guy I just started seeing. As I was driving away from his house on Sunday, snippets of conversation started running in my head. I was feeling emotional and angry at myself, then angry at him. Then I was feeling defiant, then I was picturing myself chain-smoking and wearing shades, and that's how the post started. The snippets of conversation came directly out of the Bob Dylan's press releases in 1965-66, and from Cate Blanchett's segments from the film "I'm Not There." Much of Cate's dialog also comes out of those same press releases. I figure if Cate can be Bob Dylan, I don't see why I can't either.

I'm hoping no one takes offense to the post. It was done with love and the deepest admiration. Besides Bob is supposed to everyone (including me) and no one.

Dating Life: Me As The Fictional Bob Dylan

I'm sitting in the back seat of a limo. I'm in my favorite Bob-Dylan-as-Cate-Blanchett mode all tricked out in dark shades and little suit. The interviewer is sitting across from me. He is my age and wearing a nice all wool gray peppered suit. He happens to be the guy who lasted a week, the last guy I was dating. It's early in the morning. The only thing that would make this post better is if Mr. Gryphon were sitting to my right as John Lennon, but he says playing John makes him sad. Since John/Mr. Gryphon isn't here for this post, I'll have to do this interview sober.

Interviewer: "You realize more than anything that you were inconsiderate."

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan: "Inconsiderate?! I don't realize anything at all. I just care about what's going on right now. I know you don't realize anything. You think you can take these ideas and afix them to me like some kind of Avery Label generated by Microsoft Word, but you can't. You don't know anything. I don't blame you for it. Everybody's got to make a living."

Interviewer (wrinkling his brow, his thumbs blunted as he unconsciously pulls on his tie): "You're not making any sense. Are you saying you don't care?"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (squinting, then blinking rapidly for a moment behind my shades): "I'm confused by some of those words. Words like 'inconsiderate' and 'concerned' and 'care' and 'put me on the spot.' I don't know what those words mean. They have as much meaning to me as 'smoked clams.'"

(At this point in the interview I'm reminded of a quote from Humpty Dumpty in Through the Looking Glass "When I use a word it means just what I chose it to mean - neither more, nor less." I'm chain-smoking incessantly, of course.)

Interviewer (starting to glare, but uncomfortably seated): "I think we all know what 'smoked clams' means.

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (I look down at my hands, my cigarette; I lick my lips): "Do we?"

Interviewer (glowering at me, raising his voice as if I can't really hear him): "I told you I don't like people touching my stuff, especially my knives and pots, and I never needed your help doing the dishes. I told you NO!"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (my eyes pleading like Cate Blanchett, I flick my cigarette): "I just wanted to help a little. You were doing all that great cooking. I wanted to show my appreciation even if I don't know what 'smoked clams' means. I'm not a folk singer, I'm just a storyteller, and I can be a dishwasher sometimes. It's all mathematical."

Interviewer (looks down at his lap, shifts in his seat): "I was just going to say something rude about something that happened between us, something that you just don't seem to understand the meaning of, but I'll spare the readers of this blog."

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (lighting yet another cigarette, my delicate hands gently cupping the lighter): "Thanks for that. It's too bad I'm not pissed in this interview. I was really looking forward to my 15 minutes which would have included me vomiting into the camera. I've done everything else into that camera, man. Plus, I've missed my opportunity to keep yelling questions to Tom the Driver which is more interesting than talking to you."

Interviewer (agitated): "I never needed any space from you. I just needed to pay the bills and you didn't see the obvious. You didn't see the obvious. I never needed to say anything or to tell you the truth when you kept asking me 'do you want me to leave?' You should have just known."

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (I'm in the middle of a massive exhalation of smoke, I look out the window before looking back at him again): "What you just said doesn't mean anything. How am I supposed to know anything about what I should have known when I didn't. I don't have to answer to that. There's a certain class of people who read your magazine and believe in it, but I don't. You're just going to put your readers on. You're trying to put me on and I refuse to let it happen."

Interviewer (with a trace of warmth): "Do you think you'll ever be hung as a thief?"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (everyone in the room (car) is laughing, he and I share a final moment of levity): "You weren't supposed to say that."

Interviewer (pauses first, searching my eyes behind my wayfarers): "Do you care about what you play every night?"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (I'm feeling a surge of anger and indignation and I lean forward): "How can I answer that if you have the nerve to ask me? Did you ask the Beatles that? That's like asking me if I care about what I write. You have a lot of nerve asking me a question like that. I'm not questioning you because I'm not expecting any answers from you. I know more about you than you'll ever know about me. I know everything about you just by looking at you."

Sadly, the interview is over, but that doesn't mean I'm no longer pissed off. I step out of the car and start walking down the street. I don't look back until the Interviewer says something to me from the car.

Interviewer (looking smug): I think you either care about nothing at all, or you care so deeply that you're hiding it. Do you have any idea how self-conscious you are in everything you do?"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (now really angry, almost shouting): Man, who cares what I think or feel? I'm not the President or head chef. Feeling deeply? Is that what this is about? General feelings like pain, remorse, and love? I have none of those feelings."

I walk away, looking awesome in my little suit with drainpipe trousers, slightly stooped posture, curly hair, ubiquitous cigarette, and shades.

Interviewer (shouting): "Judas!"

Me, the Fictional Bob Dylan (speaking deliberately, looking back at him): "I don't believe you. You're a liar."

Harry And My Dad

The One Man Show
This upcoming Tuesday has me thinking about my favorite president, Harry S Truman. Now it's true until Ole W, he had the highest and lowest poll numbers of any president but history has shown us while he was no perfect president and certainly an imperfect man, he's now considered one of our greatest presidents usually hovering between the #9 and #5 spots depending on the survey.

I first learned about Harry while watching "Give 'Em Hell, Harry" which is a film of a one man show with James Whitmore. It was filmed on stage in Seattle in 1975 and I remember it was one of the very few times we didn't eat dinner at the table, but instead ate our dinner in front of the television.

I recall being enthralled and then enamored of Harry because he reminded me so much of my Dad. He's down to earth and straight talking like my Dad, cussed up a blue streak like my Dad used to, wore glasses like my Dad, and seemed to possess an unusual sense of fairness, open-mindedness, and humbled public service like my Dad.

When I took U.S. History in high school, my teacher confessed that Harry was his favorite president as well. When I told him I liked Harry because he reminds me of my Dad he said I was very lucky. I guess that's about 1,000,000 times better than saying Nixon or even W reminds you of your Dad.

Quotes
I'm not going to give you a litany of Harry's history or accomplishments. You can check the Wikipedia article up there at the beginning of this post, but I will give you three quotes each from each man:

Harry -
"All the president is, is a glorified public relations man who spends his time flattering, kissing, and kicking people to get them to do what they are supposed to do anyway"

"It's a recession when your neighbor loses his job; it's a depression when you lose yours."

"I remember when I first came to Washington. For the first six months you wonder how the hell you ever got here. For the next six months you wonder how the hell the rest of them ever got here."

My Dad -
After Barbara Boxer made a speech at my Dad's retirement dinner. It was the first year she was running for Senate. Me: "She's really nice." My Dad: "Of course she's nice. She's a politician."

"Just because I tell you I understand doesn't mean I agree with you. You need to get it into your head what the difference is."

"We hired this openly gay man in the early 1980s to do AIDS education. He did a great job for years until he came to me to tell me he was leaving. I asked him why and he said 'Because all my friends are either dying or dead. I just can't do it anymore.' I don't know what happened to him. For all I know he could be dead himself, but he did a hell of a job. A hell of a job."

You're No Harry Truman
Sarah Palin, and certainly not George W. Bush could ever be compared to Harry Truman even though they've both tried. W is hoping that history will judge him well even with his abysmal poll numbers. Sarah hopes that people will connect her folksy manner with Harry's. Maybe if she uses the word "hell" more in her speeches and actually gets a brain she might make some headway, but it's unlikely.

My Dad might come close and that's because he's no politician.

Here We Are On The Edge Of Our Seats

I've had several conversations with people I know about the historical implications for Tuesday's election. My mother (who can't stand McCain) says she can barely wait until Tuesday to find out who, after almost two years of campaigning, will be the next President.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who are sick and tired of this mess and can't wait for it to be over. I haven't met anybody who falls into that category, but I'm sure those people are out there. Mostly, I talk to people who are anxious about the future if the "wrong" candidate becomes president. One of my friends said she was going to "die" because she couldn't stand the thought of Obama not being elected. I explained to her she can defer "dying" until Tuesday so she doesn't ruin her Halloween weekend.

As you know I saw David Sedaris last weekend and he said he was listening to some conservative radio show while he was on the road where a call-in listener said if Obama's elected he would leave the country. David's reaction to this was "And go WHERE?" My sentiments exactly. Where the fuck are you going to go in the world that would embrace the kind ideology a hardcore conservative holds dear and has enough money for a decent standard of living? I just don't know. If anybody knows the answer to that question I'm all ears.

Here we are, and we're all in the same boat no matter who wins on Tuesday. We are all straddling the dangerous rushing river that is the state of our country and on one side is the hope for our future and the other the fear that the river will cease to rush by us in torrents and instead swallow us whole.

Vote on Tuesday and God Help Us All no matter how it turns out. We're going to need it.

The SNL 2008 Presidential Debates

I just finished watching all of these videos on nbc.com. I read some of the comments which say SNL is making more fun of McCain/Palin than Obama/Biden. This is probably true, but who can blame them? McCain and Palin are so ripe for parody that nobody can resist. They mocked Biden a little during the Vice Presidential debate and I thought that was a good thing.

I have to say the last two parodies of the presidential debates had me laughing my ass off. Sure you can whine that SNL is doing a disservice to whichever candidate you're supporting but for the town hall meeting debate they were clearly mocking Tom Brokaw the most because his obsession with time was so distracting. He kept talking about the damn stoplights on the bottom of the bleachers. He kept saying that the two campaigns had agreed on the rules, not him. He kept whining about how he's just there to "do a job." The guy deserved whatever kicks they gave him.

My other favorite thing about this parody was how the two guys kept moving around in front of the camera. Hilarious!

I also enjoyed the last parody of the presidential debate. That whole Joe the Plumber thing had me laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe. You wanna drag some ordinary citizen into your presidential campaign who hasn't paid his taxes in years I say you get what you deserve there.

I think the bewildered expressions on the "moderator's" face said it all.

What's so great about these parodies is that they're based on what really happened. That's why this is so damn funny.

Kudos to SNL for helping make this unprecedented election all the more interesting. Let's face it, you can bitch all you want about how SNL is unfairly attacking McCain and not attacking Obama or whatever but the most important thing is that we are all paying attention and we all care and we all have an opinion. I love it.

VOTE ON TUESDAY, VOTE ON TUESDAY, VOTE ON TUESDAY!!! If you haven't already.

Diary Entry: David Sedaris, Blond's Strangled Laugh, Happy/Unhappy Endings

I've just gotten back from seeing David Sedaris live at the War Memorial Theatre here in San Francisco. This theatre houses the San Francisco Opera and Ballet. I've been there exactly twice before. The seats in the Balcony Circle are so steep I thought I was going to get a nosebleed and then take a header over red velvet cushions and theatre seats dressed in fake gold metal. I went with a friend of mine who loves theatre and so do I. This is our fifth outing together.

David says he keeps a diary and uses it to get material for his stories. I've read in interviews before that he's been keeping a diary for decades. I figure it can't hurt to write a diary entry down sometimes since things catch my attention all the time. Might as well write them here.

There was a group of five women sitting next to us to my left. While we laughed and laughed at David's stories they just sat there. I looked below us and the people there where cracking up too. People above us and to our right were laughing, loudly. Everywhere there was a sea of laughter except from these five women. I laughed so hard my lower right side was hurting. I laughed at a couple of offensive things David said. My throat hurts from laughing so hard. The blond woman sitting immediately to my left kept leaning forward and back. I could tell she was into it, but her friends just sat there. A couple of times she gave a strangled little laugh that would never qualify as a giggle to anyone's ears. I couldn't help wondering what was going on there. Did they just not "get" it? Were they having a bad time? Was there some creepy kind of peer pressure going on with the five that if one of them, the Alpha Bitch, doesn't find things funny the others can't laugh either? At first I felt sorry for them but then I got annoyed because I realized that these humorless women probably have active dating lives or even serious relationships when I have nothing. Let them sit there, stony-faced, while the rest of us merrily carry on.

***
I've been reading some very helpful online books by writer Holly Lisle about writing. She referred to "Basic Plots in Literature" at the Internet Public Library. I've heard about such ideas before but the two that caught my eye were the definitions for "Happy Ending" that is, the main character makes a sacrifice (a decision that seems logically wrong) for the sake of another. The definition of an "Unhappy Ending" is the main character does what seems logically right and fails to make the needed sacrifice.

This has me thinking. In real life we tend to go with what seems to be logically right so things go smoothly and so we preserve our situation. Needed sacrifices only take place during upheaval or when we're trying to break a habit or forge a new identity. Sometimes you make a needed sacrifice when you choose not to rock the boat such as at work when what you really want to do is punch someone's lights out for behaving like an idiot, but instead you choose to acquiescence and be "professional."

I can see how this works with my current crush. I'm experiencing an Unhappy Ending right now because I doing what logically seems right. For example, I'm not telling him I'm madly in love with him even though I know he likes me, or better yet throwing myself into his arms and shoving my tongue down his throat because he has a girlfriend, because if he really likes me he'll make the move, because, because. Taking that chance of throwing myself into his arms might be the sacrifice that's needed.

Then again it could be just one more incredibly stupid thing I can finally say "No, I'm not going to do it this time! I'm not going make a complete ass out of myself, again!" I say that to myself, but what I'm really afraid of is he will merely reject me even though he likes me. He'll tell me he feels the same, but he can't do anything about now or ever for that matter. I suspect this is the reason I'm holding back.

David told a great story about how he decided not to stay with an adorable man who lived in Italy while he was traveling there years ago before he got together with his longtime partner, Hugh. He said what it all came down to was cowardice. The only reason I'm not telling this guy how I feel is because of cowardice. I don't really care that he has a girlfriend. These things complicate matters in a very real way and I'd rather keep everything on the up and up, but they don't matter for horse shit, truth be told. My instincts tell me to take that chance, but I don't trust my instincts anymore so I do nothing for now.

No on Proposition 8/A Note on Our Incoming President

It's time to get political again. For those of you who don't know what Proposition 8 is here's a blurb courtesy of Wikipedia:

"Proposition 8 is an initiative measure on the 2008 California General Election Ballot titled Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry. If passed, the proposition would 'change the California Constitution to eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry in California.' A new section would be added stating 'only a marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.'"

My personal feelings about same-sex marriage is "Hell, if people want to get married let them do it." I feel that same-sex couples can't do any worse than straight couples at making a marriage last. They may do even better than a straight couple. In case anyone has forgotten, half of all heterosexual marriages end in divorce and the percentage is even higher with subsequent marriages. Since another marriage for me would be number three (3) this means the likelihood of me ever getting married again are close to zero.

I once dated a guy who told me he was against "gay marriage" as he called it. When I asked him why, he told me it was because he was concerned about "where does it stop?" I told him that it certainly wouldn't stop when I finally decide to marry one of the penguins. My relationship with those animals run longer than almost all my other relationships so why not? Yeah, yeah, I know that animals are legally considered property by law, but so where women and slaves at one time.

I had an interesting conversation with my parents about same-sex marriage this past weekend and my Dad managed to hit the nail on the head for me. He told me his understanding is that many Asians see the issue as a civil rights issue so they tend to be for it, and many African American and Latinos see the issue as religious one so they tend to want to vote against it. For me the issue is hands down a civil rights issue. Legally speaking part of this issue's background includes the law that prohibited interracial marriage which was struck down by the California Supreme Court in 1948. My parents, an interracial couple, married a mere eleven (11) years later in 1959. They had difficulty finding a place to rent and when they went to buy a house, no one would sell one to them in a "nice" neighborhood until they found the house they live in now.

This kind of intolerance has all but disappeared today. The thought of someone refusing to rent or sell property to people based on the color of their skin, sexual orientation, etc. is inconceivable (especially considering the mortgage crisis going on - hey, greenbacks still work no matter whose wallet they're coming out of), but it wasn't that long ago.

I completely respect other people's opinions, particularly if they see it as a religious issue, but for me civil rights will trump religious beliefs every time. I think about it this way: how many times has religious beliefs deprived someone of their civil rights? History of religion, any religion, shows that the number of times this has occurred is as numerous as the stars above our heads.

I have voted already, and yes, I voted NO on Proposition 8. And I voted for Obama. And I can't stand Palin or McCain. The thought of Palin stepping in as President should anything happen to McCain is so repulsive to me that when I think about it I just want to retch.

***
A note on the incoming President of our United States: I can't possibly imagine why anyone would want to walk in as President to the pile of dogshit that is our U.S. Economy right now. Couple that with the Iraq War, this century's Vietnam, and I would get myself off the campaign trail so fast that the press wouldn't be able to record the whoosh going by them.

I keep hoping if we are lucky this terrible mess will force our next President to rise to the occasion and blow us all away with what could be his finest hour. Maybe even our country's finest hour. I hope so. I sure do because we need someone get in there and not do the best he can do, but actually be heroic. This is what we need and, damn it, we deserve it.