Frinkenstein

Network News Feature for my Digital Short Class

2009-04-13T10:07:00.001-07:00

Nothing to see here, folks. This is only a test.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Embedded video for Digital Short Class

2009-04-13T09:37:00.000-07:00

This is just a place to store this video. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Shut up, two-eyes!

2007-11-10T20:55:00.000-08:00

Argotnaut had LASIK a couple of months ago. She loves her fancy, unbespectacled eyes, and she's prattled on an on about how much more vibrant and big everything looks. As there's nobody more zealous than a convert, she has been encouraging me to undergo the same procedure.

Now understand. I have worn glasses since I was in the 5th grade. When I couldn't read the blackboard anymore, I asked the kid at the desk in front of me what was on the board. When I couldn't see the kid in front of me anymore, I knew there was no escaping my destiny. I was to be a four-eyes. A Mr. Peepers. A buck-toothed, glasses-taped-together nerd. As of last month, my eyeglass prescription was -9.5 in the right eye and -10 in the left. This is on a par with somebody with normal vision looking through window that's been smeared with a bucketful of Vaseline. But surprisingly, even my pathetic and pitiable eyeballs were not outside the transforming power of the latest LASIK technology.

So I took the plunge, and last Tuesday I let some complete strangers hack into my corneas, flip part of them back like the top of an PEZ dispenser, burn off a few microns of corneal tissue with a laser until my corneas were more or less normally shaped, and then flip the caps back.

There are a few crazy YouTube videos of this procedure that you can look up at your leisure. But I have to admit that I'm pretty impressed with the results so far. Currently, my vision is about 20/25, which I haven't had with my unaided eyes in about 35 years. So no more fogging up of lenses coming in from the cold, no more groping for the bedside clock, no more flying off of glasses when I pull a t-shirt on over my head.

The only drawback is that I can't see things up close anymore without some reading glasses. So I've gone backward in time to my old, youthful eyes, but at the expense of having to do like the old folks do and don reading glasses to look through the morning paper. It's a fair trade, especially now that I can wear sunglasses, and I can work out at the gym without the sweat making my glasses slide down my nose. When I'm fully healed, I'll be able to swim and actually see where the hell I am in the pool. If my vision stays as sharp as it is now, cycling will be a whole new experience...my contacts enabled me to see fairly well, but nothing really like this. I'm sure the Columbia River Gorge will take on an entirely new level of grandeur.

I'm also certain that watching football in high definition will now be ultra-impressive. If only the Bears were, too. One miracle at a time, I guess.

A Little Halloween Humor...

2007-10-31T17:51:00.000-07:00

...very little.

German Voodoo Doughnuts

2007-10-19T17:23:00.000-07:00

Not much exciting to post about, so I haven't posted lately. But here's a video I made for my German language class. The assignment was to create something for this year's batch of German exchange students that would show them a part of Portland that they wouldn't find in travel books. I chose to do a little film on Voodoo Doughnuts, in operation since 2004. Even if you don't know German, you'll still get the gist, especially when it comes to my opinion about a certain U.S. President. Enjoy!

The times, they are a-changin'

2007-09-20T20:43:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the eon that has passed since my last post. Not sorry about the eon, I should say...it was a great eon. I'm just apologizing for the lack of posts during the eon.

Also, I don't have a lot of time to wax on about all the stuff that's happened in the past...er...six weeks. I will soon, but because I've gotten a few requests for the photos below, here they are.

First, a bit of background.

When I was in my early teens, my Dad would always make me get a crew cut. This was at a time when all the kids wanted to look like Peter Frampton or Robert Plant, or (shudder) David Cassidy. My Dad was very sneaky about getting us to the barber shop. For instance, because he was a private pilot and licensed instructor, he would often give us kids flying lessons, and say "Hey, Andy! How about we go put some flight time in the airplane!" "Great, Dad!" I would squeal. So we'd climb into the car, but on the way out to the airport, he'd say:

"But first, a haircut!"

This phrase became infamous in my family, and came to mean anything horrible that has to be endured before you can get to the good part.

Last week, I returned to my hometown for a family reunion, and I decided that, for old times sake, me and my Dad would go get matching haircuts. Thus, I would transform the hideous and painful remembrance of those times into sweet nostalgia. Here are the before-and-after results:

My brother, who went through the same torment, looked upon my new 'do and shook his head as if I'd just gotten a swastika tattooed on my brow. "Come on, Steve!" I said. "Become one of us!"

I think he's still running.

How does your garden grow?

2007-07-09T21:17:00.000-07:00

Pretty darn well, thank you.

Not much going on of note right now. I'm taking Liguistics 390 over the summer and so far I'm enjoying it very much. But exciting reading it ain't.

Actually, neither is an update on how the back garden is doing, but at least I can offer some nice before and after pictures:

The corn is waist high by the 4th of July, and the tomatoes are going gangbusters. The peppers are bringing up the rear right now, but since tomorrow will begin a series of days near 100 degrees (which, I understand, pepper plants thrive on), we'll see how it goes. As for how me and Argotnaut and the boys bear up under triple-digit high temps with no AC, well, I think it'll be time to organize the basement.

Geekfest!

2007-06-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, first I was going to title this post "Nerdfest," because it's nerds who are scientifically-oriented, social misfits and geeks who are circus performers who bite the heads off of live chickens. But after consulting Dictionary.com, I find that, while "geek " does have its basis in circus lore and describes a "peculiar person," nerd can be a "foolish person," but nowhere does it say that a geek is stupid. And so I hope that makes me a geek and not a nerd.

Got that? OK. And YES, I know that language is constantly changing and YES I know that dictionaries can't possibly keep pace with the changing American vernacular. Argotnaut.

Anyway.

A couple days ago I saw an article on Yahoo.com regarding an upcoming celestial event. The International Space Station and the Space Shuttle were going to be visible together in the night sky. The Shuttle had just undocked from the ISS so they were going to be traveling as a close pair across the heavens. (Close meaning about 10 degrees, which for the astronomically challenged reader means roughly the width of a fist held at arm's length). Those who know me are aware that I've been an astronomy geek since about, oh, birth, as the previous sentence suggests. So I couldn't pass up a chance to run out into the back yard and look up like a little kid.

The article was kind enough to contain links to sites designed to help observers find out when the pair would appear in their local skies. This site is the one I used and it's very cool.

So at the appointed hour (10:34 pm), my lovely and equally geeky wife and I went out and watched as the two star-like points of light chased each other, gliding purposefully through the celestial vault, over the tea house and behind the swaying bamboo trees silhouetted against the gently glowing summer night sky. Their journey took just three minutes, and then they winked out above the southern horizon and were gone, off to visit the skies over Mexico, then Latin America, and then the bottom of the world.

Sometimes it's great to be a geek.

Lovely Creatures

2007-06-19T22:09:00.000-07:00

I saw this flower on a walk the other day and had never seen anything like it:

Guess I'll have to dig around for our "Flowers of the Northwest" book and see if I can find out what kind of flower it is. Sure is something, though...doesn't even look real.

Also too cute to be real was this guy I saw recently at the vet:

He was tiny and had food on his nose. He was available to a good home, but that was all I needed after finding out my cat Cookie is going to have to undergo Iodine 131 therapy. Cookie's prognosis is good: his kidneys are in great shape and he's in otherwise excellent health. But it's still going to be a costly and inconvenient procedure. So no, we're not really in the market for ANOTHER pet right now, thank you. But he sure was a cute little dude, and if Argotnaut had been with me, we may have had another member of the household. But as lovely as he was, Kitty I'm sure found a good home.

"Three hunnert" old and new

2007-06-10T21:28:00.000-07:00

The mighty Laurelhurst Theater has been having a '60s film fest of sorts during the last few weeks, which has given me the rare opportunity to see some of the favorite films of my yoot on the big screen. Those of you who grew up in the Chicago area during the 60s and early 70s may remember as fondly as I the venerable "Family Classics" with Frazier Thomas that aired on Sunday afternoons on WGN -- or, and one must adapt an "old man voice" here: "in my day it was just channel 9." Apparently, Frazier picked out the films himself that he thought would be good viewing for the kiddies, and ran them in heavy rotation. So I had the chance to get to know some great films that were made before I was born, like "War of the Worlds" and "The Time Machine." Fortuitously, the films the Laurelhurst is playing intersects nicely with the Family Classics films, so I couldn't pass up the chance last Saturday to see "Mysterious Island," the film that first made me recognize the importance of a kick ass film score, and yesterday the unassailable awesomeness that is "Jason and the Argonauts," both on the big screen. Actors? Directors? Pffft! Who cares when you have the legendary Ray Harryhausen doing the special effects, and the even MORE legendary Bernard Herrmann doing the music? Blissful, I tells ya!

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned how much I liked the movie "300," despite its pedestrian script and flagrant historical inaccuracies. I based this opinion largely on its jaw-dropping visual style. But watching "Jason and the Argonauts," which was made in 1963, made me wonder how well "300" would hold up in 40 years. I mean, answer this question:

Who's the bigger bad ass?

I gotta say, I think it's the guys what ain't got no skin. But it does make one wonder if the ubiquitous, push-button nature of CGI has robbed film of some of its magic. Or maybe I'm just getting older and the final product means more if I know that some old dude in his garage took 4 months to produce a fight with skeletons that only lasted two minutes on screen. I guess it's just the heart involved. You can feel the passion in "Jason and the Argonauts." Passionate CGI, well, perhaps that's just a little bit harder to render.

Gardening!

2007-06-02T18:08:00.001-07:00

OK, first, the title of this post comes from an article I read once by one of Prince's sound engineers. The article still makes me laugh/cringe.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago we cleaned out/up the garden and put in some new plants -- my first attempt at...GARDENING! The weather has been mostly sunny and warm since, and after watering on alternate mornings, things are starting to look pretty good already!

My planting choices were entirely practical -- stuff we would eat, not just look at. So we have green beans and corn!

Strawberries! (a few of which I suspect have already been eaten by "Masky," an interloping raccoon we've seen from time to time).

Tomatoes and peppers! Planted in hopes of, later in the summer, making some homemade salsa, plus perhaps some pasta sauce seasoned with thyme, marjoram, oregano and basil that we are also growing in the garden.

I'm sure a lot can go wrong between now and harvest time -- I fear if the corn comes up well I'll have to have Buddy and Pepe sleep in the garden at night to discourage Masky's nighttime visits. But so far so good!

Triple feature (sorta)!

2007-05-31T18:53:00.000-07:00

Now that Argotnaut and I are back in the southeast part of Portland, we are much closer to several of the second-run theaters that are near and dear to my heart. My love of the Laurelhurst Theater is well known. But we are also within walking distance of the Bagdad Theater. This gives me a chance to go catch a flick at a moment's notice whenever A has a bunch of homework that will keep her confined to her office and I'm a bit at loose ends. Such was the case last night, when I decided to go see "300" and "Grindhouse," two movies -- actually three if you count "Grindhouse" as two, because it's comprised of both "Planet Terror" and "Deathproof" -- that I'd been waiting to show up at the second-run theaters.

So here are my one sentence reviews of each flick:

300 review: I gotta start to do some crunches.

Planet Terror review: Rose McGowan; god -- DAMN! But I bet the machine gun was easier to walk on then those shoes.

Deathproof review: Kurt Russell is awesome.

Okay, seriously (sorta) I kinda liked 300 the best. The story was juvenile and the history fast-and-loose at best. But for a visual experience, it was breathtaking. Hell, the closing credits sequence alone had more visual ingenuity than most movies made today. Movies are hands down THE media for delivery of images, and "300" is the kind of thing only movies can do, and one of the reasons I think big screens will always be with us regardless of how big our plasma TVs get.

"Grindhouse" was good, too, and I recommend it for those who like their humor grimy. Some of the conventions were a bit too precious for me -- the fake negative scratches, the low-fi soundtrack, the bad framing -- given the CGI machine gun attached to Rose McGowan's leg and the obviously high budget necessary to pull off the awesome car chase at the end of "Death Proof." Also a bit precious is the fact that Rodriguez and Tarentino both are such clever filmmakers that they couldn't help but do accomplished work even while trying to pretend not to. But at the same time, I like that the directors obviously wanted to do something fun and different, and the "coming attractions," like "Werewolf Women of the SS" alone were worth the price of admission.

Now I'm afraid I must venture to the multi-plex and see "Spider-man 3," since it's one of the few films I think will be necessary to see with the full "Doubly" treatment. But probably I'll go see "The Lives of Others" first. Damn, I'm elitist.

Wild Kingdom

2007-05-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

It was an all animal all the time day today. My cat Cookie has been diagnosed with a thyroid condition and we've started him on some pills. He's improving, but slowly. He been spending his time in the basement in a box of books, but felt good enough to venture out a little bit today. I've been taking him food, water and treats so he doesn't have to deal with the doggies.

Perhaps one reason Cookie was feeling better is because Buddy and Pepe were off getting a pre-summer trim at the dog groomers. Or as they call it, "It's a madhouse! A maaaaadhooooouuuuse!"

Here's some "before an after" shots. The first two are Buddy and the second two are Pepe.

I know they'll thank me in their own way when they're comfortable on our long noontime walks in the 90 degree heat. Buddy particularly, because he's been known to just spontaneously lie down frog-style with his belly in the cool grass when he gets too hot. That yak-like coat of his must be really warm.

And just for fun, I decided to make a little video of Lisa feeding the goldfish in our goldfish pond. When watching, keep in mind Quint's immortal lines from "Jaws": "A shark's got lifeless eyes, like a doll's eyes. When it comes at you, it doesn't even seem to be livin'." I don't think these guys are far removed from ol' Bruce the Great White.

Party like it's 1989!

2007-05-27T22:37:00.000-07:00

Hey! Look at that! Finally a post!

I've actually been pretty busy, but with a lot of stuff that is of absolutely no interest to anyone but me. And often even *I* don't give a shit about what I'm up to.

Anyway, last night Argotnaut and I went to see Bad Brains. That's right! And it was even an all ages show -- what is this, 1989? I won't go into a lot of detail about why I was motivated to see a live rock n' roll show by a major act for the first time since Bush the First was president because, again, who cares? but Bad Brains was one of my favorite bands in the ancient and bygone days when I actually listened to new music. And the BB's guitarist, Dr. Know, was a big influence on my guitar sound. Since it was one of the bands that Argotnaut also enjoyed, we got us some tickets and went to do what the young folks do -- actually be out and about after 11 pm rather than a) in my case collapsing in bed with a pile of dogs and cats, or b) in A's case doing homework and puttering around on-line until her natural sleeping time (say around 1 am) rolls around.

Here's a nice, blurry, cellphone photo for ya:

It was good to see the guys back in action, and comforting to know that a bunch of 50-year-old guys can still bring it when the spirit (in this case, Jah) moves them.

I've also been spending a lot of time editing together videos of Argotnaut's performances in Heidelberg with her theater group in 2005. It was a good exercise in using Final Cut HD and figuring out which video export options provide the best combination of small file size and acceptable quality. Again, you probably won't be excited by this unless you speak German, but all the videos are now posted on my YouTube page in case you're curious. A appears in "Polizeiwache," "Das Mauseproblem," and "Alte Freunde."

Other than that, I've been cycling and enjoying some long walks with the boys before I start classes in a couple of weeks. Now it's time to take Buddy and Pepe in for a clip and a bath before the year's first hot spell hits tomorrow. I'll be sure to post some before/after pictures...at some point.

Videos, Music, It's An Extravaganza!

2007-04-24T12:54:00.000-07:00

As promised, for your appreciation or ridicule, here are the two main projects I did for my Digital Video Editing class at the Northwest Film Center School of Film.

The first one, "Slacker Manifesto," is the final project. The point of the project was to create a portrait of a person, place, or thing. As often happens, I had an idea that just would not go away, and despite its somewhat tangential relationship to the project's stated goal, I went ahead and did it anyway. This despite the fact that the portrait is of an imaginary person -- well, sort of an alter ego, really. Plus, the last few videos I made were pretty arty and heavy, and I wanted to do something fun and frivolous. I will preface the video by saying that the views expressed in the film are not necessarily those of the filmmaker, even though the filmmaker wrote, edited, and "stars" in it.

For the second video, each student was given a tape with 60 minutes of stock footage and told to edit down to a 1-2 minute piece to accompany a haiku that each student wrote based on the film. We had no say in what footage we got -- we simply had to make something of what we were given. It was an interesting project. The footage comes from the Prelinger Archives, a foundation whose goal is to preserve old films that otherwise would be lost. These aren't movies, usually, but instead are old industrial/trade/educational films, student films, home movies, old short films and other footage. I highly recommend visiting the site and cruising around. The search function is very good and you'll turn up some interesting stuff that you won't find anywhere else. (A high-speed connection is highly desirable, however.) Anyway, here's my haiku.

In other news, "The Unlikely Event," the electronica band of which Argotnaut and I are a part, have finally posted some songs. You'll find them here.

Enjoy!

Chicago visit highlights

2007-04-12T14:45:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I get an urge to make a pilgrimage to Chicago to visit old friends. Such an urge was triggered a few weeks ago when some old buddies informed me of a couple of very cool bands playing during the weekend of April 6-8. As it happens, the Cubs' home opener was scheduled for April 9. Thus, a road trip -- or more precisely a "crammed in economy class for four hours" air trip -- was born. A quick search of Travelocity.com turned up a good deal at Hard Rock Hotel Chicago . Here were the highlights:

Friday night: I arrived in Chicago to one of the coldest April days on record. Figures. Fortunately for the pigeons, they could keep warm around the "Eternal Flame" in Daley Plaza. One can almost hear them say "Coo! Coo! Thanks for the flame, Chicago war veterans!"

I dumped my stuff at the hotel, scored my Cubbie ticket via the concierge (aided by another Travelocity perk: a $25 ticket voucher),and then it was off to see "Led Zeppelin 2",at Martyrs'. The band was quite good (although they had decided only to do material from the first four LZ records, so no "Achilles Last Stand") and I had a chance to catch up with many folks I hadn't seen in a long time.

Saturday I test rode a new/old bike, a P-38 recumbent. I owned a P-38 in the summer of 2002 and loved it, but had to sell it in the wake of the calamity, because we needed the dough. The Bacchetta Giro I have now is a nice bike but the seat is very high and I'm uncomfortable balancing precariously on one tippy-toe whenever I have to stop. I had been thinking about going back to a P-38 but wanted to test ride one first just to make sure I would be comfortable on it -- the seat back on a P-38 is relatively vertical which makes for a somewhat "closed" riding position, as opposed to the more laid-back Giro. There are no P-38 dealers in Oregon but Rapid Transit bike shop in Chicago had not one but two for test rides! After a few seconds on the P-38, I felt as if I'd been reunited with an old friend. An added bonus is that I got the floor model and saved a few bucks. It's a lovely fire-engine red and I'll be sure to post pictures in a few days when it arrives.

Sunday I went visit Millennium Park in Chicago. Very impressive, and I imagine even more so in the summer when the gardens are in bloom. As it was, the brisk, mostly sunny spring day helped provide some nice shots even with my crappy phone camera. Here's a long shot showing the "cloud gate" sculpture at the left, and the stage for the outdoor arena in the background:

The "cloud gate" sculpture -- known affectionately in Chicago as "The Bean" is a giant kidney-shaped, chrome-skinned orb. As you might expect, the reflections are very cool:

If you walk under the crease of the sculpture, the reflections become more abstract:

On the other side of the stage is an enormous, winding, chrome-and-wood bridge. Here you can better see the ornamentation over the stage, which kind of reminds me of an enormous watch spring that has become permanently unsprung, or perhaps a pair of wrecked "Chinese handcuffs" of the gods.

Sunday, Yakuza at Beat Kitchen. Also very cool.

Monday, the Cubbie home opener. The weather relented a little bit and graced the crowd with a high of 43 degrees -- for about three seconds. As is my usual approach when I go to a game alone, I got my scorecard, two hot dogs and a pretzel. Awesome. Plus, pretty good seats:

The Cubbies lost, but it was still cool to be at the park. Afterwards, a dinner at one of my favorite Chicago pubs, the Duke of Perth:

Tuesday, back home. And none to soon. Tuesday's Cub game was even colder, and Wednesday's was snowed out!

The trip was a great time but it's good to be back home with my lovely spouse and stinky little boys. And actual springtime weather!

Multi-media fest

2007-04-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

The clamoring throngs have insisted that I write a new post (actually, one person asked because, I think, he was afraid I'd passed on or something). So here it is. The crank in me lately has considered abandoning the blog thing because it's just so overdone. But then my family would never know what the heck was going on with me. The one thing I do less often than post on my blog is call members of my family. And they are all kind of the same way, which is weird because we're such social blabbermouths. So I shall make an effort to update more frequently.

There has been one notable development: I believe I have decided on a course of action for the immediate future. As regular readers know, I've been unable to come to a decision about how to best apply myself. Many factors are involved: making a living, doing something meaningful, utilizing my talents, acquiring skills that would be transferable to Europe if Argotnaut and I end up there in a couple of years, etc.

A few weeks ago it occurred to me that perhaps teaching English as a second language (TESL) might be an excellent choice. It meets all the above criteria and addresses an interest that my vocational survey turned up: a bias towards teaching. My vocational guidance counselor even suggested teaching, and she'd known me for all of two hours. Must be SOMETHING there.

Portland State University offers both a certificate in TESL and a Masters Degree. Of course, the degree would make me far more attractive to potential employers. The downside, obviously, is two years of full time Graduate school, or as John Irving calls it, "Gradual School," because it's where you gradually learn you don't want to go to school anymore.

There are several aspects to be investigated -- such as do I REALLY want to go back to school full time for two years?, considering that I haven't done that since Reagan was President. But hey, that's just more blog fodder! I'll be sure to keep my restless readers informed.

In the meantime, here's a little movie I did of our pets:

And also, here's what Argotnaut did on her Spring Break! Maybe this full time student thing isn't so tough after all! (That's a joke, my dove!)

Please note how often we change the sheets!

Super Blah Sunday

2007-02-06T20:21:00.000-08:00

Wow! No posts in nearly a month.

Worry not. I'm still alive and have managed to survive the crash and burn of my once-mighty Chicago Bears in the Super Bowl. In fact, I celebrated the occasion -- I mean, the occasion of their APPEARANCE in the big game, not their shocking and disgraceful performance IN it -- by allowing the crazy woman who cuts my hair the opportunity to exercise her creativity:

And while the Bears' almost comic ineptitude was reminiscent of the "Upper Class Twit of the Year Competition" on Monty Python's Flying Circus, I still wear my Chicago "C" logo proudly, because the Bears are competitive with the best teams in football (rarely the case in the past) and I have faith that the team's management will actually correctly identify the Bears' problem areas and fix them, as opposed to prior management's usual approach, which often has been to open the door of the clown car and pluck out the most unpromising of the clowns that tumble out.

Okay, enough sports. While my hair stylist is flexing her creativity with dye and hair clippers, I'm using my cleverity (all six atoms) and creativity (maybe up to double-digit atoms) on my video editing course. I finished the first of the three course projects last week -- a re-editing of an action sequence in the old TV series "Gunsmoke." And I do mean OLD. The clips we're using are from the early black-and-white days, and feature Dennis Weaver as "Chester." That's before MY time even, so you KNOW they're old.

All twelve or so people in the class have the same assignment: use about 15 minutes of rough takes to create a tightly paced sequence with good flow and good continuity. It's been interesting to see how everyone's approach to the same source material has been a little bit different. There are a lot of parallels between music composition and film editing. You must work to find the right rhythm, pacing, emotion, and determine the most important elements and then figure out how to emphasize them while maintaining a pleasing balance. And also like any artistic pursuit, film editing is incredibly time consuming. The "Gunsmoke" sequence is an amalgam of probably 10 takes of varying quality. My final sequence is just shy of three minutes, and it took probably five hours of niggling around to get it there. I cannon IMAGINE how much time must be involved in editing something like the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Months and months of work by dozens of people, I'm sure.

I'm unlikely to post the results of the "Gunsmoke" exercise because I can't imagine anyone being interested in it. But the next project, if it turns out well, might be worth a You Tube distribution. We'll see!

Video saved the radio star?

2007-01-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

For a little while now, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. And by "a little while," I mean about 30 years. Last September I went to see a vocational guidance counselor to help, which it did, in a very general way. However, while I wasn't expecting "you should be a professor of astronomy in a mid-sized university just on the northern outskirts of Cairo" kind of specificity, I do need more than "well, something arty and also a bit science-y."

I asked a few friends in Portland about it, and those who've seen my short films said that I should do that. Which, again, is helpful in a general way but there are other factors involved besides doing something creative. I would like said occupation to have the potential to provide me with a living wage. (Filmmaking is almost on a par with commodity trader or music producer as far as likelihood of losing vast sums of money in a hurry.) It also has to be a transferable skill -- Argotnaut and I will likely be leaving Portland in 18 months or so when she goes to graduate school for her linguistics degree, and I'd like to be able to get a job wherever it is we end up.

But a few days ago, I started thinking more seriously about an occupation Argotnaut and I have bandied about before: video production, and in a perfect world, music video production. This would enable me to use my skills as a filmmaker and audio engineer, is creative and science-y, offers the potential to actually earn a modest living and also is highly transferable, even overseas if necessary.

The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. So I have decided to pursue that. Starting this Monday, I am taking a video editing course at Northwest Film Center (the same place I took the Filmmaking class) and this Spring I plan to start work on a Video Production Certificate through Portland Community College. Therefore, in the next few weeks, expect to be tortured by more of my short films, this time shot on video.

For now, enjoy this very cost-effective and creative "OK Go" video if you haven't seen it already:

Or, if you prefer, here are a couple of nice pictures of Pepe with his tongue sticking out:

It's a man's world, unfortunately

2006-12-30T16:25:00.000-08:00

Let me get this straight. Tara Conner, Miss USA, gets caught drinking while under age, an activity that is not only illegal, but could be deadly, especially if she gets behind the wheel of a car. But everybody deserves a second chance, right? Nobody's perfect and all is forgiven.

But.

Katie Rees, former Miss Nevada, shows her boobs, an activity that harms no one, and gets the boot -- from an organization whose sole purpose is capitalizing on the sex appeal of attractive women.

Wow. To quote Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, "Didn't you notice the powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity in this room?"

It truly is a man's world, as the late, great James Brown said. The women can't take over soon enough as far as I'm concerned.

Coop de ville!

2006-12-20T19:08:00.000-08:00

At long last, the coop she is finished.

Our handy dude did a really nice job with it, too. The coop at the former house was built on an existing dog run. Essentially all that needed to be done was to put a roof of chicken wire on top of it. Not a small job, but not terribly a complicated one, either.

Not so the current coop. Since no previous containment structure existed, this one had to be built. It is still using the side of the house as one wall (allowing the kitties access to it from a basement window) and the opposite wall is formed by the existing wooden fence. But the ends (including a handy gate) and the roof had to be constructed.

Our handy dude also outfitted the entryway with a kitty-cat cupola that allows them a high vantage point from which they can view all the tasty woodland creatures that visit our backyard, and a nice series of raised platform that allow them to hop up to the "viewing deck."

Here's a shot of Buster looking down on the almost completed coop from our bedroom window. "When the hell can I go out there?" he is obviously kvetching. Note the cupola in the background.

Here's a shot of the interior and two of the three raised platforms.

And finally, here's the triumphant Buster enjoying his stately perch.

Quite deluxe! "But Frinky!," you cry. "How do the cats get into the coop in the first place!?"

The answer, another series of platforms mounted on the basement wall. The basement window has now been outfitted with a pet door:

Yes, it's very nearly perfect for the kitties, except for the one squirrel who has learned to stand over the coop and hurl insults at the poor caged predators below. All I can say is, he'd better not get too close!

Mary Cheney toon

2006-12-13T22:06:00.000-08:00

I just thought this was funny...

Cooped up

2006-12-13T16:13:00.000-08:00

The new cat coop is nearly complete...outside is done. Now we just have to add the series of platforms that will allow the kitties to access it through the basement window. I will post photos when the whole thing is done, but for now I can just say, "not a moment too soon." First, Buster is very much contemplating hurling himself through the window at passing wildlife:

And now he's getting a martyr complex!

Better get that thing done quick before he gets stigmata!

Furry pants

2006-12-05T20:50:00.000-08:00

Argotnaut and I continue to settle into the new residence and make it our own. Or to be more accurate, make it our pets' own. We have had ramps installed from the back deck down to the back yard, and along the two sets of steps that lead down to the front sidewalk. Buddy and Pepe have been pretty good about using the ramps and they too are settling into a nice rut. They were treated to an unusual sight in Portland last week, however: a dusting of snow:

That on top of the wettest November in the history of Portland, 12 inches of rain in 30 days. Fortunately, this is about all the snow Portland usually gets.

Meanwhile, the cats are making do until the new cat coop is built:

Where's our cat coop, dammit?!

The handy dude who built our doggy ramps is now in the process of constructing a new coop, which the boys will, I'm sure, disdainfully enjoy.

I guess you can see who wears the pants in this family.

Until the coop is completed, the kitties have to be content with the window box. Buster has accepted this for the time being. Grudgingly.

The humans, meanwhile, are also settling in. Or at least I am. Argotnaut has been so busy with finals that she has yet to make friends with our new abode. But after a trip to the Midwest next week, she should have the last couple of weeks of December and the first week of January to sit in front of the fireplace and also soak in the hot tub. Speaking of the latter, I've been trying to get up to speed with all the chemicals and such that one needs to enjoy a spa. What with all the Ph balancing, alkalinity, calcium levels and bromine concentrations, I feel like I'm back in high school chemistry class. I can hear the guy down at the spa supply place now: "Well, you got the basics down, but to really do it up right, you'll need some ear of foxglove (which you gotta dissolve in rose water), six types of powdered tree frog and some eye of newt, and then you'll be set."

Mmmmm...human cauldron.

Tofurky day in the new digs

2006-11-25T14:56:00.000-08:00

I am still getting used to doing things with my Apple iBook G4, but I did manage to e-mail a couple of photos from my phone to my e-mail, and find/download an Apple-oriented ftp program with which to upload them to the frinky server. So here's a look at the back garden during an EXTREMELY rare dry moment, with the sun streaming through the bamboo by the tea house:

And does Tofurky have tryptophan in it? Possibly, but these guys are sacked because they got a T-day feast of chicken cold cuts and are now enjoying our gas fireplace (note Pepe in far upper right-hand corner):

We are slowly settling in and the house is great. Even with the record-setting amount of rain we've had this month, the house's relatively high vantage point and lots of southern exposure have meant we're getting much more light that the old house. And for those seasonally-affected disorderly types in the household, that's a very big deal.

NaNoWriMo DOA, et. al.

2006-11-24T16:12:00.000-08:00

The move into the new house, she is accomplished.

Overall it went fairly smoothly, but still took so much of my time to organize that "Tipping Point" will have to wait for a while. Unless I write 40,000 words in the next week. Which ain't gonna happen.

No photos, I'm afraid, because my mighty laptop , Gigantor, is on the fritz. This just as I had decided that, rather than get a new TV to replace the ailing one we just donated, I would get a little gadget that allows one to watch TV on one's computer. Since Gigantor has a 17" screen, I thought, "that'll work for my purposes." Of course, as soon as I installed the gadget, the video card on Gigantor died. Do'h! I installed the same gadget on Lisa's little Fujitsu notebook, and it works fine. So at least I had access to football on Thanksgiving -- not that the games were worthy of much time.

So now I have to figure out what to do about Gigantor: fix it (for a hefty fee but much less than a new, comparable notebook) or sell it as is and buy something new. I have techy data to gather to make that decision and won't bore readers with the details. The upshot is that it's a huge pain in the ass to get photos from my phone to my little Apple iBook G4. So my posts will be prose-only for a little while. But at least I'm still able to surf and get e-mail and such.

Better news is that it looks like the old house has already sold! We accepted an offer last Wednesday and as long as the buyers' financing doesn't fall through, they will close on December 7. Hooray! Appreciation since we bought the house will allow us to pay off Lisa's student loans, do a few upgrades to the new house, and pump the rest back into our investments. Now I see why so many rich folks are real estate developers. The house gained about 40% in value during the 2.5 years we owned it. It's all timing and luck, though. Timing in that we bought before a big rise housing prices. Luck in that Portland's market remains strong as other cities have seen a marked decline recently. But if you have enough good timing and good luck, a person can grow assets real quick. Or lose 'em in a big hurry. But such is also true if you bet on the Miami Dolphins to go to the Super Bowl this year.

Well. Enough boring crap. More pithy posts to come, I promise!

"Tipping Point" excerpt

2006-11-09T22:38:00.000-08:00

For anyone interested (Hi Mom!), I've posted an excerpt from my "National Novel Writing Month" effort. The novel is entitled "Tipping Point."

Click here to go to the NaNoWriMo Authors page where the excerpt appears.

The excerpt is only about 1,000 words, but if I chose a good passage from what I've written so far, after you've read it you'll want to read the rest of the novel. Too bad it won't be finished for another three weeks! (If then!)

Can I buy a vowel?

2006-11-09T13:58:00.000-08:00

On her site, Argotnaut has a little question as to how one might pronounce "abo." Screw that. I want to know how to pronounce THIS guy's last name:

"USOC vice president Bob Ctvrtlik, who is overseeing the bid process, said the USOC would leave it up to San Francisco to decide what second options it might have."

That's almost as bad as this guy:

Mr. Myxlplyx

Riding the Storm Out

2006-11-08T16:18:00.000-08:00

I bet you thought the title of this post had to do with the 60 mph winds and six inches of rain we had here the first week of November. Not so! I am, of course, referring to the election results, and more specifically to the resignation of the accursed Rumsfeld. No need to bash the old boy in this space more than I already have. I'm confident that history will do the job more thoroughly than I ever could. So: So long, you arrogant, American seviceman-killing, civilian-bombing, surplus-spending, goodwill-squandering, prevaricating babble-monkey! OK. One last ode to Rummy, famous for answering his own questions: "Did I do an exemplary job as Secretary of Defense? No. Do I wish I'd done things differently, like provide enough troops in Iraq to do the job I was entrusted with and provide the poor bastards with enough armor to protect themselves? Yes. Will I let the door hit me in the ass on the way out? No."

In other bright news, we will close on our new house this Friday, and Argotnaut and I hope to spend Thanksgiving eating Tofurky in the hot tub, just like our puritanical ancestors would have done. Well, actually, I guess they would have denounced and perhaps hanged us for such blasphemous sloth. But we'll drink a toast to them just the same.

Which is the real turkey? You decide.

And also, my new novel, "Tipping Point," continues apace. I got a late start, which means instead of having to pound out 1800 words a day, I have to manage 2000. But actually I'm on a 2200 word-per-day pace right now. I think it'll be a good story, but it will also be pretty grim. However, given the good news today, maybe I'll give my beleaguered heroes a happy ending. I'll be sure to post an excerpt when I get a chance.

NaNoWriMo Weather

2006-11-02T10:56:00.000-08:00

It's November in Portland, and that means two things: the return of the Monsoon, and National Novel Writing Month.

The Monsoon has arrived right on schedule. Following a spectacular Autumn, Mother nature appears to have been watching the calendar and has delivered the rains right at the turn of the month:

And we in Portland can expect the Doppler radar to look like this for the next 4-5 months:

So. It looks like it's time to hunker down inside with a cup of tea and a novel -- a novel to write, that is. Unlike last year's effort, I don't have any idea what I'm going to write this year. But as it's already 2 November, I have to start today whether I have an idea or not. I've been giving it some thought the last few days, but all my ideas are more fit for short stories than a 50,000 word novel. However, NaNoWriMo waits for no author! If I don't have a rudimentary plot and some hastily sketched characters by about 4pm today, I'm just going to sit in front of the blank computer screen and start typing and see what streams (or plops or squeezes) out. Perhaps I'll do an embellished, roman a' clef about The Calamity. Hey, it worked for this guy.

Halloweenies

2006-10-31T19:30:00.000-08:00

For the second year in a row, Lisa and I had a Halloween party to go to, which made me very happy. For several years prior to last year, we had no H-Parties to attend, and that always makes me feel like a loser. Halloween is by far the most fun holiday and I hate to miss out by sitting at home, watching reruns of "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and waiting for trick-or-treaters who never show up.

This year we went to a soiree chucked by one of A's linguistic professors. He and his partner put out quite a spread and it was a very fun and interesting crew to hang out with. I guess I just like nerdy, academic types.

Argotnaut decided to go as "a dude." The result was half biker, half "Derek Smalls."

I had several ideas, including shaving my head again, wearing my Bears jersey, putting some electrical tape beneath my eyes and VOILA! Brian Urlacher:

But in the end I went for the tried-and-true invisible man theme, which was easy because I still had a bunch of gauze left over from my hip operation:

...although the young son of one of the partygoers assumed I was a victim of bad plastic surgery. I could go with that, too. But as I was making myself up, A noted that the bandages brought back vague and unwelcome memories of The Calamity. Truth be told, I hadn't even thought of that, which I take as a good sign.

Next year, I think Argotnaut and Pepe should go as the Madonna and Child:

In other news, Buddy had a follow-up with our vet today, who bent and twisted him and did all sorts of other wince-inducing tests on the poor boy, and he's doing much better. He's even been cleared for five-minute walks rather than being banished to the back yard to do his doggy business. As you might expect, that has made Buddy extremely happy, and I think there's therapeutic value in happiness. With luck we can VERY slowly increase his walks back to something approaching normal.

No further word on the house yet, but we expect to hear more later this week. But now, I must hand out candy to little sharks, fairies, supermen, princesses, and just recently two little kids dressed in black cloaks, "Scream" masks and carrying nunchuks. Kids are kinda creepy.

Vicarious money pit

2006-10-24T15:01:00.000-07:00

Progress in moving into our new house has screeched to a halt, or perhaps more accurately, skidded to a halt, as the problem is a suspect sewer line.

As a standard practice when selling older homes, our heroic Realtor suggests all potential buyers have a "sewer-scope" done, which involves the insertion of a camera into the sewer line to inspect the pipes. (I'd like to have that footage for a goth music video! "This is the pathway to my soul, dark, cold, encrusted with filth...") According to the findings on our prospective home, "concrete pipe broken with holes and missing pipe at 14' on the counter. Unable to proceed past this point."

Now if we already owned the home, this would be very bad news. But now it could actually work in our favor. We have already put an offer in on the house and that offer cannot be modified. So the trust that is selling the house has two choices: spend the $10-15 thousand it will take to fix the problem and still sell it to us at the agreed upon price, or back out of the deal. This second option is not very likely because now that the trust knows about it, the problem would have to be disclosed to any other potential buyers. And it's unlikely that other potential buyers would be as attractive as us due to our sparkling credit and available assets.

For US, the possible outcomes are backing out of the deal, thus avoiding a white elephant (or is it a brown elephant in this case?), or simply wait the two weeks or so it will take to resolve the problem. I'm hoping the latter, because I'd really like to have this backyard and Lisa would really like to have the "tea house" in which to do yoga:

We haven't gotten out completely unscathed, however, because we've started sprucing up the current homestead in advance of putting it on the market. Some landscapers came over yesterday and did a bang-up job on our hillbilly yard. Here are some before and after pics:
BACK

FRONT

So for now, Lisa will have to keep doing yoga in the "Buddy Studio" here at home. But that has its rewards as well:

"You call that 'downward facing dog?' THIS is how you do 'downward facing dog!'"

A whiter shade of pale

2006-10-19T21:59:00.000-07:00

Several months ago, I requested information about the Queen Mary 2.
This was in response to a request by Argotnaut to find out how, if we were going to move to Europe in 2008, we could get there without flying, so that we wouldn't have to put Buddy in a cargo hold. A's belief is that, if you wouldn't stuff your infant in a breadbox and stow him/her down in the cargo hold where temperatures can fluctuate between freezing and halfway to boiling and Jesus-God-only-knows if there's any light down there, then you shouldn't have to stow your doggy down there, either. Tough to argue with that logic.

As is my custom, I decided to make a game of this excersise...how could we not only NOT fly, but make the trip really cool. Enter the QM2. It makes the trip from New York to Southampton in six days, and NY to Hamburg, Germany, in eight. The ship has a kennel on board, which is kind of akin to the poshest doggy prison one can imagine, but still better than a 10-hour Auschwitz-like boxcar ride in the hold of a jet aircraft bookended by one's pet carrier being long-tossed by baggage handlers who may or may not be aware that there's a live (and scared poop-less) animal in there!

"There is no reason to be alarmed little dog! It is merely a de-lousing chamber!"

So now I occasionally receive in the mail brochures about the QM2. And they are a riot. Being a recovering marketing puke myself, I can see what Cunard's market analysis has revealed: that everybody traveling aboard the QM2 either ARE Thurston Howell and Lovey from Gilligan's Island, or fancies themselves as much.

You've never seen so many photos of picture-perfect, natty, wealthy Caucasian retirees in your life. Not a person of color to be seen. Even the waitstaff is a bunch of honkies! (Well, there might be a wog in there, but it's hard to tell in the lighting of the photos.)

Now I'm sure that there are wealthy (or, like us, just unwisely profligate fun-seeking) minority types on the boat. But it wouldn't do to indicate such in the brochure.

I'm not making a judgment against Cunard on this score. I just think it's kind of funny. Just wait til the Howells get a load of the Heckmans in their Homestar Runner t-shirts accompanied by their hillbilly dog.
Just one more reason (besides the jettisoning of the despised W. Bush) to look forward to 2008!

It's Been 2 Years, Time to Move!

2006-10-18T17:53:00.000-07:00

I pity all of you who have tried to keep track of our address over the years. Argotnaut and I seem to pick up and move about every 20 months or so for various reasons. And now we're doing it again!

For much of our time in Portland, we lived in the Southeast part of the city, near the Hawthorne Street district which apparently was originally named "Asylum Street." That remains appropriate because its denizens are a largely unconventional lot of artists, hippies, slackers and non-conformists.

When Argotnaut and I bought the place we live in now, I was working in Vancouver, WA, and so we looked on the northeast part of the city in order to reduce my commute time. But during our time here, we've both had the distinct feeling that the neighbors regarded us as unwelcome intruders, what with our non-very-manicured lawn, our lack of window treatments, our sidewalk which remains stubbornly festooned with pine needles and our dogs who occasionally dare to bark three or four times when we let them out in the back yard.

Now, the Beaumont-Wilshire 'hood where we are now is a very nice, quiet place, but it's just not "us." When A and I almost accidentally discovered that we both felt the same way, we discussed it for all of five minutes and decided, "let's move back south."

So I called the wonderful Realtor that we used when we found our current place and BAM! we found the perfect house the first day. It's in the Southeast (naturally), a two-bedroom ranch with a basement and French doors on the tuck-under garage so we can ride in and out on our bikes in style! Best of all, it has a very low maintenance yard of raised beds and bamboo, complete with a little "tea house" in which A can do her yoga and I might do some writing, a koi pond and hot tub (!). Here's some pics:

Wow! I feel now as if I must dress like Kwai Chang Caine!

Things have gone quickly and it looks like we'll close as soon as next week and be in the new place in time to celebrate Thanksgiving there. But first, we must install a new cat coop for Buster because he's not getting his claws on those koi!

Da Bears

2006-10-12T20:14:00.000-07:00

That last post was pretty depressing, so I'm going to do a quick post about something that I'm really enjoying right now -- my mighty Chicago Bears! (That clanking sound you just heard is the metal "sports baffles" slamming down over my wife's ears. Argotnaut and I have a shared vision, which is a 1930s black-and-white cartoon of a cow and a pig dancing and playing fiddles to "Turkey In the Straw" -- this cartoon plays in her mind whenever I talk to her about sports and in my mind whenever she talks to me about technical linguistic jargon.)

Anyway, I've been a Bears fan since about 1979. Before that, I was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan purely due to their wild success in the 1970s. Being a free safety myself, I idolized Mel Blount, the Steelers defensive back who is now in the Hall of Fame. During that time, the Bears pretty much sucked dryer lint, despite having a running back you might have heard of: Walter Payton.

When I went to college at Northern Illinois University in 1980, I began to follow the Bears exclusively because all my dorm mates were from Chicago and were rabid Bears fans (and also because the Steelers, as was inevitable, finally dried up and blew away like the hair on Terry Bradshaw's head).

Much has transpired since those fateful days in 1980 when I embraced the Bears. Mostly the Bears have sucked. And when they haven't sucked, they've lost in the first round of the playoffs, thus breaking your heart while sucking. But they did enjoy one unforgettable season in 1985, culminating in winning the Super Bowl in January 1986. This begat much chest-thumping and, of course, a cultural phenomenon that I personally despise: "Da Bears" made popular by the "Superfans" sketches on Saturday Night Live.

The whole "Da Bears" thing to me seems disrespectful, like boiling down the uplifting story of the movie "Rocky" to the catchphrases "Yo, Adrian" and "Hey, I ain't no bum!" If you see someone walking down the street wearing Bears paraphernalia (which might become more common as the Bears are good this year and the fair-weather fans are crawling out of their slimy holes), do not shout "Da Bears!" We true long-suffering Bears fans will smile and wave but inside we will want to slap you upside the head. Acceptable forms of cliched solidarity include "How 'bout those Bears!" or "Bears, baby!" And if you're not in solidarity, just ignore the Bears gear, which is hard I know because it's navy blue and orange and invariably ugly, unless the Bears fan him/her self is cute.

Currently the Bears are undefeated (5-0) and look to remain that way through at least the first eight games of the season. Thus, they have been bringing much joy into my currently annoying life, and for that, I thank them. Bear down, Chicago Bears!

Craptober

2006-10-11T21:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting lately because there hasn't been much to post about. At least not much positive. My back continues to be a bit problematic. Due to my stays in the hospital, I became quite familiar with this handy chart:

My back has moved from "3-4" to "1-2." Better, but still enough for me to stay off the bike, because recumbent bikes tend to place a bit more stress on the back than upright bikes do. It's been really tough because, as usual, we've had an absolutely spectacular October in Portland, with sunny skies, light winds and highs in the low 70s -- the best bike riding weather imaginable. Had my back behaved, I probably could have managed the Larch Mountain ride by now, but I don't want to make things worse -- "3-4" was bad enough and I don't want to try for "5-6" or higher.

Unfortunately, "5-6" is probably close to the pain Buddy's been feeling in HIS back for the last 10 days or so. He's had his worst back episode yet and I finally took him to a specialist to whom our vet referred us. Buddy's scheduled for an MRI this Monday to see exactly where the problem resides. Preliminary findings suggest a compressed disk between his shoulder blades that's pinching a nerve, causing a lot of discomfort and a tendency to favor his left front leg. Poor boy! It's heartbreaking to see him want to do his usual things but struggle and hobble. I feel your pain, my friend.

So I've been staying close to home and making sure the boy is well drugged up and resting, and we both have been looking wistfully out the window at the glorious sunshine and sniffing the autumnal, crackly-leafed breeze and feeling sorry for ourselves.

At least I had the nice break of my birthday earlier this month. My wife and some friends had a nice dinner and few hundred pints at Horse Brass Pub, where I enjoyed some welcome company and some fantastic Walking Man Black Cherry Stout. Awesome! And also, my lovely wife got for me the Toshiro Mifune Ultimate Collection.

What a good wife!

So Buddy and I will watch some classic samurai flicks and probably be healed up just in time for the monsoon to hit. Such is life. But we both like the rain and if all goes well we'll be in good enough shape to take some nice walks in it.

Thoughts in the mind of my back

2006-09-28T19:45:00.000-07:00

I've been spending a lot of time prone lately as my back slowly gets better, which has given me time to think. Never a good thing.

What struck me today is that the crappy design of the human back dictates many of the castes in our society. Think about it. Bending over a lot sucks because the physiology of our backs makes it tiring and painful. Therefore, any job that requires a lot of crouching and stooping is delegated to the lower rungs of our workforce. Picking crops for example. Much of the agriculture in the country is borne on the backs of immigrants -- literally -- because they're willing to assume the postures that Americans won't. When a job involves wretchedly difficult labor, one doesn't say "foot-breaking" or "nostril-breaking" or "earlobe-breaking" -- it's "back-breaking" and for good reason. Back pain is easy to come by and it totally, totally sucks. If our backs were such that bending over constantly made one feel really great, only the rich would be allowed to bow all day, I guarantee it.

I've also realized that humans have designed their indoor spaces stupidly. Taking something out of the oven, loading and unloading a dishwasher/washer/dryer, fetching or putting away one's cleaning supplies, sweeping the floor -- all involve contorting into uncomfortable positions, and, not coincidentally in my opinion, are jobs done by low wage earners. We should design our spaces so that everything is above knee height. Granted, we'd have to give up some window space, but it'd be worth it! Only chiropractors could be against such a sensible plan! Well, them and conservative Republicans, who WANT to see their laborers suffer.

The only good thing about the universality of back pain is that Argotnaut has frequently dealt with it herself, so she's been a sweetie as the house has gotten progressively more disgusting. She knows the only way to get better is to rest. But if my back doesn't get better soon, there will be only one solution: call some illegal immigrants to come clean our house! But I'd be sure to tip them well.

But I want to be a lion tamer!

2006-09-23T15:33:00.000-07:00

I had my third and final meeting with my...sing it with me now, Monty Python fans...Vocational Guidance Counsellorrrrrrrrrrr on Thursday, and the results were no surprise. God has called me to be a chartered accountant.

Actually, I had the right idea all along. In college, my plan was to be a science writer for a newspaper or magazine, or, perhaps more realistically, a marketing or technical writer for a scientific products company. Thus, I majored in Journalism and got minors in English and Physics. (Actually, the PLAN was to double-major in Journalism AND physics, but I was too busy working and too lazy partying to study enough to get through the necessary math courses.)

After all the fancy surveys and worksheets, it turns out I test very highly in "Investigative" (that's fancy-talk for sciency/researchy stuff), "Creative" (creating and enjoying art); middling in "Social" (helping, instructing) and "Realistic" (building, repairing) and low on "Conventional" (accounting, processing data) and "Enterprising" (selling, managing).

So I was initially on the right track, but was derailed a bit when I got into the financial marketing thing. My writing and research skills enabled me to do well, but it was still "just a job" at which I never really excelled and I went part time as soon as I was able so I could take piano lessons. (It's all so clear to me now!)

The challenge now, of course, is to find something more up my alley. My counsellor seemed keen on my becoming a teacher and Argotnaut seems to feel I'd be good at that, but I'm not so sure. "Learn that algebra or I'll give you something to cry about!"

But at least now I've got validation for what I thought all along. Now I just need to find something that will involve a lot of my "high interests" and few of my "low interests." I'm thinking something along the line of audio or video production, which would be technical but also creative. Or maybe I'll do marketing and educational materials for an artificial hip manufacturer. "Not only do I write about them, I'm also a client!"

Back D'oh! Man

2006-09-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

Last week was rainy and cold around here, so I took my bike in for its 500-mile free tune up in anticipation of continuing training for my Larch Mountain ride. Just as the weather man predicted, the weather cleared yesterday and it's scheduled to be beautiful for the next week. Just enough time to get in a few more warm up rides and then go for the big one. And then, of course, my back went out. D'oh!

Now, I rarely have problems with my back. And this twinge was triggered not by doing anything spectacular, but by reaching down to the coffee table for the salt and pepper shakers. So now I'm walking around like Mr. Tudball on the old Carol Burnett Show..."Mrs. Ha-Wiggins!"

My wife has been chastising me like a little kid: "Keep still!" but it's hard for me to do. But if I'm going to make it to the top of Larch Mountain before the snows come, I'd better do what she says. Now where's my icy-hot? Missus Ha-Wiggins!"

The Ride of Sisyphus

2006-09-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

Those who know me know that I don't do anything without a plan. (The plan may not always WORK, and I often don't stick to it, but there IS a plan). Anyway, my cycling plan this summer is to ride to the top of Larch Mountain, a trek of about 60 miles and 4000 feet of elevation gain. From the top, one can see Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood, and the top of Mt. Jefferson. Worth the trip, I'd say.

I tried to do the ride in late May of 2002, but the summit was still closed by snow. I still remember loading some of the snow in a water bottle, and then hitting Argotnaut with a snowball when I got back home. Keep in mind, this was May.

As you might expect, one doesn't just jump on one's bike and ride to the top of Larch Mountain. Well, you could, but if you survived, you'd feel like the wife of a friend of mine who gave birth after less than 90 minutes of labor; she likened it to "running a marathon without training and finishing."

Because that doesn't sound like much fun to me, I've been slowly working up to my goal. Today's ride was truly epic: The Sandy River Gorge. Details: 40 miles, 2700 ft. of elevation gain, 4 hours, 1500 calories. The topography of the ride, as related in the awesome book "Bicycling the Backroads of Northwest Oregon," looks like this:

As you can see, the ride is downright Sisyphian: 45 seconds of harrowing descent, followed by 45 minutes of grinding uphill. Then you roll to the bottom again. You do this about five times, the killer being a 1000 ft+ haul from the Sandy River.

The positives: Awesome scenery. Here are two shots, the first from the shore of the Sandy River, the second looking down on the river from the town of Sandy (noted on the above chart):

At the highest point of the ride, I stopped to recover a bit. These guys came to see what all the gasping and coughing was about. Apparently, I smelled bah-ah-ah-ah-ad.

After the biggest descent, I stopped to gather my wits (I hit my fastest speed I've ever ridden on a bike: 46 mph) and admire the Bull Run River, which is formed by runoff from nearby Mt. Hood and supplies much of Portland's drinking water.

The negatives: Lots of farmer traffic, the favored vehicle being those Ford 350 monster extended cab pickups with dual wheels on each side of the rear axle. Some of these also have bumper stickers like "This Vet Supports President Bush." I'm glad I didn't have some snippy placard on the back of my seat, especially because the roads were often twisty and there was never much room. (For this reason, I don't think it would be wise to do the ride again. Usually on my rides in area, I see a few other cyclists even in the more remote parts. Today, none, and I think the relative unsafeness of the route is the reason.)

Oh and the other negative? Pain. Lots and lots of pain. On a couple of the ascents, I had to actually get off the bike and push for a 100 feet or so. I've NEVER had to do that before. But that's why I'm doing this. To get stronger.

Actually, I'm feeling better after this ride than the 50 mile marathon of a few days ago. I don't know if I'm up to Larch Mountain yet, but I'm getting closer. I had just better get there by the end of September, or the snow will thwart me once again!

Barking up the wrong tree of knowledge

2006-09-08T17:37:00.000-07:00

Came two Jehovah's Witnesses to the door this morning. My yelling at the barking dogs to shut up alerted them that, yes, someone was home. I know I could have ignored the doorbell, but I'm old-fashioned that way and think it's rude. So I opened the door and chatted briefly with the two elderly black women. I couldn't pass up the offer of a "Special Issue" of "Awake!" entitled "Is There a Creator?" and told them that, yes, I would look it over even though there could not possibly be a more wrong tree up which they could be barking. They even asked if they could come back and discuss it. I said, "We'll see."

This special issue has articles like "Is Evolution a Fact?" and "How Can I Defend My Belief in Creation?" and features scientists talking about their belief in God. That's all fine and good. Personally, I think it's a fun thing to debate (the scientific basis for the existance of God, that is), but that the question is, in fact, irrelevant.

First, you're talking about two polar opposite principles -- faith and science. Faith, by definition, involves believing things even though there's no proof. Science, by definition, involves believing things only if there is verifiable and testable proof. Trying to get the two to co-exist is like trying to merge matter and anti-matter, and you know what happens when you do that. Well, scientists do, anyway.

Second is that even if there is a God, he/she/it/they don't get involved with humanity. All the bad stuff that happens in the world that goes unpunished seems to me pretty clear proof of that. We're on our own and it's up to us to solve our own problems ourselves whether there's a God or not. Furthermore, I've always thought it a little juvenile to behave well on Earth so you'll be rewarded later in heaven. What are we, dogs? "Jump through the hoop, Trixie, and you'll get a biscuit!" God can keep his biscuit. One should do good works on Earth because it makes Earth a better place for you and everyone else.

For example, I COULD have gone off on the Jehovah's Witnesses about an item in the paper that made me a tad irate. September 11 is, of course, the five-year anniversary of you-know-what. That involved one religious zealot killing nearly 3000 people, and another religious zealot responding with policies that have killed even more American service men and women, not to mention, by his own admission "30,000 Iraqi civillians, more or less."

"Yeah. Devout religious beliefs have made the world a better place all right, ladies. I've borne witness to that."

But I DIDN'T say that because I believe religion is a neutral force. Why? Well, here's an example: September 11, 2006, is also the 100 year anniversary of Mahatma Ghandi's manifesto of change through non-violence, an approach rooted in Hindu philosophy that actually did generate positive change in the world for millions of Indians and inspired others, like Martin Luther King, Jr., to pursue positive change in ways that don't involve killing people by the thousands.

I think it's possible that humans will attain a state of peaceful co-existance...it won't be easy and it won't happen soon. And if we allow violent extremists to bring out the worst in our natures, we many not get there at all. But if we practice tolerance, heck, perhaps we can get along as well as these former "enemies":

So that's okay, ladies. Knock on my door and perhaps we can exchange ideas. I probably won't change your minds, and you probably aren't gonna change mine. But as long as we're willing to listen to each other, maybe can do our small parts to get the world out of the handbasket it's in.

Another boring cycling post

2006-09-06T21:19:00.000-07:00

You cycle 51 miles and whaddya get? Another day older and really, really tired. Today's ride back to the Vista House represents the longest ride of the year by 15 miles. I cheated on my previous rides by taking Portland's truly awesome MAX light rail line as far east as possible and setting out on my ride from there. Today, I said, to heck with that! I'm riding the whole way! And so I did. The MAX route cuts the distance in half but adds 300 ft. of elevation. It might take a little less time, too, but I always felt a bit of a pud taking my bike on the train. "Whatsa matter, little boy? Too far to ride by yourself? Want your mommy to carry you?" "Why yes, yes I do." But now that I've been able to adjust to the climbing a bit, I felt I could ride the whole way. Which I did, but the trip is pretty much at the limits of my abilities right now. Final tally was 1100 feet of elevation gain, 51 miles, 3.75 hours, 1,400 calories.

On the upside, I did get some new vacuum cleaner bags (sorely needed) at the Home Depot along the route, AND took some pictures of the interior of the Vista House. I hope the cool art deco details are apparent:

And of course, here's the ubiquitous photo of the boringly transcendent Columbia River Gorge. The Vista House is on the outcropping at center right.

All these gorge-ous shots remind me of a story a friend of mine told me about traveling in Ireland: "After a while you get up in the morning and look out the window and say, 'Not another Goddamned rainbow!'"

Anyway, now my quads are being obstreperous (does that mean they're turning into Quadsimodos?...sorry). I'm actually looking forward to a simple day of vacuuming tomorrow. But only after a night of looking like this:

Vista House Reclaimed!

2006-09-04T21:31:00.000-07:00

As threatened in an earlier post, today I did make it to the Vista House. Woo, I'm tuckered this evening. So I include here only a brief travelogue: 1400 feet of elevation gain, 30 miles. As proof of my conquest, here's the new, refurbished Vista House:

They've done a lovely job with the recently completed restoration. Unfortunately, their web site doesn't yet include any photos of the new interior. I guess I'll have to head back and take some of my own. I will say that the stairways reflect an America just prior to World War 1, when Americans were a lot skinnier!

Anyway, here's a shot from the newly opened second story balcony:

The big river is the Columbia, obviously. The highway just to the right is I-84, the construction of which nearly doomed the splendid old historic Columbia River Highway and was built over part of the old road. (That's progress for ya.) The little river to the right of the highway is...uh...some river.

One of the reasons I like this ride so much is that it climbs through some nice pastureland, where one can commune with guys like this:

Another reason is the multiple climbs and descents that offer so many different fantastic views, here of the Sandy River Gorge, the last major climb of the trip. Note house at far right center that provides some idea of the height:

Now, however, it's time for night night and one last beautiful view: that of my snuggly wife!

Mother Load*

2006-09-02T21:42:00.000-07:00

"182 pounds!" I gasped as I looked at the scale yesterday morning.

Yes, a week without cycling or walking, combined with my mother's "you better believe it's not vegan" meals and, I must admit, a bit of drinking, had bumped me up five pounds. I had been vacillating about taking a bike ride this morning, but my gut feeling (har har) prompted me to flee the house as if Argotnaut was chasing me with a taser.

I was considering a trip out to Crown Point (40 miles, 1100 feet of elevation gain) but 85 degree heat (forecast to top out near 100) and a 20 mph headwind convinced me to opt for Blue Lake Park (25 miles, 300 feet of elevation gain). It was near 90 degrees at 11:30 am when I got there, but the Labor Day bathers didn't seem to mind:

On the way home, I had just enough energy to drag my baked ass into Green Dog pet supply to get Buddy a stuffed squirrel toy. He's been an extra tolerate boy with the arrival of the new puppy and I wanted to get him something that was his and his alone. I think he appreciated it.

Fortunately for Buddy, his stuffed squirrels don't have any calories!

* I know it's mother "lode." I'm making a pun, y'all, albeit a crappy one.

Mission of Mercy

2006-08-30T21:12:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I set out for a four-day excursion into the darkest wilds of Northern Illinois. I planned to watch a Bears pre-season game at a Chicago bar with some old friends on Friday night, stay in a hotel in Chicago that evening, and then head out to my small but scenic hometown of Dixon to visit family and then come back on Tuesday.

I managed all that, but the trip was overshadowed by a mission of mercy. Argotnaut can provide details on her site when she's damn good and ready. But the short version is that her dad was badly injured in a car accident last week. A's parents have a small dog that her dad took care of. With him down for the count, they were faced with either boarding the little guy for perhaps a couple of months, or putting him down altogether.

Those of you who know Argotnaut know that she'd rather eat broken glass, or worse yet, a veal steak, rather than let a poor little innocent creature come under the ax. And since I felt the same way and the trip was already scheduled, I volunteered to bring the dog back on the plane to Portland and let him stay with us until the situation was resolved.

As usual, my family answered the bell to help me manage a potentially difficult task. I showed up in Dixon on Saturday afternoon as scheduled and we had a nice get together. Then on Sunday morning, my little sister Tavia and my brother Steve and I drove the 80 miles to Morris to pick up Buddy.

Good God what a cute little dog! He's had a hard life, which is why he has no lower teeth between his canines so his tongue sticks out most of the time. Or he adopts an Elvis/Billy Idol sneer of disdain, when what he's really doing is smiling. He was a little nervous at first, understandably, but after a few minutes in the car, he settled in:

He seemed to enjoy his three days in Dixon despite the fact that it was an entirely new world filled with strange creatures -- owls, crickets, Heckman siblings, my Dad. Then it was time to mount the expedition that would get him back to Portland, first by car to the bus depot in Rockford, then by bus to O'Hare, and then (mercifully) by cab rather than public trans to home in Portland.

I'd gotten a soft-sided carrier before I'd left PDX, and he settled into that with minimal fuss on the bus:

O'Hare, as usual, was its own cross to bear. The flight was delayed two hours and we had to change gates during the wait. But to be fair to United, I did request an aisle seat with an empty seat next to it, and they came through with flying colors. So when Buddy got fidgety, I could put him on the seat next to me and let him poke his head out of the carrier for a stretch:

Fortunatly, our other pets seemed to adapt quickly to our guest, and he adapted quickly to the futon, worn out no doubt:

As for me, well, I had a very nice trip but I'm still a bit weary. My lovely wife has been quick to take up the household burdens so I can be a lazy sod for a day and recover. And no, we don't now have two dogs named Buddy. Buddy II has been christened "Pepe," because he's a speedly little guy who likes to run in small circles like he's doing the Mexican Hat Dance.

Sorry to burden you all with photos of a cute critter, but get used to it. We have the most photogenic bunch of animals under one roof (including Argotnaut, of course!)

River deep, mountain high

2006-08-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

One of the true laws of cycling is: "There is no way to train for climbing but to climb." So I've started to incorporate more up into my rides. But I probably overdid it a little bit yesterday by riding to Portland Woman's Forum Scenic Viewpoint overlooking the Columbia River Gorge. It's a little over 1000 feet of elevation gain from the Sandy River (see previous post) to the park. For some sense of perspective, 1000 feet would be equivalent to riding from the ground floor of the Sears Tower to about the 75th floor.

Now that I have a fancy new picture phone, Argotnaut has suggested I send her a photo when I reach my turnaround point on a ride. Here's the one I sent from the park yesterday. The Vista House (see previous post again) is the itsy bitsy little bump on the flat outcropping just to the right of center:

According to the spiffy new bike logging software I downloaded yesterday, this ride consumed 1100 calories. Today it feels like it was even more than that. I had entertained taking this route tomorrow and pushing the extra couple of miles to the Vista House in keeping with the cycling law stated above. But my aching legs are telling me that tomorrow, perhaps I should send Argotnaut a halfway photo from someplace a little closer to home!

Road to recovery

2006-08-18T22:22:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post because it's been a busy day and I'm beat. Rode 30 miles this morning, then went to see a vocational guidance counselor (is there any way NOT to sing that if you're a Monty Python fan?) in the afternoon, and then watched the Bears game at my favorite sports bar this evening.

But I wanted to do a post to mark an important occasion for me: the ride was significant because it was my return to the Sandy River Bridge. The bridge is the gateway to the Historic Columbia River Highway, a glorious ride I'd enjoyed many, many times in the past, before The Calamity, and one I thought I'd never be able to do again. This morning was the first time back to the bridge in four years, so I couldn't resist a recreation of a photo I took the FIRST time I biked there back in the summer of 2002:
With the mighty P-38 Lightning in 2002:

And with the mighty Bacchetta Giro, 2006:

I'm getting stronger every day, and I'm looking forward to soon reclaiming another long-thought-lost goal: The Vista House by Crown Point. I've got some training to do to manage that climb yet, but it's within my grasp. Or since it's about 1100 ft. of elevation gain topping out about 30 miles from my house, perhaps I should say it's within my gasp!

Just for the halibut

2006-08-14T17:04:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I've heard there are a lot of red herrings in this movie...

10 bridges, 5 am

2006-08-13T17:58:00.000-07:00

Kind of on the spur of the moment (well, yesterday), I decided to ride in the Portland Bridge Pedal, an annual event that gives PDX cyclists a chance to ride across bridges upon which only cars are normally allowed to tread. There are several routes from which cyclists can choose, from the shorter routes crossing only a couple of bridges to the "bid daddy": 10 bridges, 35 miles.

I've been steadily increasing the distances of my rides and am now up to about 35 miles, so I thought "why not?" and signed up for the longest ride even though this was my first Bridge Pedal Event. The ride was a lot of fun, though crowded with inexperienced riders who wanted to pretend they were Lance Armstrong. But even a palsied peloton of lackadaisical Landises couldn't spoil the beauty of the day and the uniqueness of the route. The hardest part: getting up at 5am to get downtown by the 10-bridge start time of 6:30am. Below, a few photos:

Start of the pedal:

Top of the Marquam Bridge: This is the bridge over which I-5 from Seattle travels. It has two decks and the bicycles got the top deck for the morning: So this is a view of Portland that cyclists NEVER get to enjoy:

A couple of very cool spans:
Fremont Bridge (note recumbent bike at far right)...

...and historic St. Johns bridge:

It was a very cool experience, but after the early start, 35 miles of riding that required constant concentration to keep from splattering little kids, several good climbs, and a four-mile ride home including one last sizable hill, I was ready to enjoy some quiet time with the family.

The Return of the Giant Hogweed

2006-08-11T15:11:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm calling it hogweed because I don't know WHAT it is. (Homer Simpson voice): "Alright Dr. Lizardo and Tavia, I don't know what kind of plant it is but please tell me because I'm DYING to know..."

Back to blissfully boring

2006-08-06T21:50:00.000-07:00

Now that Argotnaut and I have managed to avoid the latest potential crisis , it's time to get back to talking about me Me MEEEEE!

A's scare really did take the wind out of our sails for an extended period. It's difficult to a) plan for important future stuff, or b) blog about frivolous stuff, when you're not sure if the love of your life will be alive beyond the next few months. Fortunately, it appears that we're both going to shuffle off the mortal coil as planned: as part of a murder/suicide pact when she's 104 and I'm 112. Of course, first she'll kill me by administering an oral poison that will taste like the best beer EVER, but rather than off herself afterwards, she'll run off with a feisty 96-year-old. That'd be okay...she'll have plenty of good years left in 'er. Shame to waste them.

However, there's no way I'll make it to 112 if I don't take care of myself. So I've been getting out more often on my new Bacchetta Giro:

I put in 20 miles today, much of it along the Columbia River, and got back home before noon. Then in the afternoon, A and I went to a local bicycle shop that was having a sale and we both got some much needed apparel and gear. What better way to celebrate living than tooling along and chatting with your loved one in reclined, non-polluting comfort? Well, there's ONE better way, but I can't go into that because this is a family site.

Well, maybe a LITTLE crazy...

2006-07-23T17:15:00.000-07:00

OK, this is starting to get a little annoying now...

However, Buster remains unconcerned...

All is can say is, thank the Lord for Mr. Carrier!

Crazy from the heat? Nah.

2006-07-22T12:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, it nearly hit 105 degrees here.

We handle it the only way one CAN handle it...torpor. Buster has this down to a fine art.

The only truly annoying thing is that it's kept me off my new bike...by the time my morning chores (dog walking, pet feeding, coffee making, breakfast eating) are done, it's been over 90 degrees. But a few days ago, I did manage to take a nice 16-mile ride before the heat became too intense. The new bike is wicked fast, but I'm not. At least not yet. But with careful choosing of routes and bike paths, I was able to find a wife-approved route back to the Columbia River, the first time I've made the ride to the shore in five years. My handheld camera does not do the view justice, as you cannot see the majestic Mt. Hood over the river.

But once the temps get back down to normal, I can take some better shots. If they get back to normal, that is.

It's Margarita Time!

2006-07-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

With respects to the Right Honorable Reverend Horton Heat.

Although we've had some hot days here already, I finally got managed to get fixins for the first margaritas of the season:

It's been a bit of an annoying few days, so the Ms were welcome. But since I make them the RIGHT way (1 part lime juice, 1 part Triple Sec, 2 parts tequila), one must take care to nurse them and include plenty of ice, or in a hour you'll look like this:

Cyclists with bad hips RULE!

2006-07-17T12:03:00.000-07:00

As a cyclist with a bum hip, I'm in good company!

Also, I love this, where it talks about how Floyd Landis' Mennonite parents were uncomfortable with him racing in shorts, so he had to wear sweat pants! I really enjoy the thought of all the elite racers in their high-tech gear being smoked by some freak in sweat pants. Awesome!

I am Zinedine Zidane

2006-07-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

This post involves talk of sports, but it's not about sports, so I implore those very wise folks who don't waste precious time with utterly inconsequential sports stuff not to tune me out right away. At least give me a minute.

Last week the world was all aflutter about an incident that happened in the World Cup final between France and Italy. Towards the end of overtime, one of France's star players, Zinedine Zidane, headbutted an Italian player.

Zidane was ejected and France lost the match. Afterward, Zidane said he was upset because the Italian player talked some trash about his mother.

Oh no! The ultimate insult! I can't believe that another player would make remarks about one's mother! Oh the humanity!

My favorite sports writer, Bernie Linicome, did a nice column about the meekness of such an insult compared to what usually goes on in sports.

Which brings me to the title of this post. I feel for Zidane. Because it was just this type of behavior that kept me from doing something I loved, which was playing football.

Many high school students were conscripted to participate in P.E. But I liked it. I was good at athletics, except for baseball. (My nickname: Andrew "Dribbler to Short" Heckman, because a weak ground ball to the shortstop was all I could manage when I hit the ball at all, which I hardly ever did. I like to chalk this up to my horrible eyesight rather than any lack of hand/eye coordination.) But FOOTBALL, THAT I could play. And I was especially good at intercepting passes and knocking down guys who were bigger than me (as happy fate would have it, they were usually guys who were better looking and more popular than me, not that either of those qualities were rare in my classmates.)

Intercepting passes and knocking people down are the main responsibilities of the position in football (or "Meatball," as a Brit friend of mine terms it) known as "Free Safety." So I thought I'd go out for football officially and try out for the free safety position, or, barring that, any position where I could run fast and collide with somebody.

But as it turned out, I learned that possessing intelligence and talent were not enough. Oh, I was fine on the field. But to be an athlete, one also had to be an utter asshole. In an athletic locker room, particularly a meatball locker room, one communicated in put downs. "Hey, give that towel, spongecock!" "Nice attempted catch, you fucking homo!" "You call that tackle, fag? I thought I was being humped by a mosquito!"

Actually, if the put downs had been that clever, I wouldn't have minded so much. But they weren't. It was the most degrading, inane, frat-boy atmosphere I have ever experienced. And that's not even getting into the towel snapping, pranks and fart-on-the-guy's-head-as-he-dries-his-feet hijinks. So even though I was good at the actual "job," I said, "Screw this!" to the company and quit.

I didn't have the fortitude of a Joey Harrington , who is too much of a Renaissance Man to be truly successful at professional meatball. I just decided I'd rather make pizzas so I could buy guitars, darkroom equipment and telescopes.

I'm sure it's just as well, but occasionally I wonder what would have happened if I'd stuck with it. At least I would have had a chance to "earhole" a few more jocks (for those non-meatballers among you, that means hitting a player so hard that he's looking out the earhole of his helmet). But I might also have ended up like Zidane, his last impression on the world being his expression of hatred for the moronic nature of jockocracy. I remember after Columbine happened, I talked with friends about how we understood why a high school student would want to shoot all the jocks, because the bastards made our lives miserable.

All that said, though, there's something beautiful about the perfect put-down. My personal favorite is from Michael Jordan, who at one point during a game turned to a player on the opposing team and said, "You know how many rebounds you have tonight? As many as a dead man." But then again, it's a lot different being burned by the best who ever played the game, as opposed to having your balls towel-snapped by the guy who is the quarterback of the team only because his dad owns the local bank.

Guess I hit a sore spot, huh?

2006-07-13T18:13:00.000-07:00

Today while I was walking Buddy, I ran across this guy:

OK, it wasn't really Cartman. Actually, he looked more like my Dad:

Anyway, this guy was raking up a bunch of leaves that he'd just sheared off a hedge. As I was walking by, I commented that it was good to see somebody NOT using a leaf blower.

Big mistake. He replied, "Oh, I'll use the leaf blower in a minute," and then he walked over to me and began his spiel. "I was one of the last guys around here to stop using push mowers. Twenty years ago, I did probably about 40 small lots at a time. I probably walked 15 miles a day. I couldn't keep that up so I switched to gas equipment, but of course all the liberals get upset about the environment when you do that."

OoooooKaaaaaay I thought, and chucked out an olive branch: "Oh, if you're doing volume work that's different. I thought you were the homeowner here," and pointed at the big, expensive three-story house in front of which he was working.

"Oh noooo," he said shaking his head, "I'd never live in Portland. Did you know that 30% of the people who live in Portland work for the government? That's a big burden to place on taxpayers. I live in Battle Ground, Washington. Portland's a lot different than it used to be. Now it's all liberal, all these people who smoked so much pot that they're all paranoid; a bunch of pot-heads who never worked a day in their lives."

I am not making this up.

Rather than engage the gentleman in some good, honest debate (which I reckoned would be a futile effort anyway), I decided to turn my attention to another creature that was full of crap; so I just said "Well, okay then!" and continued on my way with Buddy.

Which was just as well because I was tempted to point out that the person who owned the nice big house and was paying him to tend it must have worked a few days to afford such a nice place and such good service.

But if I run into him again, I'm ready. After some quick net research, I found that 8.5% of Oregonians work for the state government, as compared with 7.7% of Washingtonians. So not that big a difference. And so stay on your own side of the Columbia and stop feeding off Portland's economy, you ungrateful Washingtonian right wing nut job!

Seriously, the more I thought about the encounter, the more it made me laugh. And, I'm afraid, the more it made me think that my Dad might have a long lost brother living not far from me!

Weeds? What weeds?

2006-07-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

On the Fourth of July, I took Buddy out for his usual morning walk when what should I find in our driveway but a sofa. A dirty, beat-up, stained and tattered gray sofa. Because our next door neighbor rents rooms in his house and I'd seen a U-Haul truck parked there the day before, I thought that one of the tenants had either moved in and didn't have room for the sofa so they left it in our driveway, or that a tenant had moved out and didn't have room for the sofa in the truck. The difficulty with those theories was that the sofa was perfectly placed flush to the street and centered in the driveway. It didn't look like a "dump job" to me.

When I got back from Buddy's walk, I saw our neighbor directly across the street working in her front yard. So I asked her if she'd seen anything the night before.

"No," said Mary, a retired woman whom I've often seen working in her yard but who I haven't really talked to before, "I didn't see anything. But maybe somebody just dumped it there thinking the house wasn't being lived in, you know, because of all the weeds in the yard."

This was one of those moments when one's mind races to find the appropriate response. Obviously, the remark was not an absent-minded, unintentional insult, but rather meant as a none-too-subtle dig. But how to react. "Screw you, you crusty old whore!" I thought might be a bit much. "Well, some of use aren't comfortable with the tremendous waste of time and resources needed to keep up a so-manicured-it-looks-fake yard," was another choice, but too long-winded. And I didn't necessarily want to make an enemy. So I gritted my teeth and pussed out. "Well, I admit yardwork isn't a high priority for me..."and I played the pity card (which I'm not proud of) "...because I've got a rebuilt hip and a lot of crouching is really painful...(which is true)...but thanks, anyway."

OK. First of all, the photo above is of our BACK yard where the garden used to be. I included here for shock value. No one, not even us, can see it. The front of the house actually looks like this:

Alright, granted, the sidewalk needs a good sweeping and the post-bloom flowers need dead-heading. But it's hardly the forest primeval and the lawn IS mowed. Argotnaut suggested we respond by just paving the whole thing. Actually that's probably not a bad idea from an allergen reduction standpoint.

But what I'd really like to do is make the front yard look like the back, complete with lazy hillbilly dog:

"Y'all come on over here so's I can bite ya some" (smeck, smeck, yawn)

Or better yet, she can talk to my cat, Joe Pesci:

"You want weeds? I got your weeds right HERE!"

But I'll probably really respond by just tidying the yard up a bit. NOT A LOT, mind you, but a bit.

And as for the couch, it turns out it was the work of miserable teenagers. Its owner lives down the block and came to the front door to explain that the positioning of the sofa was a prank played on him by some teenagers. Those darn kids! The sofa has now been returned to its rightful place. But after that crack by our neighbor across the street, I might replace the sofa with a chifforobe and a rusty truck up on blocks.

The Annual "Battle of Wilshire Park"

2006-07-03T20:35:00.000-07:00

The above phrase was coined by my brother last year at this time while Argotnaut and I were in Germany. Oregonians love their fireworks, and every 4th of July is a battle royal. The time of year is really tough on dogs and Buddy is no exception.

Normally, the best we can do is keep the boy in a room with both of us and play the radio to drown out the noise. But that approach is not entirely successful in keeping Buddy from barking and trembling like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. So this year, we have gotten some homeopathic anti-anxiety stuff. A. is not sold on homeopathic remedies, for good reason, but we thought it worth trying for our little boy. If nothing else, the 20% alcohol content should act as doggy knockout drops, which is probably the actual mechanism of the medicine if it works at all. We shall see.

"Bartender! (hic) Another shot of that homey-pathetic med-sin! And be quick about.." Clunk!

Tigger mortis!

2006-07-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

Today, Argotnaut informed me, "Your cat has expired."

He was so young!

Now that's what I call "deflating!"

2006-07-02T16:25:00.000-07:00

Poor Jan Ullrich .

He wins one Tour de France, then plays second fiddle to Lance Armstrong for seven years, and then what does he get to show for his constant training and commitment during that time? Erectile dysfunction! 'Taint right!

Back in the saddle again! (sorta)

2006-07-01T19:49:00.000-07:00

Argotnaut has done quite a nice post about why we visited our local recumbent bike dealer recently. She talks about the bike she had to have, and now I get to talk about the bike I got!

Ever since we moved out to Portland, I've been keen to ride the "Summit to Surf" ride that happens every year in late July/early August for the American Diabetes Association, a cause that is near to my heart. This is not a little 20-mile charity ride, you understand. Noooooooo. One must cycle up the side of Mt. Hood and then blast back down to the Columbia River (thus the "Summit to Surf"). And of course, the STANDARD ride (54 miles, 5400 feet of elevation gain, which would obliterate all but the most hardy Chicago cyclists) wasn't good enough for me. Again, nooooooooooooooo! Being a recumbent cyclist, I have a little chip on my shoulder about how standard diamond-frame cyclists think recumbents can't climb well and the people who ride them are nerdy engineering types. Which is somewhat true, but also it made me want to do the KILLER ride up to Timberline Lodge, which is at 6000 feet. The ride then becomes a 65-mile ordeal with 6500 feet of elevation gain. ALL RIGHT! LET'S DO IT! But one just doesn't jump on one's beater cruiser bike and do a ride like that. Well, one could, but one would go about 20 miles and then do one's best impression of road kill. Thus, training is required.

But every year, something happened to sabotage my plans. In 2001, I was working for myself and had the time to train, but then Arggy and I got kicked out of the house we were renting because the owner needed to sell it. So I shelved my training plans while we endured the horror that is finding new digs and then moving. In 2002, I was in the best shape of my life, riding 200 miles a week, including 40/50 mile rides with 2,000/3,000 feet of elevation gain. Then in June "The Calamity" happened. In 2003, I was simply physically unable to ride because my hip was a disaster and, unbeknownst to me, had started to fuse. In 2004, I had just had a total hip replacement in March, so training was RIGHT OUT!, plus there was also Argotnaut's understandable aversion to my getting back out on the road. In 2005, I was in Germany.

But in 2006, all obstacles have finally been overcome. Well, for the most part. My doctor has cleared me to ride long distances. Argotnaut has given her tentative blessing provided a) I train primarily on bike paths that are separate from the road (which there are enough of in Portland to suffice) until I'm strong enough to ride with groups, which afford more visibility on the open road, and b) avoid twisty rural roads where dumbfuck drivers tend to blast around hairpin turns, driving so fast and so lackadaisically that they fail to see a cyclist dressed completely in chartreuse and wearing so much reflective material that he/she appears to be radioactive. And there are my own caveats: no more riding at night (which really sucks because it's really great), no riding in rain or any other conditions that hamper a motorist's range of vision.

Of course, if we move to the Netherlands, where they have a separate system of roads for bikes, all caveats are moot.

But until then, I have the plan and, soon, I'll have the bike (it's on order). Now the only question is, is there time to train? Because the event is in a month, probably not. But there's always next year! And there's also Cycle Oregon!

Worts and all

2006-07-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

Upon further inspection, Tavia is correct. The yellow flowers in front of our house are, in fact, St. John's Wort. I didn't see the "many little stems" in the center of the flowers until I looked closely. I assume the blossoms are small because they are in full sun most of the day, so if they like the shade they're in the wrong spot.

We've been fortunate in Portland to have a Spring that's been a little wetter than average, thus rendering unnecessary the worry about the skimpy snow pack, urethra-wide rivers and heavy watering of lawns that has accompanied the season the last couple of years. But now our dry season is beginning, so I'll finally have to get out our soaker hoses and give the crispy plants a drink.

The grass, on the other hand, can fend for itself!

Call Falwell!

2006-06-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

Forget the gay Teletubbie or Spongebob Homopants. Has Jerry Falwell seen this?

Our visitors from Romania

2006-06-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

Early yesterday evening I was watching "Jeopardy" (yes, I know, I'm a square) when there came a knock at the door. I was expecting the usual visitor asking to sign a petition or to dump chemicals on my lawn "because your neighbors all do it and (sneering askance at our scraggly-ass grass), well, damn."

However, it turned out to be a short, dark-haired, middle-aged woman with a young child in tow and a babushka'ed babushka a few paces behind.

"Sorry to bother you," she said in heavily-accented English, "but you have some flowers in your yard and we wondered if you could tell us what they are. We are from Romania and we use the flowers to help stomach aches. We have not seen them anywhere else."

I explained that I'm not much of a gardener, as one could tell by looking at our scraggly-ass grass, 'cause, well, damn. But I went out with her to the phalanx of flowers that our house's previous owners had planted around the front edge of our lawn. She pointed out some flowers that bore yellow blossoms about the size of a quarter:

I told her she was welcome to take as many as she wanted and show them to somebody who knew at least SOMETHING about flowers. The woman translated this for the babushka, whose broad smile revealed a number of metal covered teeth that glinted in the afternoon sun. She began gathering the plants and flowers as her (I guess) daughter explained how one can dry the greens in the sun and then make tea out of them. "Very good for stomach," she explained.

An aside: I had a total "Curb Your Enthusiasm moment" as the elderly woman straight from "Babushka Central Casting" pulled up more than half of the flowers. I am ashamed to admit that I felt like yelling, "Hey! Hey! I didn't say you could take ALL of them!" even though it was obvious that tending the foliage was not a top priority for me.

Anyway, my money is on my sister, Tavia, for the first to identify the flowers in the photo. Dr. Lizardo may come in a close second. I just hope the flowers aren't some lethal mutant variety that have killed all our Romanian neighbors by now.

"Ah yes," the forensic botanist will explain as they haul me off to jail, "this isn't dandygold. This is 'fool's dandygold,' better known as 'deadly creeping yellow gut claw.' It's a common mistake."

Oviparous cats

2006-06-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

What kitties would look like if they hatched from eggs:

100 degrees in the shade

2006-06-26T17:44:00.000-07:00

...actually, 102 degrees as of 3:20 this afternoon, as you can see from this shot of my handy weather station.

Fortunately, I had the foresight to call an air conditioning tech dude to come and give our AC system a tune up last week. But even working at peak efficiency, the system can only keep it around 80 degrees in the house. But with the low humidity, it's not so bad.

Apparently this is the first time the temperature has reached triple digits in June in Portland. Ever. Makes you wonder what August is going to be like. As bad as Argotnaut's allergies have been, she's been cracking wise about moving to the desert. But with summers becoming hotter, maybe Antarctica would be a better choice. Fewer allergens, and in 50 years it'll be beach front property!

So how do the critters (including Argotnaut) adapt to the heat? By doing as little as possible. Here, A. enjoys the first homemade ice mocha of the season:

Buster plays "possum"

Buddy hordes all the chewies he's stolen from other dogs' yards on our walks.

Me, I'm finally getting around to all the inside projects I've been procrastinating about, like putting the closet doors on the closet in A's office, and installing our shower water recycler. One good thing about hot weather: it makes cooking easy because neither of us wants a hot meal. So it's ploughman's or perhaps some cold pesto fettuccine.

Folks can complain about the hot weather (and believe me, around here they do) but I still think it's better than this:

Wildlife

2006-06-19T21:58:00.000-07:00

June is bustin' out all over here in Portland, as evidenced by the encroachment of various forms of wildlife. Darn critters! Don't they know they should just let us steal the green spaces where they used to live and find someplace else to go?

The most exciting encounter we had was a real shocker. Last Thursday, Argotnaut was getting ready to head to her last final exam and went into her office to grab something out of her backpack. At first she thought one of Buddy's furry dog toys was under it, but then the toy moved! Turns out, it was a juvenile opossum! The little guy was about 6" long (without the tail) and just wanted to wedge itself under one of A.'s many bags. He looked a bit like this:

I fetched one of the cat carriers from the garage and managed to deposit him into that. Fortunately I did that while A. was still at home so she didn't have to worry about the little dude whilst taking her exam, which I know she would have if she wasn't sure Mr Possum was safe.

After a bit of Internet research, I called a local critter control service and they confirmed what I'd found...if the opossum is more than 6" long without the tail, it should be able to fend for itself. We had seen Mommy Possum scurry under our next door neighbor's deck during the last couple of weeks, so I was advised to put the carrier near there after sundown and leave the carrier's door open. In the meantime, I put a shallow jar lid of water and another shallow jar lid of moistened dry cat food in, which Mr P scarfed down at some point during the day. That night, I put the carrier facing the chain link fence that separates us from our neighbor. The chain link was more that wide enough for him to scoot through, and by morning, he was on his merry way.

The only thing we couldn't figure out is how he got in. As one can see from the pictures in the "For the love of dog!" post below, there's no direct access to the cat door for any critter which can't jump, which opossums can't. Also, once in the house, how did he avoid the three alpha predators that live with us, especially Buddy, a terrier bred to murtilate little furrballs.

My theory is that Cookie must have caught him out in the cat coop and he played "dead." Cookie then brought him inside to give us as a prize, a disgusting habit cats have, although it's a sign of affection...I guess.

Fortunately for this hummingbird, he was flying around the other side of the house and nowhere near Cookie's inescapable maw:

Of course, Cookie might not have noticed him, being preoccupied with his fight against literacy:

That's okay, Cookie. I don't want to read about George W anyway.

Thoughts inspired by fresh salsa

2006-06-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

For dinner tonight I'm making one of Argotnaut's favorites: bean and cheese quesadillas with spicy fresh salsa. As I was putting in one of the key ingredients -- two fresh jalapeno peppers with all the seeds -- I thought of a German movie A. and I watched not long ago, Schultze Gets the Blues.

In the film, a German miner retires and has to figure out what to do with his life now that work doesn't dominate it. An accordion player, he one night listens to a musical radio show and hears zydeco music, and the rollicking free spirit of the music inspires him to try some new things, among them a cajun recipe. He makes it for some friends he has over for dinner, and the spiciness of the dish somewhat overwhelms them. (Not hard to do, as anything beyond yellow mustard is too hot for most Germans).

Schultze is the kind of movie that Americans find hard to make, and if they do, not many Americans find enjoyable to watch. It's a slow-moving film and deals with a subject not many movies dare to tackle: what do you do when you retire and find yourself at loose ends? For the last four decades or so, mainstream Hollywood films have been dominated by Baby Boomer demographics. In the 70s, movies about rebelling against authority were the hip thing (from "Serpico" to "Easy Rider" and all points in between), in the 80s, it was yuppie greed and temptation ("Wall Street" to "Basic Instinct" and all points in between). As the Boomers started to have families, the 90s and the 00s have been awash with moppetploitation movies from the "Home Alone" series to the "Family vacation" series to the "Cheaper by the Dozen" -type spectacles where a passel of cute kids are jammed into the smallest possible space and fill said space with the greatest amount of noise Noise NOISE NOISE!!!,slime and gas.

Now we have the dawn of the retired Boomer movie. But where Schultze deals with the subject with the reflection, insight and melancholia it deserves, Hollywood deals with it with films like "Something's Gotta Give," a slick production featuring attractive actors meeting cute and breezing to a predictable conclusion.

While I don't have a lot of faith in Hollywood's ability to deal honestly with the problems posed by one's retirement years, the Indies might be up to it. My money's on Jim Jarmusch (see "Broken Flowers").

I'm sure most people feel as incited by this topic as Buster is:

For the love of dog!

2006-06-13T17:22:00.000-07:00

I woke up this mornin' (Dit DAA-dit dit dit -- insert blues lick here) and, like many mornings past, realized I was crowded into a 1x4 foot space in the bed. This is all my fault, for two reasons. One, I allow the dog to sleep at the foot of the bed, and he takes up the space at Argotnaut's feet, forcing her to sleep diagonally if she wants to stretch out. Reason two is my accursed irresistibility, which prompts A. to gravitate to my side. As you can see below, this leaves me precious little room.

I'm not really complaining, but sometimes I think I let my loved ones get away with a little TOO much.

However, spoiling them does have its advantages. The cats LOVE the cat coop, especially now that I've installed some large platforms that allow them crouch and stand guard like little furry gargoyles.

I've mounted a pet door in our bedroom window that allows them to come and go at will. The door came with two fairly heavy plastic flaps with magnetic strips at the bottom, which afford a degree of weatherproofness. But the cats balked at that initially, so I temporarily replaced the flaps with sheets of heavy vinyl weighted with pencils that enable the kitties to push through more easily. When the monsoon comes, I hope they'll be familiar enough with the process that they'll push through the heavy flaps when I reattach them. By that time, I hope to have more than the two platforms outside the portal that allow Cookie and Buster to coexist more or less peacefully.

In fact, the cat coop will probably be a kittycat playground by then, with slides, trapezes, "Habitrail"-type tunnels, and a hanging garden of faux rodents and birds. OK, I admit that spoiling can be fun.

It's a silly world after all

2006-06-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

It's nice to know that the American Super Bowl halftime show doesn't have a monopoly on outlandish silliness! Check out this snippet describing the World Cup opening ceremony:

"Germany put on a great show before the game started. The opening ceremonies featured goatherds with whips, opera singers with big hair, 15-pound cowbells and break dancers bursting from haystacks."

Hey! The Germans know how to party too, you know!

God told me to kick you in the nuts

2006-06-03T21:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I have the perfect retort to someone's comment. But sometimes it's also best not to use it.

The other day, Argotnaut and I were downtown, being all lovey and walking hand in hand and shee-it. We stopped at a traffic light and, while waiting for the walk signal (or "Ampelmann," a term which still makes Argotnaut weepy-eyed in its evocations of Heidelberg), we were accosted by one of those raving street preacher types. I'm assuming they have a few of these guys in every larger city, even though I've only run across them in Chicago, Milwaukee and Portland. So I will only provide a short description: haggard, gaunt, lanky, bearded, baseball-capped, grimy windbreakered. As A and I waited, his continuous spiel about the wrath of God and the coming Judgment and the word of God in the Bible and so forth shifted to us. "Yeah, you're smilin' now," he intoned/croaked, "but soon you'll meet face to face with God! And you won't be smilin' then, no sirree, you'll be terrified and you won't be smilin' then..."

At that point, I was prepared to turn to him and say, "Actually, I spoke to God this morning. He said that I'd meet you on the street today. And he told me I should kick you in the nuts. Not my thing, usually, but, you know, God's will be done and all."

Of course, I didn't say this. Nor did I "roshambo" him. But lo, I was sorely tempted Lord, I was sorely tempted.

Comes the Cat Coop!!

2006-06-03T20:15:00.000-07:00

Hee hee. I can't resist a cheesy Stan Lee headline!! With exclamation points!!!

Much excitement around here today, for the workmen came for a good old-fashioned cat coop raising! An outdoor enclosure for the cats is something that me and Argotnaut have talked about for, oh, about a decade now. And Buster's insistent peeing beside every open window when the weather was nice strengthened our resolve to the point of writing a check just to get the damn thing done. It was either that or, as my beloved Dad would say, turn to the "10 cent solution" -- 10 cents being the price of a .22 caliber bullet.

We prefer this solution. And it was actually fairly easy because the previous owners of the house had a dog run installed alongside. So it was basically a matter of sealing the top and a few other areas with chicken wire. They knocked the job off in about three hours, and then it was the kitties turn to investigate the new digs. As you can see in the first picture below, we have installed a pet door in our bedroom window so the kitties can come and go as they please. For now, I've placed a TV tray outside the window to make it easier for them to jump up and down. This will be replaced by a permanent platform in the next day or two. The coop actually is bigger than my first studio apartment, I think. How did those kitties get so spoiled? Beats me.

Argotnaut liked the airy nature of the coop so much that she dragged her chaise longue out for some studying and cat surveying. Buster acts as her study mate:

It will be interesting to see how much the kitties use the coop after the novelty has worn off. But if we install a few platforms for them to climb up onto, I don't expect to see them much until the monsoon comes.

Gas prices? Bah!

2006-05-28T17:19:00.000-07:00

This is what travelling on Memorial Day should be about!

Lake Shore Drive never looked so good! Story here.

Idol chit-chat

2006-05-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

A bit more on the "who gets more votes: the President or American Idol" thread:

"But Ryan Seacrest, the show's host, went a bit overboard when he boasted that the 63.4 million votes cast were 'more than any president in the history of our country has received.' It's true that Bush received fewer, about 62 million, in the 2004 election, but that was out of about 122 million votes cast in his race against John Kerry.

And, presumably, that was a one-person, one-vote election. 'Idol' producers encourage viewers to vote Chicago-style -- early and often -- by dialing toll-free phone numbers, over and over, as frequently as they like."

Full article here.

As usual, the good doctor is correct

2006-05-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

As mentioned a few posts ago, Dr. Lizardo (link to the right) stated that more people voted for "American Idol" winner Taylor Hicks than voted for President. I questioned that statement but, as it turns out, she is correct.

While I stand by my original statement that more people would vote if it were as easy to vote for President as it is to vote for the "American Idol," the fact is still pretty goddamn sad. I mean, there's a little more at stake in the Presidential election, isn't there, unless Taylor Hicks suddenly gets the power to order troops into battle. I'm sure FOX is working on it. But look on the bright side: could Taylor Hicks make more bad decisions than W?

The Two Towers

2006-05-25T17:34:00.000-07:00

Here's what passes for excitement around here these days. Yesterday I constructed (a term that gives the operation way too much credit) two columns of boxes so that the kitties could look out the windows in the garage door. I needed two because they fought over the one. Even with two, it's an uneasy truce:

And so we have our two sentinels on two towers, watching not for orcs but for dogs. But not to worry, the dogs are fighting amongst themselves. Stupid dogs!

In other movie-related news, I went to the Guild Theatre ("that's pronounced 'thee-ah-trah' darling") for the screening of all the work done by students of the Northwest Film Center in the winter quarter. There were three one hour segments, mostly student short films from the basic class I took, but also a handful of more advanced digital video movies and several short documentaries, including a quite good (and infuriating) one on our sorry-ass health care system. Of course, "Dissolving" was the penultimate piece on the last reel, so probably half the crowd had left by that time and I didn't get home until midnight. Plus I didn't win any of the nifty raffle prizes! Drat! But I saw some pretty cool stuff (and some really studenty stuff) and got a program with the names of the film-makers for each piece, so I know who did the good pieces and who did the not-so-good pieces. Which could come in handy if I do some bigger productions and I need to draft some dependable and talented folks. After all, everyone, from John Ford to Steven Spielberg to Jim Jarmusch needs their film posse!

Work ethic my ass!

2006-05-24T17:12:00.000-07:00

I have always been mystified by the popularity of "American Idol." How does a glorified karaoke contest become one of America's top rated shows? What's next? Dial-in bingo? (Wait. That could work. If anyone gets rich off of that idea, I want a cut!) And of course, I have no idea who this Taylor Hicks or Nanny McPhee or whoever are. Hell, I only know one of the judges, Paula Abdul, because back in the day a friend of mine used to wear a Paula Abdul t-shirt.

He once wore this shirt to a signing by Glenn Danzig, late of the mighty Misfits. Glenn, not being a particularly tactful fellow, asked my friend "Are you wearing that shirt because you like Paula Abdul's music, or because you want to (bleep) her?" My friend indicated the latter. "Cool," replied Glenn approvingly.

Anyway.

Argotnaut's sister has pointed out in her blog ("Dr. Lizardo" link to the right) that, supposedly, more people vote on American Idol than voted in the last Presidential election. I'm not sure if that's true, but I wouldn't be surprised. Why? Because you actually have to GET OFF YOUR FAT ASS to go vote in an election.

Thus, as was pointed out in a recent episode of "The Daily Show," Bush's 33% approval rating actually constitutes a majority, because only 64% of Americans voted. Ouch.

Are Americans unable to shift themselves off their lard butts because they are lazy? Some would say "damn right" but I say "far from it." It's because Americans are beat, cashed, bushed, bleedin' knackered. We're working longer hours than ever, for less real income, fewer benefits, and still with only two weeks of vacation if you're lucky. Plus, we're up to our ears in debt because everyone has been convinced by (admittedly effective) marketing that we need iPods, an SUVs, PCs, TIVOs, HDTVs (upon which to watch "American Idol") and more than one of just about every other unnecessary acronym you can think of.

So the obvious real culprit is our vaunted "work ethic." If we just stopped working so hard, imagine all the benefits! Lower stress, so that we might be able to get as healthy as the British, who smoke and drink more than we do and eat less healthily than we do but are still healthier. Smaller houses, because we couldn't afford them, thus saving resources, wetlands and the environment. Ditto fewer cars. If we were lucky, maybe even fewer leaf blowers! And we would have more time to cook healthy meals instead of chucking some prefab slab of preservatives into the microwave. We'd have time to spend with our families, or on stress-reducing hobbies, or maybe even to read a bit more, learn a bit more, and realize that the guy in the White House oughtta be tossed out on his ass.

Okay. So the economy would go into the crapper and we'd lead the way into a global economic depression. But you have to take the bad with the good here, folks. So to hell with the "American Work Ethic!" Let's just all be the lazy bastards that already seem to be the stereotype anyway!

YAFAH, AY? (Part 2)

2006-05-15T17:53:00.000-07:00

I did have a chance to see "Cache" at the Laurelhurst Theater yesterday. It's a very interesting film. Among the most accurate reviews I've read of it is by Michael Wilmington of the Chicago Tribune. Links to many other reviews can be found at the mighty "Rotten Tomatoes" web site.

In a very small nutshell, the film is about an upper middle class French couple with a 12-year-old son who start to receive videotapes on their front door step. The first is simply footage of the front of their residence, lasting the length of the tape:

There is no reason given why anyone is doing this. Read the reviews to find out more, but I can highly recommend the film. It might even be MORE effective watching it at home on a DVD! I'd just suggest watching it with someone else in the room.

There should be a new category for films like this. It's a thriller without thrills, a horror movie without horror in the tradition sense. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be an "unsettler."

From a technical standpoint, I wanted to see it because it's shot on high definition video. Undoubtedly, this was an aesthetic choice by the film-maker...in this way, it's often impossible to determine if the images you're watching are the movie itself, or the footage shot by the "terrorizer" that is merely being watched by the characters. Thus, the line between the characters and audience is blurred.

High definition video interests me because if I make a feature film, it might very well be HI-DV because it's so much cheaper. I'd prefer to shoot on film but MAN the stuff is expensive! Anyway, watching established film-makers use it --another example is "Collateral" by Michael Mann -- is very instructive.

Of course, an awesome story, such as those employed by "Cache" or "Collateral," help a lot. Ah, there's always a sticking point!

You ain't from around here, are ya?

2006-05-13T20:44:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days, I've had a chance to do one of my favorite things: watch foreign films. While there's no substitute for enjoying the unspoken subtexts and multiple meanings of a clever film in one's native language, in the same way a clever foreign film gives you insight into not only the movie-maker's mind, but into the culture of the movie-maker as well.

The first film I saw was (T)raumschiff Surprise,"* a German film that I bought on DVD for Argotnaut as a birthday present. From the trailers that Argotnaut watched on the Internet, I thought "Surprise" was a comedy that was marketed as the gay German "Star Trek." Three actors dressed as Kirk, Spock and Scotty minced about on the transporter and slapped each others' bottoms. Think Gene Roddenberry channeled through Mel Brooks and John Waters.

As such, I wasn't expecting much from the movie other than a few silly fag jokes and production values on a par with "Xena: Warrior Princess." Boy was I wrong. The movie is actually more like a protoplasmic collision of "Star Trek," all the "Star Wars" movies, "Back to the Future" and the "X-Files." Production values were on a par with the "Star Trek" movies rather than the TV series, with full-on space battles and some really nice effects. It was truly a surprise in being well written, well acted and stunningly photographed. And what did I learn about German culture? Well, not a lot, I guess, other than the fact that even when they're kidding around, European film-makers have a lot more respect for character and plot in their comedies than most American film-makers do. I'm sure they have their share of Rob Schneider comedies, but this was light years beyond that.

The second film I saw was "Night Watch" at the beloved Laurelhurst Theater. Holy crap what a nutty film!

Another protoplasmic collision, this time between "The Matrix," "Blade" and "Gorky Park," "Night Watch" is a Russian film that had as its chief unusual feature an unsparingly crappy background of rundown modern day Moscow. As a review in the New York Post so aptly put it, '"Night Watch" may be derivative of American movies, but when our ideas ooze out of the dank Russian filter they're weirder, crazier, grimier. Most crud can only dream of being as cruddy as Russian crud, so even the garbage wafting through the breeze in front of what appears to be Joe Stalin's idea of a luxury apartment building clocks you right in the spine.'

Even though "Night Watch" was subtitled in English and "(T)raumschiff" wasn't, the latter made a lot more sense. But "Night Watch" was a crazy cool flick. And what did I learn about Russian culture? Well, I think it's gonna take them a while to get over the subconscious dread and widespread, ramshackle decay wrought by Communism. It might look romantic on film, but I doubt it's that way when you have to live in it.

Now the only question is, do I go back to Laurelhurst tomorrow and watch the French film "Cache?" All signs point to yes!

*By the way, "Raum schiff" is a "space ship," while "Traum schiff" is a "dream ship." Thus, "(T)raum schiff" is a pun. So now you get the only pun that I was able to catch!

I know how he feels

2006-05-13T13:20:00.000-07:00

I feel this way about leaf blowers!

First public screening

2006-05-09T20:58:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, I unleashed my second two student films upon the public. By "the public," I mean the poor sods who were actually in the films, and by "unleashed," I mean showed to people that I begged to attend.

It was strange that I felt nervous about it, very much the same feeling of anxiety that I had in the old days when I played live in a band -- part anticipation, part dread, mostly hyperactivity. I understood why I felt that way before a gig because there was always a chance that I'd screw up at a critical moment before a live audience. And even though there was never any chance -- well, maybe a slight chance -- that the crowd would jeer a mistake and pelt me with beer cups and cigarette butts, no one wants to look like an idiot and let down their bandmates. At least not intentionally. Usually.

But I was surprised I had that same feeling before the screening even though the films were in the can and all I had to do was sit in the audience and watch them with everyone else. I guess I had the same (probably) unreasonable fear that people would hate the flicks and make fart noises throughout, or worse yet, laugh during the serious bits, or even worse YET, congratulate me afterwards using the same tone as the boss in "Office Space." "Uh, yeeeeeaaaaaah...ah...that was...reeeeeaaally graaaaaaaayt. Aaaaaaaaah...and if you have another screening? Don't bother to invite me baaaaaaaaaaack, okaaaaaaay?"

We had a good crowd at the Grand Lodge, in the regular theater with a big screen and full-on sound system. That was a real thrill. Plus, as it turned out, the films were well received, with a minimum of farting and misplaced cackling. The best compliment I got was after "Dissolving," when one of the people in Rachel's film said, "Andrew! You really freaked me out. You scared me man!"

"Gee, thanks! I guess." ("Awesome!" I thought to myself.)

Lisa took some nice photos, but unfortunately, both of us forgot to take some pictures of the audience during the screening itself. That would have been really cool. Oh well, it's a learning process. Anyway, here are:

Me and Argotnaut

Me and Rachel, my partner on "Valentine's Day" and also the person who set up the screening (thanks, Rachel)

Channing (who played the "Geeky Guy" in "Valentine's Day," accompanied by Katrina, another of Argotnaut's linguist pals

And finally, Jeremy, who is part of "The Unlikely Event" and also played the hand in the tank for "Dissolving," and his girlfriend, Courtney, who pushed the very high-tech camera dolly in the same film. Thanks to both!

I think next on the agenda will be to do music videos for "The Unlikely Event." Then I can have both music anxiety and film screening anxiety. How fun!

Holy crap! A new post!

2006-04-27T20:26:00.000-07:00

Wow. Time sure flies when you're doing something!

Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but at least I'm not as bad as THIS guy! I'm teasing The Limey, as it's a good thing to have so much going on in your life that you're not constantly updating about nothing. Rightly, he leaves that for us pitiful blokes with too much time on our hands and no cable to watch EPL football.

But as the video monitor said, "I degauss."

I've been spending a lot of time fiddling with the third and final film for my "Art of Filmmaking" class, entitled "Dissolving," which is finally completed and uploaded for those who would like to view it.

Here's the QuickTime version (5MB)for Apple users and smart folks who use QuickTime on PCs.

Here's the Windows version (6MG)for the other 90% of the world.

The previous film ,"Valentine's Day," was a "continuity" exercise, meaning that it was to feature conventional editing -- i.e., if a guy is sitting at a table flipping through a newspaper, and you switch from a side view to an overhead view, the page he's flipping should be at the same position as you make the cut, to make the edit seamless for the viewer. In addition, the second film was to tell a story. The primary goal for this last film was to create a mood -- it could accompany music or a poem, but the idea was for it to be atmospheric.

This was a good challenge for me. I love story-telling and I'm not too bad at it. But I'm less inclined to be more abstract -- or to use the technical term, "artsy fartsy. " This last film, then, is designed to be a sort of meditation on the tenuousness of existence, using The Calamity for inspiration. "The Unlikely Event" song "Creepy" served as the musical inspiration.

Here are some lovely stills that Argotnaut took during the production. (Note dead dog in the middle of the top shot.) If you watch the film you'll see a nice "dolly shot," the "dolly" being the cart on which the camera is pushed around. The second photo reveals the hi-tech dolly I used: my bicycle trailer. Actually, it worked reasonably well. Other directors advocate using a wheelchair as a dolly in low-budget productions like mine. pfft. My method is far superior! (sniff)

In other news, I got Argotnaut the first half of her birthday present: a chaise longue, which she's been clamoring after for a couple of years now. Note in the top picture that the doggy is suddenly alive again! Also admire the hi-tech sun screen in the bottom picture that Argotnaut uses to shade her computer. Very complex arrangement.

Ah, the leisurely life of a student...that was a joke honey!

Couldn't Resist Part 2

2006-04-05T12:10:00.000-07:00

Also, when I first saw this, I wasn't sure if it was a drink or a deodorant. All that snowboarder, X-treme culture junk looks the same to me. Where's my arthritis medicine? Hey, you kids! Get away from my car! Damn kids!

Couldn't resist this

2006-04-04T21:28:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing that these instructions that came our little Coleman cooler say "For Japanese Consumers Only." Otherwise, I might have spent all day trying to figure them out!

Quick hip update

2006-04-03T19:22:00.000-07:00

I think it's a good thing that I nearly forgot to mention this: I had an appointment with Dr. Hikes last week for my "two years out from the new hip installation" check-up. I had a new set of x-rays taken and then Dr. Hikes and I looked them over. The verdict: everything is A-OK. Good bone grown where there's supposed to be bone growth, no bone grown where there ain't. No gaps between the bone and the cup that forms the artificial socket. The pin in the femur is rock solid. Hip flexation is excellent.

So, no nasty surprises, and he doesn't need to see me again for another two years unless I start to experience any problems. Buddy is making sure that I walk at least two miles a day, and I'm doing enough biking to keep things well oiled. All good things, according to the doc.

I didn't expect him to find anything bad, but it's still nice to have the confirmation that all is well with the undercarriage.

Not Roger Corman...

2006-04-01T20:53:00.000-08:00

but more like Harvey Korman!

Last weekend, I finished the principal photography for film 3, tentatively called "Dissolving."

Man, this filmmaking ain't for sissies! The logistical needs of this little three minute opus required me to rent two lab coats from a costume shop, rent a car to drive out to Columbia River Gorge to shoot a number of waterfalls, lie in a drainage ditch amidst a tangle of stinging nettles, stand out in the pouring rain for an hour, completely dismantle Ridiculous Mouse Audio Studios to assemble Ridiculous Mouse Movie Studio, learn how to siphon sickly green liquid into a 20-gallon aquarium, and buy a couple of 250 watt lights from the mighty Fred Meyer. And that's just the main stuff.

Needless to say, I'm having a blast doing it. It'll be even better if the footage I took last weekend actually turns out. That's the magic/curse with film: unlike video, film is like Christmas in that until in comes back from that lab, you don't know if you got a Red Rider BB gun with a compass in the stock, or a horrid pink bunny suit from your Aunt. In the editing lab at the NW Film Center, I've heard nearly an equal amount of "Yes!" and "Shit!" from those who are viewing their footage for the first time.

The four rolls of film I took during the weekend should be back from processing on Tuesday. Wish me luck.

"What's 'Dissolving' about?" I hear you ask. Well, I'm not going to tell you. But here are some production stills taken by Argotnaut with her new, trusty camera-phone. The gentlemen you see are the other half of our little electronica band "The Unlikely Event."

Oh, and on a follow-up to my previous Kaiser Permanente posts, I did in fact get a card and letter in the mail saying I'm covered. Of course, with KP, there has to be a catch, and the catch this time is that they are covering Argotnaut as well even though she has run screaming from KP and signed on with another carrier. This is probably because she was covered under my COBRA insurance. When I converted the KP COBRA plan to a regular plan, I only put my name on the form and not Argotnaut's. So I have to call KP and find out if it'll save me any dough to have Lisa removed from the policy.

But that's a minor point...in case of catastrophe, we're covered. Theoretically.

Can one person make a difference?

2006-03-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

Let's hope so.

Buried halfway down page two of the letter I got from Kaiser Permanente informing me that I was ineligible for coverage lurked a sentence stating that, if I was currently covered by a KP group plan and was turned down for an individual plan upon conversion, I might be eligible for a "portability plan." This, apparently, is a special type of coverage offered to those in my situation, i.e., folks who were worthy of coverage under a group plan but who are now suddenly UNWORTHY of coverage when attempting to convert that plan to individual coverage.

During the course of trying to figure all this out, I talked to five or six KP employees who had that certain tone in their voice -- you know, the one that indicates clearly that they're making it up as they go along: "Uh, yeah. Yeah! Sure. Um. I think we can help you. I think you should be accepted. I, uh, don't see any reason why not." (Beware that last statement, the statement of the truly false prophet.) Fortunately, I wrote down the name of the one Kaiser employee who actually seemed to know what he was talking about. So I called "Steven M" -- who I'd dealt with a few weeks ago -- and updated him on my situation. He assured me that, yes, the forms I'd sent in were the correct ones and that, in fact, I was eligible for the portability plan, that I was currently covered and would be covered for the foreseeable future.

Three cheers and a tiger for me!

My relief is muted, however, because Kaiser has yet to bill me. And I suspect that, if were hit by an out-of-control snowboarder tomorrow and needed treatment of "board burn" to my tender bits, KP would try to figure out some way to gong me, say, because I hadn't made a payment yet under the portability plan.

Am I being too untrusting? I can tell my your snorts of derision that you don't think so.

Anyway, I have been assured by someone who sounds knowledgeable that I'm covered. However, in tracking him down, I found out that he was a relatively new employee. So does that mean that he doesn't yet know that he's not supposed to be helpful, or merely that he's not yet jaded. I don't know, but let's hope that I was fortunate enough to find one person who can make a difference for the better.

"I clean out public lavatories"

2006-03-16T19:48:00.000-08:00

I know two great people who work at Kaiser Permanente, a large HMO that operates here in the western states. I really feel sorry for them.

Because given how many people I've met who fucking hate KP, I wonder if, when KP employees are at parties and a stranger asks, "so what do you do for a living?" they concoct some lie. I mean, would you want to own up to working for an organization that provides such an important service, yet so thoroughly annoys and frustrates so many people on such a regular basis? Do KPers fear saying, "I work for Kaiser Permanente," because they fully expect the questioner to recoil as if bitten by a black mamba, or to go off on a rant about how bad Kaiser screwed over a friend or several friends, or, worst of all, to simply shudder mildly as if they've just smelled something horrible and mutter "Oh. How nice."

I wonder if some KP employees just opt to lie and say they work in a humble but honorable profession that benefits the common good.
"So, what do you do for a living?"
"I clean out public lavatories."
"Really? Any chance for promotion there?"
"Oh yes, after a year, they'll give me a brush."*

Why this sudden annoyance with KP? you ask. A valid question. The answer is that I just got rejected by them today.

But perhaps I should start at the beginning. I worked at a lovely communications writing firm, Alling Henning and Associates, for a few months in 2004, long enough to qualify for their health plan. But then the calamity settlement came in and I decided I'd try to write for a living. So I left AHA and, as a result, I've been insured by AHA's health care plan, the aforementioned Kaiser Permanente, through COBRA. For 18 months. I've gotten check-ups from KP and never asked them for so much as an aspirin.

When COBRA was running out, I applied for a KP individual plan, since they already had my history and I'd been with them for nearly two years. No dice. The problem: "Hip replacement less than five years, and an unfavorable brain condition."

Ouch. That brain condition thing really hurt.

Now I like to think I'm a reasonable person. If KP wanted me to have a full check-up to make sure I was in good shape before insuring me, fine. I'm healthier than probably 90% of 44-50 year-olds in America. I don't smoke, exercise regularly, am not overweight, have low cholesterol, eat healthy meals(mostly) and have no history of chronic illness. Hell, I've never even had a cavity!

These things don't enter into the equation, however. And equation is the operative word here, I'm sure. They've got their tables and stats, and regardless of your history with them or the reality of your situation, the stats rule the day. "So long, low-maintenance but statistically unattractive gimp!"

Kaiser currently has a public relations campaign going here (gee, think they need it?) that features the slogan, "thrive." I've had fantasies of striking their billboards and bus placards by night, replacing the "thr" in thrive with a "j."

But as the lawn mower said, "I de-grass."

KP isn't the only villain here, I should mention. During the calamity, I was insured by Lifewise, another HMO in the area. They niggled on some stuff but overall I was satisfied with them. So I approached them first as my COBRA expiration approached. But they also turned me down for the same reason -- a hip replacement less than five years old. But at least they gave me an alternative: Oregon Medical Insurance Pool, which is the court of last resort for those of us who are healthier than 90% of the U.S. population but are cursed with pre-existing conditions from which we've been recovered for two years. That and unfavorable brain conditions.

I'm glad that I don't have anything really wrong with me, because, well, Jesus! What would you do? I guess what most Americans do: go without. Then if something really bad happens -- like cancer or the like -- you're not only up shit creek, but buried beneath the spring from whence shit creek issues.

It also makes me wonder why having a joint replacement within the last five years seems tantamount to having leprosy, gout, lupus and the mange. I'd do some research on the subject, but I'm afraid to.

Anyway, I'm sending my Oregon Insurance Pool application in tomorrow. Wish me luck. And those pagans among you (you know who you are), please work up an extra special nasty hex on Kaiser Permanente managers for the upcoming Vernal Equinox. But not that they all become cleaners of public lavatories. That's too good for 'em.

*Gag courtesy of Monty Python's Flying Circus.

"Valentine's Day" plus odds and ends

2006-03-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

The final cut of "Valentine's Day" is completed. It has its deficiencies, but overall I'm happy with it. I'm particularly proud of the story I wrote for it, which comes through despite rudimentary equipment, amateur acting and a bumbling crew (meaning me and my co-director).

For those of you who wish to view it, I've posted two different versions, in Windows Video Format, which I believe should also play in QuickTime. First is a large but high quality version that's about 11.4 MG with a bit transfer rate of 512 kbps. So I wouldn't try that one if you don't have a couple minutes of download time and a broadband connection. The second is a small but lower quality version that's only 2 MG and a bit rate of 87 kpbs. It's a bit blurry, but you can get the gist.

The third and final film we are to do is to be an atmospheric piece based on a song, poem or other moody art thang. I have an idea of what I want to do, but I have to ask the instructor if it's technically possible, or foolhardy to even attempt.

Other odds and ends:

Last night, Argotnaut and I attended a gathering of linguists that meets every first Friday of the month for snacks, drinks and generally linguistic geekery. I posed a question that's been on my mind on and off ever since the calamity. In English, we have short-hand words to describe the condition of not being able to see (blind), not being able to hear (deaf) and not being able to speak (mute). But what about a similar word for not being able to smell? Or to taste? ("Tasteless" doesn't work very well to describe the latter!)

The linguists left me high and dry on this one. Any suggestions from readers? Argotnaut offhandedly tossed out "blind in the nose" but I think we can do better.

I don't talk like a Portlander yet, but I'm sure it's creeping in my accent around the edges.

Here's a quote I saw in the paper recently that I think will be exactly how historians will sum up George W's administration. This comes from Robert Hutchings, the chairman of the National Intelligence Council from 2003 to 2005: "Frankly, senior officials simply weren't ready to pay attention to analysis that didn't conform to their own optimistic scenarios."

I think that pretty much hits the nail on the head. Hutchings was talking about how the administration poo-pooed the idea that the insurgency in Iraq was intensifying and expanding, but really, I think it succinctly explains why W's administration has become "The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight."

Movies on tap for this weekend: "Night of the Hunter" and "Don't Look Now." I might get around to watching part of the Oscar telecast tomorrow, but probably not all of it. The electronica band in which Argotnaut and I participate usually rehearses on Sunday evenings, and rather than spend time watching other people celebrate other people's art, I prefer to try to make some of my own. Although "art" is probably giving our little band far too much credit!

What 's an instructor's most deadly weapon?

2006-02-28T13:19:00.000-08:00

Answer -- Utter these words: "For this project I want you to work in groups."

Groan!

Argotnaut and I have discussed why we react to these words in the same way we might react to stepping in a big, juicy pile of dog poop. It comes down to the fact that we usually end up leading the group, not because we're smarter than other group members (although in Argonaut's case, that's probably true) but because we both tend to have strong ideas about how things should be done. Perhaps that's what leadership is, in essence. Like "W," it's more important to be confident than to be right.

I must admit I had my usual "Aw Crap!" reaction when our instructor in the "Art of Filmmaking" class said that we would work in pairs for our second film. But it's turned out okay. We screened some of the raw footage we took in class last week, and last Sunday, we put together a rough cut of the second film, "Valentine's Day." The only real problem was that my partner didn't know how to use the camera correctly when we shot our first roll of film, so that roll is slightly underexposed. It's definitely usable, and I might be able to improve on it with some of the video-editing software I have at home. This week, we add sound, if desired (music, voice-overs, sound effects). The final cut is due on March 8, and I'll be sure to post the results here.

In the meantime, I've managed to create a Windows-friendly version of "Buddy Quest," which you can find here. The Windows version (6.3 MB)is almost twice as big as the QuickTime version (3.4 MB), so those of you who wish to view the Windows version may want to start the download and then go make a cup of coffee or something.

If you don't have QuickTime, you can download it here. It's worth the trouble because I believe it's far easier to use than Media Player. That's only my opinion though...don't sue me, Bill!

Buddy Quest movie

2006-02-26T10:16:00.000-08:00

I'm about to run out for an editing session on film two. But here's a link to "Buddy Quest," which is in ".mov" format. It should play on Apple Quicktime, but I'm not sure about Windows Media Player. If you don't have Quicktime, you can download it...somewhere. More later!

Chilly Buns My Ass!

2006-02-17T17:06:00.000-08:00

Oh how quickly we forget!

Yes, not that long ago, I was a hardy Chicagoan who could look at the forecast below (culled from today's Chicago Tribune) and say, "Bring it on!"

... Wind Chill Advisory remains in effect from midnight tonight to
9 am CST Saturday...

Temperatures north of the Interstate 80 corridor are expected to
fall to between zero and 10 below zero overnight. The combination
of these cold overnight temperatures and northwest winds of 15 to
20 mph... will produce dangerous wind chills of between 20 below
and 30 below zero late tonight and early Saturday morning. Wind
chills will rise above dangerous thresholds by late Saturday
morning as winds diminish and daytime warming occurs.

A Wind Chill Advisory means that very cold air and strong winds
will combine to generate dangerously low wind chills. This will
result in frost bite and lead to hypothermia if precautions are
not taken. If you must venture outdoors... make sure you wear a hat
and gloves.

I love that last bit. "No shit, wear a hat and gloves!" Makes the 30 mph winds and near zero windchills we're currently experiencing in Portland seem downright puny in comparison. As Argotnaut told me after coming back from class today through the howling winds that blast over the 15-foot-deep Cascades snowpack and roar out of the Columbia River Gorge like some sort of face-peeling arctic hurricane, "I'd forgotten how much I hate this shit!" Ah, it almost made me nostalgic for "The Hawk."

Luckily, it was nothing like "this shit" when we filmed the outside sequences for my second student film, "Valentine's Day," last weekend. It was a bit chilly, but not "exposed flesh freezes in less than 60 seconds" chilly. The indoor sequences were shot in a cool coffee shop near our house. My fellow student and co-director, Rachel, here sets up a shot with the character known in my screenplay only as "geeky guy."

We will get the video from both our first and second films this Wednesday. Then we start editing, using, as it turns out iMovie. (Final Cut Pro is apparently a very "deep" program used by highly evolved professionals, and using it to edit Super 8 films would be like using a Formula One race car to drive to the end of the block.)

Final edit, with music, of the second film is due March 8.

I'm hoping to edit the first film, "Buddy Quest," on my home computers. I have both a little Mac laptop (with iMovie) and a big PC laptop (with Vegas Video 4.0), and I might edit the film once with each application to see which I like better.

Interestingly (to me at least) is that I also use Vegas as a multi-track music recording system and it works great. I plan to add music to both projects. I don't know yet if I'll actually write anything specifically for them or just drop in some music from a CD. Rachel believes that the "Valentine's Day" story is strong enough to submit the film to short film festivals. (That is, if we didn't make a complete hash of the footage, a big "IF" at this stage). If so, I'll have to do some original music for it anyway.

Wow! I'm feeling all Spielbergy! (Okay, actually more like "Senor Spielbergo" from the Simpsons.)

Oh Baby Matinee

2006-02-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

Since the end of the pro football season (RIP), I've been in movie mode -- that is, seeing them, renting them, and making them.

My first student film, "Buddy Quest," was screened in class last week. It turned out reasonably well, but mostly it did what it was supposed to do -- i.e., show you everything you can do wrong. For instance, Robert Rodriguez may say that you should throw away your tripod, and just use your hands, but if you do that, your film will look like it's been shot by a palsied hunchback. Not that I'm gainsaying Mr. Rodriguez. Far from it. I'm only saying that in most situations a tripod is a good idea if you don't want your movie to resemble those newsreels made by Vietnam combat filmmakers who kept filming whilst running for their lives when Charlie suddenly appeared out of the jungle. Although in Mr. Rodriguez's defense, he also says to "get a wheelchair and push yourself around in it," which is exactly the suggestion our film instructor made. Maybe I shoulda hung on to mine.

I will get "Buddy Quest" transferred to video along with my second student film, which my co-director and I will shoot tomorrow and Saturday. Then we get the video files for both films back at the same time, and we begin editing the films digitally, I believe using Apple "Final Cut."

The most interesting viewing experience I've had recently was at the Kennedy School, a refurbished grade school nearby that has been converted to a hotel/theater/brewpub. On Mondays and Tuesdays, they have a "Mommy Matinee" ("Babies Welcome!") that allows hapless new parents to actually crawl out of their caves and go see a movie. Last week they showed "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" ,which I'd been interested in seeing. Due to the theater showing the film at 1 pm and being an easy walk from my house, I was willing to risk the potential "squall line," because I didn't think it would be that overrun with little bundles of joy.

Boy was I wrong!

There must've been about 30 of the little darlins in the place! It was actually quite amazing to see. It also kind of made me grateful that the calamity took away most of my sense of smell.

I'd do the "Mommy Matinee" again, but "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" was not a good choice for it -- too much fast talking and muttered, though clever, dialogue, which was drowned out frequently by occasional crying, squeaking, fidgeting and spit-up-ing from all quarters of the room. I'm not saying the concept of a Mommy Matinee is a bad idea. Clearly, a need exists. But a better choice of film would be a brainless superhero movie. Maybe Fantastic Four. No need to catch all the witty repartee there -- just a 50-foot screen upon which to show Jessica Alba. Plus, I'm not sure how much language babies retain when they are less than a year old, but if they retain a fair amount, then the first word out of these babies mouths will be "fuck." A character in the movie actually apologizes "to the folks in the Midwest" for using the word so often in the film.

I'd like to be around to film that magical moment when little angelic Brandon or Caitlin utter their first intelligible words: "Blblbllbl hmmmmm flibble fuck! FUUUUUCK! frabja..."

"Oh honey! Isn't that darling! She's channeling Denis Leary!"

Coppola, Scorsese...Heckman?

2006-01-21T22:44:00.000-08:00

Actually, probably more like Wood, Smithee, Heckman.

I am now enrolled in the Northwest Film School class "Art of Filmmaking."

The weapon of choice: a Canon Super 8mm camera. I can't look at one of these things without remembering all the vacations my family used to take together in the days of my yoot. Dad was a private pilot, so sometimes rather than travel in our mighty AMC Rambler Ambassador (how we fit two adults and five kids in that thing, I'll never know), we would pile instead into a small airplane and fly somewhere. Cozumel Mexico was the trip that has most insidiously lodged itself in my brain -- mark ye, this was not the tourist trap Cozumel of today, but rather the half-jungle, up-and-coming backwater Cozumel of 1974). Because we flew there in a small plane (in this instance, an Aero Commander, known affectionately as the "Pregnant Guppy"), we had to make several stops. Dad had a Super 8 movie camera, and he seemed to take endless pleasure in taking long, circular pans of the tarmac whenever we touched down. Like Terrence Malick , my Dad had a singular style all his own. One could recognize one of his loving tarmac pans instantly.

Anyway. My first assignment is to record an activity I do every day. We are allowed only one film canister for the first assignment, which is good because they cost something like $14 each, for 3 minutes and 20 seconds of film. No wonder movie making is so expensive!

I'm not sure yet what I'm going to try to record, but I do know that our film is developed and transferred to a digital medium for editing. If so, perhaps I can post my opuses (opusi? opuscenti?) on my web site.

Let's hope I can turn in better results than Dad's mighty "tarmac pans."

Net Effect

2006-01-09T19:59:00.000-08:00

Last year, I posted about how I used to get so much more done and be so much more creative. In the "old days," I had a full-time job, yet I still managed to be in two regularly gigging bands (writing all the music for one of them and a fair amount for the other). When I went part-time at my job, I took piano lessons and played in a band, in addition to cycling a few dozen miles every week and working out at a local health club.

In that long ago post, I conjectured that my decline in creativity was tied to the fact that I was drinking more frequently than I used to, so I adopted a straight-edge lifestyle for a while. While that experiment was beneficial in a lot of ways, it didn't necessarily help boost my creativity. Even though I don't have to try to fit time in around a full time job now, I'm still not being as productive as I was when I was racing with the rats.

Like many folks, I try to come up with some useful resolutions at the coming of each new year, and one of mine for 2006 was to figure out how to be more creatively productive -- write more, compose more, read more -- and identify obstacles to those aims.

And then it hit me. The reason, I believe, that I was more productive in my younger days is simple. I had no computer! In fact, for some of the period that I reflected back on, the Internet itself did not exist, at least not as people think of it now.

It is absolutely amazing how much time I spend in front of this damn thing. And the "net effect," as it were, leads to scenes like this:

I won't go into what I spend my time futzing around with, because it's not important. And I mean that in every way. It's not important to relate, and the things I occupy myself with aren't important, either. Okay, I'll give you one example, to illustrate how mindless my computing time is: I spend a lot of time playing "Spider solitaire." The medium level, which is just enough to be challenging, but not so hard as to be frustrating. Folks, that's just pathetic.

So, this is my resolution: one hour of mindless computing per day. Beyond that, when I spend time in front of the computer, I must have a productive purpose for doing so -- checking e-mail, firing up the home studio, researching a writing topic. (I would include blog updates in the "productive purpose" category.) Because all work and no play makes Jack a bat-shit-insane son-of-a-bitch, I will allow myself one hour a day to go on-line and play -- mostly because I'd DIE without being able to watch Homestar every Monday or "The Daily Show" clips. But one hour a day is it.

This, I hope, will force me to fill my time in better ways -- exercise, composing, hell even taking the dog for additional walks would be a better use of time.

It'll be hard at first, I know. I'm probably as accustomed to reading articles about the Chicago Bears as I am to drinking coffee, and that's saying something. But like many artists, I must fool myself into working. That, or be threatened with starvation, bodily harm or a deadline.

Anyway, wish me luck!

Xmas havoc

2005-12-23T22:19:00.000-08:00

I'm a lazy sod. I admit that up front. I would procrastinate, but I just don't seem to get around to it. So, true to my deadline-oriented nature, I waited until the last minute to do my Christmas stuff. I figure if people get our Christmas letter while their Christmas decorations are still up, that's good enough. But the hard and fast deadline that is the morning of December 25th is inescapable. Mostly. Today, I bought all of Argotnaut's Christmas presents (or should that be Solstice Surprises?), and I only need a few stocking stuffers to complete my shopping. Unfortunately, her "main present" probably won't arrive for a couple of weeks.

"Hah!" I hear you say, "your shopping is nearly done on December 23rd? You got a lot to learn about procrastinatin', boy!" Well, normally I would have waited until tomorrow, but that's when I have to gather everything for the Buddhist "meat"loaf feast, and I know the New Season grocery store will be a yuppie-filled asylum. You may get yelled at for getting in someone's way, but at least the person yelling at you will be well groomed and therefore non-threatening. That said, I think that on really busy days, New Seasons ought to outlaw those goddamned shopping carts that look like little cars that kids ride in. Two days prior to Thanksgiving or Christmas, if you've got kids, they should be chained up out front along with the poor little unfortunate dogs.

Where was I? Oh, so today I wrapped Argotnaut's presents (or "prezzies," as they are known in this household), and put them on our, um, well, Christmas table. I didn't get around to putting up the Xmas "altar" yet. But that didn't stop "Buster, the Cat Who Hated Christmas" from performing his "KILL THE SHINY THING!" ritual. Kill it, Buster! "One of us must die, wrapping paper, and it's NOT going to be me!"

As usual, I outsourced my present wrapping chores to "Drunken Retarded Monkey Giftwrappers, Ltd." They did their usual quality job -- shitty quality, that is -- but they told me for what I pay 'em, I'm lucky I get the presents back at all. But it wouldn't be Christmas without DRMG's liberal, extremely obvious use of cellophane tape and pathetic creases.

I shouldn't feel bad about my procrastination, though. I gave the Xmas letter to Argotnaut two days ago to post for our web-enabled friends, and she still hasn't gotten around to it. I'm sure it'll happen before the New Year. Happy Holidays, everyone, especially you, Bill O'Reilly. I think for people like Bill, we need to start working on a secular greeting for Easter. How about "Happy Bunny Egg Day!"

Council of Armageddon

2005-12-10T11:00:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have too much time on your hands, you may now download the novel I wrote in November, "The Council of Armageddon." Argotnaut has pronounced it "gripping." I pronounce it "cookie dough" -- it has the ingredients of a novel, and might still be enjoyable to read, but it's only about half done. I've uploaded it in "rich text format," and thus it should be readable by all regardless of the type of word processing program or operating system you use.

AT 51,000 words, it'll probably take most people two or three hours to read. Or if you're a poky reader like me, four hours. I would advise against printing it out -- it's about 260 pages long (double spaced).

Now I must vacuum. Dammit.

Argotnaut's favorite meatless loaf

2005-12-03T15:30:00.000-08:00

as opposed to her favorite meaty oaf, which I hope is me!

Those who also read Dr. Lizardo's blog (link to the right) know there's been some recipe-ing a'going on. She asked about the vegetarian "meat"loaf and brown sauce I make for special occasions that Argotnaut loves so much. And since I'm doing everything humanly possible to avoid vacuuming right now, here it is.

Two precautions: #1, make a double batch because the first one will be gone quickly and you'll be left with a disaster of a kitchen and no leftovers! Which leads me to precaution #2: these dishes together (and they MUST be served together, preferably with mashed potatoes and nice steamed veggies) use every pan you have and probably some you don't! The recipes come from "3 Bowls: Vegetarian Recipes from an American Zen Buddhist Monastery," by Seppo Ed Farrey. The book is a wealth of delicious, well-explained veggie recipes that range from all-in-one-pot stews to mammoth ordeals, such as this one:

Quinoa-Mushroom Nut Loaf
1 cup quinoa, rinsed well and drained
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large celery ribs, diced
1 medium onion, diced
1.5 teaspoons sea salt
10-12 oz. white mushrooms, diced
1.5 cups wheat germ, toasted*
1 cup walnuts, toasted*
0.5 cup whole wheat bread crumbs
1 large egg, lightly whisked
1 tablespoon dried sage, crumbled
2 teaspoons dried thyme, crumbled
1 teaspoon dried rosemary, crumbled
Freshly milled black pepper
* toasting means exactly that: toast the stuff in a medium skillet until mouth-wateringly fragrant

1. Bring 2 cups water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add the quinoa, reduce the heat to very low, cover and simmer until the water is completely absorbed and the quinoa is tender, 15-20 minutes. Remove from the heat, cover and set aside.

2. Preheat oven to 350F and generously coat a 5x9-inch loaf pan with spray, oil, or butter.

3. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the celery, onion and salt and saute, stirring occasionally, until the onion is almost translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the mushrooms and saute, stirring occasionally, until all the juices have evaporated and the vegetables just begin to stick to the pan. Transfer to a large bowl.

4. Add the quinoa and remaining ingredients. Mix well with your hands. Pack the mixture tightly into the loaf pan.

5. Bake for about 1 hour, or until the top is toasty brown. Let cool for 10 minutes, loosen the sides with a spatula, and carefully flip the nut loaf onto a serving platter. Slice carefully. Serve.

Garden Brown Sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large carrots, chopped
.75 medium onion, chopped
2 large celery ribs, chopped
2 oz. white mushrooms, cut into quarter-inch slices (about 1 cup)
4 garlic cloves, halved
quarter-cup tomato paste
quarter-cup unbleached white flour
1 cup dry red wine
2 tablespoons tamari
2 teaspoons peppercorns
3 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme, crumbled
half-teaspoon sea salt

1. Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the carrots and onion and saute, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned, about 15 minutes.

2. Add the celery, mushrooms, and garlic and saute, stirring occasionally, until browned, about 10 minutes more.

3. Add the tomato paste and saute until browned, about 10 minutes. Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.

4. Stir in the wine and scrape up the browned bits from the bottom of the saucepan. Add 6 cups water and the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 45 minutes.

5. Strain through a very fine sieve into a medium bowl; discard the solids. Serve immediately or refrigerate for up to 1 week. Make a double batch and freeze any leftovers. The sauce can be frozen for up to 3 months.

Hey, I'm a Novelist (sorta)

2005-12-01T10:54:00.000-08:00

Well, I had to pound out about 5,000 words yesterday to make the 50,000 word threshold, but I am now an official novelist in the eyes of the folks at "National Novel Writer's Month."

The mighty opus, "The Council of Armageddon," is almost finished. I figure another 3,000 words will bring it to its conclusion, but I wasn't going to be able to complete it before the deadline. So when the counter on my word processing program hit 50,119, I uploaded the almost finished work at about 11:50 pm last night. For my troubles, I received this lovely gift icon:

When the first draft is finished, I will upload it to my site so that any interested parties can take a look at it. I haven't decided whether I will do a second draft -- I'm just not convinced that my writing prowess is sharp enough that I can do justice to the story right now, especially one this long and involved. Argotnaut has said she'll read it when I finish the first draft, and I will rely on her expert criticism to guide my future actions.

One thing I did discover, or rather one thing I was reminded of, was that I can't do serious writing at home. There are simply too many distractions that prevent me from focusing for extended periods. In my case, that focus is vital to achieving the flashes of insight and creativity necessary to do good work. I guess it's like meditation, and there's a good reason why Buddhist monks do not mediate in an environment where dogs and cats can jump up on them and the phone is ringing and they're tempted to watch "Daily Show" clips on the internet or to make another cup of tea rather than continue concentrating.

I did enjoy the process, however. And who knows? Maybe I can make the thing good enough that maybe somebody would want to buy it But for the near future, I have several more promising stories to shop.