jeff conlin - winter '04 archive

Okay, first of all... if you've watched cable at all in the last week, you've surely seen the crawls on Viacom-owned (though they skirt that name and call themselves a much more friendly-sounding "MTV and Nickelodeon") channels saying, "Dish Network is trying to remove your favorite Viacom channels! Call and complain!". Turns out Viacom is trying to strongarm major price hikes and bandwidth requirements, and EchoStar won't play along... so their only other option, on Viacom's own terms, is to drop Viacom channels... thus Viacom runs its crawls essentially telling customers, "Your satellite provider is trying to save you money and reduce our profits! How dare they! Now be a good little drone and hand us your soul!" Extortion combined with public manipulation... then they have the gall to hold themselves as blameless before St. Michael (Powell) and aghast and scornful at their on-air talent for its crudeness and shock-value (which they pushed hard for the last few years knowing it meant increased listenership) follwing the FCC's rush to family values... but that's another rant for another time.

I saw a bumper sticker (admitted, it was on a Ford Explorer) that said, "If you're not outraged, you're not paying enough attention". Ain't that the truth. My favorite part is that both the established left and right are trying to mark the growing number of people who are just sick of this crap in general as granola-eatin' radical progressives and/or crazy libertarians. Either side seems more centered than the alternatives these days. Grrf.

Anyway, remember the name... "J Roddy Walston & the Business"

Without a doubt the most incredible band I've ever heard. Seriously... Jerry Lee Lewis meets the Strokes meets a travelling vaudeville act/barbershop quartet... meets god. And... rocks... god's... face... off.

They will be superstars shortly. Shame on you for not coming to the Talking Head last night. Tonight... Richmond. Tell any friends you have down there to go to Nanci Raygun tonight. Its truly rock history in the making.

In other news, I have a job-ish. Anyone need Honda motorcycle parts? No word yet from NPR, GEICO, The Smithsonian, or OPM... not that I'm rearin' to jump back on the career track, motorcycle parts will be fun and easy for a few more months as music gets the brunt of the attention... and it's secretly very fun being the face of the Bush-era quasi-middle class. Unemployed/underemployed, no insurance, no way to afford housing remotely close to where I am now... old job went away because of a 50/50 split between dumb federal agency executive initiatives, and good old fashioned outsourcing. But it's been thoroughly enjoyable!

The funniest part about a night out at Sakî is the fact that EVERY GUY THERE HAS THE SAME SHIRT ON !!!

(sorry Jon and Shawn, no offense.)

Oh, and the one girl that actually appears cute, fun, and intelligent winds up being with the mongoloid human wrecking ball. Whee.

Big ups to Drone Zone for mellowing me out fast.

"Argh, what crazy thing am I gonna date next?" - Bender

"flanthrower(00:11:02) : being self aware's kind of a pain in the ass"

(git ready)
Now playing : The KLF - Madrugada Eterna 12"... a very trippy combination of pedal steel, evening news clips, and CB radio chatter. I try not to listen to it too often because it takes me to this weird "Breakfast of Champions" kind of mental state combined with memories of driving a rental car northeast out of Johnson Space Center through the endless maze of chemical plants and oil refineries turned brilliant orange by the setting sun. Who needs drugs when you've got ambient music, Vonnegut, and thoughts of East Texas? Gimme five, Nancy Reagan!

Today, I checked my sitelogs randomly and found two things. One, I was getting a lot of traffic from this site to one of my favorite mixtape cover designs I had lying in a temp directory. Whoever heard of a defense analyst with good taste in music? Or a defense analyst who lives outside of Mclean for that matter? Damn, I need to get out of DC. Well, anyway, the editorial board of jeffconlin.com extends a hearty welcome to krawdaddee operatives and allies, and urge our fair citizens to venture out into his world. It's very entertaining. (Oh, the other was that I got a lot of hits from a gay bulletin board in Denmark. Rocket-MAAAAAN)

So I come home today and see my current real-world dream car in my parking space. (OK dream car is pushing it, but the thing is very useful, cheap, and tugs on the inherent Japanophile in every videogame-era male). Turns out my roommate's Amway business is really talking off. I have some pent-up rage towards him... he's dirty, disrespectful to the house, and, well, an Amway guy... but, he let me take the car out for an hour tonight. I dig.

The self-discovery kick continues. Jung-Meyers-Briggs is one thing. Gangsta Bitch Barbie another.

Today, thanks to independent urging from both Sara and Heather (where my disaffected postmodern blogcircles at?), I found out I am the following : Leader - Abraham Lincoln ("You are a mild-mannered assasination victim"); Movie - Easy Rider; Federal Rule of Civil Procedure - 15 ("You're a very helpful rule! You allow the attorney to amend their complaint once as a matter of course at any time before the answer is filed, and also allow amendments in other cases. If a claim relates back to the original transaction or occurrence outlined in the complaint, you can amend the complaint, even though the statute of limitations has run!"); Messed Up Ficticious Barbie Version - Exotic Dancer Barbie; and my personal favorite... Book - Lolita.

Life is good. Yet another resume went to NPR... today for "Assistant Editor - Weekend All Things Considered". The Suzuki has new turn signals, and there's a Mike Roy show tonight in crazy old Hampden, Bmore (if you're not busy, c'mon out... following our post-tour-disintegration-depression, this will probably wind up being an awesome show since we just don't care).

(bop razkal)
Delivered a freelance audio restoration job today (10 hours of WWII infantry memoirs recorded poorly onto bad cassettes in the 1980s. Now the man has parkinsons and alzheimers and can't recall his stories for his grandchildren). Did it for free for a lot of reasons (the least of which being gauging what kind of time that takes should I start charging in the future), but got a lot more out of the experience. Helps that the guy had a very intellectual, almost zenlike view of it all... but maintains the requisite "who wants a dish of hard candies?" kind of purity and innocence you'd expect from a warm, fuzzy old person.

Got stuck at the old office talking to my boss for hours about the current state of things NASA. Lack of income aside, I'm glad I'm outta there. Absolutely no reason sit there and take that kind of crap for too long. Columbia was one thing, but inept contractor management and near-humorous executive orders are another altogether.

The downside... missed a great Bill Heid show at Kennedy Center's Millenium stage before they depart for their southern African tour. The upside... the Center catalogs and streams all of their shows instantly. Check it out some time (RealMedia clip bottom left). I usually don't like vocal jazz, but this Jay Klum is amazing, and Bill flits from piano to organ to a frickin' melodica... he's an animal... one of the more underappreciated animals in modern jazz. What he's doing staying in DC is beyond me, but I'm glad to have met him.

Got in a lengthy bout of self-discovery with Mikey and ol' Myers-Briggs. I was strongly INFP last time I took it in middle school. Now it looks like I'm on the ESFP ("Performer")/ISFP ("Composer") line. Apt to dream, though able to reason... an idea generator but not a take-charge leader. Comparing old relationships, I was particularly struck by this :

"Indeed, it often takes the moral weight of SJ (Traditionalist) expectations to get SPs off of their motorcycles, surfboards, airplanes, race cars, or sail-boats long enough to get careers built or to raise families." That just makes me shiver... and they actually recommend that pairing, so both sides cancel eachother out. F THAT. I want another INSP/ENSP... burning the candle on both ends puts out a lot more light than cutting the wick off. Or something.

I'm also apparently apt to cut and run (SF, anyone?), and am generally chatty, lazy, and unmotivated... though my friendliness, humor, and ability to simpify others' lives keeps me well planted in my circles. Sounds right.

Ever so lovely weekend... Beer, burgers, music, insane African drumming and dance show, beer, Langley, Italian motorcycles, more beer at a Harley bar (with Dukr to keep me safe), chocolate decadence overload at the Ritz Carlton with Sara and her crew, whisky at a Norton bar (with a giant glowing Satan to keep us safe from the 35 year olds who still apparently worshipped Depeche Mode), Roy DVD editing frenzy, and cap it all off with what appears to be some longstanding musical aspirations slowly moving forward (see Roy tour notice at right).

Taking the Suzuki apart (the bike... <sniff>) and givin' it some love in preparation for what appears to be the coming of spring next week. (aaaand, I think I just ruined it.)

(hot tub!)
OK... apparently Zuki's a no-go. PG County has a pleasant and well-thought-out "forcibly remove ALL Pit and Pit-based dogs from their homes and destroy them immediately with no chance for recourse" law. Interesting to note... the bite statistics have remained level for the 8 years the law's been active. Their illegal status likely makes them even more desirable to the morons who do mistrain and mistreat them.

But oh well... can't just up and move right now. Oh, wait... actually, I can.

I'm guessing that if the county hired an animal expert and a psychologist to interview all registered and reported Pits, and make a judgment accordingly, they'd not only save a substantial majority of the 2,500+ Pits they've killed since enacting the law (not to mention the hearts of families who were close to those dogs), but also a lot of "medical" costs involved in the destruction of so many animals.

Speaking of odd laws... the gay marriage flap is getting interesting. My immediate take (without much thought, mind you)... the mayor of San Francisco overlooked law. That ain't good. If he ruled the city could overlook the state's speed limit, or gun ownership laws, wouldn't there be more public outcry? Of course, the constitutionality of "marriage = heterosexual couple" can be tested... but go through the right channels.

"Marriage" is/was at its core primarily intent on procreation. Historically, with any speck of common sense, that could be a man/woman venture only. But as more and more "unwanted" children churn out of heterosexual relationships, plus fertility technology and artificial insemination making even greater (negative in my opinion) impact on birth rates... the core need for fertile heterosexual couples drops significantly.

Throw in shifting definitions of adulthood, career focus, higher education, and increasing cynicism and caution, all leading to lower birth rates, and marriage rates among particular socioeconomic strata. Also look at a divorce rate that's been flirting with 50% for decades... and an "unhappy marriage" stereotype borne, as many stereotypes are, out of simple truth.

Why do people stick with unhappy marriages? Well, religous ideas prohibiting divorce are one key factor, but often it's fear or complications regarding a return to independence... (not to mention the end of larger tax breaks, cheaper benefits, insurance, and healthcare costs, etc).

While some states allow it, why not push the idea of a "civil union" or "domestic partnership" up nationwide... and make it available to ANY couple, regardless of sexuality, who wishes to be in a committed, long-term relationship together. Basically, it formalizes the "living together" stage that so many relationships drift towards (often in an attempt to delay "marriage" as much as possible as if its a sad inevitability or some Grim Reaper-like entity on the prowl)... it assigns a significant value to committed cohabitation, but not one with the heavy weight of "marriage" outright that tends to ruin many relationships just by its very nature. For many, this would be the optimum scenario... but note that it is not a "family".

Marriage, then, would be the heavyweight licensed, bonded, spoken-before-God-and-all-humanity agreement it still is, with its inherent "sanctity" in tact (improved, even), and would be reserved for those committed long-term couples who wish to raise a family. Marriage returns to its original purpose : a caring, committed, permanent bond dedicated to the upbringing of a new generation. Be it by heterosexual procreation, adoption, or anything else. It is a family. With it comes the family-friendly full-on tax and benefit breaks, etc. Don't want kids? Civil-union it up, baby.

Now, while on that topic, I could launch into the inherent discrimination against single people in such tax and benefit breaks, but that will be another day. I might revisit this with actual figures, stats, etc. soon... but just wanted to get that idea out before it disappeared. Could be wrong. Could disagree with it tomorrow. What do you think?

(come with me... to 1983)
Don't you hate when love songs from relationships past sneak up on you? Especially at times when you're most vulnerable (read : slightly drunk, in the mood for coffee, and feeling unnecessarily pitiful). Damn Wawa and damn their putting REM's "At My Most Beautiful" on the Muzak playlist.

Hey, in that vein, I ever-so-magically got the Lost In Translation DVD in the mail today. I think now's the perfect time to watch it, and shame on me for not having seen it sooner.

Anyway, I had a strange inspiration last night. I don't know where it came from, but more importantly I don't know where it's going. But I think I should... no... MUST do something with it.

'CAUSE I RAWK SO HARD!
(link fixed)

This might be the birth of quirky side project-in-development "Snay Tars". All I'd need is a gui-board/key-tar and I'd be SET.

Oh, to relive the glory days in Tom Brainsky's Chevy Citation driving around Greater Crofton and being so damn cool.

MAN I want a dog. Heather summed it up best today : "Don't you understand that all of my life's problems would be solved if i could only have a little white puppy?". Of course, Heather also said, "JAI WANTS YOU TO USE KIEHLS"... but she's on to something with the first statement. (well, okay, MAYBE the second...) Anyway, mine doesn't have to be white (big surprise), but it does have to have soul... and having the namesake of my current motorcycle also helps. Zuki, come to daddy!

(I like pot... makes me see)
Doug "Greaseman" Tracht was just on Crossfire with an unbelievably scary corporate-christian from the "Family Research Council" and the regular pair. The topic was obscenity in broadcast. Most disturbing of all, Grease was the only one who made a lick of sense.

Opened for Robert Bradley the other night. I went into it thinking the band was sort of taking advantage of him, but at sound check, he yelled at the bass player that his notes weren't punchy enough, then after the show, he called me a "bluesy John Medeski kind of player... but that's good." Obviously the man is no one's fool. Their studio albums are pretty disappointing, and songwriting-wise, they're no groundbreakers. But live, in the right setting, it is undeniably good music, and he can belt out the cliches with more heart and sincerity than most people can original thoughts. That's worth something.

(you listen, but do you hear?)
I had forgotten that on one of my trips into San Francisco proper, I brought along my MD recorder and microphone. This was a relatively cold and rainy day, so not much was going on in the streets... but the amount of music present in the average day through the city is pretty amazing, especially compared to DC. (well... that's not a huge surprise when you think about it)

Regardless, if you have 15 spare minutes, want want to take a stereophonic walking tour with me, grab some headphones and come along for the ride.

0:00 - 1:50 - Leaving Macarthur station towards SF
1:50 - 2:20 - Embarcadero station
2:20 - 3:15 - transition upstairs to Market Street
3:15 - 4:10 - Rainy walk through Chinatown
4:10 - 4:52 - street carnival
4:52 - 5:40 - south out of Chinatown
5:40 - 7:12 - trendy non-Chinatown teahouse, Union Square
7:12 - 8:11 - MOMA interior
8:11 - 9:20 - Market Street back towards train station
9:20 - 11:22 - back in Embarcadero station, to Macarthur
11:22 - 15:27 - getting a drink, listening, leaving Macarthur

(my dear, i claim you're def)
First off, this is my final picture from the California saga. Just nice documented proof of my being here. I'm sure I'll need it. The other pix also help.

Since high school, I've never really been one to expound on the virtues of love-at-first-sight. I usually go for the cautious route of tempered exposure, even-keeled pursuit of facts and logical analysis... mixed, of course, with deference to the unexplainable, but in sensible amounts.

California does not work this way. Not in the least.

At its core, the state is young and still going through some awkward changes, both geologically and politically. But like a horomone-dosed teenager, it's also way more focused on instant gratification and simple enjoyment, shying away from the eventual shift in responsibility and outlook it's going to need to make to survive the next 50-100 years unscathed.

I've been able to relate to it a lot on this trip.

So what am I rambling on about? Saw my dream girl last night. Petite, demure scandanavian... worn jeans, fleece vest, hikin' mocs, earthy yet fragile... with a tenor saxophone. And she could BLOW. Her style was her own, yet firmly rooted in the real thing. Easily outplayed everyone else there (sort of a gritty underground urban jam session combining old Oakland and young Berkeley players - including the best damn piano player I've ever heard). It was like high school all over again. Totally entranced, and with a rush of giddiness when I noticed stupid things like our feet tapping in time.

Simultaneously being lifted up, thrown around, and beat over the head with the music - something I already have a rocky love/hate history with... wanting so bad to be able to play the things I can now clearly start to hear and understand but failing/flailing miserably - then wanting to go make some sort of contact with my dream woman and failing/flailing miserably (as every other player there also wanted to say hello, and having shared the bop battlefield, they already had more connection), it was a night of jazz in the purest experience. Like '47, but with no heroin. Ehh, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway, but it was nice to have a punch in the face like that. There's hope. Henry, you shoulda been there. At least I brought my MD recorder. (songs will be up in a few)

In Walked Bud - 10:07
I Fall In Love Too Easily - 8:15
piano player turns Blues in C into Monkish outside trip - 4:41

(San Francisco Update 2)

Just got back from 900 miles of motorcycle madness down to Santa Barbara and back with a bunch of 'maggots. Not like I didn't know this before, but these people rock. Doesn't matter what part of the country (or world) they may be in.

A few more days in SF before this dream is over... Nothing new story-wise... too tired. Look at pretty pictures for now.

(San Francisco Update 1)
Economies of scale rule. Between taxi, Metro, and shuttle bus... $37 to go 30 miles from home to Dulles. Then $99 to go 3,000 miles to SF. JetBlue also throws in leather seats, lots of legroom, GPS readout and 30 channels of cable in every seat? I don't understand how they're profitable. I don't care. I dig.

Spent the first two days taking it easy... driving around Berkeley, the Marin Headlands, Muir Woods, and a quick blitz thru SF proper. Now that Bob and Krista are back at work, I'm freelancing.

Realized my trusty old Nikon 950 is on its last legs, so before doing anything, I went camera shopping. My cost-no-object dream camera has been the Minolta Dimage A1 for a while, but it's usually been up around $1099. Somehow, I've got the Luck of the Chosen and got it for $699.

2 miles of walking just to pick that up. Then 2 miles to BART. Then probably another 5 or 6 miles of walking in the city today. My dawgs are hurtin'... but it's worth it. I really love this place. So remarkably different from any east coast city, save for a hint of Asheville, NC. But with the noted lack of brick, the somewhat random development patterns up the sides of the mountains, and the strong pan-Asian influence, it feels more like an altogether different country... Rio mixed with Beijing or something to that effect. Check out some pictures for now... much more to come in the next two weeks.

On the agenda : Golden Gate Park, MOMA, a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, some bicycle time around the city... and the 4-day motorcycle road trip down to the mountains north of LA. Hot.

(storytellers)
. "Interesting"

A once-close friend of mine recently commented with a hint of sarcasm... or discomfort... something passively negative... that she didn't really understand why I'd have a website like this. Well, first off... she's obviously not the blog-happy urban hipster that all the overeducated, understimulated DC kids are (thankfully)... but then again, this site isn't some politically-fueled bitchfest blog or a vain attempt to show how witty or sassy I can be (and I can!). It's just a journal... Maybe there's some vanity to it ('cause I'm hot), but for the most part, it's sort of a benign documentary. But i haven't really thought about that question much...

. "My, this is an enjoyable war"
Over the last two weeks, I've been archiving and restoring some old audio recordings given to me by a woman from work who heard I was "the a/v guy". Nothing work-related (so I can't charge, dammit) - but it was interesting enough, and I decided to do it for free. The recordings were of her father in the 1980s recounting as many stories as he could remember from The Second War to End All Wars before Alzheimer's rotted his brain away. PFC Burkitt Sims, Machine Gunner, 1st Rifle Squad, 1st Platoon, B company, 62nd Armored Infantry Battalion, 14th Armored Division. Just a simple American who felt the need to do something after Pearl Harbor, so in he went.

Absolutley fascinating to listen to. No Speilberg/Hanks collaboration here... no bleach bypass, high-shutter-speed images with surround sound. Just a scared 20 year old kid with a gun, and the desire to defend what he thought was right, while still getting home alive. His stories treat combat with a sort of, "Oh, well, yeah that was going on... but listen to THIS:". For instance, while on the push into Germany and randomly searching homes, he met an old lady left behind in an abandoned city who gave him a jar of strawberry preserves in exchange for helping heat up her dinner. Bad intelligence told them to raid a house... they knocked the door down and saw a poor family praying the rosary in German. They joined in as best as they could. His most frightening moment in the whole war was actually caused by a rabbit running past him in the woods. He looked an unarmed German engineer soldier about his own age directly in the eye with the obvious upper hand, and felt worse about his treatment as a prisoner than if he'd just killed the man.Oh, and that night he slept on a featherbed.

. "Frankly, I was glad I was back in Vietnam"
Was talking to mom and dad the other day, and we came on the topic of war and politics, which then touched on a brief but fascinating pair of first-person accounts of 1968-69 in both Vietnam and the DC area. While my dad had the easy task of just staying alive while deployed, or avoiding the spit from angry civilians at Dulles when on leave, Mom would be pelted with tear gas, have her employer's building almost burned down during the riots, or have her car flipped over by raging activists while trying to enter the gates at Ft. Meyer just to drop off the pair of boots Dad accidently left at home before his next tour. She would also be protected during the riots by an unknown large black man, got Giant to donate and ship tons of cases of Pepsi to the troops.

Those are extreme examples, but they've all got something extra to them. That little pause to take in a moment of absurdity or humility. The moments that mark a life well lived or at least well appreciated. Everyone has a story, sure... I guess all told, I think it's a shame that so few are heard. Despite our constant pleading, my grandparents never wrote down their memoirs of WWII, or growing up in the depression, or of the suburban postwar genesis, and the only stories we rememberthem telling have shortened into sentence fragments. Riding bicycles on Route 66 and seeing no cars for an hour. Neighbor men raking the yard and drinking Budweiser while listening to Cardinals game on the transistor radio while the women fixed supper and chatted through the window. Overuse of the word "why" as a preposition.

I guess the adage "the more connected technology gets, the more disconnected society gets" has some weight, but I think with the right kind of usage, technology enables new kinds of connections. I don't see as many of my friends as often as I'd like, but if they can read my observations and thoughts, and I can read theirs... a closeness is maintained, and one that is far more substantial then just "hanging out some time" as so-called friends are prone to finish the sentence "We should think about..." with.

Lastly, listening to old war stories, or tales of masive civil unrest just 35 years ago in my own home town remind me just how much things change, and how fast. Another reason for an open online journal is just <sappy emo lyrics> sometimes I just need a reminder that I, too, am alive and growing and moving forward. </sappy emo lyrics>

Sappy time is over. Puppysitting is over. San Francisco beckons. Word up, bitches.

(adventures in puppysitting)
I've always been a cat person. They take care of themselves, yet know just the right time to come and hang out with you. They're relatively quiet. They're clean, poo where they're told, and remain stink-free. Lots of personality (and personality goes a long way), but they don't feel compelled to demonstrate all the time. They're like teenage children, I guess.

Dogs... sort of like perpetual three year olds. Excitable, hyper, like biting random things, and somewhat stinky. Prone to drooling, breaking things, and "accidents". They usually require adult supervision, but in that vein, since you spend more time together, they also tend to tug at your heart a little more, and make you more proud when they actually listen and behave.

I'm coming around...

(socket wrench)
Matt and Becky were so kind as to put their birfday pix up. Ahh, it's gonna be a good year.

Hell of a jam at ECB last night. Should have some sound clips up soon. Definitely one of my favorite studios in the area now... you know it's good when you call out an obscure CD you've been listening to lately and the engineer goes, "You mean this one?" as its sitting on his desk.

Oh, to anyone I've ever e-mailed who grumbled to themselves as they had to re-type my address in the reply, or watch as Yahoo or AOL completely obliterates the address and tries to make it something else... first off... grow up. There are a lot worse problems in the world. Secondly, it should be fixed now.

Cornbread. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.

(drinks, girls, bikes, fire)

Birthday debauchery was first rate, despite last minute social bailouts. Old Swales-veteran Doug League joined the fray, while Matt and Becky retained their hedonistic credentials with style. Started off high class (Brewer's Art, Red Maple) and degenerated until the last place had both a metal detector AND a Champagne Room.

Apparently, we also stopped at a diner, though I don't quite remember much by that point.

The next day started with me sounding - and feeling - like Barry White, followed by the DC Moto Show with some SabMag and DCAR Moto Crew run-ins. Yay bikes. Yay bike people.

Ate in Chinatown Sunday. Parents took me out yesterday. Rock bottom tonight. I'm not really doing much to stick to my eating less promise as of yet. Ehh, it's winter.

Rode a lot the last two days. Very relaxing. Have had a squirreliness to my riding the last month or so... can't explain it, just not quite comfortable. Took a few BMW test rides today... which were enjoyable enough (dual-sported an F650GS to get around the I-95 inferno), but they also helped me remember how the physics all works in your favor - not to mention how great a bike the SV650 really is comparitively. Now I feel adequately in the zone for the CA coastal ride.

(represent)
26 ain't so bad. Went out to lunch with my old boss and good friends from work. Margaritas and Corona (eech, but it beat Miller) on the corporate card. Word. Apparently the places is falling apart. Worse than ever. Made me feel better about getting out when I did. That was a theme last year.

Elsewhere at NASA proper, the rumor broke about a return to the moon... and the need for a manned moon base for a trip to Mars? What's that crap? The US has nothing to prove... let China go there and be #2. It's not like the moon's on the way to Mars (well, permanently). Might be better to start working out construction techniques there if we plan to make a Mars base, but that's 50 years out, let's just focus on getting there first. Ehh, what do I know? I just think going back to the moon is weak... finish what we started with the ISS, then privatize Earth observation, orbital science, and space astronomy, then retire the Shuttles, and let NASA focus on going to Mars.

Back on Earth, I joined the grownup revolution with an pimptastic new bed, new linens (not quite pimptastic... I don't think pimps necessarily care about high threadcount... shoulda gone silk), new living room furniture, and a return to working out more and eating less. Well, at least the furniture's solid and will last.

Was going to go skiing this morning. It was -1 out. F that. Big round of birthday debauchery tongiht, though, and DC motorcycle show tomorrow.

Random pix from the week :

(whaa?)
Birthday's coming up. A few weeks ago that kind of depressed me. There's something about the number 26. 18-21, still a kid. 21-23... ehh, still a kid. 23-25... early-mid 20s... approaching "adulthood" (whatever that means). By the number 26, you should have your shit together, right? Ehh, not necessarily. Especially in this economy and job market. No sweat, but still hard to completely let go of.

Age, adulthood, etc... just mental states, really. I'm a kid. Always will be. Thank God. I'm at once both unemployed and self-sufficient. That works for me right now. Screw career/marriage/kids just because society says I "should". I know enough people stumbling towards that direction who don't seem to have any business doing so. Obviously not my place to judge... but with 3 in 4 marriages now ending in divorce... c'mon.

You get a career going in a field you enjoy. Not just one that pays. (Though mixing the two ain't bad). You get married when you both know you can't live without one other. You have kids when you know deep in your soul that you can and must commit 100% of your time, energy, and love to making a new human. Otherwise, you're just acting on a fleeting mood. Or clawing for some sort of stability issues that you should really already have settled in your own heart before going into it. Impulses. Not the best idea for buying shoes, clothes, or even a car... never a good idea for committing the rest of your life to someone. Why does everyone try to make it so much more complex than that? Got your first wave of strong maternal pangs? Buy a puppy. Make sure you can pull that off before making something that comes with its own social security number.

Not sure where that came from. Or this, for that matter. It's a golden age for cars. I keep getting reminded of how much I love them, especially lately. Ushered in by the "I told you so" US success of the Subaru WRX, the entire wildly successful Nissan reinvention, and the realization that crap doesn't sell, Toyota's about to get some soul (Scion tC) to complement their obvious technical wizardry (Prius); Mazda keeps pushing the envelope (RX8, new 3); Ford's GT trounces Porsches and Ferraris, while the upcoming Mustang replacement is just badass and sufficiently retro without being gimmicky; even Chevy is spending some serious cash (in the billions) revamping itself (completely new Malibu, Maxx, and upcoming Cavalier-replacing Cobalt all draw heavily from Opel engineering). Mercedes-as-Chrysler has some hits (Crossfire) and some great ideas on the drawing board (Charger and Magnum - also inline with the late 60s retro combination of style and rear drive power). Cars that just a year or two ago were lauded as groundbreaking - or at least just weird (Honda Element, Suzuki Aerio SX) are now run of the mill. And most of these new cars are at once attractive, day-to-day useful, powerful, safe, fun to drive, and affordable.

If I had to get something right now, it'd probably be the Scion tC... but that's just because it's basically an 11-year newer update of what I'm already driving. Strange how sporty yet economical hatchbacks went out of style for so long... they're really the perfect car, I think.

Must be winter... I'm back into car mode. Maybe my weekend down the CA coast will make me start thinking about bikes again.

(in with the new)
A really nice couple of days. Old friends, toothless predators, punching robots, wrong orders. Funk explosion, standing ovations, congratulations, more motivation. More old friends, filet mignon, unfiltered belgian white, Saturn at full opposition, Jupiter's moons, Glenfiddich Special Reserve, champagne, Dick Clark, automatic weapons, olive oil brownies, Brak, caffeine rush preventing any semblance of sleep, Bluetooth to Internet at 4am in West Virginny.

Here's to a happy, healthy, and stable new year. To loving marriages, solid friendships, fulfilled dreams, exciting adventures, and warm blankets. To you and yours... to me and mine. To good whisky. To bad taste. To 2004.

Interesting Christmas. Good... warm and relaxed, with surreal moments leading to a very random round of group psychotherapy... but at least it was productive. Sometimes I wish we had some extended family left... sometimes I enjoy the non-insanity of it all compared to other peoples' stories.

2003 is almost over... thankfully. Came in already screwed up with Muv's passing, dragged-out breakup, and health problems. Kicked in the gut by the shuttle tragedy and four months of direct support work following. The country went to war. Bob's dad succumbed to cancer. Mom had a heart attack. Motorcycle accident. Heart jerked around. Work morale dropped with rumors of forced sellout. Motorcycle accident #2. House floods. Year ends with the most ambiguous layoff ever.

But not that it was all bad... there were some absolutely amazing moments throughout it all (including road trips, more music than ever in a mix of genres, collaborative projects that not only worked out but were successul and well-received, great new friends, resurgence of missed old friends, and the blessing of seeing great things happen to people who really, truly deserve them). It's just been a year of wild highs and lows. Lots of growth, though... and a true appreciation of who my real friends are, new and old.

It's also the first time I can ever remember being genuinely excited about the year to come (or scared to death... one of those), since there are absolutely no constants going in.

Well, I didn't mean for this to get sappy. Just preparing for the ubiquitous news network highlight reels with "Wind Beneath My Wings" playing underneath... or maybe this year they'll just go whole-hog and play Elliot Smith over a picture of the Columbia crew or something.

Speaking of music... I know I'm a little late, but is Polyphonic Spree just a bad takeoff of Danielson Famile with more money and label support? I do admire VW's consistent ability to pick up on catchy inspriring alternapop quickly. And Alicia Keys' new single gives me some serious hope for mass-pop R'n'B... a little James Jamerson, a little Dramatics... yet solidly modern, and wholly authentic, unlike Mya doing "Compared to What" or whoever that fat white soulless whore was trying to sing James Brown at the Kennedy Center Honors. (To her defense, I think she was Canadian)

Oh well... trendy phoneblogger-requisite content follows. I pass this place regularly, and while I think I've noticed this before... I didn't really think about it. A cute little Japanese travel agency on 14th NW. I can't stop thinking of Tracy Morgan as Astronaut Jones.

Had an amazing bottom-rung opportunity with a company that does documentary production for CNN and Frontline. Got a nice letter today saying, "We were impressed with your resume! You sound perfect! We hired someone else!" Bah.

Converting my treasured old high school mixtape collection over to CD. There is nothing on earth like a girl who can make a good mixtape. Just a good indicator of a lot of things... all of them pretty critical in the grand scheme of things. Doesn't have to be obscure and exclusive... doesn't have to be based around a theme (in fact, that usually makes it bad). It just has to flow, and understanding flow requires substantial prowess. Mmmm... prowess.

I'm pretty sure that if you're attracted to someone, they're attracted to you, and you both make good mixtapes... it'd work out just fine. It's just that easy.

Hey, and on that note... have some music. First, in response to Henry's posting of Guaraldi's "Christmas Time is Here", I gotta say I'm far more partial to the instrumental version. Maybe a little less a direct pull on the heart strings from the one with the kids' chorus, this one kicks my ass right into a Chet Bakery sort of introspective, hopeful, wistful, heart-warming, sentimental yet starkly realistic vibe. Driving up Rhode Island Ave NE at 2:30am after a gig, $60 in my back pocket, too much black wool on, sipping bad coffee, watching flurries start to fall.

Here's my absolute all-time favorite Christmas song. Turn down the lights and jingle them sleigh bells, baby. Harder.

I also came across this Destiny's Child remix. Judge if you want, but I dig it. Late-90s-vintage fat D'n'B/2-step beat with some nice ambient touches and a wild analog synth bass worthy of none but Benjamin Andre himself. Definitely beats predictable R'n'B pop. They even throw Hathaway's "Jigga Ham, Jigga Haaaammm" ("shake a hand, shake a hand")

Why am I white?