eInsomnia

Updates now at einsomnia.wordpress.com/

2007-11-04T18:18:00.000-08:00

Follow the link here to the new BLOG

2007-06-04T02:23:00.001-07:00

Superman, Kryptonite and life in general ...

2007-06-04T02:13:00.000-07:00

Everyone seems to have a weakness. There's no way to keep from the occasional fault lying beneath the surface. You can easily be mammoth in stature, but lingering like a whisper is something not quite strong enough to hold. Truth is that is why we exist. Overcoming the things that hold us back makes us stronger.

Who we are becomes what we can overcome. Life is pain, princess.

Go fly a kite ...

2007-05-20T02:29:00.001-07:00

So after a long, rough week, the wife and I decided we needed a little get-away so we headed north from San Jose (after a slight detour due to my bad sense of direction) to the white sandy beaches of Half Moon Bay. Along for the ride was our old friend, the good Jolly Roger kite we bought during a camping trip to North Carolina's Outer Banks a couple of years ago. The kite now has the good fortune of being flown on beaches created by both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Arrgghhh! So we flew the kite for an hour or so and buried our feet in the sand for yet another peaceful sunset on a California beach. Helps the weight of the week (and the world) feel a little less heavy.

Say what? ...

2007-05-12T13:48:00.000-07:00

"Seen" on Franklin Street, Chapel Hill, N.C.
What happens in Chapel Hill ... stays in Chapel Hill

Tripping out on the way to The Wedding (the Movie!)

2007-05-07T00:58:00.000-07:00

Ok. So here I am playing around with iMovie. It's our trip to Chris and Tiffany's wedding. There will be more fun coming. Enjoy.

Tripping out on the way to The Wedding...

2007-04-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

Ok. So we're supposed to be close to landing at D/FW airport at this moment.

Obviously The Wife and I aren't.

Instead we're sitting at home watching Game 2 of the Miami-Chicago NBA playoffs. Why you ask?

Take a look at the map (you can click it to make it bigger). The Wife and I are way over there on the left in San Jose. The pre-wedding festivities for our friends Chris and Tiffany (hereby listed as "The Couple" and the festivities listed as "The Wedding") are way over there on the right. In between: scary red boxes.

Those little red boxes were so scary that "The Folks that Make Decisions" at Mineta/San Jose International Airport rescheduled our flight there twice today. After the second delay, Sarah and I decided not to press our luck (the "Folks Behind the Counter" couldn't promise we'd make our connection). So we opted out for a flight early Wednesday morning in hopes of reaching "The Wedding" by early tomorrow evening. We'll see.

But the fun didn't stop at our rescheduling. When we asked about our checked luggage, the "Folks Behind the Counter" said to go to baggage claim, it would be 10 minutes.

It was two hours. Talk about a good start to the trip.

Wish us luck tomorrow. I promise pictures and stuff when we return.

And then there was a dance (Part 2)

2007-04-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

Continued from Part 1. Catch up HERE (about half way down page).

FLASH

Her Mom expected her home by possibly noon. My Dad ordered me home by 1:30 a.m. … “And not one second later.” Both parents were serious. Her mother — either generous and very cool or weird and very dumb — lent us the keys to her shiny, new Ford Explorer so I could drive a group of our (her) friends to the nearest big town for a fancy (over-priced) pre-prom dinner. Meanwhile my parents allotted me an extra 30 minutes of curfew and the promise that my father would be sitting at the corner of our street in a lawn chair waiting for me if I missed the allotted time. He was serious. He’d done it before.

I parked my car in front of her large, beautiful home, paused for a moment, started to hyperventilate, caught my breath and then quickly made for her front door. Once there I paused for a moment, started to hyperventilate, caught my breath, looked at the slight reflection of myself in the door’s glass and then knocked gently on the pane. My heart was beating so fast I felt as though I would hurl on my black tuxedo. However, stomach acid would have clashed horribly with the cummerbund that matched the royal pinkness of her dress. Earlier my brother had joked that pink was for sissies. I agreed whole-heartedly, but didn’t remark back. I’d seen worse. My best friend was wearing some teal-purple vest under his jacket that with the addition of just the slightest bit of electric current, would have lit him up like the Las Vegas Strip.

Her mother came to the door with a smile on her face and a kind word or two about my monkey suit. I felt like a fraud, a child in my father’s clothes as she led me from a foyer filled with nice family portraits to a living room filled with very original art. The mother calmed my nerves slightly by saying her daughter was “still getting ready, but should be right down. Why don’t you sit?” So I planted carefully on the couch, trying desperately not to wrinkle my pants. Soon we were chatting about how wonderful fleeting moments like these were in life and how happy she was that her daughter had picked me to escort her to one of the most memorable nights of her life. I think she was quoting a poem of some kind, when the daughter appeared at the top of the stairs.

She was incredible. At that point in my young life I’d seen no one more beautiful. Still to this day, only two other moments have taken my breath completely away. But this was my first. She smiled, her long, dark hair pulled behind her head in a way that accentuated her always striking smile. Her makeup was that of a seventeen-year-old girl trying to look 25, but slightly beneath the foundation, the energy that always consumed her face shone through like a bright light. I struggled to cough, as my throat grew dry. I could not take my eyes away as she nearly floated down the stairs.

I was still staring, in a trance, when her mother spoke. She spoke again. The third time my trance was broken, because she raised her voice in an impatient way and asked the question: “Well … don’t you think she’s beautiful?”

I did. And to this day I still occasionally play this moment over in my head. I could have gone in so many different directions. However, my brain was truly paralyzed by the beauty before me. I reached and reached, searched and searched and tried desperately to clear the dryness from my throat. Then, after rubbing my neck with my hand, and then running it up my cheek and through my hair Christian-Slater style, I said the most offensive comment I could have conjured.

“She looks … very … nice.”

The breath the Mother took in sucked the life out of the daughter. Beautiful's eyes dropped for a second and the smile that beamed so bright turned down ever so slightly for just a touch of a moment. Then being the sweet, enduring person she always had been, her face lit back up and she said, “You look great.”

But I felt like ass.

FLASH [ stay tuned ]

We're coming back real soon...

2007-04-05T01:05:00.000-07:00

So what's a blogger to do when he doesn't blog? I guess I should stop playing so much on Second Life and get going in real life.
Seriously. Anyway. Stay tuned. There are many more stories to tell. Much more to write. The internet is nothing without information. Right?
So, stay tuned.

Finally, a few words about England...

2006-11-30T12:08:00.000-08:00

The wife and I recently returned from a must needed and well deserved “extended vacation” in Europe. I put quotes around that phrase because after five years of marriage we’ve learned that “extended vacation” actually means “visiting relatives on holidays.” You can imagine this tragic definition caused considerable laughter between us once we learned that the Brits call all vacations “holidays.”

While I’ll spare you any long-winded details of our trip, a couple of moments drew such rare inspiration that not mentioning them seems criminal. We spent a remarkable night on the grounds of Canterbury Cathedral surrounded by beauty and history I never imagined beyond reading Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales” and T.S. Eliot’s “Murder in the Cathedral.” The gothic structure’s brown, aged walls are adorned with weatherworn statues of saints and martyrs and seem to reach up from ground as if to support the sky. Because we stayed on grounds, we were able to walk around the World Heritage site at night, those same walls lit only by the blue shading of moonlight.

Inside, the Cathedral became a living, breathing animal. Tourists and clergy moved about, inspecting rows of monuments, the enormous architecture and the sheer awe of a structure that has drawn pilgrimages to the site since medieval times. While I never claim to be the most ardent Christian, I was close to tears as I walked along the deep grooves worn into marble floor by ages and ages of pilgrims. And the stained glass, dancing by sunlight, filled the dark and amazing space with small touches of color and a sense that much-higher presence surrounded those gathered.

That night we attended a candlelit choral concert inside the cavernous chamber. Again I fought back tears as voices filled in the perfect acoustics of the holy structure. The emotions rendered that night, still linger.

Another moment I hope will always remain at easy recollection belongs to the Tate Modern, London’s newest art gallery. While I could spend several hours recalling the amount of precious art Sarah and I studied there (as well as at the National Gallery), one room brought me an incredible sense of harmony.

In the 1950s Mark Rothko was commissioned to paint a series of murals for the Four Seasons restaurant in New York City. The owners hoped that the color and brightness seen in his earlier work would be the perfect companion to their restaurant’s atmosphere. However, upon finishing the canvases, Rothko dropped out of the commission because the darker mood of the piece seemed unsuitable for the restaurant setting. The work now lives in a smallish room at the Tate that is surrounded by other pieces of his art, as well as several of Jackson Pollock’s better know pieces.

Once inside, enormous, dark canvases become the small room. With your back to the door, you are washed in what seems like such simple strokes, but by lingering longer, the deep complexity of the work presses into you. At first you feel a sense of claustrophobia, the type of anxiety that felt when embarking upon near-impossible tasks, but moments later the room transforms from tight space to infinite openness. Thinking back, the time I spent soaking in the canvases of maroon, dark red and black closely match the religious experience felt on our trip to Canterbury.

New Deserted Cartoon...

2006-11-12T22:17:00.000-08:00

I'm back from London (more on that later). But big news is buddy Rob has a new Deserted cartoon. Brush up on your Shakespeare.

Friday, the day after the 12th ...

2006-10-13T03:04:00.000-07:00

So I remember the sleepover I had for a birthday "party" many, many years ago. I couldn't have been more than 10. Four friends from the neighborhood and I snuck in late viewings of HBO while wrapped in our sleeping bags on the hardwood floor of my parents' living room in the "Jewel of the Forest," Jasper, Texas. The original "Friday the 13th was the last of several movies we watched that evening, and it was the one movie that gave me nightmares for months. Watching it now, it's slightly less scary than then. Actually, at times, it's a little bit funny. But those few sleepless nights, where I couldn't sleep because I swore I kept hearing in the "chh-chh-chh-chh-haa-haa" sound of the background music, continue to haunt me to this day ... well, sort of.

Happy Friday the 13.

This time you ride in the side car...

2006-10-13T02:30:00.000-07:00

What a night. Tiny beer night at Tied House with friends (where the wife admitted her love for Christina Aguilera — yeooch). Then a lovely walk downtown before heading home. And now a late, sleepless night watching — grab your grease-paint mustaches — The Marx Bros.'s Duck Soup (one of my favorite movies that was not listed here in an earlier posting) and then listening to The Decemberists newest album "The Crane Wife*."

*Maggie, listen up.

Sharks patrol these waters ...

2006-10-09T01:31:00.000-07:00

err ... this ICE.

Saturday the wife and I walked down to HP Pavilion, home of the NHL's San Jose Sharks, for the second home game of the season (against BC's favorite team nonetheless - the NY Islanders). It was Sarah's first-ever professional hockey game and just my second. Our seats ( you can see the view above ) were about as nose-bleed as you can get. But the action, even from what seemed like a county over, was quick and exciting. At least the action was quick and exciting for most of us. Sarah, a little impatient at 13 minutes and 58 seconds in the first period, said "Would somebody score already?!" And like magic, seven seconds later, the Sharks did. The season-ticket holders that were making fun of her just seconds earlier, invited her (and her Mojo) back to any home game in the near future.

Sharks win. Fun stuff.

This will be short...

2006-08-13T23:36:00.000-07:00

but not as short as it could have been. I'm 32. Celebrated my birthday with slight fanfare. A quiet walk on the sand by the powerful Pacific Ocean as the sun set over the water. Later a drunken party at Tim's during which I couldn't even hold my own (with age comes less tolerance, I'm learning). And today, a quiet afternoon running errands with the wife.

Some may call that less than spectacular. For me being here today is the most spectacular event since my birth.

The great heat wave of 2006…

2006-07-27T02:37:00.000-07:00

Well, to say it’s been hot here in Northern California would be, as they say in the business, a slight understatement. We’ve had a record breaking 10-days straight of plus-90 degree temperatures in the South Bay. After living in North Carolina and growing up in Texas this seemed a bit tame at first, but after persisting and then wilting through the period sans air conditioner, I learned quickly what the word “sweltering” truly meant.

Oh, the wife and I were brave at first. Upon arriving at our new home we pledged to be true Bay Area-ians and refrained from the useless purchase of an ac unit for the new house. All along we were told “you’ll have two bad weeks of temps around 90, but the rest of the year you’ll be comfortable without having to fall back on any technology superior than a ceiling fan or two.” So we easily bought into it. We fell in love with the house we are in now — ac or not. But then day four of ten...

I hadn’t slept well (surprise there) for those four days. The wife was suffering from a horrendous summer cold and I was waking before 6 a.m. every morning drenched in a hot sweat. We both were becoming more and more cranky as the hot days passed and Bob the Cat was becoming more like Bob the Slug.

It was a Friday morning and I had tried every conceivable combination of open windows, open doors and floor fan placement trying to get a breeze into the bedroom to no avail. After moving outside onto one of the patio chairs for an hour to cool off, I managed to not only watch the sun rise, but also the temperature rise. The air outside quickly went from 85-ish to more like 90-ish. The breeze, gentle earlier on, died completely. I found myself sticking to the patio chair in a way that made me think of old Warner Bros. characters who pulled themselves like Velcro off of hot items. Hot became hot. On top of that, a new beast began to invade Northern California: humidity.

So that night after work, I drove over to our friendly neighborhood Fry’s Electronics to price portable air conditioners. When I first arrived there were about 75 units waiting in the front aisles, calling out to every shopper, “buy me … I’ll make you cooooooollller.” People flocked to them in a type of hypnotic trance.

My trance was broken by sticker shock — $399 for the cheapest version — and the fact that they were mostly manufactured by a company I’d never heard of. So, I rushed outside to call the wife and report that by the great power of supply and demand, prices had skyrocketed (in a moment of weakness earlier this summer we had priced them online and found them for just under $200). After twenty minutes of haggling with the wife, we decided that the purchase was necessary for our sanity. So I went back in. The 75 units were now down to a mere 30. Yes, they were selling like hotcakes.

However, I was unafraid. I turned to a salesman who knew nothing about anything and started asking questions. He gave me a brochure and tried to read to me what was on the side of the box as if it were written in a language I didn’t understand. I told him I could indeed read English and asked if he could provide any additional information. He could not. Twenty minutes later there were only 20 units left. I freaked. People were grabbing two at a time. It was as if air conditioners were the hottest new toy at Christmastime.

So I ran to the front of the store, procured a shopping cart, raced back to the aisle of cool and grabbed one of the cheapest brands left. I then made for the front counter where a line of hundreds snaked through in rows that reminded me of the wait you see at the hottest roller coaster at Six Flags. Forty-five minutes later, I made the $400 purchase and began to push out to the car. Looking back I saw only two units left on the floor. In an hour and a half, Frys had moved 73 units. In case you’re doing the math — and you should because I can’t (turn to the calculator) — that’s $30,000 if you say they were all the cheap ones. And they weren’t. The most expensive one was $699.

So tonight it finally began to cool off. Tonight we decided to open the windows and try to live in our entire house and not just the air-conditioned back bedroom. So far, so good. There is a nice sea breeze blowing and I’m not “Sweating to the Oldies” like Richard Simmons. All in all, it was $400 for five good nights of sleep. That’s $80 a night. A good investment if you ask me. A couple of friends have spent money on hotels. Some might call that smart, not investing too much in an expensive unit. But I hear there’s another heat wave coming next week. This time, we’ll be prepared.

Shows this summer ...

2006-07-17T02:06:00.000-07:00

There was Cochella of course, much earlier this year, where I saw Franz Ferdinand (the best at the festival), the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (a very close second), My Morning Jacket, Gnarls Barkley (quickly becoming a favorite), Kayne West and so many more that I can't remember. Of course there was also Madonna, who we didn't actually see, but heard during our last night escape to the parking lot. I can't say she sounded very good at al, but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt since we were quite a bit away from her packed tent. The trip, with buddies Tim and Denis was incredible. I'll try to blog about it soon.

But my update tonight is about the shows coming up. This week will be fun. Tuesday it's Sonic Youth and Pearl Jam with newly anointed Californians Chris and Tiffany (friends who just moved here from Charlotte) and Sunday it will be the Raconteurs, Jack White's side band, with Tim, Kevin, Leslie and the wife.

Then for the birthday celebrations surrounding my all-important 32nd birthday (which also includes my inaugural trip to Vegas) will be one of my new favorite bands: Dirty Pretty Things. Stay tuned for updates!

To what do we owe this? …

2006-07-17T01:50:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately of our places here on Earth and what causes us to be who we are. Nothing has brought these thoughts to me more convincingly than an email I received tonight from an old college roommate.

Keith was a stanch democrat and at the time of our cohabitation, a real intellect who questioned everything from rock and roll music to the existence of God. He was a great mind who worked for me at the college paper as a political columnist and assistant editor. During our time at East Texas State, he wrote convincingly about why the president of the student body should step down after a “scandal” that led to several members of the schools fraternities being sworn in as student congress members without a general election. I can’t tell you how much fun it was working late nights on stories that we thought were crucial to due process and balance of power.

But beyond that, we had a great personal relationship. He was always there to talk through problems and politics, usually with a smoke in hand, our common bouts of insomnia and almost always Pink Floyd playing in the background. Funny that he chose to email me an update on his life the same week that former Floyd front man Syd Barrett died.

Anyway, Keith’s email started by telling me that he had surprisingly changed his party affiliation to Republican. I was shocked at first, but then my understanding of small town Texas afforded me a tiny bit of understanding into why this type of thing happens. Texas has become a pretty conservative place in the past few years thanks to the man in the White House. Gone are the days of LBJ and ideals that flush mostly left. Keith has returned to our hometown of Paris, Texas and is expecting his second (and as he says probably last) child in October. He is married to his high-school sweetheart. He is making ends meet working as a manager of a shoe store. Some would call that the simple life, but it makes sense for someone who has found the ground wire in his life, even if he now leans more to the right.

Keith also talked about his involvement with a church. Something I’ve been thinking as of late is an important part of life. I was a little shocked that the same person that used to question God’s existence, now was a very active member in a church. That type of change has been written about in books and has been passed down in stories so many times that it seems cliché, but knowing Keith as I do, I realize and will pass to you that is could be nothing short of sincere on his part.

Faith is an important part of life. Whether it is a false comfort as so many poets have reported or the dire need for sense of place on this planet, to each his own. You have to have faith to live. Happiness is knowing you are here for a reason.

Of course my mind plays tricks on me in so many ways, but tonight it seems to push further towards the question of “why am I here.” Keith helped me answer that a little tonight. Knowing that people from your past that you had important relationships with, who years later want to know how you’re doing so much that they spend the time tracking you down, just to send you an update through email is very flattering. It means that somewhere in time I meant enough to someone that they’d say howdy even years later. I’ve always felt like I have taken these things for granted. I’m learning that when it comes to friendship, you can’t do that.

Life’s too short.

Thoughts of mortality… eventually

2006-07-06T02:23:00.000-07:00

He is one of this place’s good people — a figure of strength and stability in a world of constant change. Most people, including those who have had coffee with him every morning for decades at the local coffee shop, know him as Charlie. I know him by just one name: Granddad. He is one of the few people I look to with incredible admiration. He is kind, honest and God-fearing. He is tall, strong and wise. My entire life I’ve seen him be nothing less than giant, larger than life. And as grandsons often do, I saw him as invincible. However, recently I’ve seen him as we all are: mortal.

In recent weeks I’ve seen him in one hospital or another. Fighting heart disease at 79. Where once a strong, tall, powerful man of words and actions stood, I see a weak, struggling old man who knows his next breath could be his last. That knowledge would be devastating to most everyone. But not Charlie. My grandfather has made peace with this world and knows his calling is higher. His faith carries him through and makes him the man I’ve always seen him to be. Even though his body is failing him now, he still has sharp eyes that tell you that he’s ready for life after death. For those of us here in the present who will debate the afterlife for years to come, knowledge that the passing tide could be at hand is a treacherous venture. For Charlie, it’s just the next step; an enviable position that shows confidence and builds character. While suffering the most pain, he is sure of his position. You can’t find that strength anywhere here on Earth.

But no matter when his final breath comes, I know he will live on inside of my brothers and I because he helped mold us into the men we are now: strong, capable and immortal in our thoughts and ideals. We are as tall inside as he is outside. We will always be that because he helped make us this way.

and on that note, my favorite bible verse: "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

More to come ...

2006-04-24T11:48:00.000-07:00

Please hold. We will return very soon.

Big Rock, Little Rock...

2006-04-04T02:35:00.000-07:00

Flight to Little Rock. Check. Room at the Hampton Inn. Check. Mini-fridge full of Shiner Bock and Miller Light. Check. Friends from Charlotte in suite across the hall. Check. No Rain until after the ceremony. Priceless.

Well, Luke got hitched in Little Rock this weekend to a wonderfully beautiful and well-suited mate, Allison. A beautiful time in an interesting place. Sunday the newly weds headed to Aruba and the wife and I headed back to California. It went fast, but the weekend was unforgettable.

The big highlight of the trip? Easy. Luke's face all lit up when he was repeating his vows. But his wonderment was followed closely by the ceremony's awesome finale. As soon as the pastor announced the new couple, James Brown's "I Feel Good" blared from the speakers and the excited couple danced down the aisle with a joy reserved for such occasions. The attendants were brought to their feet with a roar of applause usually reserved for a bottom-of-the-ninth, two-out, tie-breaking home run. Exceptionally entertaining.

Other highlights? The rental car: a brand-spanking-new, red Ford Expedition quickly nicknamed "Clifford the Big Red Dog." I parallel parked the mother on the first try. The six of us quickly nicknamed "The Charlotte Six" rode through the burbs of Little Rock in high style. Another favorite? Our theme song, which we sketched out during many trips from the downtown bars to the hotel: "Little Rock, Little Rock of Horrors" (Of course, to the tune of "Little Shop of Horrors"). There was also the Saturday afternoon screamfest to Boston's "Feel Like Making Love."

And really, love's all the weekend was really about.

Wedding for couple No. 3262338509215000

2006-03-31T01:31:00.000-08:00

So the wife and I are headed back southeast this weekend for what could turn out to be the wedding of the year. Our Charlotte pal Luke (or the man behind the LUUK link to the left ) and his gal pal are tying the knot Saturday in Little Rock, ArKANSAS (wife's spelling, not mine). As I look now over our travel schedule, it goes something like this: take American Airlines flight from the Oakland airport, connect in Dallas, take American Airlines shuttle to Little Rock, catch mule-drawn carriage from dirt-packed runway to downtown motor inn. Beware of the locals. Kidding. Jokes. Laugh.

Anyway, in case you're wondering, yes, our friend has decided to get married on April 1, otherwise known to the general public as April Fool's Day. You may think this is "cute" or "interesting" but anyone who knows Luke knows he's bad with dates and this is to keep from any future embarrassment with the future wife. Again, jokes. Seriously though, Luke is a man who is always full of surprises, so I'm guessing there is something slightly sinister afoot. Stay tuned.

And for our non-wedding entertainment there's this advertisement for the city that says: "Learn about the President of the United States or POTUS at the entertaining and family-friendly Clinton Presidential Library and Museum..." POTUS? Have we really come that far as a society that we need an acronym for the freaking presidential office? Kind of PO-dunk to me. But of course with little else to do in Little Rock, we'll be there.

Half Moon Bay...

2006-03-27T14:47:00.000-08:00

The wife and I ventured from the warm, dark cavern that is our condo this weekend in order to dip our feet into the breathing wonders of the Pacific Ocean. The largest ocean on the planet rises and falls a mere hour's drive from our home and the ride through the rolling, green hills mesmerized us to the point that few words were spoken during our trip. The ease at which we progressed from hazy skies and overpopulation to sun-drenched heavens and quiet beaches pressed away any weariness the weeks before had amassed. The violence of crashing waves upon an outcropping of rocks nearby calmed us, as did the gawking of white sea birds circling above. Deep sand stung our bare feet, but smoothed in areas where the water recently receded. But there, where the water ebbed and flowed, we cautioned away. Along this stretch of northern California coast, the salty water is freezing and a single touch is enough to permanently chill your core. We laughed as if tickled by this cold, and then rushed to find comfort by burying our feet into the warm sand. We sat for several silent moments on a thick, black rock and allowed the ocean to speak for us. We had come here to offer our tidings and receive the blessings of the ocean. The energy of the waters filled us. The walk at Half Moon Bay made us whole again.

New Deserted Cartoon...

2006-03-26T22:48:00.000-08:00

Check out the newest installment of my buddy Rob's web cartoon Deserted on his site (There's also a link to his site in the link bar at left). If you haven't already taken a look at his stuff, you should do that immediately. There are about a half dozen original shorts that will make you smile.

The Raconteurs rock

2006-03-26T22:07:00.000-08:00

Been meaning to deliver this not-so-new-anymore-news for some time. (Thanks to my good friend in the know — Tball, who shared the facts months ago. I know blog, smog!). Anyway, here's a link to the new Jack White side project, The Raconteurs, which also features Brendan Benson. The site has two songs and a video for the first single "Steady as She Goes." The song is great. UPDATE: After you enjoy that wonderfully designed site (just love the early-80s-type interface) you can slide over here to listen to BBC DJ Dermot O'Leary Saturday night broadcast featuring a live, in-studio spot from the band. Who says I'm always late with news? Enjoy.

And there was a dance ...

2006-03-26T13:07:00.000-08:00

We were younger then. High school prom. She was beautiful even in one of those fluffy Jackie-O pink dresses that's sole purpose was to ensure teenage girls with particularly well-off parents didn't get pregnant after the prom. I was not as well-off, nor did I struggle to make the $80 payment on my basic tuxedo. Of course, the prom picture-taking was frightening. Two of us, dressed better than we would be on any other day save our (separate) wedding days. My arms curved around her waist in the most uncomfortable way, as if my parents were making me hug my sister after some long, drawn-out fight instead of holding on to someone I'd had a crush on for most of my life. But she was just as tense. The smile wrapped gently below her cheeks seemed disingenuous, which was hard to imagine for someone so sweet in all other aspects of life. There we stood, uncomfortably waiting, wrapped in each other's arms, under the sliver of an alumnium-foil-covered, cardboard-cutout moon, as close as we'd ever been, waiting for the photographer to give us one final cue before the flash froze this awkward moment in time.

FLASH

The photo now speaks volumes. The space between us grew as the night progressed. During the photo opportunity, the space measured maybe two inches, max. By the time the night was over, that space measured a lifetime. [ STAY TUNED ]

Something about the people you meet ...

2006-03-21T22:03:00.000-08:00

I'm entranced by the novella I'm reading at the moment, "A Month in the Country" by J.L Carr. While there are many reasons to enjoy the feathery read, the story is most inviting due in part to my mental state as of late (and at 135 pages, it's been easy to pick up). The story follows a man close to my age who leaves the loud, manic streets of London to restore a medieval mural found recently at a church in a small English town. Simply written, the book has been a tremendous joy. But the theme of simplicity is what has caused the book to resonate. My life has been pretty loud lately (as if you hadn't noticed by the lack of blogging I've — or we've, if you follow the current theories of my multipersonality Â— done). Lots of stuff at work, very little time to myself and some family happenings from back home thrown in to the mix. For all the dissonance around me, this book takes me back to how I felt while reading Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises." It's a treasure.

So, there's a passage that reminded me of people that have passed through my life and how at times I've treated them and that got me to thinking that this represents those dealings painfully well. And as much as I like the book, this passage made me hate it just as much.

"I never exchanged a word with the Colonel. He has no significance at all in what happened during my stay in Oxgodby. As far as I'm concerned he might just as well have gone round the corner and died. But that goes for most of us, doesn't it? We look blankly at each other. Here I am, here you are. What are we doing here? What do you suppose it's all about? Let's dream on. Yes, that's my Dad and Mum over there on the piano top. My eldest boy is on the mantelpiece. That cushion cover was embroidered by my cousin Sarah only a month before she passed on. I go to work at eight and come home at five-thirty. When I retire they'll give me a clock— with my name engraved on the back. Now you know all about me. Go away: I've forgotten you already."

We're back and all new-and-improved-like

2006-03-06T03:40:00.000-08:00

Ok. So I wasn't going to promise much, but I can't help but say that in the coming weeks you'll be hearing much more from me. Needless to say, my sleeping patterns have cycled back to the insomnia side and I'm quickly growing tired of watching old episodes of Family Guy on Cartoon Network (OK. That's a lie. I'm not really tired of watching Family Guy!, but I'm running out of shows I haven't seen). Anyway, take a look around, you'll notice a new look to the site, another sign that my insomnia has returned. There will be more improvements, more diary-like entries and other stuff that will prove I haven't actually found a remedy to my sleepless nights. Damn seasons. Can't trust them. I mean look at what happened after I moved to the Bay area. For the last two weeks we've gotten freaking snow. We never get snow. Never. Oh well. It's only March. Spring's getting loaded as we speak. So on to a quick update. Since we last spoke I've: Seen Norm McDonald at the Improv. Skied Squaw Valley! at Lake Tahoe (there a story coming on this). Been promoted at work. Driven down Highway 1 from San Francisco to Santa Cruz. Got the news that two of my best friends are getting married (to each other). Gotten addicted to a new gadget (my Blackberry, there's another couple of stories there). Gotten two bad haircuts (and one good one). Saw all but one of the Oscar-nominated Best Picture films (story there). And now written one more blog entry than I have in the last four weeks. So there. Updated. Stay tuned, there's more to come.

Still MIA, but for now, a musical interlude

2006-02-04T23:37:00.000-08:00

We here at eInsomnia continue to have some sort of bug in our updating software and have been unable to post solidly for some time. According to the government's recently released statement, the name of the worm that could be causing our system's malfunction is SLEEP. However, as the young, former-Weezer fans in line at the Spoon show would say, this is a quick "shout-out" to inform my loyal readers ( I know of at least TWO - Keep the comments coming! ) that I have in my possession my very own two-day pass to the 2006 Coachella Valley Music Festival!

Come on now. This is serious music muscle. The lineup includes Franz Ferdinand (I'm Your Villian), My Morning Jacket, Daft Punk, Wolf Parade, Tool, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Block Party, Coheed and Cambria, James Blunt, The Magic Numbers and much, much more.

By the way, check out an entire day of last year's show in two-minutes here.

Merry Christmas ...

2005-12-25T12:52:00.000-08:00

Have a great Christmas and a happy new year. eInsomnia will return after the first of the year.

Uncommon sense...

2005-12-03T02:11:00.000-08:00

Because I haven't done a quick one in awhile... Real quick: KENTUCKY Fried Chicken is now using "Sweet Home ALABAMA" in their commercials. Talk amongst yourselves.

Oh and study UP. Or REALLY study UP.

Man in Black, Black thoughts ...

2005-11-27T03:23:00.000-08:00

The wife and I saw "Walk the Line" tonight. Based on two books: a biography of Johnny Cash's life and his own autobiography, the film was a pretty straight-forward look at the life of the Man in Black. Good performances and good tunes. Cash is one of my heroes. A man who did so much with what he was armed with at birth: a great voice and nearly unlimited talent. However, the movie got me thinking more about what we leave behind once we're dead and gone. I'm not trying to get too down and depressed, but my thoughts quickly turn to what I'll leave behind. At the moment, it doesn't seem like much more than debt and a hole in my family. Of course, many of us have stories that make our lives interesting (those who know me, know I have numerous stories - not all interesting), but very few of us have too much that will linger very long after we expire. So, what is it that makes us get up in the morning and continue on? Work is work. For some of us that is our life. For others it's home, the ones we love and the life we build around that. But what will we be remember for? What makes us who we are? What makes us leave any type of mark? Who's recording that in any shape or form? I think quickly to those who's lives were cut short and who are remembered fondly: James Dean, John Lennon, John Kennedy O'Toole. There are too many to name. But what do we do on a daily basis that makes us not just who we are, but would leave any type of impression on those around us? I think there is little. I try to take life one day at a time and move forward. But apathy and laziness seem to push me to do little more than just go through the motions (and occasionally leave really bad posts on this site). I get up, go to work, come home, sit and wait for life to happen to me. I guess watching movies like "Line" you get the feeling that you can't just expect life to happen, you have to almost happen to life. Push harder, take what you can and give back more than you get. Sounds like the beginnings of a really bad Hallmark card. But it's true. Nothing comes to those with little talent if they aren't willing to take the occasional step in the direction of a life less ordinary and engage in a life more interesting. It's in the book somewhere I know it. And maybe some day I'll walk the line a little less and push myself outside my comfort level and into something just interesting enough to MAKE good story instead of just telling one.

It was beautiful, but it was barely golf...

2005-11-21T01:54:00.000-08:00

Went to attempt a round of golf this weekend with a couple of friends from the paper (names omitted here to protect the innocent). We took our criminally poor playing to the incredibly beautiful Spring Valley Golf Course in Milpitas (just outside San Jose). I shot above 100 and below 115. That's all I'll say about the scoring. But I will say my first drive was beautiful. After that I won't comment on any of my shots. Outside of the wonderful scenery of rolling hills, soft breezes, horseback riders and houses with incredible views, there were hang-gliders launching from the highest of the valley's hills. Breathtaking. Our golfing however, was breathtaking in a completely different manner.

Politics and art

2005-11-21T01:14:00.000-08:00

The wife and I attended our first event as members of the San Jose Museum of Art this weekend. A special thanks to our connection and friend Karen Williams for setting that up. The presentation was the opening of the display: Visual Politics: The Art of Engagement, a very convincing display of the interconnected history of art and politics (mostly in the past 50+ years). The subject matter varied from Nazi Germany and Jewish suffering to the American Civil Rights movement to the Free Speech movement centered in Berkeley. It was a powerful and sometimes troubling exhibit. But as I've said before, my only rule for art is that it creates emotion by challenging the viewer. Art should make you feel some level of discomfort and help break you from your comfort zone. This exhibit was partnered by the work of Peter Selz who creates a very California-specific view of different political leaders and incidents of the last half century and the effects those movements have had on the exhibit's numerous artists. Very well organized and very worth the trip. If you're near San Jose, the exhibit is free. Go see it.

A spoonful of ...

2005-11-18T02:25:00.000-08:00

The wife and I saw Spoon last night at the Warfield Theater in San Francisco. One word: amazing. They started the set with "The Beast and Dragon at Dawn" off the new LP and ended with Britt Daniels on guitar playing around with the feedback from a nearby monitor. Throughout it was loud, action, rock and roll. The crowd was really into the show and the venue was incredible! I would like to say that made up for the opening act (it did), but American Music Club was a bit off. First off, they were completely too mellow to open for Spoon and second, the lead singer couldn't get his monitor to work so his mood turned sour the longer they played. He went from introducing songs like, "and this is a song I wrote about a friend of mine who..." to "here's another song." Bastard. Oh, well. Side note. I felt a bit old standing in line before the show. A couple of teens were behind the wife and I talking about how they didn't go see the latest Weezer show, because they had, "like, sold out." However, they did say they would have loved to have seen them during the Blue Album tour ten years ago. "How cool would that have been," one squeaky voiced teen said. "Very cool." I said. I was there. They were in diapers. Oh well. Age always rears its ugly head.

Crime drama you won't see this season...

2005-11-10T02:42:00.000-08:00

A friend tipped me off to this little nugget of Elvis-done-good. And an "older-era Elvis" at that.

LAS VEGAS - A retired Elvis Presley impersonator helped police nab a man suspected of stealing more than $300,000 worth of memorabilia from the Elvis-A-Rama museum, authorities said Wednesday.

Duke Adams, a 62-year-old "older-era Elvis," said he was approached while in line at a pharmacy by a man offering to sell him items once owned by Presley, including jewelry, clothing and the king's revolver.

Remembering the March 2004 burglary, Adams said he asked the man to stop by his business the next day. Adams went home and called police.

Authorities arrested Eliab Aguilar last week after the Las Vegas man brought all but one of the stolen items to Adams' employment agency, police said.

The complete story here.

Bands of the moment...

2005-11-09T03:12:00.000-08:00

What I'm listening to, not that you should be, but who knows, maybe you should be... (oh and I'm through chapter 2 of the Beatles book and STILL no sign of any Beatle, past or present).

calexico
franz ferdinand
nick drake
and always...MARVIN

JR.? Like, oh my goodness...

2005-11-09T03:03:00.000-08:00

So my littlest brother Joshua now has a claim to fame. During his weekend of debauchery at Texas Motor Speedway he was having trouble getting back to his camper on the infield (won't go into the reasonings behind why that was the case). Anyway, he hitched a ride with a very famous racing name: Dale Earnhardt Jr. Stumbling along, trying to find his way back to the campsite, he was offered a ride by the famous NASCAR driver and escorted home in the bed of Jr.'s pickup truck. Of course this is his story and I have no way of backing it up. But I trust him and it makes for a good posting.

Sushi, PLEASE!!!

2005-11-09T01:19:00.000-08:00

Ok. So the wife and I are certified sushi addicts and in this town that can be tough. I'm serious, we're registered sushi offenders. Look it up, they have us on a list somewhere. We're not this bad, but at times we get close. Of course, she's got more control than I do. Being the much more mature 30-something (oops ... Probably shouldn't report that, she's 29 :) ), she usually stops before the foaming at the mouth stage. For me, well for proof of my will power see this, this or that. Anyway. Our problem is that we're both reformed small-town folk. And now that we live in a small town again (California DOES have small towns, this one, pleasantly), our timing is quite off. Sushi places, or restaurants in general here, close at 9 p.m. on weekdays and we seem to always hit the place pretty close to that cut-off time. So the wife and I tonight planned on going to our favorite place only to find out that it closed in 20 minutes. Luckily we got in before the place closed. Unluckily we sat down, menus in hand in time to get plenty of stares and plenty of bad service (one of the waitresses actually rolled her eyes at us). So, we left without eating, feeling completely unfulfilled and in dire straits. Actually we left in NEED of our sushi fix. But being the needy addicts we are, we traveled around town in search of any place open. Four places later we were able to find someone that would take us in (good thing too, because they don't offer IV injections of this stuff, no matter how desperate our need). Anyway, we settle on this tiny place, tucked in the back of a shopping center on Hopyard Ave, conveniently located next to a brewery. And long story, short. It worked out. They closed at 9:30, but were kind enough to allow us our fix. Friendly service, no matter how late it was. So we sat, with older owner as she ate at the table next to us. It was a great experience and very good sushi - either that or we were just dying for it at that point. So there is no moral to this story, what little story there is. Just good sushi (finally) and in the end a good tip for the folks that took us in.

Teaching the world to sing?

2005-11-06T18:18:00.000-08:00

The artist formerly known as Jack White of White Stripes fame has signed on with Coke to write a new song for an upcoming commercial. White, a self-described Coke-addict (there are others - you know who you are), reminds me of an interesting argument I made some years ago in a column about selling out. The column was a piece of satire about the convergence of commercialism, capitalism, marketing and democracy. I painted a long-and-winding narrative about a nation led by President Bill Cosby (during his Jell-O pitching days) and bankrolled by the likes of Coca-Cola and Microsoft (and that was before these guys took over). It was a sophomoric attempt to show my displeasure at how personality sells and now a decade later, some of those feelings remain true. But in 2005, I wonder exactly how bad certain levels of "selling out" are? To an extent, numerous people were introduced to Richard Buckner because of VW's use of "Ariel Rameriez" in one of their car commercials (There are also, of course, Modest Mouse and Nissan, Eminem and iTunes, Franz Ferdinand and Sony). My opinion now is that the integrity of any artist is in their ability to push the limits of their medium. Art must challenge the viewer and leave them changed by the experience. As long as artists retain their license to stretch their skills and engage their audience (and themselves) doing a little extra on the side doesn't seem to disrupt the balance.

For more on music in advertising go here.

Deck the Hops with ...

2005-11-06T03:37:00.000-08:00

FA-LA-LA-LA-LAAA-LA-LA-LA-LAAAAAAAAAA. Tis' the season for good beer. October has passed and with it, cases of Samuel Adams Octoberfest have disappeared from supermarket shelves. But concerned beer drinker, neverfear... The time is now for SA Winter Lager! Bought my first six pack of the wonder beer tonight and promptly siphoned several bottles through my blood stream. It is the best of the seasonal Sam Adams for what I'm concerned. Just in case those friends of mine from Texas are worried, the greatest beer in the world is still my one and only favorite. Of course any day's a good day for Guinness. So my Top 5 lists for this blog will begin with my Top 5 favorite beers. If that's not enough, visit my friends at IBBD.
--------------------------------------
And we start now:
5. Samuel Adams Winter Lager
4. Smithwicks
3. Black and Tan
2. Guinness
1. Shiner

Paperback Writer

2005-11-06T01:37:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is EXACTLY what I needed to help pass the time. And what a lot of time it will take to read all 992 pages of this meet the Beatles. 992 pages! I'm a huge fan and all (my mother "grew up with them" and I'm "into them" as she likes to say), but that's a lot of effort no matter what Publishers Weekly says. But hey, this is one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time (stayed tuned to my arguments on my top lists. I promise it will entertain, and soon.). They were, after all, Bigger than Jesus. And with teasers such as this: In 1962, when the band cut its first audition for Sir George Martin, all four members had a venereal disease... what self-loving Beatles fan WOULDN'T put down $29 for a copy? And Ringo doesn't even appear until like Page 351.

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.

2005-11-05T23:08:00.000-08:00

Lunesta be damned! My affliction now resides online. Tiring of sleepless nights that hold me prisoner to such bewitching boredom as endless infomercials and infinite galaxies inside the World Wide Web, I now share my disease (and late-night thoughts) with you gentle reader. Those within my circle know much of my ailment and will no doubt stray to yet another update of visualeditors.com or the latest from CNN. But those who manage to wonder from the information age's latest delivery system to my little corner of the night can read up on those times where sleep is just another theme I know very little about. So this is my introduction (your introduction) to what is and what will be ... Did I mention I was also a procrastinator and that I get bored easily? Check for updates.

Oh yeah, a thank you to Ambrose Bierce for the title quote.