Thursday, February 13, 2014
Fruitvale Station
Friday, May 24, 2013
The Sessions
Last night we hit movie pay dirt. Not so easy, with countless bad films being made every day. It's based on a man named Mark O'Brien, a Berkeley poet who had polio as a child and spent the rest of his life dependent on an iron lung. Great cast... Helen Hunt, John Hawkes, William H. Macy.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Offloading

Older, not wiser. Scared to death about what comes next. Afraid to not be mommy every day. Watched "Georgy Girl"(Can't recall ever seeing it before.) I related to Lynn Redgrave's character in a rather jarring manner. She related to children more than to adults.While it is undeniable that I adore children, I am coincidentally relieved that my grandchildren do not yet exist. Unlike some of my peers, I am in no hurry. Nothing to do with being "grandma"(I'd be the best, hands down.) Plenty to do with fear of the future for my own children. Subsequent generations in a world that's hurtling toward so many unknowns strikes me as insane. I know, every generation had it's doomsday scenario and blah-blah-blah. I guess it's that I want them to be really ready for it, so their kids stand a chance on this crazy planet. But what is ready, really? Realistically, if everyone waited until things were optimum, we'd have zero population growth. Wait, I may be onto something here.
Trapped in a town I love and hate equally. Lucky as hell in love, yet insecure always. Born to be a social animal, yet failing miserably. Wondering what the payoff to love marriage and children will turn out to be. Besides fear, worry, and guilt. I don't really mean payoff. More like the big lesson. "What's it all mean?" as Tahoma Paul used to say. The guy that fell backwards onto a horseshoe stake. And when I say backwards, I mean ass-backwards. I wonder how things turned out for him. (Perhaps he's on Facebook?) I'm genuinely afraid about my youngest child making it through life intact. She struggles with so much of it. And yet, it's her story... I have to let her tell it. Do you realize how painful that is and why didn't anyone tell me being a mother would hurt this much? Truth is, they probably did. To quote Kahlil Gibran-
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
Trippin' on Facebook. It's the new Brave New World. A crazy mish-mash of people from all corners of your life. In touch again with people you did everything first with after a 35 year hiatus. Mind boggling, really. All mixed up with current friends and acquaintances of varying degrees, family members, former lovers, and the people you will probably never know beyond the internets. Far be it from me to turn down a party.
Which brings me to Burning Man. My answer to midlife, my quest. Loved ones are perplexed about the "why" of this undertaking. I couldn't possibly explain it efficiently. Not yet. For the first time in a long, long time I am doing something solely for me. Something that will test my being in about a million ways. The time is right-that's all I really know.
Breed - Nirvana
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Drainage
It was a beautiful film about a different time in California. When they poked and prodded,'till the earth gave up her oil. Some of my ancestry was a part of this decidedly greedy legacy. I've mentioned them before. My great great grandfather struck oil in Bakersfield in the 1880's. He became a wealthy man because of this, and he added to his wealth when he sold his tract to Standard Oil. They came through and bought much of that oil rich landscape. As did Union Oil and other very eager companies.
And we all know how that played out. It feels weird, knowing that my relatives played any part in creating the angry behemoth that is Chevron today. But as my wise older daughter said: 'It's o.k. We're 'poor' now, so the score is settled...' (I wonder.)
There was a cool moment when Plainview/Daniel Day Lewis is looking to buy up the land surrounding an oil-rich tract. He mentions the names of the families that own the tracts, and Blodget is one of the names. That'd be my great great grand-daddy, Hugh. They drank his milkshake.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Still Life
Dearest Aiko Jim paid us a visit last weekend. We cooked and laughed, drank and danced, and walked about town. Watched a couple of movies, including 'There Will Be Blood'. (Excellent!)We even found time to make fools of ourselves. Just a little. What the hell. We're allowed to be fools together, because we go back thirty years. Back in the days of wine and doses.
Things are different now. Our lives in no way resemble the wild days of being twenty-somethings. Wait-maybe a few things are the same. Luckily.This friendship is the rarest sort. It evolves. There have been emotional speed bumps, but we always end up buddies. Forever.
I changed my accompanying song yet again. This time it got mysteriously nixed by imeem. Which is alright, because I found our signature song from the night of foolish behavior. Let's just say that our hardwood floors are most excellent for sock dancing.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Slimy Rock on a Sunny Day
Speaking about sliminess, have you watched Z e i t g e i s t online, or heard about it? Just wondering. My older daughter brought it to my attention recently. If you've watched it, what did you think? My mind is still reeling. (That's nothing new) Anyway, don't be afraid--check it out.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Feverish Thoughts

My first sick day. Since February, when I lucked into my new, much-improved job.What an odd thing, when teeth chatter uncontrollably and the fever burns. I burrowed into my comforter and thrashed about a while. We noticed that V for Vendetta was just starting, so we watched it. Despite feeling poorly, it floored me.Two Sissy Hankshaw-sized thumbs-up. Feeling less weird today, but not 100% healed. Maybe a minimal rant will help.
So much to say about so much. It takes me over sometimes. Every day I feel more disillusioned. If only... I were the type that could look away, ignore the insanity, and distract myself in a myriad of ways. I've never been one to deny the obvious, no matter how upsetting it may be. It's obvious (to me) that we are approaching the point of no return. I will not just shut up and watch it occur. I keep up this incessant blogging for my mental health. This is for me. Plain and simple. It's not because I think I am another undiscovered writer. No chance. It is a place for my burgeoning frustration. Sometimes it's for the things in my little world that soothe my soul or make me laugh. Either way it feels sort of obsessive. That troubles me. (Add it to the motherfucking list!) I hope there comes a time I won't need this silly thing for venting about my fucked-up country. That may be overly-optimistic.
My son and his cohorts are driving to Los Angeles (What???!!) this weekend, to see Roky Erickson at the El Rey Theater. As he pointed out: "The City itself is not on fire, Mom." He has friends there, keeping him posted. They're staying at one of his pal's mother's place.In Malibu. The tickets were procured weeks ago. Even though he's 25, I have the maternal urge to suggest that they wear those white masks over their mouths whenever they're outdoors. The particulate down there should be quite something. If I do suggest this, he will laugh at me. No matter, I probably will.
One of my very best friends is treating me to a getaway to see her soon. Gracious! There are now direct flights from Santa Rosa to Seattle. This is less stressful than getting to San Francisco or Oakland. She's a friend from my formative years at Tahoe. One of only a few that have remained friends for about three decades. As I pointed out to Tara Dharma recently, my circle of friends gets smaller as the years roll on. The trade off is... the remaining friendships that I hold dear and rely on are strong. Many others have been lost along the way. Some are mourned, some are forgotten. It's complicated stuff, friendship. Like life is.
I've been wondering about labels. There are labels for everything and everyone. For instance, I could easily be labeled a deadhead. I am one. Or was, depending on your outlook. But is that all I am? Perhaps, to some. No matter, really. I can handle the label. But wait, there's more to me than that, musically. I have seen and/or worked at almost every genre of music you can fathom. From Lollapalooza to the San Francisco Symphony. Due to my years as a blue coat for B.G.P., I saw shows I would not necessarily have seen by choice. Like Tiffany or Duran Duran or Run D.M.C. It's music, and it intrigues me-whether I am particularly fond of it or not. I'm weird like that.
Lastly, I think our kitten has a name that will stick. Dusty became Cassidy. It fits her the best. Finally. I felt negligent, being uncertain. Not Cassidy like the song, or after Neal Cassady. She hops. Naturally I thought of Hopalong Cassidy. Another archaic reference.Consider it's source! Anyway, Cassie works too.

Monday, September 17, 2007
A Toast To Bill Maher

...Not soon enough. Yay!
But wait there's more...
I admit scattershot naivete. I admit to a strain of blind optimism, a sort of sporadic myopia, a weirdly sanguine tunnel vision that makes me somehow think that we as a species and a culture and as a mad gaggle of individual human souls who are coupled with functioning hunks of semi-rational gray matter, we must, at least occasionally, be learning something, ever-so-slightly advancing our awareness of those things on this planet that want to harm us and sicken us and even kill us, and therefore we can alter our behaviors accordingly.
I must be completely wrong. Because there it is, that violently obnoxious Wendy's burger commercial I stumbled across recently, apparently part of a larger and stranger ad campaign featuring the usual assortment of requisite sagging thick-waisted former frat dudes -- a group, by the way, that must be an entire category unto itself for Los Angeles casting agencies, given how many of them appear in all sorts of similar monosyllabic commercials for, say, trucks. Or beer. Or power tools. Et al.
These ads feature the same childish concept: All the dudes have bright red cartoon pigtails (a la the Wendy's mascot) where their receding hairline used to be, and in their thick fists they're maybe clutching a giant greasy burger and staring at it with a sort of desperate, animalistic lust you normally see from, say, secretly gay Idaho Republicans in airport restrooms. Or something.
But this particular ad offers something extra, something a bit more... extraordinary. The burger in question is something very special indeed. It is not your typical "value menu" item. It is not a Wendy's Single with Cheese, or whatever it's called down in noncomestible junk-food hell.
No, this insidious concoction is simply startling in its shameless toxicity, its ruthless attention to wanting you cancerous and morbidly obese and very, very dead as soon as goddamn possible, if not sooner.
The burger is this: two sickeningly brownish-gray, chemical-blasted 1/4-pound beeflike patties, intersliced with two slabs of neon-orange cheeselike substance, slathered with mayonnaise, all topped with the big kicker: six (yes, six) strips of bacon. Oh my, yes. It's like a giant middle finger to your heart.
This product's name? The "Baconator." You know, like "Terminator," only for, uh, a huge stack of cow/pig meat that celebrates your impending coronary/impotence/cancer with every bite. Genius.
Here is where I admit my confusion. Here is where a small but significant part of my brain (quietly, internally) explodes every time I see this commercial -- which, mercifully, isn't often, because I don't watch much TV and don't watch any weekend TV sports and therefore am never around when (I presume) this kind of product is target-marketed straight to their apparently very slovenly, apparently hugely unhealthy, largely illiterate audiences.
Wait, is that too harsh? Maybe. But as I watched this ad, a slew of questions flooded my naive brain and I found myself actually looking around my apartment, trying to find a sympathetic face, someone or something to share my stupefaction at what I was seeing.
Wait wait wait (I asked the wall), is this still legal? Do we still actually allow this sort of cultural tripe to be broadcast to the nation? Can fast-food companies still sell revolting chyme like this obesity-causing cancer-ready death-inducing product you shouldn't even feed to your dog, and no one is stopping them? Didn't we pass a law or something? Have the noxious fast-food titans not yet been forced to stop concocting vile products like this, or at least to dial down the garish marketing of their most ultra-toxic products, given how the vast majority of Americans have now learned (haven't they?) at least a tiny modicum about human health?
Put another, more pointed way: Haven't we moved past this by now?
After all, we've now had years -- decades, even -- of well-documented studies and health campaigns and even a handful of truth-in-advertising nutrition laws, endless media reports about the dangers of fat and chemicals and industrial feedlot beef, not to mention the launch of dozens of health magazines and the mixed-blessing triumph of the entire organic movement, right alongside pop culture hits like "Fast Food Nation" and "Super Size Me" and "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and "Diet for a New America" and all the rest.
Hence, you'd think -- or at least, I thought -- something might have shifted by now. Alas, you would be, like me, completely wrong.
Yes, well do I know the brutish libertarian view of all this, which simply goes: If you're dumb enough to eat this garbage, you get what you deserve. Then again, such ideology doesn't stop us from passing laws -- or at least partially regulating -- vile corporations and products we know are hugely dangerous and stupid and which would happily kill us in our sleep. And, at least in some cases, we're better off for it.
Hell, we did it with telemarketing. One little much-needed law and boom, a national Do-Not-Call registry, and it actually mostly works and now all those vile cretins who used to call you during dinner to sell you carpet cleaning services now simply spam your e-mail account until it staggers and collapses and shuts down your e-mail server.
We did it with cigarette advertising, with booze, with seat belt laws, with gun advertising, with all sorts of products and services we know in our collective heart of hearts are either totally and shamelessly deadly and therefore should not be allowed free reign in the culture, or which we all agree really do need some sort of system of legal/ethical checks and balances (clean water, food additives, medicine, etc.) that the free market simply cannot provide on its own.
And yes, well do I know the cynical view, the one that says a law banning the creation or advertising of such deadly garbage like the Baconator probably wouldn't do much to stem the tide of willful ignorance in this country anyway, given our well-known epidemic of obesity and our proud, all-American culture of gluttony and excess. True enough.
But maybe I'll just stick with my original note of (blind?) confidence, that little bubble of ideological hope that progress has indeed been made and awareness of health and diet in this nation has indeed been nicely raised and the world is not, in fact, teeming with an army of manic Baconator-chomping frat guys.
Or better yet, maybe I should just stop watching TV altogether. Voila! No more Baconators! Easy.
I love it when he is disgusted by the things that also disgust me. He has a gift for such things.
When did we become a nation of ignorant, sloth-like fools? I am racking my brain to understand where it all went SO wrong on countless levels.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Baby Turns Fifty
Me with my great-grandmother, Jessie. March 1958. She attended Stanford University in the late-1800's! This photo was taken at her home in Burlingame. I do believe that's a hoya plant, behind us!Today, my youngest child and I will make that sentimental journey to the city-by-the-bay.
We will spend the weekend with my older children, my parents, and assorted extended family members. Why all the trouble? Because I will be fifty-years-old this Sunday. (I can't say "fifty-years-old" without seeing Molly Shannon on S.N.L., way-back-when.) We'll walk and talk, dine in and out, and visit a museum. I'm both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of such focused attention. Fifty years? That can't be possible. I'm just getting started!
Although it will be a stark celebration with my true love stranded on a Pacific island, we shall do our best to carry on in style. He's fine. Lonely. Bored. Looking so forward to his return in ten more days. This is the longest we've been apart in our eight years of life together.
Tomorrow is a fun anniversary of sorts. On that date, I was invited to birthday (#33) dinner out, with a few friends in Marin. (C.B.?-you were there, too-remember?)
I decided I would call G and invite him to join us. A brazen idea? Perhaps. I had only met him once, several weeks before my birthday. He'd made an impression. To my giddy delight, he accepted my invite.(He was a good friend of the folks taking me to dinner.) The five of us drove out to Olema. Much later that same night, I was visiting with G at his home. "Tremors" was on. (One of the silliest films ever?) We discovered a love we'd never known. It took another nine years to get together, completely. It was worth the wait.
I'll be back home in a few days.
