Antenna art

The Sutro Tower has fascinated me for as long as I've been in the Bay Area. I'm sure most people consider it an eyesore, especially longtime residents of SF who may remember Mt. Sutro before the tower. But I'm convinced it's the coolest looking communications tower in the world. (Not that there's much competition.)

So I was interested when I found a website called Mount Sutro.org. It seems to be somebody's blog, but offers quite a bit of information about the tower itself, and even a PDF of the antenna layout. This guy pushes right past fascination into obsession territory. I mean, he even has a custom Sutro license plate. And it's people like that who make the Internet a great place to surf. :-)

Happy New Year to all. Have some Death Cab, some Dan Wilson, and some Jim's Big Ego to celebrate the occasion. But most importantly, have fun!

Rough weather

The rain keeps coming. I don't let it bother me; at this point I'd be shoveling snow back home. Actually, I kind of like it. Driving in the rain always seems better to me somehow. I'm not sure why, maybe it's just the variety.

I try not to complain about work. It seems like my job is better than many, and in this age, I'm lucky to have a job at all. But this week has been trying. I understand that part of the process of being an adult is accepting increasing responsibility with decreasing hesitation, but lately I feel like I'm being set up to flounder at certain things. I'll learn from every flop and do it right the next time, of course, but some of the flops may have been avoidable if I had a little guidance along the way. It was probably my fault for failing to ask for more guidance. In any case, I have three days to cool off before jumping back into the fire.

And about the carpool as a social scene? Forget it. I drove two girls about my age this morning, both very cute and nominally friendly. Ambulance Ltd failed to spark any interest, and my attempts to make small talk only made me feel creepy. The carpool goes from A to B. That's all.

The wise words of a bloke named Phil

The US Tour by Phil has appeared as a link in my sidebar for almost as long as this blog has been around, but I've never provided much of an explanation. Basically, I was chatting with my friend Susan one day, and she said she was reading a friend's blog and laughing her ass off. Naturally, I asked for a link and proceeded to laugh my own ass off.

Phil, who I don't know personally, is a Brit who came to the US to try to find a job, get some footing, and make an adventure. He is also an exceptional writer. A lit major, of course, has no business keeping a blog. It makes people like me seem illiterate. But through some loophole in the social contract of the Internet, they permit it.

Phil's blog alternates between hilarious stories and insightful thoughts on the States from a visitor's perspective. I'm not sure how he came across so much excitement in the middle of Wisconsin, but I'm sure glad he wrote about it. The ongoing psychological war with the neighboring kindergarten; the sarcastic career biography of his media executive friend; dressing up as Paul Stanley for Halloween. Somehow Phil twists the most everyday story into a hilarious journey of words.

But what struck me most about his blog was his last post, written just before he left the US to head home. Let's read, shall we?

"Having just moved to Paris, and struggling to write about it, Ernest Hemmingway once said that it’s hard to explain something you’re living. If you’re experiencing anything of real significance, then you tend to lack the clarity at the time to rally your thoughts into something coherent and worthwhile. Any attempt to the contrary, and it seems to come off — a lot of the time — as meandering, existential bollocks.

To try and infuse the everyday with a moral — a meaning and a purpose that isn’t necessarily there — it shows a lack of perspective. It’s a forest-for-the-trees type of thing. It’s very hard, for example, to write about being in love with someone, and much easier to explain in hindsight what you loved about them. But at the time, everything has to be meaningful. Everything has to be vital and urgent and superior to whatever’s come before."

Or, put more eloquently:

"I don’t think my ham-fisted efforts towards self-analysis and introspection would have allied themselves too smoothly with stories of waking up sandwiched between two twins and needing a big poo."

Well put, sir.

This is exactly my difficulty with the concept of blogging, and the resulting lack of focus that I'm fighting while keeping this one. It's easy to keep a journal of daily events, but who really cares about the mundane events in the life of a reluctant working stiff? It's far more interesting and timeless to keep a record of the lessons learned and discoveries made along the way. But sometimes the events that led to the discoveries are just too recent to afford any time for reflection.

It's a tightrope that, ironically, Mr. Phil seems to walk very well himself. If my blog were even half as good as his... then I suppose his would still be twice as good. I give up.

The carpool as a musical soapbox

Today started out like most days. I hopped in the car, picked some people up, and rolled over the lovely Bay Bridge to work. It was an unusually fast ride; must be a lot of people on vacation this week. Most days I follow the carpool norm and listen to NPR, but today the iPod was providing the tunes. Nobody said a word until I parked at the designated dropoff spot. Then the girl in the backseat turned to me on her way out and said, "What were we listening to?" I told her - Spoon (the "Girls Can Tell" album, specifically). She smiled, thanked me, and walked away. I must have been smiling for the next ten minutes. Somebody liked my carpool music!

What are the implications? Well, there are a couple. One of the unwritten rules of the casual carpool is that the driver gets to pick the music. So essentially I have a captive audience for about 15 minutes, and I can test their reactions to various artists and genres. (Market research companies, are you listening? I'm for hire.)

The more immediate implication for me is that perhaps it's possible to meet interesting people who share some of your tastes without having to explicitly outline your tastes in 3-4 sentences or less on craigslist. If another car hadn't been waiting behind me, I might have made some conversation with this girl. "If you like this, you might also check out Ambulance Ltd." Or, "Do you go to many concerts?" Or, "HERE'S MY NUMBER! TAKE IT! CALL ME!"

OK, so I need to work on my subtlety.

The other months got ripped off

December has more than its fair share of holidays, don't you think? As somebody who's still working out which particular religion, if any, to associate with, I know it can be awkward. But there are certain things that just transcend beliefs and cultures. And great music is one of those things.

So I thought it appropriate to wait until Hanukkah to bring up one of my favorite reggae albums of late. The album is Live at Stubb's, and the artist is Matthew Miller, more widely known as Matisyahu. The combination of reggae with his strict Hasidic Jewish beliefs may strike some as strange. It is. But it's also among the best damn reggae I've ever heard. The guy can sing. Give it a listen.

My Boxing Day was relatively relaxing. Spent some time watching TV, got a much-needed haircut, did some laundry, soaked in the hot tub, and sipped some tea. Back to work tomorrow, and I'll be diving straight into a high-profile email server migration. Here's hoping I don't mess up too badly, because that paycheck sure is nice.

Secular and single was so last year

My Christmas was supposed to be a jolly good time, sharing assorted drinks and movies with a friend. The friend got sick at the last minute, so I had to make alternate plans. Looking for something to do, I drove through the fog and rain aimlessly until I ended up at Tilden Park. I'm not sure where I was going, but sometimes I just feel like driving is good therapy, no matter the destination. Upon reaching Inspiration Point and finding none, I turned around and drove back.

Resisting the obligatory loneliness-induced moment of holiday introspection, I went to see The Producers. It brought me up for a bit. Funny movie; wish I would have caught the play while I was in London.

I opened gifts by myself. It's so strange when there's nobody around waiting to see your reaction to what they gave you. I won't complain though. I knew what I was in for when I moved away — lonely holidays are part of the plan.

The soundtrack of my wandering Christmas day:

1. "Mele Kalikimaka" by Nick Hexum of 311
2. "Hot Christmas" by Squirrel Nut Zippers
3. "¿Dónde Está Santa Claus?" by Guster
4. "Bizarre Christmas Incident" by Ben Folds
5. "Heaven" by Dan Wilson
6. "Don't Let It Get You Down" by Spoon (and the whole album, really)
7. "Little Girl Blue (Postal Service Remix)" by Nina Simone
8. "Lost Vagueness" by Utah Saints
9. "NY Snow Globe" by Rachel's
10. "Good Night" by The Beatles

Thanks, Fred!

This Saturday morning, I took a trip back into my childhood by keeping my pajamas on until noon and watching cartoons all morning thanks to the quirky and hilarious Channel Frederator. The show has become one of my favorite video podcasts, besides Tiki Bar TV and Rocketboom. They throw in three or four short cartoons per episode, punctuated by Adult Swim-style text quips. The quality of the submitted shorts is usually very high. Check it out if you're looking for some podcasty goodness.

The Meebofication of web services

A couple months ago, I was behind a client's corporate firewall and needed to sign on to AIM to communicate with my office. After several frustrating attempts to get AIM Express to work, I began a search for a replacement. I figured there had to be something out there that let you sign into chat services via the web. I was disappointed by the results of my search — there's been very little done in this area, it seems.

However, the one salient site I found completely blew me away. That site was Meebo, and I've been a huge fan ever since. It puts all your chat services into one easy to use web interface. It's based in AJAX, so it does a decent job of simulating windows on a desktop. You can drag the various chat windows around within the browser, and even close, minimize, and resize them. Best of all, it's remarkably stable and looks great too!

I think Meebo is the latest in a series of killer web applications that will eventually take over desktop apps entirely. Skype did it with the telephone, GMail and mail2web did it with your desktop email client, and Flickr is on its way to doing it for your photo collection software. Eventually there's going to be a killer website for every task that you used to accomplish on your desktop or laptop, and all computers will be reduced to essentially "thin clients" with a web browser installed. There are some major hurdles between here and there, though. No web app can touch the processing power and flexibility of the Adobe CS suite or the tight integration of MS Office. But the day is coming.

The proof is in the funding. Meebo just got a cool $3-4 million from Sequoia Capital, a Mountain View-based venture capital firm. If three kids fresh out of college can write a web app cool enough to attract that kind of VC interest, perhaps there is hope for Web 2.0 after all.

Good luck, Meebo! We're cheering for you.

Tap-dancing Christmas trees? Really?

My company had a holiday party tonight, and after dinner we all headed to Beach Blanket Babylon, supposedly the longest-running hit musical revue in theater history. It was a very generous gesture by the boss; I am grateful to have something, anything to do. And it had its moments. But good lord those moments were awful.

If you've not seen the show, let me catch you up on the plot. Snow White, a girl from San Francisco, has become inexplicably obsessed with finding a "prince" with whom to live happily ever after. Never mind how a character of storybook fiction ended up in a real-life town, it's not deemed important. She travels the world meeting various people (or, rather, the same woman dressed in various different hats representative of the region) and trying to hook up with various guys (all impersonations of pop-culture icons — how John Travolta ended up in Rome is anybody's guess), and failing miserably each time. After a great deal of world-traipsing and classic-ballad-butchering, she ends up back in good ol' San Francisco dressed up as Madonna and meets a guy dressed up as Elvis, and it's true love.

On second thought, forget the plot. It's really not the focus of the show. It's all about the pop-culture spoofs. But as far as pop-culture spoofs go, this one is so far over the top that it might actually have swung all the way around and is now approaching the bottom once again. Most of the gags were cheap puns and wordplay, and the transition between the various pop songs and cultural figures was painfully forced. Now, I'm all about the cheap puns, as anyone who knows me will vouch. There were lines that got a giggle — the PG&E workman singing "hello darkness, my old friend" got me, I'll admit — but for the most part it was too much too soon.

The redeeming characteristic of the whole production may have been behind the scenes. The costumes were larger than life, intricately crafted behemoths. Most of them included some sort of wild hat that necessitated its own support structure. A 20-foot-tall recreation of the San Francisco skyline sitting on top of a petite singer is deserving of fame, after all. And the transitions of the outlandish sets were smooth and fast; the crew backstage really had their act together.

But the parade of wonderful costumes wasn't enough to keep me from squirming through the show. (It's hard to tell when to expect a finale when the plot is completely incoherent and every song seems ridiculous enough to be the finale.) Although it seems everybody loves this show, I'm going to have to buck the trend and disagree. Maybe it's because I haven't fully embraced the insider culture of San Francisco yet, or maybe it's because I'm a pretentious music snob. Either way, I'm glad it wasn't my dime.

Mix for a rainy day

It's been wet lately. There was a genuine thunderstorm on Saturday, complete with lightning, thunder, and flooding streets. Very impressive. Not quite the winter weather I'm used to, but a good break from the overcast chill that lingered through most of last week.

The storm gave me a great excuse to wrap some presents, address some letters, and be otherwise productive this weekend. And here's the mix that accompanied the flashes and the sound of rain hitting the windows:

1. "Nice Weather For Ducks" by Lemon Jelly
2. "Where It Never Rains" by VAST
3. "Raining Again" by Moby
4. "Rainy Day" by Guster
5. "Walk Between The Raindrops" by Donald Fagen
6. "The Gentle Rain (RJD2 Remix)" by Astrud Gilberto
7. "Where the River Flows" by Collective Soul
8. "Africa" by Toto
9. "Waterslide" by Mice Parade
10. "Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Typical rainy day songs compiled using the tried-and-true method of running a search for "rain," "weather," and such in iTunes. But I tried to mix it up. Lemon Jelly is a great starter because songs about rainy days don't have to be depressing and introspective. But if you want depressing and introspective, you've got your VAST and Guster. A little jazz from Steely Dan frontman Donald Fagen leads into a jazz-electronica mix from RJD2. Some air guitar courtesy of Collective Soul, an overdramatic singalong by Toto and a little hipster indie by Mice Parade (now practice the pretentious "oh, you haven't heard of Mice Parade?" look... there, that's the one). Follow it all up with the genuinely uplifting medley by Hawaiian singer Iz, and you've got yourself a mix.

I must admit, Milli Vanilli was in the first draft of this mix. I am weak.

Mulled wine and chocolate

Just got back from a holiday-slash-birthday party in the city. Discoveries:

• Red Bull + Vodka = Yum.
• Girls dig guys who can cha-cha.
• Guys dig girls who don't fall asleep halfway through parties.
• When it rains, it pours. And when it pours, my car gets clean.

Eight strings of wonderful

Another weekend, another concert! This time my concert buddy Amanda and I went to Yoshi's to see Charlie Hunter, arguably the best eight-string guitar player in the world. Now that I've seen him, I'd like to remove the part about "arguably."

Charlie grew up not far from here in a nice town called Berkeley, and took lessons from another local guitarist, Mr. Joe Satriani. The guru taught him well. He put on a blistering show last night — one of about a dozen shows in a weeklong set of Yoshi's performances. I kept thinking how nice his guitar melody and solos were, and had to keep reminding myself he was not only playing the rhythm and solo guitar, but the bass line, too. And only two hands!

We made the unfortunate decision to sit at a table that had on obscured view of the fretboard, but the acoustics almost made up for it. Yoshi's has repeatedly been voted the best place to see live jazz in the Bay Area (and probably even the country), and I can see why. It's a very classy place, well-decorated and lit, and beautiful sound. My only complaint, besides the positioning of the keyboard in front of Mr. Hunter, was that the entire seating area was reserved for dinner guests. I guess they have to make their money somehow.

Another party tonight and a dinner party tomorrow. If there's one good reason for me to embrace the holidays, it's because it gives me plenty of things to do.

Please stand clear of the doors

When I moved here, I was a bit... how do you say... trepidatious about the public transit around here. Yeah, it's supposed to be among the best in the world. But the maps, the schedules, the fares, the restrictions, the hours... it overwhelmed me at first. But then I realized that the biggest chore about traveling from A to B was finding and paying for parking once you get to B. Not to mention the toll on the A-B bridge. Public transit suddenly became very attractive.

I started with BART. Once I figured out the routes, transfers, and fares, I was set. BART took me everywhere. I was addicted to it. The disaffected looks of teenagers sitting alone. The strange stains on the seats and carpet. The hundreds of little white earbuds dancing in and out of the cars. The way people look out the window into the dark but are actually watching the people in the reflection. The incomprehensible drivers. The way your ears pop in the transbay tunnel. I loved it all.

But BART doesn't go everywhere. I quickly learned that the best way around most of San Francisco was to ride the Muni buses. My first ride was rough. I got on and off of three different buses, asking the driver if they went to this or that place. When my bus finally came, I got on, paid the $1.25 (back in the good ol' days when fare was still five quarters). Then I proceeded to miss my stop because I didn't know about the cord above the window that you pull for a stop request. To top it off, I had to buy another round for my return fare because I didn't know what a "transfer" was and how to milk it all day long. After the rough period, though, I caught on. Now I'm a Muni-hopping maniac.

Today, though, I had to get from the city to Burlingame. Although it's not far from the spectacular Millbrae BART station, it wasn't close enough for my schedule. What was I to do? Well, Caltrain to the rescue. So I hopped down to the station and dropped a whole $3.50 on a ride that took about 20 minutes. It was faster than driving, relatively comfortable and relaxing (I was even able to make a couple phone calls), and a heck of a lot cheaper than I expected.

My adventures in public transit are far from complete. I still haven't done the cable car thing (aside from several jaunts onto the F-line, but that's technically not a cable car). And the underground Muni trains are still a mystery to me. But someday I'll get to the summit of the public transit mountain. (Maybe I'll drive there.)

An ode to carpools

Most days I end up driving because I have to get to this, that, or the other place around the city. But occasionally, my appointments are all within walking distance of the office. On those days, I can sit back and let somebody else do the driving thanks to the magic of the casual carpool. It's been going on for almost 30 years, but nobody really organizes it. People just stop by a place, pick up some people, and drop them off in the city. The driver gets to skip the three dollar Bay Bridge toll, and the riders get a free ride to the city. Everybody wins!

And so, in honor of the wonderful thing that is the carpool, I've assembled this mix. May all your rides be safe, scenic, and swift.

1. Slow Ride by Foghat
2. I Want To Be Your Driver by Nic Armstrong and the Thieves
3. Hitch A Ride by Boston
4. Black Devil Car by Jamiroquai
5. Car Radio by Spoon
6. Backseat Driver by Alex Gifford of the Propellerheads
7. Race Car Ya-Yas by Cake
8. Ride by the Vines

Umphrey's what?

I have a new favorite band, and that band is Umphrey's McGee. Me and my craigslist concert buddy Amanda went to their show at the Fillmore last night, and it was mind-blowing.

Now, I can groove to jam band sets as well as the next guy, but I've never been a huge fan of the genre. Seems like a bunch of guys wandering through chord changes aimlessly, and a bunch of stoners in the audience who wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Pat Metheny and Ozzy Osbourne in the state they're in. To be fair, that's exactly the kind of situation I look for as a performer. Very low stress and high fun. But when I go to concerts as an audience member, I usually expect something a little more structured.

That being said, these guys blew me away. They did the traditional psychedelic musical wandering, but they threw in so many different styles, meters, and unexpected chords that it really kept it interesting. The band switched from swing to electronic to thrash metal without skipping a beat. And they were doing some crazy technical stuff up there. Smoking fast guitar riffs and drum fills, all precisely in rhythm and perfectly pitched. 7/8? No problem. Craziness. It was really astounding to watch and hear.

The concert also gave me a chance to further play with my new camera. I got some great shots, but most were blurred by the combination of long exposure time and vibrating bass. The stage lighting was spectacular, and some of the shots are awesome just because of that.

Let's see... Cleaned my apartment, met a nice girl who took me to an amazing concert, caught some great photos, and slept in until 10:00. Yeah, it's been a good weekend. :-)

Have your Cake and beat the traffic, too

Some stranger went out of his way to flag me down while I was parking the other day. I cautiously rolled down my window, and he handed me his used parking pass, still good for the rest of the day. Saved me 7 bucks! It's nice to know that the Midwest doesn't have a monopoly on friendly strangers. (Of course, the lot was dangerously close to the Wharf, so there's a chance that he was, in fact, a tourist from the Midwest. Go figure.)

In other news, I have a date for Saturday! Well, more of a friendly concert meetup, I guess, but it's more impressive if it's called a date. Consider yourself impressed. Whatever you call it, I'm looking forward to spending time with somebody who isn't a coworker. (Not that I don't love my coworkers; it's just that they remind me of work.)

Also, I have finally found a nice quick way onto the Bay Bridge from North Beach. Even during rush hour, you can be on the bridge in about 10 minutes. Yes, it is that amazing. And since my readership is hardly numerous enough to affect the flow of traffic to blogspot.com, much less the Bay Bridge, I will share it with you. Find the Embarcadero and head south, then hang a right on Howard. Left onto Spear, then right onto Harrison. At this point the cars start lining up for a few minutes. Follow the herd in one of the two left lanes, then turn left onto the I-80 East onramp. Bam, you're on the bridge! It sure beats the other routes I've tried.

The soundtrack to this shortcut, of course, is "Long Line of Cars" by Cake. Be thankful you're avoiding one. ;-)

Triple unleaded - shaken, not stirred

I had a rare afternoon today. I drove up Highway 1 along the coast, visited a client's beach house, tweaked a few computers, and was home at 4:45. It was great! I'll pay for it at a high-stress emergency email recovery tomorrow morning, though.

Highway 1 is quite a drive. The steering wheel was alternating between full left and full right for miles. Very scenic, too, but you can't admire the scenery for too long without becoming part of it. I'll have to stop and visit a few interesting spots when it gets warmer.

The perfect song for my James Bond drive was "Take California" by the Propellerheads. Generic breakbeats? Or "being-chased-by-henchmen-along-Highway-1-en-route-to-foil-a-secret-plot" breakbeats? You decide.

Batteries not included

I took a nice jaunt through Cal on my bike today, hoping to be inspired to take some pictures and perhaps stake out the things on campus that are open to the public. I was successful in both pursuits, although I found that digital cameras function much better when one doesn't forget the battery in the charger at home. This could turn into an exercise routine.

My musical discoveries/rediscoveries du jour:

1) Nic Armstrong and the Thieves sounds just like a Beatles/Kinks throwback. A few of their songs actually lift lyrics, chord changes, and guitar solos right from the collection of the Fab Four. But to be fair, they do call themselves the Thieves. It's good stuff nonetheless.

2) I was reluctant to embrace Emotive when a roommate in college pushed it on me, but now I'm a Perfect Circle believer (thanks, Matt!). It's a cover album, sure, but that doesn't automatically make it awful. The layers of sonic assault on "Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums" will suck you in and strangle you. In a good way.

3) I've been a longtime fan of Danny Elfman. Check out his IMDB record. This guy's engineered the soundtracks of blockbusters for longer than most of the actors in said blockbusters have been out of diapers. The soundtrack to the original Mission Impossible movie (still the best!) was one of the first CDs I owned. "Claire" is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard, and it doesn't even have words! My big unrealized dream in high school band was to organize "Trouble" or "Impossible Mission" for our percussion ensemble. Wow, that would have been cool if we had the talent. Which we didn't.

Chance of snow: 0%

The camera has arrived, and it works great! The photographer, on the other hand, is a little rusty. But I'll learn.

As the TV ads turn to bastardized ripoffs of traditional carols and the in-store music reaches intolerably high on the mush-o-meter, there's no ignoring that the holiday season is descending quickly upon us. Even the cable cars on Powell Street are sporting wreaths and garland. But I'm going to have a hard time getting into the spirit. My reasons for Scrooging are several.

This will be my first Christmas away from home. Not a huge deal, because I'm not prone to homesickness. Heck, I moved cross country to get away from home! But the fact is that I don't have many friends in the area yet, and I'll be sipping some egg nog by myself this year. It's like being single on Valentine's Day.

Besides that, it's not Christmas without snow or rotten weather of some sort. I know, it's really awesome being able to walk around in a light jacket in December. Believe me, I take every opportunity I can to brag about that to my friends with 5 inches of snow in the Midwest. But I really am going to miss the white stuff, and inclement weather of any kind, really. It's been sunny here for months, and any kind of variety is welcome. It rained cats and dogs on Thursday, and I was ecstatic. I got soaking wet and loved it.

But hopefully, I'll meet some friends to keep me going, visit Tahoe for my snow fix, and always have my iPod handy when strolling through a supermarket. And if none of that works, I can always sit at home and watch this. Trans-Siberian Orchestra + X-10 controlled Christmas lights = Amazing!

I think I'm also going to start putting a "song of the moment" on these entry thingies. No particular meaning, just whatever song I'm digging today. And today's is "Danger of the Water" by the Futureheads. Part indie rock, part a cappella, all Brit.