Anecdotes – Page 31 – mike.whybark.com

Posted on April 19, 2005 by mwhybark

Teevee

Well over a month ago, we inadvertently became a semi no-TV household. Our satellite provider mailed us a replacement ‘smart card’ for our satellite box, a five-year-old WebTV-integrated PVR which we have never used as a PVR or as a WebTV device but only as a receiver. The smart card managed to disable the device, and so the only reception we have was broadcast. Living in the center of a large city, you’d think that would mean fifteen or twenty channels but realitistically it limits reception to PBS and the local NBC and ABC affiliates. Happily for Viv, that has meant she has been able to keep up with the hypnotic ‘Lost,’ and happily for me, that means I have been able to catch a ‘Nova’ and a ‘Frontline’ here and there.

More happily for me, that has meant that the constant background noise of the TV has been replaced by the constant background noise of WCPE, and I have strongly felt my mood lift. I am frequently occupied with murderous, hateful mutterings when the TV is on constantly, an internal dialogue filled with fantasies of destruction directed at the media icons and humiliatingly-portrayed buffoons who flicker on and off stage in venues such as ‘Oprah,’ and ’20/20.’ I have been largely unaware of this dialogue until this month, when it’s vanishment occasioned reflection on the cause of my uncharacteristically charitable, forgiving, and pleasant mood.

I view with some trepidation the family negotiation that this calls for; Viv’s mood and sense of self have been ever-nurtured by the tube and I am nearly certain that she has felt as deadened and oppressed by the absence of the brainsucking spawn of hell as I have lightened and released. Where I feel as though a stinging, biting swarm of gnats, whose bites produce nightmares of hatred an torture has suddenly ceased to afflict my existence, based on past conversations, I suspect she has felt a sense of suffocating isolation, the solitude of the grave.

I would have to say this is something of a pickle.

Posted on April 17, 2005 by mwhybark

The Return

My weekend has been spent doing the dispiriting task of developing my employer’s human resources policies, at least to an initial state. I believe I have it wrangled but I found the experience tremendously disheartening, even though the intellectual and work-relation problems resolved by having a policy in place clearly make it necessary.

How can I put it? It was (and will continue to be) an experience I can only describe as deeply uncomfortable and wrong, a reminder of my apparently permanent alienation from my native society and culture. I found the experience profoundly depressing.

Viv was out of town as well, inspiring musings about all-day-barhopping or 24-hour punk-rock movie festivals, but instead I, um, researched human resources policy on the web from my soft, comfy couch. I left said position to

a) do laundry
b) make coffee
c) go to the liquor store for gin and
c) eat at Kimchee Bistro in the Alley on Broadway, about three and one-half blocks from my house.

I also had two long phone conversations with my parents, one while walking to the liquor store and walking back, and one while doing laundry. The additional portability of the phone under such circumstances is definitely appreciated. I doubt I would have had time to talk with them had I been constrained to speak with them while within range of the land line.

I was slightly disappointed that I did not meet my personal goal of not leaving the house for 48 hours, always my weekend aim (with the exception of next weekend, nota bene). I was also somewhat puzzled by my personal reluctance to watch one of the several interesting movies I have, unwatched, in the house on DVD or to walk one block beyond the liquor store to attend a theatrical screening of the always-rewarding Chinatown at the Northwest Film Forum.

A bright spot over the weekend was my unexpectedly long email correspondence with Jon Nelson, who I have mentioned here before. Many years ago, one of my truly lasting friendships (with one Eric White) developed in an epistolary fashion and I think that’s what happening with Jon and me now. He recently got a memorial tattoo dedicated to our mutual deceased pal Steve Millen, and talked about that and about the Green Tortoise, an alternative bus line that Jon drove for back in the mid-80s and which I once took from Seattle to San Francisco at midwinter. My trip was very memorable in a positive way. Jon does not look at his time with the Tortoise as positively.

Happily, however, Sunday afternoon, Vivian came home from her weekend getaway to Portland with one of her pals. We’ve just returned from dinner.

As I write, we are listening to the fathead classical programming of WCPE, a classical station I recently noticed in the default Radio::Classical subdirectory of iTunes. It transpires that the station is based near to my parents and may fairly be considered their classical station. It’s a public station, but I don’t think they run any NPR programming. They do run stuff that was once the mainstay of American public radio programming, such as the Sunday afternoon Metropolitan Opera broadcasts (if on Saturdays). They have never yet strayed from a certain middle-of-the-road (thus: “fathead”) sensibility in the orchestral and chamber music they play, which is slightly disappointing, if understandable. In many ways, it’s like an idealized time-capsule of public radio music programming in the era from 1975-1988.

Having learned to do intellectual work to this style of programming, it’s a kind of guilty treat to have discovered the station. I think there’s probably an interesting public-sector business story in the station as well, since its’ website branding is ‘The Classical Music Station.’ I presume they must obtain a significant percentage of their pledge drive income from internet listeners.

Posted on April 9, 2005 by mwhybark

Party

We had a lovely time at Karla and Diego’s birthday party last night. I have some pictures to share but as the computer rebuild is proceeding, I’m limited to moblogging.

Therefore I am posting only a single image.

Viv is watching the fairly creepy Julianne Moore flick, The Forgotten, so this lovely doll wins.

Posted on April 2, 2005 by mwhybark

Goodwill

Well, having some unexpected free time, we went back to Goodwill and found some glasses. They weren’t the ones we’d come up with initially, but they’ll do. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy picking through the glassware at Goodwill – it’s like a giant, transparent, three-dimensional puzzle, and your challenge is to find the items that match. Since the glasses are transparent, generally a bit grungy, and poorly lit, it’s quite challenging. The little kids kicking soccer balls around in the aisle behind you as you step back to get a longer view complete this transcendent shopping experience. I highly recommend it, and will continue building matched sets amid the chaos for hours, until pulled away by Viv.

Wandering the cavernous store I took some pictures of interesting gimcracks. I have assembled them here for your viewing pleasure.

This primitive spam machine comes complete with a mailing list.

At the exit, you’ll be pleased to know, the management has made a concerted effort to cater to the needs of the post-atomic hipster with these rare Polynesian craft-charms. These “primitive symbols of nature” undoutedly reflect centuries of craftsmen’s secrets and the ancient spiritual wisdom of the South Seas.

As we were browsing I happened to come upon what I will argue to be the most radical and confrontational public exhibit of art I have ever encountered in a Goodwill. The pieces were all available for sale, uncredited. I do not think I am wrong in crediting them to a single unknown artist.

The first piece I encountered, which enunciates the theme of the show, is this one. It charges radically past the boundaries of traditional collectible-sculpture aesthetics. The base features a quote from President George Bush – “The advance of human freedom – the great achievement of our time, and the great hope of every time – now depends on us.” Yet the still-recognizable profile of the Statue or Liberty, defiled and broken, mocks these words. Dangling from the neck are a pair of bare wires. It’s a clear reference to Abu Ghraib and ancillary torture policies such as the deliberate deportation suspects to friendly, torture-using states. Rarely if ever has a Goodwill played host to such an evisceration of a sitting American President. Buy it now, and get a gallery show!

Here, the unknown artist has crafted a loving homage to exploitation movies of the past fifty years while simultaneously managing to keep the theme of torture in the air.

In this disturbing diptych, the same artist now tackles the effects of torture – and, it must be noted, makes a glancing reference to Western ideas concerning Islamic jurisprudence. Taking as their starting place a Norman Rockwell painting, the unknown artist has, shockingly, dismembered the child. The infant gazes in shock at the stumps of their forearms while a doctor gazes helplessly on. Only on closer examination do we realize that the beloved professional is himself the victim of dismemberment. Too shocked to acknowledge his recent loss, the now-missing hand is clenched in fruitless determination about the physician’s very emblem: his stethoscope. America’s turn toward the dark side has removed trust, self-awareness, and competence from the domestic landscape, the sculptor argues.

In what this critic found to be the most disturbing piece of the show, the artist trangresses the boundaries of gender, sexual orientation, and what is delicately known as “the furry barrier” with this image of what is presumably the artist’s prescriptive remedy to the degradation and impotence of the preceding works. Like Jimmy Stewart in High Noon, the figure stands at the door to the church, ready for action. The fact that this sheriff is not so much a cowboy as a cow, beteated belly unleashed in what can only be described as the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions, outs the radicality of the artist’s approach. The fact that the cow is also dressed in a gay man’s fetish uniform, featuring chaps, puts us all on notice: the gay furry cow sherriff is a-comin’, and she is pissed!

It’s clobberin’ time, friends. Are you right with the Goddess?

Fortunately, hir mercy is a fountain, or rather hand-pump, that flows from the heads of angels, and surely our hands will be free from chaps for the rest of our days, ever and ever, amen. May the heavenly angel of hand-lotion (or hand-soap, emphasizing the clean-hands thesis of this critique) remain with you unto the end of your days.

As noted, when we left the Goodwill, each of these items remained available for sale. Hurry!

Posted on April 2, 2005 by mwhybark

Herman Miller

On the way to the Apple Store, we ran some errands. Viv missed a freeway turnoff and we found oueselves in the parking lot of the Goodwill store on Dearborn.

A couple of weeks ago we had carefully picked over the ever-changing selection of glassware for a set of red wine glasses; this morning one was broken as the coffee was made.

So we took the opportunity to run in in search of the same glass. We knew there was a good chance of there being more because we had debated purchasing all twelve glasses we’d uncovered, but decided against that.

See that chair up there? That’s a gen-you-wine Herman Miller task chair, pre-Aeron but still serviceable and comfy as hell.

They want $9.99 for it. Get down there, bargain seekers!

In the end, we did not get the glasses. The entire store’s computers went down as we stood in line. I tried to give someone ten bucks for our $4.50 worth of merchandise, but that was just asking for trouble, so we split.

So now I am parked at the Apple Store, awaiting my theoretical 5:15pm appointment. The bench seating in the presentation / waiting area is comfy but unfortunately, in my opinion, it has also been the default choice for airport seating for many, many years.

UPDATE: Literally as I was saving this, a Genius called out all the names in the queue before mine with no response. The drive is ordered and on its’ way, and when they have it in stock, they’ll call to let us know. Then we’ll drop the machine off for a theoretical overnight turnaround. I may not have to go through Powerbook withdrawal after all!

Posted on March 29, 2005 by mwhybark

Odd I see

I left work early today because of a dental appointment. It was a cold, sunny day and a chilly wind was blowing. I was not dressed for it and the walk to the bus stop took on the aspect of a struggle.

I paused and called Viv, and then one Eric, and then another. As I spoke to the final Eric, a tank-tread construction shovel started up, lunch hour evidently over, and squeaked and clanked an end to our conversation. Moments later, my bus arrived, and I wended my way down the crowded aisle.

A lanky young man in loose-fitting black slouched into the aisle atop one of the two benches in the very center of the bus. He sported a lovingly braided mohawk, dangling and flipping about his face. His face was vividly painted in red, black, and white greasepaint, the angular shapes apparently applied carelessly and without direct cultural reference to Native American facepaint, or, I thought, to circus entertainers.

I seated myself next to a man in filthy clothing who was absorbed in a battered Marion Zimmer Bradley paperback. He refused to share the seat with me by not moving from the expansive sprawl he had adopted prior to my unwelcome appearance on the scene. A few stops later, the lanky young man shifted seats, and I could see his sweatshirt was emblazoned with the art and name of the Insane Clown Posse. He was down with the clown. I should have known.

As I emerged from the bus tunnel, a melodic voice singing in a language unknown to me filled the echo chamber in front of the Nordstrom tunnel entrance. I listened for a moment and heard some pretty good guitar picking behind it. I paused and hit the record button on my phone. As the song ended, I had become certain that the singer was my acquaintance Karen Olsen, a fervent Jason Webley admirer who has lately taken up her own creativity and begun to exhibit at the independent gallery Art Not Terminal as well as to busk and perform in public. This was the first time I had heard her, and I was pleasantly surprised.

I stopped and chatted with Karen and offered to host her demo at mp3.whybark.com, promising to email her the URL and to explain what all is involved. She might not want to post the material. I believe she may have concerns about people taking the music for free or stealing the songs. The option is there and her concerns are legitimate ones that should be addressed as a matter of education. I’m pleased that Karen has been pursuing her muse and am happy to lend a hand when I can.

Emerging from the side of Nordstrom into a driving, stinging rain, I was amused to note a mannequin posed in one of the windows, holding a cheap guitar with open case at her feet, filled with shoes. The windowdresser had seen fit to provide the doll with a sign reading “Will play for shoes,” and the windowdressing gnomes had done so.

Posted on March 28, 2005 by mwhybark

Die lan

Among other amusements this evening, I roughed out another first draft on the Treo, this time not on the bus but prone on the couch.

Since the laptop drive is providing failure warnings, I had considered my options and determined that an outboard backup drive was the place to start. It is, and what have you.

So I’m studiously leaving the laptop alone whilst CCC clones out a baby. Time and tide wait for no man, I hear King Wenceslaus once larned him, and I’ll be god-damned if I let selflessness like that go unremarked upon.

Speaking of the self, Greg and Stacey very accurately laid the Bob Dylan autobio, part one, upon me last week. I started reading it last night, and so far Bobby’s het-up reimagining of Greenwich Village circa 1960 as the last outpost of Victoriana (note the repeated motif of gas and kerosene lamps) is both compelling and suffused with the hilarity of the improbable.

It’s a slo-mo Desolation Row, and it’s sticking with me. I can’t wait to get back to it.

Posted on March 27, 2005 by mwhybark

Eye tem

ITEM.

Trying NetNewsWire for the first time. Not sold, very definitely not sold. Glad that I was able to export/import the blogroll from blogrolling.com. No beef with the app, it’s the way the content is sketchily available. I also miss the site formatting, although I clearly understand the advantages of leaving it out of the feeds.

ITEM.

Disk Tool reports the internal hardware testing status (“S.M.A.R.T status”: may the marketeer that came up with this abuse of the acronym be long between gigs) of the Powerbook internal HD to be “failing,” which made me realize that although I purchased backup software at Christmas, I have not yet implemented it. Nor have I defragged the drive. Nor have I, in fact, performed any sort of maintenace at all upon the drive.

ITEM.

My trusty DiskWarrior 3.x CD will not reboot many late-model Macs. An update is available but you must order a new CD from the manufacturer if your disk won’t boot the box. For $12.95, which, well, OK. And expect to wait up to three weeks. Grrr.

ITEM.

Very little makes me more angry than confronting a pissant electronics repair shopman noting that the television set I have lugged in is beyond the 90-day parts-and-labor warranty. In fact, it makes me so very angry that I did not realize while in the shop that the warranty was out by THREE DAYS on the day we brought it in, and furthermore, that the failure happened within the warranty period, and that we had we contacted the manufacturer at that time.

I haven’t decided if I am going to call them up and yell at them before announcing a William S. Burroughs inspired campaign of shame surveillance or if I’m going to call them up and try to learn more about what sort of shitful souls they possess before announcing my global campaign of utter revilement. It being Easter, perhaps egging would be a fruitful option to consider.

Posted on March 25, 2005 by mwhybark

Der tod

A couple of beers at The Comet with the man that married my wife.

To me, I mean.

Then we had sushi and bento at the wonderfully quiet Oasis Cafe up the block. On the way home walked by the nearly-complete reservoir park, where that van driver plowed into the wall twentyodd days ago. The park looks lovely and I hope that my battered neighborhood’s current problems with the homeless don’t turn it into a wasteland right out of the gate.

We also walked by Value Village’s window display of Eastertide bunny rabbits.

And of course, a learned lesson. mo:blog does not handle multiple photos in a single post. I’m also beginning to make my peace with the craptacular CCD in the Treo; sometimes it produces a certain generalization in the lighting which to me appears painterly.

Posted on March 25, 2005 by mwhybark

no wifi for you

I went to the Elysian for lunch on my way home from work, hoping to get some work done, and was puzzled by the repeated failure of my computer to connect to the wireless signal, which is clearly visible under the name “Elysian Free Wi-Fi.” The formerly open access point now required a password to join.

Inquiring with my server, I was informed that the network was “down indefinitely,” which seems odd given the visibility of the signal. Seems like this might be worth investigating further.