Mixed Feelings.

I am learning the song Don't Know Why, the one Norah Jones sings, words and music by Jesse Harris. I don't much like Norah, having read a recent Rolling Stone interview where she came across as the most stuck-up person imaginable, but the song stands on its own and that is why she/they won the grammy. In my opinion it could be the most perfect song written in a very long time. Although it sounds simple, technically it is so sophisticated and difficult; changes are many and very subtle. The song not only tells a story, it generates a sultry feeling. That is why she/they won. If she could sort of humanize herself that would be nice. It is a very pretty song.

No Way.

CBS Sunday Morning has a piece about the Apple Mac cruise. $4K per person, they all have G4s, and IM each other. Mac fans. Looks cool.

ThE Original Dixie Chick.

Dolly Parton video "I'm Gone" -- her voice is amazing and she looks incredible.

On Lenny Bruce.

I see lot of Jerry Seinfeld in Lenny Bruce but at least Seinfeld keeps the material clean. I am finally getting a chance to watch a tape of Bruce on Trio (cable 315) after hearing about him all these years. I always wondered about rumors of his brilliance, and now I understand the buzz. He assumes a dozen characters in one long shot, going on twenty minutes now, disgusting the audience with a running diatribe on drugs, prostitutes, homosexuality, Shakespeare, sex and the Mafia. This was his next-to-last nightclub appearance. Uncensored, offensive, immoral and completely original.

Update.

I am well again. Thanks to those who called. DSL was down so mostly I spent my so-called sick time up and down, power cycling the modem, testing things and generally going nuts. It was freaky -- the DSL would go down for a couple of days and would come back up the moment I had the tech on the line. The minute I hung up with the tech, the DSL would go back down. All that fiddling around. And when they put you on hold you are on hold for up to thirty minutes. Once, the whole system just crashed: the computer spontaneously shut down and restarted. When it came back up, the DSL light was on solid, indicating a connection, but I could not open the browser. That is when I burst into tears. I recovered and called back and the tech said he couldn't see a connection. He is ordering an update and sending me a new modem. Earthlink doesn't have people who will come out to help you. They simply do not exist. Is there an ISP that does?

Another Weird Day.

I got to process something new today, a preliminary patent application. I've been in patent litigation so long, I never really learned much about the patent process. Well, sure, I knew the basic basics, but not the real lowdown, in-the-trenches stuff. I really want to learn more about it.

Similar Buzzwords.

These are "neutraceuticals."

These are "neuticles."

They're close, I know, but there is one subtle difference: Neuticles actually do something.

Reminds me of a story my dad once told me.

Once Upon A Time in the Late Fifties, my parents and another couple, James and Barbara T., were invited to another couple's home for a dinner party. My folks and the T.'s were very close friends, and the other couple was "new." So Dad and James were well acquainted, but weren't at all acquainted with the man of the house, who happened to be into racing cars. So when the men and women separated, as they did then and still do, the men were invited out to the guy's garage to check out his racing engine. The guy kept a phonograph player in the garage, and put on racing records while they chatted over guy stuff and beer. Dad and James thought this record-playing business was relatively weird, which of course it was. Unfortunately for the wife, his weirdness cast the couple in an odd light from the get-go. So James and Dad, being couple of jokers, went back inside to get more beers and saw that the women had put chips and dip on the coffee table before going back into the kitchen to fix dinner. This couple owned an "intact" boxer. When James and my Dad came out of the kitchen together to go back out to the garage, they saw that the boxer had somehow wedged himself between the couch and the coffee table. In a desperation move, the dog did a clumsy turnaround right before their eyes, dragging his ahem, neuticles through the dip. Without blinking, James turned to Dad and calmly suggested, "Let's go bowling." Before departing, each guy whispered to his puzzled wife so that no one else could hear, "Hey. Don't eat the dip."

Shall We Dance.

I'm watching a Fred and Ginger movie that is just so great. A woman (not Ginger) is dancing on ballerina toes in a feathery tutu to They Can't Take That Away From Me. Edward Everett Horton's a sidekick in this one, and is getting into a shushing contest with an entire audience. It's pretty funny. They just don't make them like this any more. Spent a good portion of the morning recording an old big band radio program off of KCSM. Startdust. Stuff like that is the good stuff. Or am I just getting old?

Good Things.

Good things are happening for me at the law firm, and it is because I have vision. I am seeing these good things in my dreams, and I know this is going somewhere really cool.

Nice People Rock.

Bicyclists are the nicest people. They wave or say hello when we ride by one another. Or as is more often the case, when they pass me. Twenty-somethings whiz past the old mama on her big bike churning up a hill. Some even shout encouragement. "Way to go," or "All right!" I gave my serious bicyclist friend a ride to Sonora on Saturday on my way to see Dad. He missed the bus to the big Sierra to the Sea trip and gave me a call at 7:30 Saturday morning, not knowing I was going up there anyway. Worked out well for all.

Went to church with Mom and Dad on Sunday. Nice people singing about bliss and joy and peace. Nice music. Friendly people. Just the right amount of Jesus. Just like Jesus seems to me: subtle. He was there, but subtly. I don't like too much all at once. The pastor gave a nice sermon about anger management. Imagine that. Reverend Wayne is a bicyclist. And bicyclists are the nicest people.

Snake Oil.

This article backs my longstanding theory that Americans have been brainwashed into believing we need various types of supplements, and in great numbers.

I was at the health food store today picking up a bowl of soup for lunch, and overheard the following exchange:

Mid-thirtiesh Woman: Do you have any brain supplements, like, for memory enhancement?
Clerk, pointing to a wall of bottles: These are all very good, but this one is my favorite. It has niacin in it, so you can't take too much. One time I took two, and felt all flushed.
Woman: Ah. My husband is 43 now, and has been forgetting the simplest things, even failing to finish sentences.
Clerk: This will definitely help. And, it's on sale this week.

After the woman left, I picked up a bottle and put it right back down; it was $32.47, on sale. I sure hope it works for the old fart.

For Christ's Sake.

NASA should scrap the shuttle program. What a waste. I know I'm not a big government entity, but I do know that when I've seriously failed twice at something, it's either time to stop trying that particular thing and put my energy into something better, or to focus on taking the time to develop better skills. My philosophy is that God tells us things. You know, gives us hints, and if something is not working, well, then, it was simply not meant to be. We are not meant to be in space. We need to put that money into more noble, humanitarian causes. NASA, take a hint.

Tribute.

I will greatly miss Erin Barker. I just learned that she passed away on January 5, 2003. As you can see, she was beyond brilliant, very kind, and more beautiful on the inside than the outside. She was my high school friend, my bridesmaid, and I idolized her. She passed away of unknown causes in her bed at age 42. The last time I saw her was at the last reunion. She was one of the most kind people I have ever known. She started earning that Master's degree in tenth grade, I swear. She used to blow us all away in Mr. Bronson's algebra class, receiving A's semester after semester when the rest of us eked by with D's and C's. Rest in peace, beautiful Erin. You are one in a million stars.

Hekylled.

Walking past a grapefruit tree in someone's yard along Piedmont Road, I spotted a perfectly hollowed-out grapefruit lying on the ground. It had been gutted through a little window in the side of the fruit and I thought, "How did that happen? What kind of animal does that?" And it struck me: Crows. We have more crows now than ever before. Never saw them here when I was a kid. You had to travel to Southern California to see a single crow, and now they're everywhere, in near-Hitchcockian droves. They get angry if you walk under the tree they're in, and pester you all the way down the street. Almost a good argument for more cats. But not really.

What Is It Like.

Contemplating on a bike ride this morning up old Calaveras I asked, "What's it like to leave, and miss, home?" I would not know. I am still here. I've been wondering what it would be like to move away. I've always lived here and really feel like I've got the advantage because I know all the roads, the secret shortcuts, what connects with what where, and so on. I know the stores, malls and restaurants and know how to get there the quickest way without even thinking of hitting MapQuest. What would it be like to uproot? I sure would miss old Calaveras. What a road. That first curve is a beaut, but once you're past it the rest is a breeze. The creeks are running, the Queen Anne's Lace emit a rich, almost citrus scent, and there's a wall of buckeye that smell sweet as you please. Lacy pokers of flowers stand out and upward, and to my amazement there are separated single flowers floating in the air but actually hanging from sticky strings of either spider web or buckeye sap. The eucalyptus groves look like a paint-by-number masterpiece, and the tire swing at the big sycamore by the curve near Downing Road waits for some kid to climb aboard. Just past the early-morning golfers, the meadows by Sandy Wool look like tufts of maize-colored yarn. I've been dreaming of old friends returning to town, remembering lost love, and asking myself what it would be like to leave Milpitas.

Love Wild Birds.

Walked around the wetlands sanctuary a bit yesterday at Baylands Park (edge of Alviso). Several acres of natural habitat teeming with poetic wildlife: flycatchers, terns, dragonflies, and some peach-bellied velvet black compact swallows with white-edged beaks. I'll have to look them up to get the name. So fun to watch. Encountered a wild hare in a poplar grove on departure. What a beautiful Sunday. There's a pier on a marsh that I saw in a photo on the cover of the Post a few years ago, but never knew how to get there. It was always on my mind and when I finally stumbled upon it a month ago I said, "There it is! Finally." Baylands is quite possibly one of the nicest parks in Santa Clara County.