Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts

9.19.2014

BIRTHDAY #35 : COUNTESS BECCA






BECCA, PT. I.
One way that I easily remember my wife's birthday every year is that it is exactly one week before Linda Hamillton's (a.k.a. Sarah Connor from The Terminator). Also, her birthday is seven days before mine. Other cinematic heroines that remind me, in specific ways, of her: Amelie from Amelie, Ripley from Aliens, Jamie Lee Curtis from True Lies, Grace Kelly from everything, MacGyver, Frank from Old School, The Bride from Kill Bill, that one French girl from that other Tarantino film, George Michael from Arrested Development, Tina Fey in general, Elastigirl from the Incredibles...a little bit of all the best things in the universe.


Polyphonic Spree's Soldier Girl reminds me of her too.

She makes my head spin around.


Happy birthday, Girl.

____

The Polyphonic Spree
Soldier Girl
The Beginning Stages of...
2002










BECCA, PT. II.

When I was a guest teacher* in Southern California years ago, I was ganged up on by a gang of trying-hard-to-be-gangsters and the room went dark and madness erupted -

- but that is another story. The point is that being a parent with my wife has given her the opportunity to join a gang too. The gang that is our children, and that frequently gangs up on me. She has the opportunity to join that gang frequently and sometimes she does. But sometimes she doesn't, and she is on my side as we battle a seven- and four-year old duo of gangsters, and when she's on my side, it's more even, so I am appreciative for those times when we can gang up on the gang together. We have gone through the fire together - not literally, though I have badly burned my finger before - but rather the fire of parenting (I prefer the other term I coined: childrening, which puts the responsibility and blame where it should be), and it is generally more enjoyable to be on a team with someone who is on your team. Or gang. One example would be how our children inexplicably loathe Leonard Cohen. She could take their side, and curry favor, but she has stood steadfast next to me and blasted Who By Fire next to me as they groaned and grumbled and we laughed as the flames burned around us (that 'through fire' thing, not real fire, otherwise I would have called the firefighting gang). Leonard is such a masterful old poetic gangster, and I'm glad to not be married to him, but rather, to someone who is not like him, but likes him. Respect.

Happy birthday, OG Becca.

____

Leonard Cohen
Who By Fire
New Skin for the Old Ceremony
1974

*a more elegant term the district insisted on calling its substitute teachers




BECCA, PT. III.

Technically, most people don't think of me as a scientist, per se. But ever since my wife gave me one of her old white lab coats, I tend to think of myself as almost one. And in a sense, I am, because I am wearing a lab coat that almost fits, and I truly am interested in quantum mechanics, time travel, reading quotes by Albert Einstein, and watching Fringe. But in my heart, I know that technically I will never be offered a teaching position at MIT. And I think that maybe my wife is resigned to the fact that I'll never be a prize-winning scientist, but - and this is what I love about her - she has never discouraged me from wearing the old lab coat that doesn't fit me very well, because she knows it makes me happy to wear it, and that in a way, it does possibly bring her happiness to feel that she's married to a successful scientist working on the fringes of science, but then we both know at the end of the day I'm not actually a technical scientist: I'm just a mid-sized guy with good posture and poor eyesight who believes that science is real and that space travel is truly possible. She sees that glimmer of possibility in me, that underneath the ill fitting lab coat, there beats the heart of a scientist, if not the brain. And I know that everything is possible.


BECCA, PT. IV.

There's a few regrets I have in life, probably the biggest being that I didn't invest in Apple stock in the early '80s. To be fair, I was five or six years old, but still, no excuses. And sometimes there's partial regrets, like experiencing something really cool, but not having someone with you who you know would really enjoy it, like when I went to see Mercury Rev in L.A. a decade ago and it turned out to be one of my favourite shows ever, or going to see Alt-j last year, and it turned out to be fantastic, and I know Becca would have loved both, but she didn't go because of reasons that are vague to history (Studying? Work? Children?). But she wanted me to go, and she wanted me to have a good time, and she was happy for how much I enjoyed both. So I think what I learned from that is this: try not to ever miss out on anything really cool, and maybe just bring the children too. And also, try to be genuinely happy for other people when good things happen to them. Like she was for me. A good lesson. No more ragrets.

Happy b-day weekend, Countess.

____

Still get goosebumps over Mercury Rev's The Dark Is Rising.

Mercury Rev
The Dark Is Rising
All Is Dream
2001






BECCA, PT. V.

We fell in love at a bakery, at least I did. She worked there; the early morning shift at the small town bakery. I studied at a table with an eyeline to the front counter. I thought I was going to study and get a free bagel once in a while, but then (like I said) I accidentally fell into love so sometimes things happen that you're unaware are happening until afterwards; at which point you have to go back and try to understand history and break things down, like economists do after market crashes retroactively to make themselves sound prescient. Unfortunately, this was pre-smartphone, pre-Instagram, pre-everyone flashing around cameras for no reason so I never usually thought in terms of capturing those early morning bakery rendezvouses. It just exists in our donut-foggy memories. I wish we had one picture of me with my head down studying in the corner, and her behind the counter surreptitiously checking me out. That's a moment I wish we had recorded. Also, I left her a $500* tip once. I've wondered what she did with that. She wore an apron and played good music: Ben Harper, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder. One day I finally said I Like You, but it took me 90 minutes to get through that three-word sentence; maybe it's a plus for me that I'll never have to wonder if that conversation is floating around in a digital cloud somewhere.

I love tracking history with technology and freezing moments for eternity**, but sometimes there's satisfaction in knowing that reality will never collide with our personal mythology & history and that I can keep all the great moments intact with my imagination, unencumbered by the brutality of frozen actuality.

Happy birthday, Barista Becca. I lost my 4.0***, but got some decent coffee and a bride. Wouldn't trade.

____

The Raveonettes
Remember
Chain Gang of Love
2003



*$10

**EMP issues aside

***technically, was already lost. Again though, I prefer the romanticized Faustian notion that I traded my GPA for love.



2.02.2014

SUPER BOWL XLVIII: Seahawks vs. Broncos.




MY FIRST FIVE SUPER BOWL REMEMBRANCES.
1. First one. 1985. 49ers vs. Dolphins. Or, Montana vs. Marino. Joe got my allegiance then and I never looked back, though I did later meet Miami coach Don Shula, who was a fine and articulate gentleman.
Final: S.F. 38-16

2. At a 1990 pizza parlor in Bend, Oregon, watching San Francisco thump Denver 55-10. Went to the bathroom, came back two minutes later, and Jerry Rice had scored yet again. Pyrotechnics. Poor mile high.

2b. 2004. Janet Jackson's malfunction. There was a game, but I remember almost nothing about it, except that it was a very good one.

3. The 1991 heartache of Buffalo kicker Scott Norwood's wide right 47-yard field goal attempt with eight seconds left to dash the Bills hopes against Jeff Hostetler's Giants as they lost the closest Super Bowl ever. 20-19. The first of Buffalo's four consecutive S.B. losses. Whitney Houson National Anthem; New Kids on the Block halftime show. 

4. The 2000 heartache of Tennessee Titan wide receiver Kevin Dyson lunging for the goal line and coming up a yard short with no time left in a play that would have tied the game. Final: Rams 23-16. Greatest S.B. ending ever.

5. The calm and resolute three-minute march of the 49ers as the clock ran down and Montana hit John Taylor with 34 seconds left to top the Bengals 20-16. Jerry Rice: 215 yards receiving.

5b. 2003's Buccaneers vs. Raiders, in which I attend a massively fun party with a bunch of fellow film geeks and aficionados for a Super Bowl Commercial party; during which we discuss Sergio Leone westerns during the game, and wait for the commercials to actually tune in. I do remember that Oakland's Rich Gannon threw five interceptions, which is not generally helpful to your team when you're the quarterback.

Happy Bowling, all!

ELEVEN MINUTES BEFORE GAMETIME.
Anybody up for some afternoon Scrabble in the park? Meet up in about ten minutes or so?


#sportsismylife

THIS IS LOVE.
"I can never truly accept you or love you for who you are until you have a commercial in the Super Bowl."


- my wife

MY DAD: FOOTBALL ANALYST.
"What he needs to do is go around. He should have run AROUND them. Look! He would have had a first down if he had gone AROUND."


I agree.

FAIL.
Funny Volkswagen ad with the wings...but where are the female engineers? Seriously?!


Biggest sports event of the year, running a national spot, bunch of dudes only in lab coats. Don't get it. Little deal? Uhh, what am I not getting?

Alternate Super Bowl halftime show.





THREE MINUTES LEFT IN THE FOURTH QUARTER; POINT SPREAD ABOUT A BILLION: THE CRYING GAME (SPOILER).
I am watching on a 30-second time delay, so please delay any posts about who won until an hour after it ends, just to be safe. I like to be surprised.

Final of the Nailbiting Match.
Seattle Seahawks 43, Denver (not very bucking) Broncos 8




6.04.2013

FROM THERE TO HERE AND THEN TO NOW, AND NOW THERE ARE ELVES.

I pressed Go and Luna's This Time Around rolled out of our speakers. Immediately I was transported back to 2002's Southern California freeway soundtrack with Becca. Jammed up with six miles of automobiles between us and our exit, motorcycles whizzing between lanes. But who cares, with good music and good conversation and maybe an Americano in the beverage slot.

Turn it up!

My wife bossed me around as she whipped up a breakfast smoothie for a table full of little elves. So I cranked it up, and the pajama-clad crew rolled their eyes as the morning sun illuminated their AWESOME (oh yes, we are awesome) parents dancing to Manic Street Preachers rendition of 'You're Just too Good to be True.' Incidentally, also the song we skipped down the aisle to a decade-and-change ago. MSP left a little of their arena bombast behind for their sweet, vaguely edgy version.

Then: the next track rolled around on a 2011 playlist I had assembled and - this is the part I love - my daughter came running up with grin.

"Daddy, I know who this is!"

You do?
I said.

"It's Jason Lytle!"

Wow.
I said.
No...but that is an excellent guess, and Jason Lytle is one of the greatest American musicians of the last quarter century, so that is so cool that you thought of him!

Countess Becca chimed in - and before I say more, you must know that she has an uncanny ear for melody, and for readily identifying the menagerie of music I spin and try to stump her with. "Is it...Snow Patrol?"

Nope.
I said.
Nada Surf.
____


Why am I writing this? Because every day is better with good music in it.

And sometimes it helps to enjoy the Now by reminiscing about the Then.

Happy Dienstag, world.

ONE OF THESE IS THE GREATEST SONG EVER, BUT I CANNOT REMEMBER WHICH.
Luna
This Time Around
Bewitched
1994

Manic Street Preachers 

You're Just too Good to be True
Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of Manic Street Preachers
2003

Nada Surf

Inside of Love
Let Go
2002



3.28.2013

IN WHICH I SPEAK OF FLEETWOOD MAC IN THE SPRING, AND MY CHILDREN DON'T REALLY FEEL THE MAGIC.

We rocket down the mountain; Driving so fast at one point I almost exceed the speed limit. The spring sun is beating down on my baseball hat, coffee's getting flat, windows down, breeze bolting through. Spring has sprung.

-Daddy, will you tell us a story?

No.
I say.
We have to listen to Fleetwood Mac.

(At this point, you're probably thinking something like: 'oh excellent! He's going to play some classic 'Mac for the kids.'

What's he going to lead with - Dreams? Sara? Rhiannon?'

Nope. I'm intrigued by artists who are referred to like they're dead...or at least like their creative output is dead, when the reality couldn't be further from that. So, I put on one of the best tracks from their recent 2003 beauty of an album Say You Will.)

"This song is called Running Through the Garden," I say.
"It's kind of funny, because the girl's name is Stevie and the guy's name is Lindsey. What do you think?"

- I like her voice.
My daughter says.

Yep. One of my favourite voices ever.

(That icy warm, ephemeral voice racing alongside Mr. Buckingham's finger-melting guitar acrobatics. Chills.)

My headbanging reverie was interrupted by voices in the carseats behind:

- Since Daddy isn't going to tell us a story, should we to listen to Bob Dylan now?

I'll tell you a story now! 
I protest.

-Bob Dylan! I want to listen to Bob Dylan.
The boy screeches.

You guys don't want to listen to any more Fleetwood Mac?
I ask.

-We'll just listen to Bob Dylan. I'll find him on the iTouch, Daddy.

We quietly rocket down the mountain, Dylan's "I Want You" vainly trying to fill the Spring air.
We'll come back to Fleetwood. In a year, or a decade. Hello, Spring.
And so you run to war.
What you know is wrong.
There are too many flowers to cut down.
All the love I have for your life.
Turn around.
Note: I believe this song is directly inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne's short story "Rappaccini's Daughter."

Fleetwood Mac
Running Through the Garden
Say You Will
2003

3.14.2013

HAPPY PI DAY (THE WHITE STRIPES DO SOME MATH).

Black Math and Pi

If you're a mathematician, then you do math.

If you're a musician, you make music.

If you're a musician who likes math, then you write a song about math.

And if you're someone who admires mathematics and music, yet has a particular aptitude for neither, then you do what I'm doing now, which is wait for National Pi Day to roll around so you have an excuse to write a short little homage to Jack and Meg White, a pair of musicians who wrote arguably* the greatest song ever about mathematics (although technically I think it may more of a philosophical treatise about the gap between LEARNING something and UNDERSTANDING something...).

"Yeah maybe I'll learn to understand /
Drawing a square with a pencil in hand yeah /
Mathematically turning the page /
...is it the fingers, or the brains that you're teaching the lesson?"
Concretely titled "Black Math," my wife gets furious** at me when I listen to it driving, because I steeringwheel-air drum to it like Pythagoras on triangle. I can understand why it's frustrating, particularly if I forgot to put cruise control on because of course I've gotta keep the kick drums going and it's not my fault*** if my right foot happens to be poised above the gas pedal. The barrage of elephantine guitars is a blast of buckshot to Jack's skreeny sweaty vocals as he writhes his skinny fingers through six strings of guitar contortions. Meg calmly stomps away frantically with her cute little drumset that is somehow fluently fierce and charming. What a pair they were.

Happy Pi Day. Now go hug a mathematician. Or at least listen to the White Stripes really loud.

*please argue

**not furious

***of course it's my fault - who else's would it be?

The White Stripes
Black Math
Elephant
2003







Judgment Night II (Post-Blazer Game) //// March 4, 2013

****

THINGS THAT WILL NOT HELP YOU PREPARE FOR A PEACEFUL NIGHT'S SLEEP:


Having your wife walk around the house all evening wearing a Darth Vader mask, repeating "I am your father" in a voice that sounds more akin to Dennis Hopper than James Earl Jones.


I swear, if I wake up during the night and she is still wearing it I probably won't sleep for a fortnight.