August 29, 2003

Girls Not Grey
AFI's Video for Girls Not Grey wins MTV2 Award at the VMA's. Also available as a Ringtone. Ha.

Banner Day
I'm getting my mobile today from Amazon, I installed F10 Launch Studio on the Mac Machine and I've read that Johnny Depp is the frontrunner for playing Willy Wonka in a Tim Burton remix of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

As for the mobile, I did decide to go with T-mobile, after some good reports about reception in the Twin Cities. I know this means that Catherine Zeta-Jones may now call me up at anytime, but hey, it beats Jamie Lee Curtis. When researching phones I found that the europeans and practically everyone else on the planet has damn cooler phones then us folks in the states. Again I think this is a direct reflection on the leadership of this country and their horrible design sensibilities.

As for T10 Launch Studio. . . I'm still experimenting but so far I love the keyboard controls for switching apps and docs. It's also very fast.

This morning I'm going over to Saint Paul to get first picks on a record collection that is going up on the block very soon. What treasures await? Truly a banner day.

August 28, 2003

The Great Twin Cities B.U.G. Out
While chomping on yummy home cut fries the other night at the Edina Grill, I noticed the large advertisement on the back of The Rake Magazine for an upcoming event being organized by the design institute called B.U.G - or - Big Urban Game. Naturally, I checked out the website. Now, perhaps I haven't had enough coffee yet this morning, but I swear I've read the thing like three times now and I have no clue as to what it's all about. It looks to me like a bad reality television show disguised as community event disguised as. . .uh, design? A Road Rules Minneapolis meets Philippe Starck masquerading as a community organizer? Curious. Maybe the whole thing is mysterious and ambiguous for a reason. Maybe Chris Rock will be MC'ing the race. I may have to check it out.

August 27, 2003

Mosaics and Millions
Yesterday morning I went down to the River Center in Saint Paul to try and pay our president and leader a visit. I've had a few things on my mind lately about the course he's taking my country. So I thought, since he's coming to Minnesota with greater frequency these days, that I might have a shot at giving him a little sound advice. Unfortunately for me and some other folks that turned out with similar hopes, we were turned away. Seems we lacked the $2,000 clams necessary to bend the ear of the man we affectionately call Dubya. Oh well, at least we got to laugh and joke around with the mounted police while he was inside raising 1.4 million for his campaign. The only scary moments of the protest came from a female officer that did not know how to control her horse. Every so often the horse would launch into these manic spasms and everyone would scatter trying not to get stomped. Also some vans drove through our gathering at top speed, interrupting the 'Soccer Moms' game of soccer and destroying their goal posts that were made from bags of food. We wondered if the president was in those vans.

On the bright side, I stopped in at an antique store in Saint Paul and discovered boxes and boxes of old Wood Type along with several cases of metal type. I didn't have time to fully explore or purchase, but I will return this weekend to see what I can get.

Oh yeah, the above photos all come from the West Side of Saint Paul. Monday night I had a half hour to kill before an event over there, so I walked around and took some snaps of some great murals and mosaics. The picture of the chickens is one of the more unhealthy sings in all of the land. The camera doesn't capture accurately the horrible green hues that the sign had turned after exposure to the sun. Very unappetizing to say the least.

In other news. . . today I am breaking down and buying a cell phone. It's been over two and half years since I threw my last phone over the Hennepin Avenue bridge and into the mighty Mississippi, (I know, bad for the environment, but it was in a moment of weakness and serious fed-up-ed-ness). But it seems that the cell phone thing has come to a head and if I don't get one soon than people will continue to be displeased with me, especially when I disappear into antique stores for hours on end in the middle of a friggin' work day.

So I've done my research and compared all plans, phones and rates, etc, etc. Right now the winner seems to be T-mobile and their 1000 anywhere plan for $39.99. If you get the phone from Amazon, T-mobile or one of these other third party venders, it looks like any phone you're going to buy has some hefty rebates that bring the price either to zero or in some cases you actually make money. To good to be true? I'm not a big believer in mail-in rebates as I still have two outstanding with Best Buy and I really don't believe they have any intention of ever paying me, even after I jumped through the million and one hoops just to mail the darn things in. I digress. If anyone has any reasons why I should or should not go with T-mobile, now is the time to let me know. I'm sure this phone will eventually be polluting one of Minnesota's great waterways soon enough, but the phone should at least go to its watery grave with the right plan.

August 26, 2003

My Charity Lost Out to Desire
Confession time. Lately I've been having to spend more time on the road, in my car, dashing around to meetings, to the printers, to different events, etc, etc. My car, bless it's big ol' heart is not equipped with your finer high-end stereo products. My car was born way before the new VW Beetle was even a twinkle in the designers eye and it sure didn't come ipod ready as part of its standard package. Nope. My choices are much more duo-tone. You basically got your AM and then you got your FM and that really completes the package. So the simple equation is, more driving around time means that more and more of my listening choices are being dictated by other people or companies; most of which is so intolerable and excruciatingly depressing that I'm convinced the musical stewardship of these stations is the work of aliens, mice, or worse yet, gearhead politicians that seek to drive us into complacency and bitter alcoholism.

Now, having said all that, my horrible confession is. . . that I really enjoy the new Smooth Jazz station here in town. Which mean that either I've lost and the politicians have me exactly where they want me or there are deeply embedded radical messages coming forth from David Sanborn's saxophone that awaken my inner revolution. Damn, that's a stretch. I know. But I have to believe something. Me listening to a smooth jazz station and enjoying it is the equivalent of me considering for one heartbeat that Schwarzenegger might actually make a good governor of California. The more likely explanation for appreciating the pleasant sounds of Richard Elliot is the competition that's barking from the other stations. Sure, if I'm lucky and in the car at the right time, I can hit up a little Democracy Now on Fresh Air Radio. Although the signal is pretty bad. And I do enjoy a good CCR, Boston, Stix, or Neil Young double shot every now and again on the classic rock station. I'll stay locked on a station for a minute if they're playing a Foo Fighters tune. Catch a little Justin Timberlake or some Missy E, on another station and it's all good. But generally all the Clear Channel stations are horribly inconsistent and way to commercial heavy. Unfortunately the local college radio station isn't much better. They may have much better musical taste and they sure come correct with ample diversity, but for a man like me on the move and in the car, they play all the wrong songs at all the wrong times. I'm a huge fan of Low and I enjoy the entire spectrum of the icelandic minimalist movement. But that stuff is way better, at say one in the moring after I've downed a fifth or two. It's just not good music for Tuesday at 1pm, when the sun is out and your cruising. Why does this happen? Why do they play such music at the oddest times? As a recovering college DJ in my own time, I can tell you the answer. It all stems form the fact that the 'college kid' keeps odd hours that are usually contrary to the working mans schedule. And when stuck in a windowless DJ booth, it's always midnight. Thus bands like Low always seem appropriate and bands like Burning Airlines never seem to make the light of day.

So take all that and my attention span for listing to MPR for more than five minutes and you've basically got my reasoning for keeping the dial locked on the Smooth Jazz station. Clear Channel owned to boot. Joe Sample, Grover Washington Jr., Euge Groove (great name), I'll take 'em all. Just like the old days at the dentist. Lean back and listen to the sound as the drill pierces the enamel and sparks a nerve.

August 25, 2003

Minneapolis Tax Payers Off Duty
Yesterday it was a ripe 99 degrees here in sunny Minneapolis. The humidity kept climbing all day long. I could actually see my neighbor's lawn progressively turn a lighter shade of brown. A good samaritan was trying to rescue thirsty and dying trees along Lyndale Avenue, armed with a hose he had borrowed from Pizza Luce. It was truly uncomfortable yesterday. The situation was made even worse by the news that Minneapolis Parks and Recreation was forced to close all area beaches due to the budget cuts passed earlier this year. So unless you belonged to some swanky suburban private pool club your shit was out of luck and you were stuck with a six dollar plastic pool from Wal-Mart and some cold hard ciders.

Today the budget cuts take down another treasured institution of summer. All Minneapolis Public Libraries will be closed until September 3rd. That's just no good.

I'd like to think that this is one big evil plot put forth by Target Stores and other local retailers, who have pressured the government to take away free community options for kids and their parents in order to drive more consumers to their air conditioned stores and movie theaters in this last week of back-to-school grabbing and shoving. But there's no one to blame for this mess but ourselves. For it was we (but not me) that elected a Governor who ran on a campaign of 'no new taxes' and now it is we who must endure the reality of that wonderful promise. I for one, welcome mo' taxes. Where can I send my money? My tax dollars are paying for President Bush to fly in tomorrow for a $2,000 dollar a plate re-election campaign fundraiser on the private property of the Saint Paul River Center. Can I request that some of those tax dollars be used to keep open Public beaches and libraries? How about the library hold it's own fundraiser? I can't do the $2000 a plate deal but I could certainly attend, say, a $100 a plate fundraiser. Especially, if they serve vegetarians. Perhaps a Pot Luck benefit might be a better idea. Attendees could bring their favorite recipe that they got from a library cook book.

August 22, 2003

The Last Pottery Sale
World famous potter, avid cribbage board collector, sometimes political agitator, and my step-father, Peter Leach will be having the last pottery sale of his professional career tomorrow. When Peter announced at a packed pavilion of close friends earlier this year that he would be closing his studio and effectively retiring from the pottery wheel, audible gasps were heard. I got a sneak peak at the results of the firing last night just as the kiln was being emptied of its contents. It's good stuff folks. If you've got nothing better to do tomorrow morning, then come check out the sale. I'll be the guy handing out Krispy Kreme's. More information and directions to the sale.

August 20, 2003

Gender Genie
The Gender Genie thinks that my post from yesterday was scribed by a women. I am here to tell the Genie that it wasn't. It does however make me contemplate the significance of the Genie's findings. . .

Identifont
I've used Identifont three times in the last two weeks and so far it's batting a thousand. Three Bulls-eyes. That's enough for a glowing recommendation from me. Try describing any one of the fine Test Pilot Collective fonts and see what results you get.

Last Stop on the Lost Days of Summer
My poison ivy is starting to fade away, it finally rained last night, and I can officially declare that August has been my busiest month of work yet this year. What gives? I'm thinking that everyone put off a lot of work at the beginning of the year and are finding themselves in the crunch right now. To exacerbate the problem even more, in the last few weeks I have developed a funny habit of getting myself lost going to almost any meeting I am supposed to attend. Whether I walk, bike, or drive, something always goes awry between the time I step out my door (Mary-Tyler Moore style) to the time I land at wherever prearranged destination a client has asked me to meet. It's gotten so bad that Monday I ended up at Mystic Lake Casino after taking a wrong turn on Highway 169. It's gotten so bad that I actually got lost trying to walk to a meeting that was a slim five blocks away from my HQ. It's gotten so bad that I now plan for an extra 10 to 15 minutes of 'lost time' before the scheduled time of a meeting. That's horrible. On any given day I could loose up to an hour becasue of my navigational dyslexia. I will admit that I am at my worst when i drive - a constant reminder that the bike is always the best mode of transportation. When driving, I catch myself in odd Zen-Zombie-Zones. These are trouble. When I awake from these catatonic driving blackouts, I'm half surprised I'm not in South Dakota or Banff Canada. I like to think that I'm actually a good driver in these zombie states, something of a total and complete auto-pilot, but damn if I can remember anything about the time period that just slipped by. So if you see me out there, slap me across the cheek a time or two and then give me accurate directions to wherever I need to go. Please.

August 19, 2003

The Presidential Prayer Team website frightens me.

Mystery Pee Girl Strikes Again
And this time I saw her do it! What the hell is going on? It all happened just as the misses had described it last week, except this time I was there to see it. The freaky thing is, the mystery pee girl did her deed at almost the exact same time and sure as pee-shoutin', she did it in the exact same spot.

Now the singular occurrence of a random pee event, although still a bit weird, is almost understandable. Perhaps she just really had to go or she was locked out of her apartment, etc, etc. But the fact that it has now turned into a serial nightly event - a show if you will. . . well that just isn't right. Where is Encyclopedia Brown when you need him most? I mean with all apologizes to stereotypes and all that, you wouldn't guess from looking at this girl that she enjoys a good free-spirit public peeing now and again.

I followed mystery pee girl last night for about half a block trying to get up the courage to ask her, "um, excuse me miss, but why do you keep peeing behind my apartment?" But I couldn't do it.

August 18, 2003

The Haunted Mansion
When going to see Pirates of the Caribbean, I knew I would probably have to sit through a gaggle of Disney movie previews. I can't say I was too excited to sit through previews of movies about dogs who could talk (didn't Benji and Chevy Chase close that chapter in American cinema when they created the vastly underrated, Oh Heavenly Dog). But I was blown away by the preview for another movie based on a popular Disney theme-park ride - The Haunted Mansion. Beyond the movie being a vehicle for Eddie Murphy to make jokes about moving his unsuspecting family into a possessed house, the movie looks like a production designers fantasy land. Indeed, as you see on the movie's site the costume designs are amazing. Also if you catch the movie's trailer you can see that The Haunted Mansion features some amazing typography in it's introductory titles. Wow. Can't wait to see it.

August 15, 2003

Bjork Tjype
Besides obsessing over all the strange and nordic Bjork DVD's that have been rapidly falling onto the consumer shelves, I've also been bedazzled by all the typographic wonderment that appears on the packaging of said DVD's. Luckily, I found this nice Japanese site that links to all the places where you can get your hands on all that good Bjork Type. Check out the cool little Vespertine ducks that you can download for your Mac too.

Blogging in a blackout
As the blackout took over the Northeast many took to the streets capturing pictures with their phone. Then they sent them here (via BoingBoing). It's another chapter in the Blackout History Project.

August 14, 2003

Battlestar Galactica vs. Richard Dawson
Mark your calendars for October 21st as the day you will will be spending quality couch time hunkered down in your bunker taking in every single episode of Battlestar Galactica. Although the DVD isn't out until October, Amazon has it for pre-order. It's hard to believe it's been 25 years since the show first aired, failed to find a market, went into syndication, and found a huge audience among kids who were looking for something to watch after Buck Rogers. I still have my Buck Rogers metallic trash can. According to Wired, in celebration of the 25 year anniversary of Battlestar, there looks to be a brutal mini-series that will be release sometime later this year.

If you were looking hard you could probably find yourself a Battlestar lunchbox over at Lunchboxpad. I found the lunch box site via the Dublog. Also via the dublog is a rather interesting site of vintage antique wood cameras. I want them all.

Hey, while we're blog hopping. . .there is a good dialog taking place over on the Hey Mercedes weblog on the music download debate. Bob Nanna, while blogging from his tour bus, pretty much nails it.

A good game involving mischievous toilet paper combat is laid out over at Textism and some folks have decided to re-enact old Match Game episodes for reasons I really can't say. Although, whoever gets to play Richard Dawson gets the best part cause he was chronically drunk on that show and didn't care who saw him in his saucy state.

I guess one could deduce from this post that I am also excited to catch VH-1's, I Love the Seventies series, if only to hear stories about people and their 8-track collections.

August 13, 2003

Queer Eye for the C.O.P.S
The misses was in a state of disquiet trauma last night when I arrived home from the bar. It seems that moments before I landed home, she had come face to face with the 'strangest thing she had ever witnessed in Uptown', which is saying a lot as she is a veteran of the scene. Apparently, she had just settled into the couch for some quality Tuesday evening queer-centric reality television, when just a few feet from the East facing window of our humble keep, a well dressed and put together female of a late twenty something age, walked up close to our window lifted up her skirt and peed like a man all over the driveway. The fact that I was not at home to bear-witness to this event left me despondent the rest of the evening. All I got to see was the gigantic puddle.

Speaking of queer-centric reality television. I have a new reality television show that I would like to propose to the networks - specifically FOX. The show I would like to propose, would, like most other reality T.V., be a simple combination of already existing shows. Therefor, I know it would be a hit. My new show would be a combination of Queer Eye For The Straight Guy and C.O.P.S. with a little bit of American Idol thrown in to boot. Essentially viewers would watch a current episode of C.O.P.S and then be able to vote on which White Trash, glue-huffing, blood-soaked criminal would get to have the 'Queer Guys' come and straighten out their lives by giving their trailer home or garbage house a complete makeover. Let's face it, these folks really need the makeover more so then the hapless people who get chosen for these makeover shows. Comedy will ensue when the "Queer Guys" tell their contestant that, "the scrawny guy on your kitchen floor huffing gas is just so 1984. . .and these blood and beer soaked wife-beaters of yours, well honey, it's just so Children of The Corn II: The Final Sacrifice - they really must go."

August 12, 2003

Boggle Your Brains Out
Somehow in the course of a weekend of dog-sitting I ended up with a spot of poison ivy on my left hand. It itches like crazy and typing at the machine only makes it itch more. Fess is the dog. She's named after the Boogie Woogie piano player, Professor Longhair. She's a border collie and nuts as all hell. She herds cars indoors, pretending she's herding sheep. She could do it ten hours a day. I take her for walks. The walks only slow her down. For her, a walk is relaxation time. Fess and I tested out lots of new music this weekend. We found that we both love the new Mars Volta record. She seemed to heard cars even faster and with more joy when The Mars Volta was on the hi-fi. Other than dog walks the weekend was a good one for catching up on work and drinking Mister Misty's while playing championship games of Boggle. My best boggle word for the weekend was 'monster'. I just checked, and the domain 'boggleblog.org' is available. Somebody should jump on that. Its got a nice ring to it.

Yesterday the misses won tickets to the sneak preview of the new Kevin Costner movie Open Range. Although she won the tickets on the StarTribune web site, most of the other winners at the packed theater had won their tickets through some country music radio station. The theater was filled with lots of big guys in ten gallon hats. As for the movie...well, if you're a person who just can't get enough hollywood patriotism and want to hear Kevin Costner's reasoning for a 'Just War' - or - you are a person who likes a good two and half hour Marlboro Man commercial, then this is your movie. Luckily, all the actors were good, which made the movie tolerable. But if your going to make a western in the 2003, you have to come up with a new angle. Open Range went out of its way not to have a new angle, as if that was its stubborn statement, "Look here pardner, we going to do things the old fashion way and if you don't like it well then there's a gonna be some killin's." My guess is, this movie will be huge. It's too bad Schwarzenneger didn't have a role.

August 07, 2003

The Lost Souls of the Insect Generation
I bolted out of bed this morning after having one of those horrific 'wake-up-snooze-fall-back-asleep-dreams'. The dream involved three oversized, translucent yellow, razor thin cockroaches with spindly foot-long legs making them resemble those bugs we used to make out of craft wire as kids. Only these cockroaches had a much more futuristic polished shell, as if they were the twisted ill-begotten invention of some out-of-work Apple designers. They were as big as a Sussex Spaniel but moved around with a frightening amount of speed and dexterity.

After a few cups of coffee, I felt better. I got the Dream Dictionary off the bookshelf. It said that insect dreams "usually represent small, nagging worries. Things that 'bug' you. Traditionally, they can represent relatives. How you handle the insects in your dream, tells you how to handle these worries."

"So I got that going for me, which is nice." - B. Murray

Well I won't dwell on that one cause I don't like the idea that I'm representing my relatives as giant translucent cockroaches. And what if I killed the bugs in my dream? Does that mean I want to off my relatives? Well, maybe a couple - but for the most part they're all good people.

If it's true that I'm worried about small, nagging things, then I think I know what might be at the root of the problem. It has been 'buggin' me for a few days now. It's got nothing to do with Kobe Bryant, nor the crazy reality television/American Idol type situation that's taking place in the California Governors race. Nor does it have anything to do with the horrendous fact that my country has attacked and taken over two other countries in the last two years. What's really got me clutched and upset is the fact that Teen Pottery Barn is selling a set of four individual pillows each with a single letter, that, when combined, all spell out the word "punk"! It's truly maddening. Let's face facts. Punk has been dead for decades now. So to exhume and prance its corpse around the innocent and brightly decorated bedrooms of our children...well that's just inhuman. It's the work of insects. Insects that must be destroyed.

August 06, 2003

Afrobeat Exhibit
The New York Times has an amazing on-line exhibit called Finding Fela. It's a beautiful web compendium to the exhibit at the New Museum for Contemporary Art in New York.

August 05, 2003

The Noise of Working
I'm a little jealous of the Exeter House Project that Brian is working on reconstructing in between gasps of dust and rotten mildew.

All morning, while trying to work, I've been hearing out my window what I thought was the sound of horse hoofs galloping on old cobblestone roads. I just went out and checked it out. It's not horses. It's eleven guys up on scaffolding pounding stucco off a three story apartment building. It looks like satisfying work. Perhaps after lunch I'll ask them if I could volunteer a half hour of my time so that I can bang a hammer into a solid wall unrelentlessly for a bit.

Four Nursing Homes
I read a great passage from the book The Music of Failure, by Minnesota native, Bill Holm last night. In the book he recounts a few poetry gigs that he and a few other poets lined up at nursing homes around Southern Minnesota. I thought I'd share two of them here this morning.

CANBY
Poets read in the bad wing. a spastic sits up front trying to eat squiggly orange jello without much success. He aims for his mouth but hits his ear. Jello spreads in streaks down already stained pajamas. I read something cheerful. An old man shuffles in from the side with wax paper stuck to his bare foot. The paper squeaks on the tile floor as he walks. He tries to grab the microphone from me. . . .
"What's goin' on here? I got somethin' to say. . . ."
The nurse comes up, embarrassed, and slides him away, wax paper and all. I look down at orange jello, wondering what revelation I missed that would do me any good at ninety.

DAWSON
The poets read. There is a faint stink of excrement, ammonia, scented candles, and sugar cookies. She sits quietly for the first stanza, but then screws up her toothless face. . . .
"Shit! It's all shit! They're crazy, crazy! Why do we have to sit here and listen to this shit!"
The dignified Norwegian lady sitting next to her is so used to boredom that she would sit quietly listening to the Congressional Record read in Urdu by a computer. She has survived sermons for ninety years, after all. She reaches discreetly for her ear to disconnect her hearing aid.
The crank goes on: "Shit! Nothing but shit!"
She will do no such thing as go gentle into that good night. She gets louder and crankier during my poems. I like her even better. I want to kidnap her, first to Minneapolis, then New York, and wheel her to committee meetings, cocktail parties, congressional hearings, celebrations of mass, and serious cultural occasions. I may even marry her.

August 01, 2003

The Road to Breakfast is Paved with Idiots
Checkout the Worth1000 Photoshop Contests results for propaganda art. The first one is for Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. I went to get 'donuts' and coffee this morning. I was very tired when I walked into the bakery. I wasn't fully in control of my words and actions. Standing in line in front of me was a very chipper young blond dude who was wearing a maroon dress shirt with a silver blue tie. When asked what he wanted from the case he happily replied, "I'll take the two girls on the patio to go". In what must have been a half second, I confirmed that indeed there were two girls enjoying breakfast on the patio and then for some reason I actually said the word "Idiot" out loud to the back of this guys blond head. It was one of those moments that had I not been so sleepy surely the filter between my brain and mouth would have been working a whole lot better. He turned on his heals and gave me a shit-for-brains kinda look. I shrugged my shoulders and asked for two plain glazed and a large coffee to go.