September 30, 2003

Edward Said
Here are two really nice pieces on the passing of Edward Said. The first is from Alexander Cockburn and the second is from Tania Tamari Nasir. Her piece is a beautiful recounting of her first trip to Israel to attend a recital by pianist Daniel Barenboim in Jerusalem. That simple act, shrouded in so many questions:

"After years and years of denial here I was, in West Jerusalem, at an Israeli function. Was I right to come here? Was this normalising relations with the adversary? Was what I had stood against for years, what I have refused to be party to, now underway? What had changed to make me do it? Had the occupation ended? Was I free? Had justice been done?"

Wash Out
People groan and moan about how terrible the Metrodome experience is, especially when baseball and the Twins are concerned. I'm one of those people. But I may becoming less of one of those people after traveling hundreds of miles and spending about the same to watch a Cubs game outdoors in Wrigley Field only to have the whole damn thing rained out. Tragic. Even more disturbing was the fact that the Cubs won the whole thing the next day. All those fans getting the chance I got denied by good old Mother Nature. Now I look at the Dome in a whole new light. Sure maybe it's astroturf and it's hideously ugly inside, but at least you get to watch baseball when you plan and pay for baseball.

Ever since getting back home from Chi-town Sunday night I have been on a 36 hour tear to get as much work done as possible to make room for the Twins playoff game that starts at noon today. Also Papa M is playing at First Avenue tonight, so pretty much my whole day is shot starting at noon.

September 25, 2003

Amazing Shushing Action
I want to get one of these Librarian Action Figures with hand operated shushing power. We need more real action figures for the unglamorous set. Action figures for community workers, prevention abuse councilors, ESL instructors, labor organizers, etc. Then you can play the special board-game,'Community' (Please note: red tape not included with game).

If all goes well, I should be in the windy city tomorrow brazing the outdoors to experience all the mystery and magic that is Wrigley Field. The Cubbies play Pittsburgh in a must win game for them. Hopefully, I'll bring some of the Twins winning energy into Chicago and the Cubs can pull it out.

The new Atmosphere record, 'Seven's Travels' got purchased just in time for the road trip to Chicago. But with Slug chanting about all the glories of South Minneapolis, I'm already homesick to get back. Here is an excerpt from a review in The Stranger:

"Damn, I'm from Minnesota, land of the cold air," Slug constantly references Minneapolis' punk pride and joy, Lifter Puller, namedrops First Avenue Records, and becomes possibly the first rapper ever to shout out Duluth. On a couple songs, his delivery even mimics that of Lifter Puller vocalist Craig Finn, all gruff-rapped and conversational."

September 24, 2003

A Tale of Two Logos and a Need For a Name
Oh boy, the process and product that created the new VH1 and MoMA identities stretch the continuum of re-branding strategies to the point of of snapping it like a hardened piece of silly putty. The new logos have politicized me almost to the point of Bush (VH1) and Clark (MoMA). With the new VH1 logo, I've already begun experimenting with a little kick flip switch that will block out the bottom right hand corner of my television set whenever the dial ends up on VH1 which is rare except for the occasional back to the 70's nostalgia. Meanwhile the Carterized treatment of the new MoMA logo, an attempt to breath more analog life into a digitally stale identity, has all the intellectual subtlety and sacred super nuisance that makes you fall in love hard. While one logo screams look at me. I'm so damn sexy! I'm Christina Aguilara all tied up in type and sporting a trucker hat with a backward irreverent "1" on it. The other says. . . well nothing at all really. The goal of the new MoMA design is to go completely unnoticed, to slowly seep deep into your veins without ever feeling the prick of the needle. The MoMA redesign is like that special record that takes you 10 listens before you realize what a monument of music you've been listening to.

In other branding news, there was a fine op-ed piece by Daniel Kantor in last Sunday's Star Tribune called, We've got rail - but how shall we refer to it?. In a nutshell, the article laments the fact that the Twin Cities, unlike D.C., San Francisco and Portland who all have simple names that encompass the entire project of light rail ('e.g' METRO, BART, and MAX), is thinking too small and geographically specific in naming the light rail the "Hiawatha Line". It's fun to say I'll take 'MAX' and not fun to say I'll take the Hiawatha Line. Compounding the problem, Kantor points out in his article, The Hiawatha Line, as a name, would be very hard for non-native english speakers to pronounce, whereas something more monosyllabic and simpler might be a better suited to the region and its community. I think that MnDot (Minnesota Department of Transportation) should make a place on their website for citizens to suggest names for the Twin Cities light rail. I vote they call it the HAT (Hiawatha Area Transit).

September 23, 2003

Ketubah
Congratulations to Gabe and Rachel on their wedding this last weekend. I was honored to be there. What a beautiful ceremony. Gabe I'm sorry I was late to your Tish. More than just heckling your 'rhyming lesson' I would have been forced to grab the mic and destroy you '8 Mile Style' in front of your friends and family. It would have been gross. But not as gross as that bubble tea crap. Yo, that was nasty. What the heck was that? It was nice to meet all the other bloggers that were at the wedding too.

My Vinyl Weighs a Ton
I spent the better part of yesterday moving 30 plus boxes of Vinyl recordings from distributed parts of the city into the new dwelling. Why couldn't I have chosen to collect something more lightweight like dried flowers or butterflies? This addiction is going to be the death of me.
Today, I'm exhausted. It's been a non-stop parade of priming, painting, ripping and throwing the last four days. Two nights ago I had a dream that Mariah Carey and I were playing baseball, and she was pitching paint chips to me and as much as I tried I couldn't put my bat on any of the chips. I'm sure Freud would have a field day with that one but the dream was very indicative of the entire painting process. Deciding what colors to paint your walls and then actually getting the color on the paint chips to match what you throw up on the wall might just be the eighth wonder of the world. I certainly have no idea how it's done. I seriously think someone at the hardware store was having a bad day and just decided to fuck with us. No matter what color was chosen, be it 'sand storm' or 'wild wild west' or mountain sands' every goddamn color turned out baby pastel pink!! I'm not kidding at all. We now have a second bedroom that will elicit only one response from people who see it, "so when's the baby due?" This is not good. Not good at all. A note when choosing paint colors. Stay away from anything with a red to pinkish hue, especially if you are looking for subtle shades of white or tan. Do not make the mistake I made.

Yesterday, while making repeated trips from van to house I noticed a loose band of kids starting to form around the edges of the ally. At first, it was just one or two of them, pushing their toy cars around on their driveway and stealing glances at my work. But with every trip back to the van I noticed that their numbers were growing and that they were moving ever so cautiously towards me. Finally, on about the seventh trip, one of them cleared his voice and asked politely, "so are you - like - moving in?". The Spanish Inquisition of kindergarden and first graders had begun! After the preliminary small talk about 'Us' moving in and how tall I was, the hard questions started flying. A cute little girl who couldn't have been more than four wanted to know "if I had any friends?". Of course she didn't mean do I have any friends, but more to the point, "do I have any friends her age that she could play with". Or put another way, "Do you have any kids?". Drat. They had me. There I was, standing in the ally with a box of old dusty records that didn't amount to crap when the currency on the street is 'friends'. You should have seen the disappointment in these kids faces. Strike one for the new guys on the block.

September 19, 2003

Bluing the Hard Business of Domestic Urgency
Life is a pastel wash of moving boxes, paint chips, freeze pops, and rug doctors. Last night I ate sushi on white plastic patio furniture that I had set up in the living room for a fine dining experience. Today I'm going to start painting what will eventually turn into a home office. I've chosen the color 'wooden spoon' after two long nights of staring at way too many paint chips. I've discovered that the new pad is just blocks away from an amazing Ace Hardware store. They got it all. Todays' purchases will include masks, full body painters overalls, a painters hat, knee pads, and a bottle of turpentine that I'll take occasional "Love Liza' huffs from. Later after the turpentine goes to my head I'll have the Twins game going on the 6 inch portable AM radio I found in the garage.

These two images are just a sampling of the old products and lost treasures that I have discovered around the house. I had never heard of Mrs Stewart's Liquid Bluing, I guess it's used as a laundry whitener. Which begs the question, how does 'bluing' make things white and not blue?

Stay tuned for images of some of the most hideous looking wallpaper you have ever seen. . . it's enough to make you huff turpentine.

September 18, 2003

Pirate Talk
Tomorrow is the big day. Talk Like A Pirate Day - Sept. 19. Learn great pirate pick-up lines like, "How'd you like to scrape the barnacles off of me rudder?", and other fun pirate sayings.

Paige Davis Versus the Barcalounger
What I thought was just a serious case of pennant fever, turned into a debilitating and sense depriving head cold yesterday. But the Twins won again last night so I feel much better. I started the day by giving the immune system a serious pep talk. I'm expecting nothing short of a stellar rebound of my health, but just in case I've got the kleenex box riding shotgun.

Yesterday I started moving boxes twenty blocks south to the new abode. All I can say is. . . screened in porch - where have you been all my life? The screened in porch is fast becoming my new favorite reason for putting in a wireless hub ASAP. The former dwellers of the house left this hideous looking Slumberland-special recliner, which I was anxious to get rid of the first chance I got. Then I sat in it. Then I reclined in it. Then I took a mid-day delirious sickness nap in it. Falling asleep to the gentle sound of the pear tree's creaking branches, I dreamt that Paige Davis was throwing a fit because I had decided to go with a caribbean pirate theme when decorating the screened in porch. I saw a giant stuffed blue marlin hanging confidently from the wood paneling.

But back to the Slumberland Special. It stays. Oh. Yes. Baby. It stays. Ikea and modern design got nothin' on a phat overstuffed barcalounger.

Today I'll be bringing more stuff over and beginning to empty out the storage locker. Lurking in the basement and the garage, i've already run across three or four ancient products with some incredible package design and typography choices. I'll snap some pictures and see if I can't get around to posting them some time later today. No promises tho, I might get caught in the tractor beam of the Barcalounger again and then all bets are off.

September 16, 2003

Three is the Magic Number
As if I needed one more thing to stress about this month, the Twins took over sole possession of first place last night, delivering a dominating boot to the head to all of Cleveland's Cavalry. Now I'm clutching onto the safety bar of a pennant race roller-coaster that I don't have the time for, let alone the stomach. But this is how the game works and usually it works pretty good.

I've been taking a few lessons from baseball lately. Important, deep, plain-clothed lessons about success, failure and expectation. I'm sure I'm not the first to write about this old tired metaphor but I'll add my squawk to the pile just to smell it later.

In these last do-or-die days of the 2003 AL Central pennant race, when the summer daylight hours are shorter and the idea of a ball game being on is as reliable as the sun rising, the notion that 'tomorrow is another day' speaks volumes in its truth and unshakable hopefulness. On any given day, the only predictable outcome you can bet on is that no matter what the score of todays game may be, tomorrow does indeed offer another shot at redemption. Everyday is an opportunity for loss just as much as it is for a win. Sure you may have your streaks. You make take 20 in a row, like last years Oakland A's, but when the odds shake out, you got to be happy if you're riding anywhere over five hundred.

Shannon Stewart is at the top of his game coming into these last days of summer. Yet, being on top of his game means he's batting .312. That means for every ten attempts he gets a whopping three hits. Ten attempts. Three are good. And Stewart is probably very happy with that. The Twins management, I know are happy with this.

Now here is the thing that gets me. Stewart is a professional. He's one of the very best, an elite in the world at hitting baseballs. But still, even in his best hours he can only get a hit three out of ten times. So, I'm trying to get happy with that stat and I think you should too. If you make ten meals and three are good? You're the best. Make four good ones and you're an all-star. Make ten decisions at work and three are good and the other seven are strike outs? You should be promoted immediately. Make ten movies and seven bomb while three bring you rave reviews and untold riches? Then you're on the cover of Vanity Fair. George Clooney is hip to this wisdom. He knows the game and appreciates how the law of averages will sometimes throw him a meat ball pitch that he can hit out of the park (Oh, Brother Where Art Thou, Three Kings), but he also appreciates that sometimes you just go down swinging (Batman, Solaris), and sometimes you find dumb luck and reach on an error (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind). Speaking of 'Dangerous Mind', did you watch the screen tests for Sam Rockwell on the DVD, when he's doing a dancing Chuck Barris? That guy's a white James Brown. I'm putting all my money on him to bat .500 next season. That man has the skills to pay the bills. But there I go again, raising my expectations of Sam Rockwell based solely on his performance in 'Dangerous'. Sure I'd like him to make ten groundbreaking performances but I should be happy with the three that are sure to come if he continues to play the game.

So, yes, like Stewart, Clooney and De La, remember, 'Three is the Magic Number'. Don't sweat the strikeouts, just show up to the game.

September 12, 2003

Strange Place Blues
Everything is in perfect outlaw harmony this morning. The rain has return after a month of drought, the Twins have made a triumphant return to first place in the AL Central pennant race, and that browbeaten nihilist Johnny has been returned to his beloved June. If ever there was a day for playing sensual minor thirds over an E-major chord - today is it.

September 11, 2003

Stop it Already
I'm trying to get my work on for the day but it is being impeded by a monumental battle taking shape between myself and some piss-ant punk kid who is picking up loose pieces of asphalt from our crumbling back ally and throwing them at squirrels, the foundation, and on top of our roof. The roof thing put me over the edge. I put down my plate of eggo waffles, threw open the window and barked my disapproval at this child, who looks like he walked straight off the pages of a Bloom County comic strip. The response I got back from the kid was a sharp high pitched, "WHERRN!". Great. Now I'm dealing with a kid who thinks he's a pterodactyl. I don't even know where this monster came from. I've never seen him before. This doesn't bode well for the rest of my day.

September 10, 2003

Mornings in Amsterdam
I just got back from Amsterdam this morning. Har, har. Ok, I just really wanted to write that in a wishful thinking kinda way. But seriously, I did just spend a large chunk of the morning cruising the beautiful Amsterdam web site and as far as virtual tourism can go - I went. More cities should be inspired by this approach and aesthetic for showcasing and frankly - showing off all that their city has to offer. I first went to the site on news that Amsterdam had chosen Avenir as it's official typography for the city. So the type tempted me and pretty soon I was happily clicking on links like 'Hip Guide to Amsterdam - Cheese'. They've also got great link names like 'Simply Amsterdam' and 'Let's go Amsterdam'. Tons of info on the money exchange, restaurant guides, 360 degree photos and a whole slew of screen savers so you can look and dream about visiting amster-damn! all the time.

After my visit to Amsterdam I cruised on over to the Hall of Technical Documentation Weirdness.

September 09, 2003

Homeward Bound
In a whirlwind of South Side wheeling and dealing this weekend, the misses and I came away with a phat piece of property that we will be renting for the foreseeable future. Needless to say a whole freaking house will be a monster upgrade from the tiny one bedroom we currently co-habitat and defend against a freakish world of renegade street urinators, hot-tub renting busy-bodies, and over-sexed landlords with too much time on their hands.

It's a serious renters market out there right now. Over the last week, the misses and I have felt like prized athletes. Folks were calling us with offers, rents were dropping, round table negotiations came into play. In the end, the house we really wanted came down in price to match that of similar priced duplexes we were looking at. so we took the house. We got along well with the sweet old lady who is now our landlord. She must be around 70 and this is the house she grew up in. She was very emotional. We held firm on our price, and lobbied and won full "decoration control". There is some pretty hideous wallpaper that will have to be dealt with. I will be emptying my beloved storage unit this weekend and after we blast the place with some new paint and rip down some wallpaper, we'll be moving sometime next week. The first order of business will be to go buy a nice cord of wood and start work on my fall woodpile. The fireplace will be well loved and well used.

September 06, 2003

Cup of Sand
Superchunks new album of rarities and b-sides called, Cup of Sand, is a fan's delight. The music, although not always polished fills in all the holes in the bands history. Like Jawbreaker's ETC record, Cup of Sand comes with great liner notes written in reflection by the band. I thought I'd share some of Laura's (Bass Guitar) comments here today:

"Oh my, really hard to play! I drop out so that I can shake a cramp out of my hand."

"I sewed a dress during this session."

"I used to smoke, I really enjoyed it, but now I'm allergic to it. . ."

"I have never seen any of the movies that our songs have been associated with, I know I should but, you know, my time is at a premium."

"I consider myself the resident Adam and the Ants expert here. They were in full swashbuckling mode when they let this one fly, and oh lord, they were beautiful. What is it about men dressed up as pirates in drag that made the heart of a thirteen year-old girl flutter so? Totally my fault we did this. Thanks for humoring me, guys. I lack the skills required to go free form."

"I was a horse girl, so I like galloping, jamming, however, is not a favorite activity of mine."

"I like playing the Moog but it gives me the sweats."

September 05, 2003

More First Avenue Stories
The City Pages seems to be riding the Oral History of First Avenue story for as long as they can. To which I say - great. They've added a nice one by ?uestlove, rapping about his love for Purple Rain. And Complicated Fun is looking for your own submissions to be posted at a later date. Off the top of my head, I can probably think of about as many stories as there were weekends in my later high-school years. All of which would start off, "It was a very cold evening, we had been standing in line for over two hour. . ."

I Dream in Technicolor Duck Wash
I woke up two days ago to the discomforting sound of Fall bagging at my window. He had arrived to tell me that he had kidnapped summer and I had no choice but to start re-prioritizing my wardrobe choices immediately. No problem, I thought. This kinda thing seems to happen every year about this time. I was prepared. I knew what to do. I quickly knelt down and opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. There they were, lined up and at attention like an orderly army brigade, the full spectrum of my Carhartt Duck Wash Dungarees. They were ready to be called up for another season of comforting my soul and lining my loins.

For me, all good fashion begins and ends with the Carhartt Duck Wash. It's the perfect pant. Durable yet undemanding, the Duck Wash is versatile and valuable for almost every occasion. Underrated yet imitated its design continues to be copied by others and codified to niche fashion markets. It's earthbound color pallet and simple design make me The Man when I'm struttin' around town in my Ducks. The right leg tool pocket makes a perfect home for a pack of cigarettes or, as I've found out recently, a cell phone (who, I have named 'phoney' btw). Shuddering (nay, gaging) at the thought that I might have to buy some sorta clip on device to hold the mobile telephony, I now relax knowing that when my right quad is being gently messaged, someone wants to talk to me. I know this has some really bad Pavlov implications but I can't tell what they are yet. So as fall approaches, I'm comforted in knowing that I have all my Ducks in row. And to the coming seasons that I know are hiding just around the corner, I can warmly bellow from the top of the IDS building, - 'bring 'it on'.

September 04, 2003

Reason I love my Mac
And don't use _any_ microsoft products #39: More Microsoft Mess

Software Idea Number 428
How many times have you read a posting for a band or musician looking for others to jam with where the musician(s) list 'their sound' as a blend of bands 'x', 'y' and 'z'? And, after reading such a posting how many times have you wondered, - "damn I wonder what the hell an actual blending of bands 'x', 'y' and 'z' would sound like???

Well wonder no more my friends!! Thanks to my newly patented "Music Blending Generation Software" you can now listen to what a musician or band sounds like when they say they play a "contemporary blend of The Mahavishnu Orchestra and the Gorilla Biscuits". With my revolutionary platform based on the newest musical algorithm software, no band influences are too disparate for exact prediction and subsequent listening. You say your friend plays a smooth blend of Sid Barrett meets Toots and The Maytals meets Peaches and Herb? No problem. Our growing database of over ten million artists will work overtime to churn out a brand new song based on the musical elements you put into it. Music will never be the same. You are in total control of creating music that is personally tailored to your own musical choices. It's like monogrammed bath towels but better.

OK, for realz. I haven't really invented this software (no. really?) but I sure wish someone would. I've gotten a few emails from friends lately and while reading the latest Rolling Stone magazine last night, it all came to a head and I thought, it would be darn swell for someone to develop some sorta program that I could plug into my itunes that would take two or more mp3's and actually mix them together to produce a new song that sounds like a true blending of those songs and not just sound like crap. This is something I hope to see in my lifetime.

September 03, 2003

The Vanguard of the US Army will soon to be led by Bert, Ernie and Oscar the Grouch.

Part-time Pirate, part-time Las Vegas vagrent, full-time ex-pat., Johnny Depp calls US a "Stupid Puppy".

As for me, I'm still trying to figure out how my new mobile phone works. Last night at the bar, while watching the Twins spoliate the Angels, my mobile started vibrating in my pocket. I jumped from my stool and started flailing about like I was being attacked by a horde of mad wasps. I was not prepared for that.

Nice article on the Oral History of First Avenue in the current edition of the City Pages.

September 02, 2003

Happy Post Labor Day
I took a break from house/duplex hunting long enough yesterday to go over to Harriet Island for the AFL/CIO labor picnic. Veggie burgers and Miller Genuine Draft in the hot sun. On the main stage Jim Hightower said some inspiration words while noting that his new book, Thieves in High Places is for sale and will be on the New York Times best seller list next week. On the riverboat there was good discussion on the creation of a domestic fair trade project. Many people were getting excited about bringing the idea down to the fair trade expo that will be taking place in the shadow of the WTO talks in Cancun in two weeks. For some reason the idea of a Seattle style WTO protest in the streets of Cancun brings a funny smile to my face. I'm very bummed that I wont be able to be down there to see all the Black Anarchists getting funky at Senior Frogs or Cats. As for fair trade domestically, peacecoffee seemed to be the great success story and people are obviously watching them with a curious eye. The big question seems to be supply and volume and what it would take to get fair trade products into the mass market retail shops like Target. Or should small producer/worker run co-ops even be thinking about playing with the big boys. It's a fascinating question. I was trying to find other fair trade places online where one could order some things. The White Earth Land Recovery Project has items for sale and Equal Exchange has set up a yahoo store.