Soccer Mom’s Take to the Streets
Yesterday’s march/rally went down smooth. Very peaceful. I think I saw about five cops the entire time. Great turnout. From what I hear and read, somewhere between 8,000 and 12,000 people came out. The vibe was very positive and the message was clear. It felt great to be apart of something so strong.

Here are a few photos of the march that I snapped along the way.

Best sign that I saw: “Iraq is my Valentine”
Best chant: “Duct Tape Bush!”
Best costume or outfit: A reflective silver fire-chemical-retardant suit.
Most interesting attendees: Minneapolis Fireman.

Calm Down, George.
The good folks of the Twin Towns will gather in a storm of dissent today at 1pm (corner of Hennepin and Lagoon) for an Anti-War March. We throw our duct tape down, remove our gas masks and plastic chemical detox robes. We will scream, beat pots and pans, and generally not be very positive about the present state of a lot of things. Q.E.D.

This protest will be one small node of a larger network of protests that may turn out to be the “greatest global day of protest demonstrations against war in world history“. The Guardian predicts that 10 million people will join today in world protest. That’s a lot of pissed off folks. The Guardian also has a nice collection of anti-war sites, the best one of course being the nude protesters at bare-witness.

Holy Crap, You Didn’t See That
Nightmare morning. I had a vicious battle with my good friend Insomnia last night. A night of a thousand nights. When I woke up so thoroughly unrested at seven, I relized I had left my contacts in overnight and my left eye was glued shut from some internal eye defense system that left me fumbling, panicked and pissed off. Oddly, I thought of science class in the sixth grade, and wondered why the hell I didn’t have an eye wash in my home. No household is complete without an eye wash. Luckily I was able to loosen the crude in the shower and gain full access to my vision field.

Oh but that was just the start. I was running late for a presentation at Macalester College I had to start at 8:30AM. I went to warm up the Brougham but the damn Car would not start. The battery was so completely dead, and the misses’ little Jetta did not have the proper power to bring her back to life. So I took the misses into work. Took her car (your a lifesaver baby). I dropped her off in downtown Minneapolis at about the same time I was supposed to be starting my presentation in St Paul, and then got back on the highway only to find myself parked on 94, lurking about a mile back from some four car pile up. It was only 8:45 AM.

I finally got to Macalester and got set up with no problems (p.s. I love you OS X – you make things so easy). The presentation was going smooth. Then I started in on some long polemic diatribe. My computer began to feel neglected so it decided to fall asleep, and as I had instructed it to do but had forgotten about, put up a random image on the screen pulled from my iphoto library. That random image was one of me – old school:

me

I of course was facing the audience and didn’t see it happen. Oh the embarrassment. After I realized what happened, I turned quickly and lunged at my machine to get rid of the cute kid on display for all to see. But I was too late. The damage had been done. My reputation was shot. Nothing like a damn picture of yourself as a child to discredit any and everything you had said or would say for the rest of the show. My only conciliation was that I think people realized the similarity between the picture and the presenter and did not believe that I had random images of young boys on my machine. Yikees. It was the perfect humiliating exclamation point to end an entirely odd and humbling morning. But whatchya gonna do?

The Return of the Patriot
As a rule, sequels are generally worse than their originals, and the new Patriot Act redux is downright awful. What the heck is this crap? I can’t help but think of Philip K. Dick’s Pre-crime in Minority Report when I read this stuff about DNA databases and potential intent. Retinal scans don’t seem like sci-fi anymore.

I saw this morning that Bin Laden has resurfaced and is spitting game again, threatening not only the US but anyone that allies with our country and its religions. In this global terror reality, the US needs to be making friends. Lots and lots of friends. Our crew needs to roll very deep. How can you fight a battle against international terrorism when you are pissing off all your trusted and long time allies and alienating yourself in the international community, while at the same time, alienating your own citizenry with Patriot Acts and political bulling. Our administration is surfing a wave of fear and putting together horrible rhetoric and policies for the creation of a paranoid future. Watch your back kid, this is truly ugly stuff.

Sometimes My Heart Beats Wide
The Melvins show pounded my head. The double whiskeys that were being ordered to stay warm ran amok and then, as if scared suddenly by large hounds, bolted and sought refuge in the farther recesses of my brain stem. Crouching there, pensive and ridiculously giddy, it slowly began to spread out as the coast cleared, forming a thin golden coat around my dome. I picture it not unlike the thick brown haze that falls over the San Gabriel mountains – creeping upon Los Angelas everyday.

The intoxicating layer worked to welcome and strengthen the beautiful and brutal signals The Melvins were showering upon us. The happy small crowd of about 200 or so made it seem as if we were someone’s basement in the heart of Aberdeen in the early ’90’s. Sensational stuff. Many of the unfortunates who were not able to get into the show were listening in on the other side of a mobile phone. Apparently, cell phones have replaced bic lighters as the instrument you thrust into the air when the band is good and you are powerless to use proper judgment on important matters, like – how to respond and appreciate in a forthright manner. But it’s a digital age baby and some folks need these toys. Everyone around me had digital cameras. There must be a thousand digital images of the show somewhere. But the creeps with the cameras must be hoarding them cause I can’t find any online.

The show came at a crucial time as I am hunkered down in a serious development run. All bets are off. I am in the mighty throws of a design/coding orgy, trying to meet the baffling timelines and deadlines of the good people who pay me money. These are weird times in the production cycle. When you write code all day, it’s all you can see after awhile. It mutates and begins to take on strange geometrical forms. It’s no longer just lines of code but big beautiful shapes and patterns that you can arrange to make intricate illuminate manuscripts. But the work can sometimes pose a labyrinth and that’s where the fun really begins. That’s what keeps you on your toes. You leave work frustrated at the inability to find simple solutions and workarounds only to discover them in a Jack London short story or from the bitter taste left in your mouth after licking an envelope. Today one answer came while removing the snow from in and around my license plate. Something in the snow/license plate relationship answered a style-sheet problems that has vexed me for 24 hours now. Back to it.

“All craftsmen share a knowledge. They have held reality down fluttering to a bench” — Vita Sackville-West

melvins

The Melvins Come to Town
Ok. Time for some serious rawk. I’m ready. It’s snowing and cold and I got a case of cabin fever that’s chomping at the bit. The Osbornes are coming to town. No, no no, not those Osbournes. These Osbornes. That’s right, The Melvins are rocking Minneapolis tonight in a surprise show at some dive just down the road from my office. Hoorah! The Melvins always come correct with the large sound. There isn’t a band on earth I’ve seen play live as many times as I’ve seen The Melvins. I think back in ’96 I saw them eight times in one year. The rock is strong and the design is top notch. From amazing typography and letterforms to their infamous tour posters, The Melvins always bring the happiest designers to the table. Part of that must come from Mackie Osborne, Buzz Osborne’s (Guitar) wife. A dynamic graphic artist in her own right, she has done great covers not only for The Melvins but also for Mr. Bungle and Tool, just to name a handful. Peace on earth and let the ground shake tonight.

Oh, before I end this post I should mention that I was drinking swank style at some $12 dollar a glass hipster bar Friday night called Martini Blu, when, who should I spy slinging drinks and acting all big-fish-in-a-small-pond? Well it was Melissa (Gemini), the latest girl who got booted off Joe Millionaire. I guess she had traded in her Customer Service Rep job for High Society Bartender gig. It’s amazing what getting kicked off a reality television show can do for your resume.

Our Daily Bread
What really happened and what was really going on in those top secret photos of Mr. Powells. Smoke and mirrors baby (thanks Gwinn).

It turns out that the those Breakfast Club stereotypes are pretty spot on. Well, duh. That’s what makes the movie so great.

Siva Vaidhyanathan, author of The Anarchist in the Library, is coming to the Walker Art Center April 8th to lecture/discuss peer-to-peer networking in the global age. It’s just one part of the How Latitudes Become Forms exhibit that starts this Saturday night – After hours.

Apple releases a fine article on managing fonts for OS X. And Garage Fonts releases a gaggle of nice new fonts.

Dollarshort has some magnificent photos from her trip to tokyo disney. Looks like a ton of fun and decently weird.

Andersen Windows releases Project Odyssey, which promises:


Through Project Odyssey, Andersen discovered that homes of tomorrow may resemble homes of the past in many ways. New technologies that are rapidly becoming a part of everyday life might be incorporated into window design — allowing homeowners to free themselves of much of the clutter and complexity filling the home today and once again rely upon the window as the interface for light, air, information and security.

A few of the innovative concepts Andersen has explored through Project Odyssey include an “invisible” insect screen, a micro-ventilation window, and a number of multimedia windows – all of which the company plans to demonstrate in its exhibit (booth #5065) at the 2003 International Builders’ Show in Las Vegas.

SXSW Website finalists are available for your scrutiny and love.

Based on yesterdays beard posting, Elizabeth reminded me of the Chin Curtain Beard Site. It’s worth revisiting. Also very worth visiting is Elizabeth’s Ode to Johnny Cash on McSweeneys.

Speaking of music, The Roots are coming next week. Also the Shipping News is releasing a new album and going on tour. On their site is a lengthy statement about touring during wartime. Also from their site is a mention of a band called Kinski. Which is by far the best band name I have heard of in a long time.

According to E! Online my favorite reality television show, Temptation Island will be back for another season. Bring on the whoring!

A guy name Jeff gets on his soapbox and writes about his recent experience in Laos and its effect on him as the US gets all amped up for war (thanks mom).

I Don’t Want to Shave
Lately, I have been letting both my whiskers and the hair on the dome grow and grow. I make a hundred excuses about not having the right razors, not having the time to put together a hair appointment. But the truth is, I just like all my hair and I want to have as much of it as possible. I don’t want to cut or shave it. It’s got nothing to do with style. I don’t look good unshaven and I look even worse with longish hair but I find that I become quite attached to the little follicles and I suffer from brief periods of depression whenever I go under the blade.

Just this morning I shaved off what was becoming a good week and half long facial adventure into beardland. It was great. I was walking taller and feeling warmer with my hairy protection from the winter elements. Then I took the Shick out and put an end to all my little friends. Damn, just like that I had performed a follicle genocide that I am still working through at this late stage of the day.

Hair cuts are worse. I am at least a month overdue for one now and I just can’t bring myself to do it. Bob Marley use to talk about his dreadlocks as this spiritual connection to rastafarianism. They could never be cut. Jesus was a locksman. Now, I would look damn silly with dreads, but I feel what Bob was saying. It’s a part of your body after all and to just chop and cut pieces of it off, wholesale, with no thought to the cosmic consequences, is equally silly.

For good or ill this phenomenon runs in my family. I’ve never known my father without his ZZ Top beard. As a kid whenever I asked him about the beard, he always replied that he didn’t like shaving, which always seemed strange to me as a boy. But now I think I am beginning to appreciate more of what he was unable to say. It isn’t the process of shaving that sucks, it’s the little kid you have to look at in the mirror when you are done. Who is that kid?

As I was writing this post the misses emailed me this little piece of information: Men Who Don’t Shave Have Less Sex, More Strokes. I guess it’s one thing not to shave because of your sloven nature but an entirely different story if your committed to your follicles and their intrinsic beatitude. At least I hope that’s the case.