Making Our Way Out of the Darkness?

Last night I was on my way to my writer's group meeting. It was being hosted at one of the member's homes in the Presidio. Although I discovered the 29 goes pretty much right by my friend's house, I decided to walk there from my house in the outer, outer Richmond. In the dark. Why not? Jack Bauer style, baby!

Armed with a map and a small but powerful flashlight, I walked along Lincoln Highway. At points I walked in the rain gutter in order to avoid being hit by a car (actually, there's a pretty wide pullover lane as you walk over the hill from Sea Cliff to the Presidio). That's my idea of fun, what can I tell you?

Anyway, I got lost right near my friend's house and I had to call for directions near the Golden Gate Bridge toll plaza (fyi: if you don't have a cell phone and are lost near that area, there's a working pay phone in the rear parking lot of the toll plaza).

I tell you this story because right as I was wandering around in the dark, the Warriors were announcing their big eight player trade with the Indiana Pacers! Goodbye, young Jesus lookalikes, Dunleavy and Murphy. Hello, Al Harrington and salary cap space! Hoorah! Maybe the Warriors can truly become the Faces of the NBA (I know, it's a lot of Uncorrected Proof injokes. Read my recent posts)!

So, in the new Faces=Warriors formulation: Baron Davis=Rod Stewart; Jason Richardson or Monta Ellis=Ronnie Lane; Al Harrington=Ron Wood; Steven Jackson or Mikael Pietrus=Ian McLagan; Andris Biedrins=Kenny Jones. Not the perfect formulation. I'll have to see how this team shakes out. Still, looking forward to the rest of the season of "Bad 'n Ruin" (in a good way).

24 Dreambook Pt. III & Other Odds & Ends

Dream: Once again I am running from something. Just as I'm about to be caught, Jack Bauer, in the form of an angel, swoops in and saves me. I feel spiritually redeemed.

I have some variation on the "being pursued" nightmare almost every night. Has Jack Bauer become my dream saviour? Have my recently posted memories about "Jesus Christ Superstar" dredged up my childhood fascination with Jesus? What is Jack Bauer if not the Jesus of the USA. Think about it, he (He?) looked just like Jesus when he was returned from the Chinese prison in the first episode of this season's "24." Also, he's come back from the dead--resurrected!--a couple of times.

Other "24" observations. The late Curtis had to have been the longest-lived minority CTU field agent. He was walking around with a target on his back for several years. It took Jack to kill him.

Also, I don't dig Wayne Palmer as the president. Too callow; too tormented and well-meaning. But maybe that's the point! He's clearly the Teddy Kennedy (circa 1969) of the Palmer family. Tim Goodman from the SF Chronicle has compared him to Barack Obama, but President Palmer II doesn't have the voice. Maybe it's because he doesn't smoke like Obama does. Today, Slate magazine has an interesting essay about Obama's supposedly "occasional" smoking habit and how it ironically makes him sound more presidential (while slowly killing him). I should learn how to put links on this blog, shouldn't I?

You know who has a good smoker's voice? Jack Bauer!!! The series should end with Jack as President of the USA!

Currently listening to Iggy Pop's "The Idiot" and David Bowie's "Low."

The Lord's Day to Rock!

A significant Sunday event: I was at work this morning in an unusually good mood. I guess the sugar from my hazlenut blackberry muffin and the caffeine from my Peet's coffee and my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and my sesame bagel and my poppyseed bagel and my peppermint tea (consumed over a several hour period) were sustaining me pretty well.

My young friend Ethan (six years of age) stopped by to visit. He brought me a picture he had drawn portraying "Jesus Christ Superstar," which he had recently seen at the Magic Theatre. Jesus looked a bit like a bowling pin with long hair and a beard. To the right of him was the cross where he would meet his fate, and to its right were three wretched, burned-black looking creatures—Judas and two other guys, Ethan wasn't sure who they were. He asked me if we had any books about this Jesus character.

I was thrilled beyond measure to receive this gift. I, like Ethan, was a Jewish boy who was smitten by "Jesus Christ Superstar." For me, it wasn't the stage show, but the Original Cast Recording with Ian Gillan from Deep Purple. I've never cared for the movie all that much. I enjoyed casting the songs in my mind more than seeing Ted Neely as Jesus...What can I tell you? I'm a pre MTV child.

Anyway, my point is that "Jesus Christ Superstar," with its excellent songs and excellent rock and roll torment of the Passion did more to evoke religious curiousity in me than any Christian or Jewish Bible study ever did. I guess my religion is Rock and Roll, dudes!

I'm taking a quick side trip from Chekhov and Pynchon: "Sound Bites" by Alex "Franz Ferdinand" Kapranos. Kapranos, a veteran of professional kitchens, wrote a series of brief essays for The Guardian about the food he's eaten while on tour with his band. They are now collected in convenient book form. Well-written, witty, and makes you want to run out, hop on a plane and get some Kluski Pasta in Minneapolis.

24 Dreambook Pt. II & Other Odds & Ends

Last night, after watching the final episodes of "24" Season Five, I had the following dream: I'm sitting in a parking lot with another person (Allen Iverson? Keifer Sutherland/Jack Bauer?). A man and a woman drive up. They are writers for "24." They are talking about the upcoming Season Six and also dropping sexual innuendo about each other. My companion and I find this conversation unsettling because we know that this couple is married to other people. We're worried about the quality of their writing if they are entangled in an affair. We decide to replace them with the author of a graphic novel. Dream ends.

Since I'll be watching "24" in "real time" rather than "DVD time" this year, I'll be ruminating about the show and logging any of my "24" dreams.

Remember what I said about the GSW's being the Faces of the NBA? Well, they're kind of turning into the Faces cover band of the NBA...

Barry Bonds, you're dead to me!

Favorite spins of this month: The Faces box set, "Five guys walk into a bar...", and the Isley Brothers "3+3."

I'm on my third Chekhov collection: "The Fiancee and Other Stories." The Penguin edition translated by Ronald Wilks. I like his Chekhov translations. They're lively, poetic and humorous. But don't worry, Constance Garnett lovers, I'll get to her soon.

I'm also slowly making my way through "Gravity's Rainbow." We'll see what happens.

A I 24

The other night I had a nightmare, as I often do after watching several episodes of "24". I was in a dark, abandoned house. I was being pursued. All of a sudden I was joined by someone who was not my pursuer. It was Allen Iverson. When my pursuer got closer, Iverson jumped into the hallway and tackled the pursuer.

Saved again by basketball.

five guys walk into a bar...

I'm trying to write a piece centered on Rod Stewart's "Every Picture Tells a Story," which motivated me to put the Faces box set, "five guys walk into a bar..." on the CD player. A lovely gift from the Psychedelic Eskimo a few years ago. Although it's kind of annoying that the set is not arranged in chronological order, it also demonstrates that their tight, sloppy singles, loose rehearsal sessions, fiery airchecks, and joking around in the studio banter was all of a piece. Rod was at his peak, Ronnie Lane was writing great songs (one of my resolutions this year: get those Ronnie Lane solo recordings) and singing them sweetly.

Of all games not to be televised--the Warriors losing 144-135 to the Memphis Grizzlies last night. Not that I like to see the W's lose, but I like to see nearly three hundred point games. The Warriors are the Faces of the NBA. Flashes of brilliance, and lots of inconsistency... five warriors walk into a bar...

Coffin for Head of State

In recent weeks "we" have lost leaders both bad--Hussein, Pinochet, mediocre--Ford, and exalted--Brown. Me, I'll just mourn J.B. and think bad thoughts about Hussein and Pinochet while listening to Fela Kuti (a J.B. disciple) sing "Coffin for Head of State." Also, I'll remain mystified why Gerald Ford is now remembered as a calming influence after Nixon left office, when I recall him as a mediocre dolt back in the '70's. Both views are probably simplistic. Anyway, let's mourn the death of J.B. as well as Fela's Kalakuta Republic. But mainly, let's celebrate the lives of James and Fela in this '07 (Fela died a decade ago).

In this year I'll try to finish the Alphabetical Listening Project, listen to more Brahms, and temper my sarcasm. I'll probably accomplish two of these three goals. Also, I'll read the complete works of Chekhov, submit more pieces of writing to magazines, websites, etc.(I submitted one thing last year). Finally, I'll watch a lot of Laurel and Hardy movies.