door to heart's former
home now opened to allow
the captives freedom

monday. back to work. and the boss.

(image courtesy of ridethemachine)

quality of use
forms lasting relationships
designed for living

ubiquitous

watching a documentary yesterday about the way objects are designed and how we interact with them made me see and think about things differently all the rest of the day. we are surrounded by thousands of things that we interact with each day and all of them has gone through some kind of design process. and i'm always amazed as i go through my day how much bad design there is out there. the handle on the venetian blinds that comes off when i pull it, the cup holder that is too small for my beverage, the perforated opening on a box of macaroni that refuses to open and yet invites me to do so. added up over time it all becomes a little maddening.
and yet there are so many well designed objects that surround us too, but because they do their job well we rarely notice them. while we praise the rock star objects in the design world, many of which will be obsolete inside 3 years, there is a silent army that continues to perform unnoticed. the little guy above is a very simple thing and his job is simple too. and yet it works well and little improvement is made. if you look closely you can see the tabs and insets on each side, like a jigsaw piece. and then you realize that's how these are designed to maximize material and then snapped apart from a strip. it's a little thing, but it's job is hugely important. it keeps things fresh.

dim of cafe words
expresses our shifting thoughts
then brings them focus

little secret

while down in the bay area a few weeks back staying with a friend i absentmindedly left my belt behind. he called me immediately to let me know, but i figured i'd be back soon enough anyway. "how much do i really need a belt?" i thought. quite a bit as it turns out. sure, there were some pairs of pants and shorts that didn't require it, but i soon discovered that sans support i was quite limited in my fashion choices. (i mean you can't wear sweatpants everyday)
then i remembered in the back of one of my drawers hidden away was a pair of red suspenders. don't ask me how i got them. i'm pretty sure they were a Christmas gift one year from my mom, and may have even come with a matching bow tie, who knows. and i'm really not sure why i've kept them; until now. desperate to wear these shorts one day i strapped up and concealed the braces beneath my t-shirt. although i felt a little odd at first, i soon adapted to my new hosen. i can sympathize a bit with the ladies now and actually i really enjoyed not having that constricting feeling around the bottom of my stomach. and then while reading the sartorialist the other day i thought, "this ain't bad"
and then, out of the blue my old belt showed up again in the mail. my friend must have gotten tired of holding on to it for me. so you may be wondering, now that i have the choice am i still wearing the braces? alas, it turned out to be a summer fling. the red michael jackson suspenders have returned to the darkness of my dresser drawer. still, it's nice to know they're back there. like a reserve parachute, might need 'em again someday.

wheels go round and round

searching for lost memories
until we run out

good samaritans

while riding through the back roads of auburn yesterday and trying to locate an old friend, i got that nagging feeling as i came around a corner and felt the bike begin to hiccup. petrol. or lack thereof. i turned the petcock valves to the reserve position which hasn't added a lot of distance lately and pressed on. the hiccuping turned to a violent cough as i rounded the next corner. as the road began to rise it was all over as the engine quit and i rolled to a stop.
i really don't like running out of gas but it seems as if my sub-conscious mind is asleep at the wheel lately as i have done this now several times without becoming the wiser. and i'm beginning to think it's purposeful. it never happens on a city block where i can just coast into a service station. nope. it's got to be on some rural road where serious walking is involved and usually some local farmer has to be bartered with for tractor gas. and maybe that's it. maybe my sub-conscious mind is hungry for some adventure and sets out to sabotage me.
i pushed the bike over the next rise and hopped on to coast down a hill. that wasn't too bad. the next hill looked pretty killer though. maybe it was the last one before i got back into town. i seemed to remember i wasn't that far from town as i passed someone's property with giant sheet metal sculptures of rearing horses. i was wheezing and cursing that sub-consciousness as my legs ached to pump the bike further. finally i found a flat and shady spot where i could park and take a quick breather. a little yellow toyota corolla passed me by and then turned around and stopped. a guy with long hair and mad dog sunglasses hopped out and came walking toward me. thank God for the hippies.
"there's still some decent people out there brother" he said as he got closer. he asked what was wrong and offered to give me a lift into town and back. he said he even had a gas can. brilliant! i walked back and climbed over the deep layer of crappola in their back seat as we sped off toward downtown auburn. he introduced me to his old lady "tina" and told me his name was "michael" they were headed over to the vet to pick up their dogs when they stopped to pick me up, but said it was no problem, they were happy to help. we stopped at the shell and i offered to fill up their car as a thank you before filling the 2 gallon gas can. we passed a city building with roses in front and tina commented on their beauty to which michael answered "you want me to pick you some love?"
they were tired but there was still light in their eyes as we talked and joked. and i couldn't help feeling like it was all supposed to work out this way to begin with. we parked behind the bike. i filled 'er up as we made a few more passing comments. turns out michael'd had a sweet '61 triumph with a tank rack back in the day, but someone had stolen it one night and that was all she wrote. i put the key in and fired the bike up. whew. i was beginning to hope that was all that was wrong. and as i sped away and tooted the meager horn of my bike michael yelled out to me "i'm glad i met you" me too brother, and thanks much to you and your lady.

fireball in the sky
unfinished persecution
beating down on us

sunday is lyrical. find your groove today...

free to fly again
your broken wings mended now
play with sun and sky

cadillac of the sky

inspiration comes in many forms. and sometimes where we least expect it. recently i was introduced to a new bbc series hosted by james may from "top gear" by my friend kyle called "james may's toy stories". each episode is dedicated to a classic toy and james sets about playing on a grand scale. in the first episode he re-introduces airfix models to british school children and then together they assemble a 1/1 (that's actual size) ww2 spitfire model. this proves to be quite a challenge as it must be light enough for the children to lift the individual pieces and yet strong enough to remain rigid when assembled.
this in turn created an interest in our home for model making as well. not being british i don't remember airfix, but i do remember plastic model kits. when i was young there was an older kid i knew who was absolutely brilliant at them. his bedroom was filled with examples. mostly ww2 stuff, and then later star wars spaceships hung from his ceiling. and the more he did, the better he got. he was quite good at adding the smaller details like weathering and battle damage with an airbrush kit. and of course i wanted to be just like him.
but as i sat at our kitchen table with my dad it always felt a little frustrating. i'd either have to sit there and watch my dad take pieces out of my hand (you're doing it wrong) or being completely perfectionist, came to the point where i couldn't figure out how to finish the thing to my own satisfaction. for years i had unfinished boxes sitting in my closet. and so when my son aaron suggested we go down to the hobby shop and locate a spitfire i was a little leery.
but once we were there all of those niggling doubts seemed to vanish. i've always loved (and still do) walking through the hobby shop. as i strolled the aisles and picked up each kit, there was a great feeling staring at the graphics on the package, that i am interacting with history, art and industry in this fantastical miniature fashion. yes, i know that most of the kids have moved out of this neighborhood and over to the video game stores, but i think it their loss. anyway, we made our way to the small ww2 aircraft section and although he had originally wanted the spitfire just like james may, i convinced aaron to try out the p-51 mustang instead, as we are after all yanks.
so we picked out our little model, and with some glue and paint we were ready to go to work.
as we unpackaged the little mustang, a lot of memories came flooding back. revell is the company that makes this, and although they have been bought and sold several times since their inception and are now a part of some huge french conglomerate no doubt, it was still nice seeing the venice, cal markings on one of the wings reminding me of simpler days when the z-boys roamed playgrounds, the eames' still kept an office there and for a while longer, a bunch of crazy artists could still call it home.
and as we set up our little airplane factory and got to work, it just didn't seem to be as daunting as i remember. there were less than 40 parts to the thing. and we took joy in pulling each piece from it's injection molded frame and then carefully set out to put it all together following our instruction list biblically. and when i sensed that my little guy was encountering frustration i tried reassuring him that we were in this together and not to set his expectations higher than either of our skill levels. and when he found something a little beyond his ability i stepped in to lend a hand, but otherwise tried to remain in a more managerial and consulting role. it was a good partnership. and as the smell of toxic glue filled our garage we finished the assembly process and moved on to paint and decals. this is where i think aaron had the most fun. looking at the picture on the box and then doing some quick research on the web he got a sense of some period paint schemes. and now it was his turn to customize his own bird. and once he had finished painting it was time to apply those wet decals which turned out to be the most difficult task. surgeon-like precision was called for here and all my experience at the game of operation seemed to fail. but we soldiered through it as he added a few finishing paint marks of battle.
and now i have to say it turned out pretty good. and even though it was aaron who launched this project and got the most out of it, that little kid in me felt that he had paid back some unfinished work. for a few hours effort we were able to roll another freedom fighter off the line which has now already seen a few sorties. so keep 'em coming boys. the germans are on the run.

all of life's labor
weighs heavy upon my soul
my days are numbered

lost and found

sunday night coming back from my friend casey's house, bearing gifts (he lent me a few isle of man tt dvds) which i had bungeed inside my riding jacket to the back of the bike, i happened to look down at my shadow as the sun set behind me only to see the shadow of the bungee net flapping in the wind. i pulled off the freeway and doubled back re-tracing my whole route. on my way back home again i thought i had spotted my jacket between the freeway and an on-ramp. i pulled off the freeway and walked into the field where i thought i'd seen it. as i got closer hopes sank as i discovered it was just a black garbage bag.
disappointedly i slowly turned around and headed back to the bike. as i got ready to take off again i happened to look out into traffic and spotted something being run over again and again. my jacket! as another car rolled over it i could see the plastic shards of broken dvds fly up. i looked down the lanes of traffic headed toward reno, waiting for a wave to pass me and then quickly ran across the 5 and 4 lanes to grab it. as i got back to the shoulder with adrenaline pumping i began to examine my assaulted armor. surprisingly it was all in one piece. yay cordura! however as i went through the pockets, everything else seemed to be missing or destroyed. the snack bars in one pocket had been turned to dust. the pocket which held my blistex was now full of oily goo. and the only thing left from my cell phone was the battery. also, my keys had gone missing.
needless to say i was a little bummed. it's never fun losing something and even as i write this i haven't fully replaced the few important things that were lost out there (keys and phone) and to be honest i'm really not sure what the lesson is here. don't hold on to stuff too tightly? tie stuff down better? maybe not a good idea to go running across the freeway? i did get chided by a chp officer who saw me make that run, but thankfully he didn't add to my misery and cite me as well. i guess maybe i just need to pay attention. this was my second brush with cars on the freeway as i got scraped while splitting lanes a few weeks ago. better watch out for strike three.

(photo courtesy of ride the machine)

we stand in line to
receive pre-measured portions
on compartment trays

new shoes

everywhere i look i see evidence that school is on its way, if not already here. the stores have readied for the big push. the scent of freshly sharpened pencils in the air. i see carts filled with new backpacks, folders and paper, pencil boxes and colorful plastic rulers. as a kid i dreaded the announcement of back to school. it began in july as retailers looked to capitalize on maximum sale time, and even though we all still had more than a month to go in our summer vacations, the deadline now loomed as each ad from the newspaper or commercial on tv reminded us the countdown had begun.
these days school seems to follow no set start date from town to town. some schools are even year round now. the horror. but for us, it was always that tuesday following labor day that began the fall term. and in fact, that jerry lewis telethon was the death nail of summer. my dad pretty much staked himself in front of the tv all weekend only sleeping when jerry slept. which meant not only were we facing the last days of our freedom, we didn't even get a last meal of cartoons before walking the green mile. so i'd hop on my bike and ride up and down my street alone and lonely until bored and tired, i would slink back into the house and sit down next to my dad and try to find something interesting about watching an aging comedian wearing a loose tuxedo tie kibitzing with other aging comedians.
by now my mom would have already taken my brother and me out to buy new shoes, which of course i couldn't wear until the first day of school. zips, keds, buster browns, kangaroos. we were kids, not gangsters. and all day long on that first day at school i'd shuffle from place to place always looking down at that new pair of shoes. so bright and shiny. how long before they got to looking worn in? and if i had lifted my gaze for a moment, perhaps i would have noticed most of the other kids doing the same. shuffling down the halls with our heads looking down. it was a long way back to summer vacation.

all my hopes and fears
chained underground as i ponder
what lurks below

us

spending the day with extended family today at a family reunion. the journey is long. the heat is always stifling. and i never know what to say to some of these people. why do we do this?

see the iron man
display his heart while standing
on soft feet of clay

take me out with the crowd

i finally had the chance to go see a game the other night, and it was a good one. i'm only living a little over 100 miles from where i grew up but it's amazing how isolated it sometimes feels from the familiar.
although it can get a bit pricey going to see a game, i try and at least get down there for at least one each season. and every once in a while some kind soul will bestow upon me the gift of a seat and ask me to join them. and so it was as this past monday night my friends kyle and chelsey invited me along as a fourth.
like i said, a little over a hundred miles, but these outings can very quickly turn into complex journeys as work schedules need to be modified, traffic patterns studied and train timetables downloaded. kyle and chelsey had taken the day off work and headed down to the city early to make a day of it. i was to meet up with the third member of our party whom i didn't know, and drive down together. we made plans to meet up at my house and i was impressed by the precision of his planning from door to door. he had it all dialed in. how quickly my impression would change.
brian pulled up and my wife recognized him right away. his then fiancee jenny had lived in the apartment behind ours and we had met them a couple times before they were married and she moved out. small world.
brian is a red-sox fan and he showed up sporting a sox cap and a grateful dead shirt (it was jerry garcia tribute night at the at+t) cargo shorts and flip flops. i said "are you going to be warm enough?" knowing that although it was over 90 degrees outside, we would soon be in downtown fog city with the sun going down. "yeah, i'll be ok" he said as we left my apartment. we did end up stopping by his place on the way out of town to grab a sweatshirt and some zucchini muffins (thanks jenny) and were on our way with jerry and the band on the ipod.
the drive to the bay was smooth and we parked at an east bay bart to take the next leg to the city. after surviving the transbay tube trip we hoofed it from embarcadero station over to the park. as we walked i started spotting fans of the dead and it felt a little like we were headed to a different event. (a big shout out to the hippies from chico for bringing down the old international bus) we found kyle and chelsey at the willie mays statue and were now complete.
i should say at this point that we were all the beneficiaries of field club seating through an anonymous contact which meant we had our very own entrance to the park. once inside we felt like baseball fan aristocracy. i'd never come through this door before and was amazed at what lay before my eyes. it was an entire lounge area with our own private food court which included a wine bar and kebob grill. and the whole thing had a fabulously upscale feel compared to the regular concourse above.

once we had all secured food and beverage we made our way through the bowels of the field level tunnels toward our seats which happened to be directly behind the giants dugout. "is this heaven?" i asked kevin costner. we sat and ate garlic fries grooving to the sounds of a grateful dead tribute band. bill walton made a speech in front of home plate, after which phil lesh, mickey hart and a haggard looking bob weir sang the anthem. (i began sniffing the air) jerry's daughter annabelle threw a bouncer to home plate to start the game and then a four year old shyly said "play ball" into a microphone addressing the world.

and as i began to accustom myself to my new environment the game began. giants got off to a rocky start and gave up 2 in the first. i settled in. my new friend brian was showing the city of san francisco why everybody sympathizes with red-sox fans as he began rooting the home nine with great veracity. at one point during the night team mascot lou seal came by with free cracker jack and brian went nuts yelling out "cracker jack!!! hey, cracker jack!!!" whereby lou seal lifted his glasses, and then raised and lowered his paws as a sort of "calm down dude" gesture.
well, we did get our free cracker jack, and as brian shivered in his shorts and flip flops, the kind ladies next to us took pity on him and lent him a spare fleece blanket.
giants tied it up on a wild pitch in the fifth and then both teams scored another run in the sixth. and they remained deadlocked through the ninth and played on. the tenth came and went and although the giants threatened in the tenth the game remained tied. it was getting later and the knife began to slice away the casual observers from the most serious of fans invested in the outcome of this contest. i don't want to make stereotypes, but as the seats near me began to empty i really had to question the dedication of some of these more nattily dressed fans. sure, i know, it was monday night, a work night for most folks and the midnight chimes were fast approaching. time to leave the ball. and though my ticket was free, i had already paid a heavy price to get there and i was committed to the end.

in the bottom of the 11th with bases loaded and no outs pat burrell hit a long sac fly to center to win it. in exultation we began to shuffle out together crooned by mr. tony bennett. a most excellent time indeed. and before we hit the tunnel i turned around and took one more look at that field, not exactly sure when i'd be back. it is without question, my favorite place in all the world.
it's the little things that make it great, all of the details and touches that keep me yearning to return. a true haven for fans of this game. and even though i faced a long journey home and ended up only getting three hours sleep, when i ran into kyle and chelsey at work the next day we all agreed, totally worth it.

i am just like you
filling hours under the sun
all my days are smoke

back to work today. with this guy...

(courtesy bighappyfunhouse)

the sun beats me down
all day i sit here foolish
chained to a rocker

småland

the new ikea catalog arrived in the mail the other day. and as i perused the glossy pages for fabulous and reasonably priced swedish designed items, another item caught my eye. "kids eat free at the ikea cafe for a limited time" now the new catalog would almost certainly have been enough for me to find a reason to go down there and part with some of my hard earned cash, but that sealed it.
the trip to our local ikea store only takes a little over half an hour, yet once i pull into that parking lot, around the traffic circle and the island of international flags i feel as if i am in småland. it's as if we've left u.s. soil and all the rules have changed. a kind of diplomatic immunity surrounds the place. (i mean where else do shops have letters that big?) we pull into our parking queue and make our way up the people mover. in the cafe itself we grab a rolling trolley for our dinner trays and make our way through the little maze of automat efficiency. having secured 4 complimentary kids meals and two full price adults we find a spot in the dining area where we can test out some of the furniture. and even though we gaze out over hwy 80 from our venue, we may imagine we are in stockholm watching saabs and volvos zip across the centralbron. and of course once our tummies are filled with swedish meatballs and lingonberry sauce it is time to explore.
certainly we could have been like so many other parents and settled for the kids deal at the denny's or carrows or the like, which, while certainly fine establishments wouldn't have satisfied that internationalist longing inside each of us. and maybe that's precisely why i miss the international house of pancakes so much these days.

rollin' thru the hood
in my hard top dropped u v
tonite come check me

handmade

my wife recently completed the handmade camera case you see here. it was a real labor of love and i enjoy it so much more than my boring old store bought camera case. the inspiration was taken from another one of the many handcrafters out there that she is connected with. and that whole movement is really gaining influence. clearly, many people out there are just tired of living in a world of mindless design and corporately produced items that neither reflect who we are as individuals or are interesting and fun to interact with. that diy spirit was one of the things that really attracted me to her in the first place. so thanks babe.

the joy of texture
words i make inadequate
are negative worth

the club

the clutch cable on my bike broke again recently which gave me opportunity to go down to the local dealership. going to a dealer can be an interesting experience. they can either make you feel really welcome or give you that unexplainable urge to go running and screaming. ours i think falls in the former.

in fact whenever i go in there it feels a little like an old and established gentleman's club. you know, the kind you see in old movies where men sit in soft leather highback chairs puffing on cigars and reading a newspaper while a balding man in coat and tails walks around holding a silver serving tray with brandy snifters?
well, no brandy snifters at the dealership, but they do have a pool table. and not too far from it sits an old "hang on" ride on arcade game from the 80's. on the opposite side of the room there's a great old evel kneivel pinball machine and they've got the speed channel on in a lounge area just in case you're going to be there a while.
in addition they have a fantastic showcase of older bikes throughout the showroom. i guess mine would probably fit into that category. in fact when i pull up there and walk past all of the new machinery, drinking my complimentary coffee while eating my complimentary cheez-its and pretzels i begin to feel like one of the older members of the club.
like the aged white haired member who snoozes quietly in a corner and has to be occasionally roused, whereby he will begin to regale anyone within earshot of his exploits. "i've been a member of this club for over 40 years!" he says as he shakes his bony finger.
anyway, i did get my clutch cable and put the bike to rights again. and it's nice to know that a man still has a place where he can go to get away from the daily pressures of life. (except now my kids are always asking to tag along so they can play "hang on")
yeah, it's a pretty good club. and should you find yourself in the neighborhood, come check 'em out. they're always a part of some of the local mc events around here. and a great chance to meet some of the other (less stodgy) members.

i stare at the source
an uninterrupted flow
that will never end

living in these star wars

1977 was a seminole year. elvis died. a new elvis was born. the first apple 2 computers went on sale. the clash released their first album, and a little science fiction/fantasy film was released in may of that year which would go on to become the stuff of myth. yeah, i'm talking about star wars.
i suppose i could write a book about my relationship with this film (maybe i should) or at least a screenplay. anyway, central to my story with it is that i never really got a chance to actually see star wars until much later. and so, as a frustrated devotee with much time and little resource i began to assimilate a collection of ephemera to piece the details of the story together for me. books and comics, posters, trading cards and of course records.
in berkeley, not far from where i grew up there was a little shop on telegraph avenue called "the federation trading post" dedicated then to all things geekery. only we didn't know it then. i spent many hard earned credits there and once met david prowse, the actor who played darth vader (well, at least the body of darth vader) one day while looking for something new i spotted this little gem in one the racks. it is titled "living in these star wars" or "star warz" i was never sure.
at first look, the cover seems to indicate these guys are part of the rebel force and that they are rockin' the death star, and indeed they are called "the rebel force band". when i got this baby home, opened it up and put it on the turntable nothing could have prepared me for what came next. this was not an "official" star wars item released with the blessing of george lucas. no, these were just four guys who apparently had fallen in love with the film and taken up the cause. with songs like "you'll be a warrior in the star wars", "chewie the rookie wookie" and "a respirator for darth vader" these cats were bringing the funk.
i honestly have to say, of all my vinyl this has to be my favorite. it's a very personal item from a very formative time. and in fact my copy had gotten a bit dodgy as i'd left it in the back window of my parents car one sunday morning and it forever became a shallow cereal bowl. so i must give a shout out to "brainwerk" from "check the cool wax" for helping me distribute the love today.
as you're listening, picture these guys, adult guys, with their full on boston rock moustaches and flowing hair. and then listen to the "leia" track. and i want you to picture a slightly blurred image of a classy 70's custom van with an x-wing/death star airbrush motif on the side rolling down a coastal highway. and then let it drift from there.
if the force is with you and you are ready to become a warrior in these star wars, simply close your eyes, let go and click here.