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preemptive nostalgia
It's 1987 in my apartment. I'm listening to REM's Document from a tape I recorded on my dad's stereo when I was fifteen. It was recorded from an actual vinyl album – if you listen closely in between the songs, you can hear the scratch of the needle.
{ more » } { 3:37pm }
worm in the apple
A staggering list of bugs and oddities that still plague OS X. Reading this makes me feel less bad that I don't have the money to upgrade yet. I love my beige box!
{ 3:24pm }
voice your voice
Heather asks: What is real? 415 564 1347.
{ 10:47am }
nighty night
I really have to stop watching Oz before bed. Last night I was wracked with nightmares of betrayal and violence ... and that was after watching Buffy reruns. After tonight's episode of Oz ("Impotence," the season finale), I don't even want to try to sleep.
{ 1:51am }
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giving gifts of self
New web discovery: postcardX:
"postcardX attempts to accentuate the randomness and instantaneousness of human connection. it tries to break down social barriers with well-loved packages of self unleashed upon an unknowing recipient. it tries to give moments of happiness, wonder, and wow! (which may extend into life-long relationships) by the simple act of giving gifts of self."
Basically, you post your snail mail address, people send you stuff in the mail, and then you write about it on the site. Visitors to the site are greeted by a random address to send their somethings to. It's one more in a long line of sites that blur the line between real life and the virtual world, and I love it.
{ 6:50pm }
dmp in tmp
This week's guest curated gallery over at the Mirror Project is by yours truly: Reflections of San Francisco.
{ 9:25am }
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flashback
Two years ago today I went drving with my camera. I still love that hill. And, interestingly, it's just as beautiful out today.
{ 12:21pm }
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yet more fun with spam
The spammers are kvetching at me yet again: "Oyvey, let's boost your internet speed by up to 220%"
Yes. Let's.
{ 8:53pm }
I tell you this as a friend
Adair Lara: I tell you this as a friend:
"I have told my secrets to this intimate audience, and they have told me theirs. Real friendship is exchanging secrets, taking hostages, rolling over like a dog and exposing your soft throat. You tell your friend things you wouldn't tell anyone else, that you wouldn't want the people at the next table to overhear, and you feel the friendship growing, like a bank account, with each story you tell, with every story you hear."
{ 2:53pm }
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fray day 5 sf audio
The great thing about having an ancient computer and four and a half hours of audio to encode, is that it ties up your computer nearly all weekend, during which time you can do things that matter: clean the house, read a book, watch tv, relax.
So I had a great weekend, and you get Fray Day 5 SF to listen to. Everybody wins!
{ 3:35pm }
you probably saw this coming
I wonder: Is it possible for anyone to report on the case against late-night psychic charlatan Miss Cleo without snarkily noting that she should have seen it coming?
{ 12:09pm }
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new in dfc
... begets coverage. ;-)
{ 10:18pm }
a hard hit
Check out the amazing story of the death of Eric Scott. My old college friend David Holthouse wrote this investigative piece for the Denver Westword. Anyone who confuses weblogs for journalism should probably read more work like this, to remember what journalism, real journalism, really is.
{ 1:41pm }
weblah blah blah
Coverage begets coverage begets coverage begets coverage....
Same as it ever was, I guess.
{ 12:46pm }
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dereksweeties
 My sweetie gave me the coolest thing for Valentine's Day: My very own Diesel Sweeties comic! Just me and Clango, cold chillin'. It's awesome. It's framed on my wall now.
What did she get? A delivery of a half-dozen balloons at work (for that extra embarrassment factor), a heart-shaped box o' chocolates (now with 59% more irony!) and a movie (The Count of Monte Cristo - revenge is romantic!). She's too good for me. I know.
{ 11:37am }
more fun with spam
Another spam for me: "Oyvey, you can't trust anyone." No kidding.
{ 11:27am }
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new in fray dot org
At long last, I've digitized some of the video from Fray Day 5 San Francisco into five small clips - just enough to make you smile. Check 'em out!
{ more » } { 3:33pm }
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hurry home
{ 5:24pm }
olympic antidote
Overwhelmed by Olympic Hype? Go give b-may a read for the inside scoop. Bryan is working for the Olympics down in Salt Lake, and fully appreciates the little moments of insanity. Phrases of note: "Satan in every word," "grabs one's Johnson," and "enormous, enormous asses."
{ 9:48am }
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tremors
All I know for sure is, these days, the less time I spend in front of a computer, the happier I am.
Which is my way of saying, I may not be posting for a while. Or, I may just reincarnate altogether again. Or, I may just go out for a walk in the beautiful, rare, San Francisco sunshine. We'll see.
{ more » } { 1:40pm }
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corporate rock still sucks
... starbucks coca-cola gap nike walmart body shop exxon bp amoco general motors texaco rj reynolds nabisco philip morris marlboro mars mcdonalds dominos ben and jerry's monsanto ...
{ 7:39pm }
now playing: tom waits - used songs
There are days  when I feel like only Tom Waits understands me.
I remember back in college I had Bone Machine on one side of a tape and the Beastie Boys' Check Your Head on the other. They seemed to go together, in an early-nineties noise drang kinda way. It was my introduction to Tom Waits, and the tape grew worn and paint-spattered as it provided the soundtrack for a lonely summer spent painting walls Bone and Navaho in Porter College.
I didn't know then that Tom Waits had a catalog going back to the year of my birth. And some of his best work was back then. His early years were spent in a Kerouac-inspired haze, a place made of booze, cigarettes, and stories, where it always seems to be night. Naturally, I love the stuff.
My current audio obsession is his latest album, Used Songs: 1973-1980. The year I was born, Tom Waits was already singing about car crashes and small towns, the call of the road and the emptiness of a crowd.
Listening to it this morning makes me wonder what ever happened to that cherished tape, and if the halls of Porter College still hide all the stickers and graffiti I painted over that summer.
{ 12:16pm }
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end of the land sadness
"Blue sky above with stars hanging high over old hotel roofs and blowers of hotels moaning out dusts of interior, the grime inside the word in mouths falling out tooth by tooth, the reading rooms tick tock bigclock with creak chair and slantboards and old faces looking up over rimless spectacles bought in some West Virginia or Florida or Liverpool England pawnshop long before I was born and across rains they've come to the end of the land sadness end of the world gladness all you San Franciscos will have to fall eventually and burn again." –Jack Kerouac
{ 2:49pm }
and suddenly I feel like I need a diet
I've been lOggied.
{ 11:21am }
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numerology
I just got home from 5 days in Claremont, spent hanging out with family and marrying off my best friend. The trip home involved 1 rental car, 1 plane, 1 bus, 7 stops on bart, and 3 on muni. It took 7 hours, all told, which is about 1 more than it would have taken had I just driven on highway 5. I was greeted by 1 spooked cat, 2 incontinent dogs, and 417 emails in my box, only 256 of them spam. I plan to spend the next 8 hours catching up from 5 sleepless nights.
{ 3:00pm }
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