activities of daily living

november report

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 06:44:45 GMT

I was in the state of Washington for the entire month of November.

Notable events: Early in the month, there was this massive dinner party on the last day of daylight saving time at Terra Plata that started at Bar Ferd'nand and included a waiting stop at Still and then made use of the extra hour at the Hideout. The next morning I was surprised that we weren't politely asked to leave at least one of those places due to rambunctiousness. I guess that since we ordered everything they were inclined to tolerate the high degree of zany?

In town: Various fundraisers like a party to convince people to become marrow donors for Amit Gupta (just an incredibly depressing story) and another one to get people to take off their pants and dance for Carinna's classroom (a laugh riot). That one had something about gambling and video games, though I did more of the former than the latter.

Several other celebratory / housewarmy sorts of parties as well as our office's very early holiday party. I'm thinking of adding "white elephant host" to my c.v.

Out of town: We also had a big urban family adventure to Orcas Island for Thanksgiving, taking over about twenty percent of West Beach Resort for the very long holiday weekend. When I learned that there was an option to go there by seaplane, I was very tempted. But then we realized that we'd need to buy extra seats for the turkey; so instead we filled every square inch of April's hybrid and Samantha risked life and limb by squeezing into the backseat food/luggage/cargo fort. Our tenacity for leaving early got us one of the last spots on the afternoon ferry, which allowed us a stunning sunset voyage past the spooky mystical wolf clouded islands. The trip featured a massive Thanksgiving feast, some aborted hikes, late night dock walking, plenty of lounging, and a hilarious dance party. We also made a trip over to Doe Bay for another "order everything" dinner that also functioned as a way of getting on the priority list for next year's Doe Bay Festival. On the way out, we quickly stuck our feet in the soaking tub and sat in the sauna in our winter clothes for a few minutes. I think that that scheme, which required us to rent a room that we didn't need for a night was equal parts us outsmarting the beardos and the beardos outsmarting us.

Music: A little bit of show photography for Feist and Wild Flag, which were both just really excellent shows. Wild Flag was one of the few shows that I can even remember needing to stick foam in my ears to protect myself from deafness and even then I left the show kind of earbuzzy. There was also a Ballard adventure to see Typhoon "just for fun" out of recent addiction to their 2011 EP. The funniest part of that show was how their double-redundancy paid off when a sullen trumpet player's horn stopped working, leaving him onstage just looking confused while the other dozen bandmates soldiered on through obvious road colds.

Movies: several failed attempts to cash in on SIFF screenings, plus the Rum Diaries (which was boring).

Books: I started reading 1Q84 at the Silent Reading Party at the Sorrento's fireside room and spent the whole month finishing it.

october 2011, listed

Tue, 08 Nov 2011 05:32:50 GMT

I think I was out of Seattle more than I was in it during October and when I was here I was either touristing my parents or sleeping off the cold that my canadian cold caught on a flight to Los Angeles. All Tomorrow's Parties (I'll Be Your Mirror) was an excessively pleasant non-crowded music festival for grown ups that made me want to go to the resorty english one even more; I had a couple extra days in New York for the 99% and amazing upscale mexican dinner with friends; I took my parents to the magical island of deer; spent a week in Canada grateful that I ditched the conference hotels for a similarly priced but excessively more pleasant boutique in the Old City; saw some good shows (including a Ryan Adams laugh riot) at an in-city music festival; and ended the month at a conference in LA where I got to hang out with my cousin, experience warm weather, standstill highway traffic, race through a museum of lies, and see Kings of Convenience (omg); and completely skipped Halloween.

Places: Asbury Park, New York, Orcas Island, Montreal, Los Angeles

Music: Jeff Mangum, Bonnie Prince Billy, the Album Leaf, Awesome Tapes from Africa, Colin Stetson, Ultramagnetic MCs, Portishead, Battles, the Horrors, Beak>, Deerhoof, Robyn, Ryan Adams, Allen Stone, Grand Archives, The Hold Steady, Male Bonding, Kings of Convenience

Events: All Tomorrow's Parties, Occupy Wall Street, International Congress of Human Genetics, City Arts Fest, Maggie & Curtis's Wedding, CHARGE Investigator Meeting, Mom and Dad visit

Books: The Art of Fielding, The Marriage Plot

Hotels: Laingdon Hotel, West Beach Resort, Hotel St. Paul, Crowne Plaza Redondo Beach

Sites: Silverball Pinball Museum, The American Museum of Natural History, Zuccotti Park, Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal (but not the light show), Bixi bike rentals, The Getty Center, The Museum of Jurassic Technology, Santa Monica Pier,

Notable Food Stops: Pizza Moto, Asia Dog (Brooklyn Flea in Asbury Park); Empellón, Nanoosh, Shake Shack (New York); L'Avenue (hilariously described to us by a conceirge as "French cuisine"), Fairmount Bagels, Olive et Gourmando (every day), Le Cartet, L'Auberge St-Gabriel (Montreal).

working vignette

Wed, 02 Feb 2011 00:05:42 GMT

Sometimes people wonder what I do at work all day: Today's answer is that I will have spent probably 8 hours or more entering twenty people's names and addresses into an ancient website.

Part of this excessive timesuck is that until today (the due date) I didn't know that I'd need their street addresses (why?) so I have been hunting them down in the Google. The other part of this black hole of productivity is because the website is so very poorly made that rearranging the order of the names takes approximately one minute for each re-ordering and only allows one position change per page load. Oh, and sometimes the website just gets sleepy and crashes the whole browser with its frustrated narcolepsy.

But, hey! The reason for this nonsense is submitting an abstract for a meeting in Paris in July. So, maybe the violins I'm hearing are on the smaller side.

monthly dispatch: xmas to o'leven

Mon, 10 Jan 2011 04:28:29 GMT

DECEMBER was relatively uneventful. It had the usual office holiday party, in all of its afternoon potluck arts and crafts glory and white elephant. I can't remember when I became the host of that game show, but it's a duty that will probably follow me to the grave.

It was also a Narnia-heavy month. After one brunch we went into the big city to see the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It was impossible for the film to live up to the book, but my affection for it carried it into being pretty enjoyable. I think that it was actually better that I didn't remember the plot. Otherwise, I'm sure that the added action & adventure melodrama might have been too annoying.

The next week, we filled a table at the Can-Can to hear Seattle singer-songwriter types singing original mostly charming songs inspired by the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. My biggest disappointment was that the bar didn't stock any actual Turkish Delight (the subject of many a song), instead serving cheap beer with a shot of cheap whiskey in its place. Vaguely appropriate, given its role in the book, but less satisfying than the gummy confection. It was also interesting how so many of the songs focused on Edmund, though in retrospect it makes sense. He's really the only character that substantially develops during that book. At the end of the show, Santa appeared on stage to receive guests on his lap.

It wasn't the first Santa sighting of the month. Earlier in that weekend, he arrived in the middle of a performance by surf rock carolers Dancer and Prancer at Arabica. The small cafe was packed wall to wall; people passing by looked confused at the sight of so many people reveling to instrumental rock versions of traditional holiday music.

Somehow the midwest escaped the vicious, travel-snarling blizzards that crippled air travel on some coasts and my trip to Michigan was without incident. We did the usual things -- visiting the mall, having americanized chinese lunch, seeing a movie (the Fighter, prompting my sister and I to speculate on which of us corresponded to which boxing brother), walking around downtown in the candy cane lined park on xmas eve (where we saw some kids either assembling in a failed flash mob around the manger or playing an ill conceived prank). In a probably overdue change, xmas day festivities migrated to a new, roomier location that found everyone taking a turn at virtual hula hooping at the end of the night. Before returning to Seattle, we had a minor Table 15 gathering. Due to various sickly children, we relocated at the last minute to a restaurant in the tiny town of my high school, which was funny. I'm not sure when I'd been there last.

New Year's Eve was approximately quiet. It started with a late birthday brunch and concluded with a couple of parties at apartments ("house parties" seems to imply too much wildness given the tone of the actual events). After drinking champagne and listening to music we bundled ourselves for the roof deck and watched the space needle explode, on schedule. Then we returned and gathered around the DVD player to watch *HOUSE*, a Japanese movie that we decided was in the Psychedelic Candyland Horror genre. It was bizarre and hilarious. Because we'd started watching it much later in the evening than planned, I was ready to call it a year by the time it was over.

Aside from that, my main lesson of the evening was that drinking champagne in itself does not necessarily result in violent illness or crippling hangovers, given that it's of high enough quality and that I manage not to switch to other spirits over the course of the evening.

Day One of o'leven started like the last day of oh-ten. Brunch, this time at Del Rey. When that bar had to close early due to staff defections, we migrated to the upstairs clubhouse at Belltown Pub and spend the better part of the afternoon lounging, playing shuffleboard and cards, eating brussels sprouts, and other lazy day activites. Eventually we migrated to a big booth at the back of the Crocodile's recently-reclaimed back bar for pizzas.

There was also a reading party at the Sorrento. I'd wanted to go there forever; so that provided a good excuse to take another stab at the Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet and have a giant Manhattan. The book is getting better, but seems impossibly long, especially in electro-form. The party maintained its studious silence for the first hour, but by the hour and a half mark any semblance of staying quiet was abandoned. We followed up by visiting the new Vito's. It looks almost the same as the old Vito's (of my memory, at least), aside from this version being occupied more with artists and writers instead of an old pimp, his prostitutes, and Dave Matthews. I think that we should spend more time over there. It's pretty great.

Yesterday, I rented a Zipcar and spent the afternoon wandering through IKEAand amusing myself by watching all of the people trying to imagine their lives with different furniture. My main purpose there was to buy more lighting for my constantly dark office (happily, all of the fluorescents died long ago), but ended up buying many additional items. When the zombie apocalypse arrives, my closets will be well stocked with various odd-sized framing options.

Recent entertainments have included seeing True Grit (a Coen Brothers movie that I was surprised to both admire for its craftsmanship and still find emotionally engaging) and Somewhere (which I loved pretty much without reservation). I don't have to try too hard to imagine why some people wouldn't like it: it's essentially a film whose plot fits into a two minute trailer, yet its so well done that the two hour meditation is a really affecting pleasure to watch. As far as I'm concerned, Sofia Coppola can keep making movies about sad people in hotels for as long as she wants.

Of late, we've been spending a lot of time entertaining ourselves by zealously and collaboratively editing trip planning agendas Google Docs, most immediately for another return to the magical Orcas island at the end of the month.

it took tumblr's temporary death for me to catch up with this thing

Tue, 07 Dec 2010 07:57:26 GMT

er. wow. I haven't catalogued daily/weekly/monthly/seasonal happenings since:

August: returning to the (seemingly) sweltering (actually) less hot than usual midwest to take pictures at Lollapalooza and hang out with my sister and her friends in Chicago. Getting lost looking for the press entrance and nearly winding up at the Natural History Museum. Sprinting across Grant Park to catch both daily headliners (Gaga vs. the Strokes / Green Day vs. Phoenix / Soundgarden vs. Arcade Fire). Spending considerable time in queues for said headliners. A goofy party at the Hard Rock Hotel. A hilarious Vitamin Water powered luxury bus ride. A street person trying to sell us a gold chain late at night while were were in a restaurant.

The back in Seattle. Hercules and Love Affair, Scott Pilgrim, the shrieks of teen disbelief when Vampire Weekend abruptly cancelled on Marymoor Park. Floating around Lake Union on a remodeled fishing trawler while little bands played, other small boats joined, and the crowd mingled, drank wine, picnicked, and climbed the boat. The rain forcing the last performance below deck for an impossibly cozy concert.

A road trip to the hood canal to camp in a parking lot with tall trees. Inventing new s'mores (handpies) around a campfire. Photographic experiments under a nearly full moon. A new tent from REI for the occasion. A couple of sunny afternoons on the tiny grassy cliff overlooking the water. Cat buskers in Olympia.

September
Bumbershoot and all of the usual attention-deficit scrambling around Seattle Center. Bob Dylan for a few songs from far away. Watching an amazing interview with Courtney Love and ditching Weezer to see Pavement at the Paramount. A Jaime Lidell double feature. Sticking through the rain for the Thermals' encore.

Musicfest Northwest and the funniest tiny dorm room in all of Portland at the Ace Hotel. The springy floor at the Wonder Ballroom, Okkervil River, Menomena, more Thermals. The Tallest Man on Earth downstairs at the Doug Fir, and the guy who couldn't maintain his drink shouting about the next Dylan. A day at the Woods for those great short KEXP sets. A magical foursquare-enabled hangover-induction. A funny search for mexican Coke when it was at our home all along. An evening at Courthouse Square for the National, the Walkmen, a crazy dancing kid in the audience. A whole lot of brunch.

And later, Genius Awards, Vampire Weekend (for real), the Flaming Lips (for confetti and lasers), and Dirty Projectors (for awesomeness).

October
First a return to the magical island of deer: Orcas Island. Missing the ferry and making the best of it with gas station dining, roadside romance novel readings, and giant cups of tea enhanced with wax cup eroding whiskey. More luxurious cabins, another drive to the top of Mount Constitution, a walk full of waterfalls, deer called Ghandi and Venny. Poker & Wizard. Smoky scotch. Hot chili. Golden hour on the dock with a visit from a martini pusher. It's pretty much one of the ten best islands in the country, for sure.

Short work trips for meetings in Washington, DC and then Houston. The DC flyby at least included enough time for dinner at Oyamel, drinks at the Science Club, and a quick visit to the Smithsonian to see Madeline Albright's symbolic brooches.

Another (new) music festival in Seattle that had us seeing Belle & Sebastian in Benaroya Hall; Cat Power (not breaking down) at the Fifth Avenue. Foals being enjoyable despite some offensive oblivious superfans and the Vaselines telling the same old funny jokes.

Starting a week with of Montreal, and ending it with Sufjan Stevens (convincing me of the merits of his goofy new album) to a near empty bar on Halloween Eve and winding up at a northern soul dance party.

November
Seemingly all-travel all the time. Watching three seasons of the Wire on airplanes.

Back to DC for ASHG, the always-intriguing Illumina party, a whole lot of meeting-going, various dining opportunities with far-flung colleagues, a couple of returns to Adams-Morgan. First in the afternoon for quiet cafe times at Tryst and later for dinner, drinks at various 18th Street dives including a squeeze to the top of Madam's Organ, a lifesaving Jumbo Slice, and then trying to fit too many people into a cab and being immediately stopped by the police and told to disperse.

Then catching the train for a weekend in NYC in Ellen's new apartment. Dinner with Al/Malinda/Chris and drinks at a shark bar (can't wait until that theme takes over for mammalian taxidermy here, too). Standing in the cold to watch the fast runners in Brooklyn, finally going to the Met, pizza, an accidental walk to Shake Shack, some mostly unproductive shopping in the rain, and then back home by way of Newark.

A few days in Seattle and then another meeting in Chicago, mainly occupied by dad birthday festivities including an odd bus ride/dinner extravaganza, cocktails at the Hancock building, enormous brunching.

Another day in Seattle and then to a consortium thing at the Balard edge of Paris. Visiting the Orangerie, walking through Tuileries, eating macaroons, and drinking delicious (Angelina) hot chocolate to fend off jet lag. Meeting dinner at Editeurs and then finding a bar nearby that was later swarmed by singing gay rugby players. Trying to take a hot air balloon ride at Parc Andre Citroën but being thwarted by "the wind" / lazy attendants. Seeing a guy running around the park in a hamster ball for a commercial instead. Relocating to the Latin Quarter to the tiniest hotel room of all time and re-finding the super delicious cafe that makes "Brick" and finding that since it was "winter" they were also making wine brule. Walking around the Marais for the awesome falafel. Looking at art at the Palais de Tokyo mainly because it was the only thing open late.

Returning to Seattle to find it covered in snow and ice and generally its usual state of incapacitation without the typical snowy splendor.

And then ending the month for Thanksgiving in New Orleans with Samantha, Carinna, and Carinna's parents. Midnight bar foods. So much Who Dat, Saints, and other sequined clothing opportunities passed by. A lot of walking around the French Quarter. Multiple visits to Cafe du Monde. A birthday walk on Bourbon Street (less repulsive than expected), drinks at a pirate/piano bar and speculation about its claims to historical endurance. No mule ride. Two meals at Commander-related Palaces. Streetcar rides. Scrambling around Whole Foods for Thanksgiving supplies. A cemetery stroll and a voodoo museum. Finding a lot of places that turned out to be closed for Acadian Thanksgiving. A bar with a carousel in the middle and slow service all around. The home of the Sazerac in the midst of a crazy football crowd. Being picked up by a taxi and sympathetic strangers. Sunny afternoon snacks on a balcony above Winding up at the airport a few hours too early. No mule drawn buggy rides or fortunes told.

Squeezing through a crowd of teens to take photos of Passion Pit and snapping some shots of Michael Cera playing bass with a new Sub Pop supergroup and finding out just how interested kids (and the internet) are about seemingly minor celebrities turning musicians.

A weird amount of jetlag and adjustment to the dramatic daylight shortage. Seeing James Franco cut off his arm with a dull knife. Still haunted and jittery from that one.

summertime happenings

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 01:59:45 GMT

Of all the conveniently imported holidays from foreign lands, I think that Bastille Day is my favorite. Or at least it is my favorite as celebrated by the Adventure School in Seattle. For the second year in a row we ventured to Georgetown where they had turned a small trackside property situated under a flight path in the shadow of an overpass into a tres charming village estate. We arrived in time for the chicken races to witness a bit of ego-stroking parental cheating and stayed long enough until the kids had abandoned the modern art bouncehouse and the racing fowl had gone to roost. I wore hastily acquired American Apparel stripes and a beret while sipping rose, eating falafel and crepes, and helping someone celebrate an end of the night birthday. Probably partially because it marked the long-delayed summer, it felt like fantastically materialized perfection. I want(ed) to pack up and move to the countryside. Preferably into something more Summer Hours than A Christmas Tale.

Oh, and after a lot of wine I was convinced to eat an oyster! It was weird and I chewed it too much. But kind of like the ocean!

This summer of which we speak has been fickle, though. On some of the days that it's made an appearance I've read in the park or walked around downtown. There have been outdoor drinks at the hilarious Hard Rock Cafe before the outstanding and kind of unbelievable Carissa's Wierd & Aveo reunions. Sidewalk beer from Black Bottle as preparation for sitting in the cozy bar/theater for Inception. A hasty sendoff picnic at Madison Beach, which is not really a beach, but it's not such a bad little tourist town. That sort of thing.

Last weekend was the Capitol Hill Block Party. I'm still undecided about whether the annoyances outweigh the benefits. I guess that they do since I keep going back, but my problem-solvy mind can't help but spin against all of the obvious inefficiencies, apparent oversights, planning problems, and stymying site design. Maybe if I were going simply to drink and hang out in a beer garden or rooftop while music played in the background it would be entirely lovely. But having to cross the urban grid to get from stage to stage (and back again) while toting heavy camera gear made all of the quirks into glaring thorns. Don't call the orchestra of tiny violins, though: for three songs at a time I was among the few people with the best (mostly) unobstructed views of a whole lot of bands that I really like. Hassles aside, it's not such a bad way to spend a weekend. A bunch of the kids crushed into the barricade would've probably very happily traded places without any convincing.

I thought that the block partying, photo editing, and sun exposure (lather/rinse/repeat) would have left me too exhausted for a Monday night show, but I'm very glad that Two Weeks Ago Me made a bet on the future and bought Last Night Me a ticket for Wolf Parade. Not having to "work" the show let me hang out in the bar with friends during the first half of their set until I couldn't resist the increasingly bouncy main floor. Jumping around under a speaker in a sea of broments through the exhilirating encore left me a sweaty satisfied mess.

oh, hello.

Thu, 15 Jul 2010 14:57:21 GMT

Most of the last month has been consumed with some combination of being away, obsessively spectating, or hiding out in my apartment in some post-travel decompression. Most recently I was in Michigan looking at beaches, fireworks, lakes, dogs, and family. Before that, in Scotland chatting with scientists, wandering around old cities, castles, a graveyard, museums, a pedestrian mall, a new dormy parliament building, and a big hill. In Glasgow I stayed in this adorable little hotel next to the Cathedral, which made me think of Belle & Sebastian songs. It was probably the only hotel on my trip staffed by ancestrally Scottish people. The room was not perfect and the location was a bit out of the way, but I would have been happy to have moved in for months.

Regardless of personal geography, I watched a lot/most of the World Cup due to my known fondness for short-attention span popular sporting tournaments. The timing was also near-perfect excuse for spending time in pubs in the later afternoons and early evenings (in GMT) and in cafes and bars for long lunches (in PDT). This culminated in watching the final in 3D at a chain bar in a fancy mall, which was neat, but didn't make me feel any better about that amazing octopus being right again.

And before that we went out to the middle of the state to walk up and down a big hill over and over again while watching a whole bunch of bands playing on a cliff. During that trip to the Gorge/Ellensburg I think that I got my annual quota of interesting snack chips and late night Taco Bell.

In between all of this was a lot of SIFF, both watching movies and attending "galas" and other mingley parties. At least this spring, there was little in the way of feeling guilty about spending time inside since spring/"summer" is arriving only reluctantly and in fits and starts. Upon my most recent return, though, the internet had warned me of the impending heat wave; so I pulled my ridiculous tiny air conditioner back into service for the three days of it.

documenting the icy holidays

Wed, 13 Jan 2010 05:03:10 GMT

I flew to Chicago and landed in a modest snowstorm. At O'Hare, I met my cousin (arriving from LA) and aunt & uncle (arriving from Dallas). We picked up a luxury sport utility vehicle and faced the highway. When we standstill traffic, we were lucky enough to be near an exit for a Chili's in Michigan's Most Romantic City for a very quality chain restaurant family meal.

The "holidays" were pretty decent and usual. I arrived in time to make it to the maybe now traditional breakfast with a bunch of people that I don't know on the maternal grandfather side of the family that was held at a sort of Greek restaurant. My dad's family joined us for xmas eve white elephant and BINGO-based gifting. Nuclear and momfamily stuff was on xmasday, happily more more laidback and less giftcentric than usual. Along the way we watched a few episodes of Intervention and burned a double batch of Chex mix.

Another day included a family day in downtown Kalamazoo, watching Sherlock Holmes, looking at salvaged architecture, hanging out in a cute cafe, and crawling the restuarants in the former pedestrian mall. I met up with the Table 15ers for a trek to Lansing to have our solstice festivities at Fred's house. Of course, Bibo made a horrifying appearance. We also spent a day in Grand Rapids, having lunch at some newish place, checking out some afterholiday sales, and dining at my uncle's.

The next morning I caught the train back to Chicago. (PROTIP: if you buy roundtrip Amtrak tickets and don't use the first leg due to your cousin having rented a car, they will cancel your return ticket too. And then you will have to pay $10 more for a 1-way ticket than you did for your original roundtrip). The train itself is great and fast and arrived exactly on time. When I booked my travel I had no reason to believe that anything would be on time; so I had about four hours in the city to be a tourist. I made a horrible mistake due to the proximity of Willis Tower to Union Station. The line outside looked short and I was intrigued by the scary new ledges at the SkyDeck. Little did I know that after each modest seeming line was set after set of additional lines with no reasonable exit strategy. It was a beautiful day and the views were spectacular, but they were definitely not worth the nearly three hours of waiting and the approxiately ten minutes to take them in before rushing to catch a train to the airport. Despite increased security due to the underbomber, I still made it to my flight without too much delay and thanks to some inherited drink coupons the flight was pretty pleasant.

whistling

Wed, 23 Dec 2009 06:02:51 GMT

On the drive home from our last urban family vacation at the coveside cabins of Orcas Island we began hatching a plan for another trek, this time to the snowy foreign land of Canada. Despite having only a striking minority in our group having an interest in sliding down mountains, we nevertheless set out for a condo in Whistler. It had beds and a kitchen and a hot tub, was near a little skiing village, and included the distinct possibility of snowy adventures.

Carinna and I met our goal of reaching the highway before sunset, trunk filled with provisions (of the furry hat, snowshoe, breathable waterproof synthetics, and traction variety) for icy apocalypse, small bottles of coke zero, sweet and salty carsnacks, and a stack of freshly-burned compact discs. We crossed the truck route border (inadvertently), navigated around the exurban streets of vancouver, and wound along the twisty mountain roads well after nightfall. After many dark curves and glimpses of water, we were happy to stop at the first sign of civilization in what we imagined to be a roadhouse for dinner. Instead of the rough-edged driver destination, we instead found an upscale dining destination. Having no idea what might be ahead of us (a lot of chain restaurants, it turned out), we decided to stay.

Refreshed and refilled, we were back on the trek to meet up with our early-departing compatriots. We successfully located the condo village, found the hill, and spent about ten minutes driving in circles trying to uncover our designated parking spot. Around and around the roundabout we drove, attempting and reattempting to interpret, reinterpret, and decipher the innkeeper's instructions! In and out of various poorly market places we went, finally giving up to solicit advice from our pals. We unloaded our things, secured the car for the evening, donned our fur hats to lift our road weary spirits and snacked and chatted and generally debriefed. Some of us [them] piled into the deck hot tub and stayed up late watching DVDs about mammals late into the night. Others of us built sleeping piles for ourselves in the kid bedroom closet and tucked into sleeping bags for the night.

::

The next morning, the air was thick with bacon. Matt & Joy fortified us with brunchly delights and we eventually started to think about what exactly it was that we would be up to now that we were in this place. We wrapped ourselves in warm clothing, exchanged some currency, and caught a bus into the big city at the base of Blackcomb mountain. There, we sought advice from a person whose main job seemed to be selling vacation experiences. Our group divided itself among town crawlers, zipliners, and snowshoers. My party, the snowshoe delegation, found a rental shoppe, studied some maps, and crossed the field of car parks to find an easy cross-country trail to discover Lost Lake. Most people that we encountered on this trail made the walk without the benefit of noisy clawed footwear, but not us. We were adventurers, inventing new ways of walking over the crunchy ice! We saw dogs on the path and chipmunks in the forest, ice covered rivers and fish breeding grounds, but no bear. And then there was maybe the most idyllic lake scene of all time: magic hour light over the mountains, covered in ice and populated by skaters (almost always on the distant shore, despite our circumnavigation). That lake! It made me wish deeply for a pair of skates to fully take in its pleasures. Instead, though, we clomped across the snowy beach, and slid around in our boots. The ice kept cracking in its deep layers, setting off timpanic reverberations across the lake and around the trail.

With the sun falling, we returned to sip warm alcoholic beverages at the Amsterdam Pub. Soon, we were met by Andy, Ingo, and Megan who had taken in the charms of the village and the creek of diving birds. We shared our tales of adventure and caught a bus back to our homebase, picking up groceries and drinking supplies before suffering our way up the steep hill to our palace. After a while the treetop ecotourists returned and the Pixels prepared a feast for us. We all played a game of cranium [some abstaining more than others] and people talked about all of the toys and games of their childhood until it was time to sleep. [one of the hazards of lateblogging is not remembering everything and the order that it happened.]

::

The next day was the day of the mountain. After a Pixel brunch, I set off with Andy and Matt to see about some snowboarding [more of slowboarding, in my own rusty case, though my companions were nice enough to tolerate it]. We gondolaed up one mountain and across to another and went to top. On the back side we found a suitably intermediate zone and proceeded not to break anything. A couple hours, a few runs, and an eternal catwalk satisfied my outdoor needs; so I rode a chairlift back to the base and returned my rented gear while the others squeezed more fun out of the slopes.

We all reconvened in the village, the others having also taken the tourist trip across the mountains by gondola, and hopped around some bars, drinking from jugs, playing in the vicinity of the snow machines, and listening to a mismatched cover band playing by the light of a disco ball in a hilarious bar filled with Australians [just like all of the other establishments]. Back at home, Carinna prepared a mexican fiesta [group meal lessons well learned from the table 15 plan] and I chopped vegetables with the occasional break fordance parties in the kitchen. Later, we brewed up a pot of cabin juice and some people played high-stakes poker for puzzle pieces and small oranges, and we were treated to dramatic re-enactments of particular dancing styles. Some people sat in the hot tub and revealed secrets. At some point, we watched Heathers, which is a movie of one-liners, and a documentary about bug eating mammals.

::

The next day, it was time to say goodbye to our little house. Before going, we took a walk to (almost) the other side of the tracks. We bought tea and coffee from a very confused young man in a hotel cafe (where they also had Coke Zero in GLASS BOTTLES). We pulled down our earflaps and walked in the wind, back up the hill, and returned to finalize our departure by distributing foodstuffs and packing our bags.

On the way back to our homeland of liberty, we stopped at the duty free store to spend our last Canadian dollars and take in the majestic sights of the wraparound murals. This purchasing of tax free scotch, though, is what gets us into trouble. The exit from the parking lot takes us into something mysterious called the nexus line and it's separated from the rest of the lanes by four foot tall plastic poles. Does this line have something to do with having purchased something at the store? It does not. It is in fact for people with special cards who have everything about them known by the border guards. We do not have one of these cards. We can't turn around. So we get a sticker from the ornery guy at the booth and are hauled into the customs house to get a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist [via my passport] and a speech about how we could be fined $500 and if ever we are in a lane we should get out of it immediately because the poles are plastic and are meant to be driven over. Many people try our "excuse", it seems. It does not seem, at least to the border guards, that the signage is awful. He invokes the "diamond lane" and we don't know what he means until the third time he mentions it. But without too much trouble we are back on our way to meet our friends at a brewery in Bellingham and then back to Seattle to our apartments to fall asleep early and face the week ahead.

coupon

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 01:15:33 GMT

I don't entirely understand this business, but if any of you don't have paid lemonjuice accounts and need a coupon for $10 to buy one drop me a commentary.

http://community.livejournal.com/paidmembers/23977.html

identity auteurs, etc.

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 07:20:03 GMT

And now, this weekend. I guess it started on Thursday when everyone converged upon Havana for some sort of party where there wasn't too large of a crowd. After a while, Scottie and I went over to Moe Bar because Michael Cera was supposed to show up for his movie's afterparty with the Cobrasnake. We at first assumed that we'd missed whatever was happening, since the distribution of sunglasses and fake mustaches seemed to have stopped and the overcrowdedness dissipated after a few minutes. However, some faulty intelligence, inspired us to stick around, crowded into a booth and on the lookout. Eventually, we gave up. I went back across the street only to find that our friends had migrated up the hill to Pony, where there was a whole lot of fog and lasers. We managed to get in a drink or two, some epic pictures, and a rousing game of air hockey before the lights came on and we were all sent out into the cold.

Somehow, I didn't do anything on Friday.

Last night we fortified ourselves with Thai dinner and walked down to Re-Bar to see a friend performing in a drag show / underwear product placement event called Bacon Strip. True to its name and tone, bacon was served throughout the evening by a guy in a dreidl costume who was also toting a bottle of Manichevitz (that he didn't seem as into sharing). Parts of it were funny and enteratianing, but the makeup and costumes are kind of a degree or three away from clowns, which everyone knows are horrifying. I also made the terrible mistake of going to get a beer at the bar during one of the acts. The lines for bartender attention were so long that I ended up unknowingly missing the act that we came to see. By the finale, we had kind of maxed out; so instead of staying for the danceparty we paid a quick visit to the photobooth and then raced (really) up the hill to the Living Room and its fake fireplace upstairs lounge.

Today during the long long wait for a brunch table, we made the incredibly overdue discovery that waiting is a lot more palatable if you just order a beverage from the bar to help pass the time. Honestly, I'm not sure why it took me this long to figure this out. When our leisurely meal was completed we walked downtown, looked around at a few stores (a new backup fur lined hat, half-price!), and took in a second (for most of us) viewing of the Fantastic Mr. Fox. I still died with laughter and tears at many many parts. It's just so meticulous and funny and whimsical and a little sad and generally burbling over with big emotion and, to me, pretty much perfect all around. It's strange that it's gotten near-universal acclaim, but nowhere near as much buzz as it seserves.

the long thanksgiving weekend

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 06:36:55 GMT

The long Thanksgiving weekend started with a traditional party in Fremont, with wine and cheese and desserts and kittens. It continued the next day with cooking at home, brief looks at the dog show, and an afternoon taxi ride over to Sedea's house where dance movies and cases of champagne were in full effect. Everyone took turns in the kitchen and there was far too much food and frequent demands that leftovers be taken home. There were epistemological discussions about the appropriate capitalization of the "s" in "Streets" w/r/t to where the dancers were taking it at the end of the movie. I missed most of Up due to some cooking responsibilities. Asa showed up just in time to carve the giant beast of a turkey that Joe had cooked and covered with bacon. There were tons of music videos OnDemand. We named the turkey by drawing names on napkins from a bowl. I was legitimately pleased with how my Tofurkey turned out; it may have transitioned from a one-time joke to an annual tradition. The pumpkin clove ice cream pie from Molly Moon's did not disappoint. After about six hours of festivities and bearing days worth of leftover food, I walked home on wet sidewalks and back alleys. A few hours later, there was a reconvening at a bar. I walked over mainly for the fresh air and the light exercise, returning home soon after when the party transitioned to dancing, an activity hardly advisable given the day's massive food consumption and incomplete digestion.

Rather than hunt for big box bargains, Carinna and I took a field trip to Ballard on Black Friday to look for boots and to hear a free show at Sonic Boom. The XX had caused a massive neighborhood shift, with much of Capitol Hill showing up in Ballard to crowd into a record store while a shy trio stood on a stage playing sexy music and either making a joke or a mistake about their location.

When the show was over, we hurried downtown to see the Fantastic Mr. Fox. Taking up half of a row, I think that we laughed harder than the rest of the theater combined. It was a pure delight, whimsical, weird, and hilarious in tiny and wonderful ways. I don't know that I've liked anything more all year. It was an early show, so we had plenty of time for adventuring. We started with pizzas at the Alibi room, walked downtown to the Polar Bar (ideal), and then returned to Capitol Hill for drinks around the big Tin Table with happy hour cocktails and ultra-salty fries. When my dream of making BOOM Noodle our new hangout fell through, we instead went to Oddfellows where some Fox-inspired hard apple cider induced some sort of allergic reaction on the order of sneezes and watery eyes. I went home and Benadrylled the night away.

I eventually left the house the next day to celebrate Carinna's birthday. It began with a cozy dinner at Cafe Presse, proceeded to a party at the Hideout, and ended at a talcum-covered Chop Suey with Emerald City Soul Club.

The weekend ended (relatively) quietly with the usual brunching, some drinks with bloggers at Bimbo's, dinner at the Sitting Room, and watching Bad Lieutenant, a pretty bizarre new Werner Herzog movie (which, I guess offset my usual Nicholas Cage aversion). I'm still not really sure what I think about it or the iguanas.

weekend of sound

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 06:04:58 GMT

Approximately a hundred us-years ago, we went to play apocalyptic mini golf at a place called Smash Putt. It was a mechanical arty installation in an abandoned garage warehouse on the lower realms of the part of twelfth avenue that still clings to Capitol Hill. Inside, there was a bar and nine holes of golf. It was extremely loud and crowded and terriffically fun. The holes involved jets of air, ferris wheels, closing holes, foosball obstacles, perilous Indiana Jones-like crossings, power saws, an air gun (goggles required), a catapult, spinning fans, a honking motor scooter, and, at the end, a drill that pierced your golf ball. When we arrived, despite having tickets, we were told that getting a tee time would be impossible. Undaunted by the screaming angry man in the doorway who had tired of waiting (without a "reservation"), we decided to at least take a look and get a drink. Miraculously, while sitting happily at a booth we lucked into a spot on the course and galavanted madly from green to green, delighting in the ingenuity and most definitely not keeping score.

Even though we were there for several hours and only a couple of adult beverages, I left feeling massively and happily off the rails. We continued the madness by dropping in at Pony, where I'm sure that we played a spirited game of air hockey with plenty of cheating.

The next day, was this tiny music festival called Expo 86. It took place in a cramped art gallery and a cluttered junk store. After some time at a steamy Summit Pub, we dashed across the rainy street to look at a hand drawn map of the incestuousness of Seattle's music community. A bit later, armed with a large can of cheap beer (that fell into a puddle, making it all the more authentic and sad), we returned and found a spot on the small rug in the back room to listen to Mount Eerie play songs about geese, wind, mountains, and the usual nature magic that I continue to find so compellingly endearing. Next door, at the Anne Bonny, John Atkins (of 764-HERO) sat in a chair in the middle of the room and we all crowded around him in the spaces between the folding chairs and vintage artifacts. Every time someone needed to enter or exit, the whole room had to slightly reconfigure, but this never really upset the quiet concert.

Finally, in anticipation of a trip to Canada, we took some time after brunch to venture "into the city" to have a look at hats. H & M proved a useful outlet, where I was able to secure a Siberian-appropriate faux fur head-warmer and a wolf-faced sweater. We celebrated our finds with a feel-good movie about a rock and roll radio station on a boat defying the will of British bureacrats (Pirate Radio) and walked back up the hill for a cozy dinner at Oddfellows that was marred slightly by the unexpected presence of dairy in a dish and some subsequent questions about the check and negotiation strategies. However, bolstered by the warmth of my new hat, I still picked up an ice cream cone for my walk home.

:: ZOMBIE WEEKEND 2K9 ::

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 03:16:24 GMT

At the Rendezvous with my shirt in the sink, I may have, at first glance, appeared to be trying to salvage a shirt from a stain. Relatively quickly, though, it would be come apparent that I was trying to cover it in blood as unobtrusively as possible while periodically making room for others to engage in appropriate restroom hygiene. Having arrived late to the pre-party costume session, I entered my friend's birthday party in a shredded paint-spattered plaid shirt, some borrowed pajama pants, and wearing hastily applied face-whitening makeup and fake blood. In the red light of the grotto, this read more "homeless" than "zombie", prompting the change to the back-up costume and upping the ante on dripped blood. Though in comparison to most of the other attendees, this didn't constitute taking it to the max, it was a definite improvement. For future reference, light colored clothing is the way to go for your zombie needs.

The party itself was for a thirtieth birthday, which helped to overcome my general aversion to costume parties. Given the participants, it was predictably hilarious and fun. We zombie danced to all the hits of yesterday and today. Someone threw himself down the stairwell just for fun. The grotto, under the main bar, is a great place for private parties, particularly when you're all dressed like the undead, though by the time we lurched out into Belltown for a mid-party hot dog no one really even seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. There were lots of pictures [flickr].

The undead spirit carried over into the next day, beginning with a lot of sleeping and ending with a very late night at the LoFi for their monthly Soul Club. It was some sort of special occasion and was even more crowded than usual when I arrived around midnight, thinning only slightly toward the very end of the night -slash- beginning of the morning. Once per month talcum covered dance nights are just about my limit and this is a pretty good one.

Waiting for brunch on Sunday I suggested that one shouldn't need to choose between coffee and a bloody mary, which then led to the brilliant idea of combining the two via a shot of espresso. This sounded disgusting enough that I was able to earn myself a meal by drinking just such a concoction on a sort-of bet. Middle school.

We put the weekend's fixation on reanimated corpses to rest by seeing Zombieland. Fueled by a giant "small" Coke Zero ( --why must it be so rare?!) and probably not enough sleep, I thought that it was the funniest thing in a very long time. Few others outside of our moviegoing group seemed to think that it was nearly as uproarious as we did, but they were incorrect or simply more vocally reserved.

belated orcas

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 06:59:53 GMT

When we had finished our errands, filled the trunk in the returning mist, rounded everyone and everything up and were finding the express lane with me behind the wheel, I had no expectation that we would arrive in to get a spot on the evening ferry. I thought that at best we might make it through the pounding rain to see a line of cars or the boat pulling away. But instead, even though we managed not to decipher the text messaged clues from the other car about their nonexistent object even after going well above the usual twenty questions, we gained a place in the hull of the great beast and quickly decamped to the deck.

The rain had stopped, but the wind was still howling as we set off into the darkness. We milled about in puddles, chatting, pacing the perimeter of the desk in the screaming air. We sat around tables and collected change for overpriced sodas. We inadvertently gathered at the assembly point and learned about maritime history. We found hatchets on the wall, and the murderous among us looked at the weapon longingly.

Of course, we eventually arrived at Orcas Island. Google and iPhones joined forces and helped us find a restaurant where the hostess directed us to the bar. Townspeople played pool, old hiphop, and classic soul while we ate burgers. We continued to listen to the second songs from albums imported during the year and missed a few on the dark winding roads before arriving at the twin cabins on the beach. Soon, the little houses were filled with us and our things. We broke out some beverages, heated the stove, and set off on a lengthy pursuit of trivial knowledge. Along the way a hot lemony cidery tea-steeped scotch nectar was concocted. It was delicious and fun and eventually we had a winner and, with it, permission to sleep. Our cabin capitalized on this opportunity much more readily than our other shenanigan-prone neighbors.

The next morning was pretty quickly the next afternoon, smelling of bacon and brunch. Capitalizing on a break in the rain, we set off on an expedition for the lookout tower on the mountain. As our cars crawled higher and higher in the park, we crossed the snowline and found white-crusted roads leading us to the top. Despite the mist, the views were spectacular and prone to shadow puppetry on passing crowds. It was cold and wet and sunny.

The ground was grey and hard and abandoned, but we could see islands and mountains in the distance and could hurl snowballs from the lookout. When we'd seen enough, tried to climb the side of the fortress, and spent some quality time defying gravity, we made our way back through the sun-streaked fog, stopped for one last view, and set off for an allegedly charming art gallery that turned out to be eager to be closed.

Some of us made another stop in town, on the lookout for dessert. After scouring the streets, we found a bakery to take pity on us and extend their strict hours long enough to sell us a frozen pie. We returned to the resort, played more games, had more drinks, and cooked dinner. The hot cider made a second appearance for a walk on the dock of dead ends. The more woodsy among us started an admirable fire on the shore and we gave it a good shot until the downpour set in. We constructed a movie theater and settled Catan. By the time the tide was so strikingly far out to allow hundreds of yards of muddy explorations in the dark, the laptop singleplex was screening Love actually. It mercifully ended, and we slept again crowded into not enough beds, but somehow cozy in sleeping bags, accidental spoonings, or on air mattresses. We did not, however, reserve enough time to thoroughly contribute to the cabin journal -- a collection of detailed reminiscences of animal counters and drunk southern quartets.

By morning we had piled our things back into the cars, posed on a log for a foreigner to snap a picture, and returned to the ferry dock so early that there was no question of missing the boat. It gave us time for breakfast in a hotel, a chance to commune with rabbits on the lawn, a hike to a souvenir show with fantastic lenticulars, and a visit to a tiny antique shop. On the ship we stayed inside and assembled puzzles or played cards in view of the passing scenery. When we arrived back in the city, lunch supplies had gone uneaten; so we assembled again in odd scene to distribute the loaves of bread, blocks of cheese, boxes of soup, and piles of meat into suitable rations before returning to our own homes tired and refreshed from the hilarious and invigorating fun of our little weekend retreat.

oh, hello

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 20:16:56 GMT

What have I been doing?
A while ago I was in Hawaii for a big science conference. We stayed at a fairly cheesy old hotel called the Outrigger, which had the main benefit of being on the beach and in the middle of the Waikiki strip of luxury shopping opportunities. It also featured a bar where performers sang bad cover versions of classic songs with extra island flare. On the beach, a boat left every couple hours for sightseers. In between voyages, a tooth-deprived man stood on the shore yelling "one dollar beer, one dollar Mai Tai" to drum up customers while his miserable-looking dachshund ran up and down the beach digging and urinating on sand castles. The weather was hot and humid. My room had a tiny deck with a hint of a view of the ocean through skyscrapers. The conference had a weird early morning, sometimes late afternoon schedule, which allowed for guilt-free visits to the beach for sunning and ocean swimming. On the first night of the conference, a company that has gotten very rich off the stimulus grant threw a party at another beachside establishment, complete with fire spinners, food, scientists dancing, and dangerously tasty tropical beverages. Our classier hotel neighbors had more tranquil bars with quieter music and blank eyed dancers at sunset. We discovered a japanese restaurant that served a dessert called "honey toast", which is exactly as good as it sounds. All in all, with the heat, weird sleep schedule, the mix between listening to talks and sitting on the beach, the advantage of being three time zones west of usual, the whole trip was as relaxing as having a temporary voluntary partial lobotomy.

After only a couple of days back in Seattle, there was another meeting in Washington DC, which was an antidote to the blissful carefree numbing of the mid-Pacific. Not bad, just highly over scheduled. Meetings, giving talks, listening to talks, meetings, new tasklists. And coordinating a pub crawl, guiding people around the always-pretty national monuments at night, and long flights.

Because of this, I mainly hibernated on the Halloweekend, venturing out for the usual brunch and ice cream ritual and going to see the new Andrew Bujalski movie at the film forum on Sunday night. I think that I "liked" Beeswax even though it was twelve minutes too long, had almost no plot, and I didn't really sympathize with any of the characters. It's no Mutual Appreciation, for sure.

Yesterday I went to see the Dirty Projectors with everyone else in Seattle and even some friends from New York. Remember how when Neumo's opened they were going to fix their awful ventilation situation? Haha. Anyway, the show was super.

And tomorrow, we're heading off to Orcas Island to cozy into two little cabins during a frightening weather event. But boats, islands, beaches, pals, board games, and all of that!

greetings from waikiki.

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 10:14:47 GMT

I'm in Hawaii for a big sciencey convention this week. We're staying in a sort of older hotel on the beach in Waikiki in the midst of a giant system of outdoor malls. Though our accommodations are perhaps less fancy, there's still some charm in that it's less of an appalling maze of luxury shopping experiences. It's very warm and exceptionally humid. I went in the ocean briefly this evening before going to some parties. However, since the majority of attendees are from eastern timezones, the sessions start brutally early; so I pulled myself away in the hopes of waking up in time to attend.

Postcard from SF

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 07:09:51 GMT

On Friday night we hopped in a club lit airplane and jetted down to San Francisco, mostly for the Treasure Island music festival with stops for desperation late Japanese or Salvadoran meals and morning bookstore cafe brunches. The festival was held on a little island accessed by a batcave exit from the Bay Bridge. It had a spectacular view of the city (for increased feelings of urban relevance), really nice pirate ship branding, and a pair of stages that never overlapped, causing the crowd to move tidelike between them throughout the day.

Saturday was more like a desert island, with the warm weather perfect for the electrokids and the dancier lineup (highlights = Passion Pit, Dan Deacon's crowd control experiments, the good MGMT songs, Girl Talk). Sunday was more like a ship far at sea with wind and fog and bundled and blanketed patrons (highlights=Beirut, the Walkmen, Flaming Lips -- the magic of the sincerity, epileptic lights, and confetti still work on me). We also spent a lot of time hanging out in a rickety covered wagon ship that was nevertheless surprisingly comfortable; particularly when you're with a stranger magnet. Next time, we'll have to make it onto the super awesome fast-moving light show ferris wheel. Mainly I never wanted to face the line.

On both days, wolf suits were plentiful. I wish that they had been selling them there, because underplanning meant that I bought a warm fuzzy souvenir hoodie.

I got back to my friend's apartment lateish last night, the phone systems having conspired to thwart our actually meeting up on the island. We stayed up for a while chatting over beer, then I woke up very early this morning to catch a train, rendezvous with the rest of the Seattle contingent at the airport, and spend a few hours sorting through pictures. Aside from things always seeming to be far from other things and taxis not obeying any sort of consistency about leaving on their lights, I think I developed a little more fondness for the city. Still, San Francisco reminded me of just how comfortably easy so much of Seattle can be, particularly when you live approximately in the middle of it.

Little jaunts are good for that, I guess. Tomorrow, early is Honolulu for a conference. Then next week, a meeting in DC. And I'm so tempted by the crazy November IcelandAir promotion for flights and accommodations for about $500. They say that it's a great time to see the aurora.

cider house

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 05:00:06 GMT

The combination of mimosas and scrambled breakfast biscuit didn't leave me feeling particularly awesome, but I moped through the nausea and went on today's autumn expedition, mainly because this seasonal weather is just about as perfect as you could ever want and apple cider is always awesome. The apple place wasn't really much of a tourist attraction in and of itself, mainly a store where they let you taste cider made of honeycrisps and buy things like honey or fruit leather (if you're feeling up for purchasing, that is). We tried next to follow the advice of a flyer to visit Barn Place (not, unfortnuately Barn Palace). When we arrived, our car was swarmed by large, intimidating roosters and the owner told one of the braver among us that the costumed tour festivities lasted only for two weeks, this one not being one of them. Instead, we left for a more commercial fruitery and walked around the perimeter of the corn maze, dodging attack birds, hearing the screams of navigating children, sitting on pumpkins for album covers, jumping on dirt roads, and having a look at a pen of ducks, pygmy goats, and alpacas. At home I watched an episode of the first season of Friday Night Lights, had some leftover soup, pried the air conditioner out of my window, and read a little bit more of Infinite Jest over a glass of mulled wine. The hyperacuity panic attack section kind of set off a sympathetic chord. Now, it's time for Mad Men.

Other things from this weekend include a triple feature birthday party at the Twilight, home of an amazing ADD goldendoodle [?], and coaxing myself into Soul Night and staying much much later than expected.

Sunset on the water taxi!

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 07:20:09 GMT

I'm not sure I really "understand" the "LJ REVIVAL (OMGFTW)", but hey. Here's a picture of a boat taken from another boat tonight around sunset. I really wanted to go on a water taxi ride before the season was over since the water taxi is one of the magical things about Seattle. And also because there were some rock photo shows in mystical West Seattle. So, we got on the boat and met another friend at the dock and went into town for dinner at Mission. The show at the cupcake place was closed early (BOO. CUPCAKE BOYCOTT) but we did arrive at the show at the bar in time to see our other pal win a wet t-shirt contest by taking off his pants. Everyone was at the Skylark and after a while the crowd was overwhelming so I went home and watched reality competition and typed this.

Last night, we saw Where the Wild Things Are at a preview screening to benefit 836 Seattle. Dave Eggers and Max Record were there to talk about goofy on-set injuries and we all got shiny paper crowns to wear. I loved the movie a whole lot (more today than even last night) The trailer, which I think I like the best of all, gives you the idea that it's going to be hours of having your heart explode. But instead, the film is muted yet visually beautiful and almost slyly understated despite the enormity of the visual effects. Max is insanely adorable, Karen O’s soundtrack is perfectly affecting, and the astoundingly good wild things are dreamlike and realistic. And like the book, and childhood, and maybe life, there isn't a huge amount of imposed plot or structure. There are, however, adventures, feelings, howling, sleeping in real piles, and a wild rumpus or two.

weekend coughing

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 03:51:03 GMT

A fairly quiet week. I mostly stayed at home, giving in to allergies/cold/whatever and trying to re-finish Infinite Jest (getting stalled at the long Gately section toward the end, again) with occasional breaks for Pho or Thai or apple/caramel/cinnamon crepes at Joe Bar. On Friday, there was a magazine party for a cell phone music service featuring a free drink and music from Throw Me the Statue (I love most their newish album, Creaturesque so much) and U.S.E. (who are pretty much the happiest party band of all time). The event was in the back room of the Spitfire, which used to be the showroom of Sit n Spin. I don't know why it took me this long to notice that all of that space was essentially "missing" from the shiny television-covered sports bar that replaced it, but it was kind of neat to be seeing a show in that place again. We eventually met up with a pack of other pals at the Bus Stop, which was fun and had the added bonus of being close enough to Taco Gringos to merit a late night snack on the way home.

The next day, after sleeping off the cough syrup that seemed like a great idea, I paid a visit to Fremont to visit my friend's new kittens and take some pictures of them. When the photoshoot was over, we tried a new pizza place called Delancey and went to see Whip It. It was cute (if you think Ellen Page is cute, just wait until she's in eyeliner and skates) and had the side benefit of helping me to vaguely understand the scoring system of roller derby. It also made me want to go to Austin.

And then today, of course we went to brunch and killed time at Red Light where Halloween is already in full effect. If someone doesn't buy me one of those expensive wolf suits from Opening Ceremony maybe I'll have to look for some new animal ears. Or maybe a sailor hat and a Pemulis costume in honor of Infinite Summer. After the vintage browsing, we went to see Fame. It was not as terrible as I thought it might be, but would have been better if I believed the characters in it were incredibly talented. The documentary about the Chorus Line revival, Every Little Step, for instance, was much more convincing in this respect. And real!

Also, now that it is fall, I am inclined to have as many caramel apples as possible. Maybe a trip to an orchard is in order?

slightly reporposed weekend reporting

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:48:43 GMT

Last weekend Carinna and I went to Portland (a.k.a., the new Ballard), where the city had turned over some of its finest clubs to host Musicfest Northwest, a sort of (I imagine) South by Southwesty citywide parade of excellent shows. There, we were tormented both by wristbands and difficult decisions about how to best make use of them while balancing strategic decisions about lining up early versus seeking out taco stands and worlds of books. To an infrequent visitor, this collection of packed nighttime performances and small daytime performances in basements or former funeral homes only enhanced the perception that Portland is a sprawly city with a bit of magic in the air. Schoolbuses with confused drivers shuttled between clubs, a costumed wrestling match took place on our hotel’s covered courtyard, the per capita concentration of plaid and heavyframed glasses were so far above the national average it’s hardly even worth trying to quantify, entire villages of food carts have come to occupy stray parking lots, and sometimes people say “the evil swoosh” out loud.

Of course, the shows were great, too. Explosions in the Sky make melancholy sound heroic like nobody’s business; Frightened Rabbit make continual heartbreak seem like not such a poor life choice; Arctic Monkeys kept the dance floor rolling while seeming incredibly tired of being young and famous; Mount Eerie are wrapping sprightly nature poems in harsh metals; the Local Natives provided an excellent reason to get out of bed before ten; Pink Mountaintops were pleasantly less psychadelic than advertised; and the Get Up Kids had me screaming with Napster-era nostalgia during certain parts of their set. Also notable was a KEXP–Caffe Vita co-production at the Woods, a venue carved out of a former funeral home. The Lonely Forest, Langhorne Slim, Fences, John Vanderslice, Bobby Bare Jr., Black Whales, and others played tiny sets in the parlor as the perfect soundtrack taking it easy on a Saturday afternoon. All in all, the festival was a wonderful reason to visit our neighbor to the south to be reminded that there are cities even more relaxed than Seattle.

We returned on Sunday and had some parktime with friends and vegan meatloaf at the Redwood. The next day it was off to the Showbox to get covered in layers of sweat during a Girl Talk show and rehydrate with beer and pizza at Via Trib's late night happy hour. What I find meta-entertaining about his shows are the people who show up on stage. In California, it was Paris Hilton; in New York, it's professional famous drag queens; in Seattle, it's a mixed bag of party kids, programmer types, and collegiate hoodies and flannel.

Summer's making a last stand in Seattle; last night was ice cream in the park and burgers on the Linda's patio. Unfortunately, something in the air (or, more likely, a virus in my lungs) is causing the typical autumnal respiratory distress. Still, I hope to rally for tomorrow's Grand Archives/Most Serene Republic show.

up all night

Wed, 16 Sep 2009 00:02:03 GMT

The chronicle of weekending continues here. I was walking home from work on Friday and Foursquare told me that there were friends in the park (of which I'm currently mayor); so I tried to find them, but they had already decamped for Presse. We found each other on the sidewalk and got a table and some lightly sparkling wine (and eggs, and falafel). Then half of the party was called into cheering-up duty; so we split for MOE where there were other friendly foursquarers at the bar. The group grew, reconfigured, relocated, et c. I kept saying that I was going to stay out for just another hour until eventually we had made a stop at Bimbo's (NOT the Cha Cha) and were on our way to the newly-revived Pony. Outside, we found a line and firefighters extinguishing the the shiny ancient beast of a convertible that gave up mid hill and set itself ablaze. Inside, we found even more friends, acquaintences, a strobe lighted bathroom (terrible), air hockey, and an architecturally-interesting deck. Then, with little else to do after closing time we went to play a sleepy round of Apples to Apples. Weird, right?

The next day, I think there was brunchish at Presse, new creamsicle [!] ice cream, a hilarious Eastlake BBQ (misunderstandings of eBay item titles, premises for independent films), and a trip to Soul Night [lineout] at the Lo Fi / Holy Mountain. It was the first time I'd been there (5 points!). Of course, it was fun. The most awkward and exhausting part was how I didn't realize that they stayed open past two; so I found it very emotionally taxing thinking that the end was in sight when it really, as far as I can tell, just stretches on and on forever. Eventually, though, we realized that what was most needed was pancakes; so we went to IHOP and live-tweeted the experience [#comehungryleavehappy] of being hungry, told what to order, and waiting forever for food.

On Sunday there was obviously brunch. While the others scattered to watch football or play High School Musical dating games, I took a break to watch tennis. Then we reconvened for another BBQ (cling to summer!), tried to kill Kanye on twitter, had some more hilarious indoor times, and then went to the Twilight Exit where mayoral battles were fought and karaoke was performed.

Because of some weird upstairs droning, I slept in my "spare bedroom". Because it is as a chamber of darkness, I slept like a coma.

Oh, and last night there was a going away thing at Sun Liquor and tonight is the Pains of Being Pure at Heart at Neumo's.

weekend of sound

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 23:08:18 GMT

The Labor Day weekend was spent dreading and mostly avoiding the rain, which at least had the courtesy of showing up in the morning and having its say by early afternoon. This was helpful, because really the weekend was consumed with Bumbershoot, specifically carrying around loads of camera gear and taking pictures of bands for the internet [stereogum]. This was fun for a number of reasons -- from a technical perspective, the joy of natural light, real spotlights, and fancy walls of video instead of infuriating club LEDs is not insubstantial, even if it means dodging the occasional raindrop. There's also the matter of getting to see little bits of a whole lot of bands -- some of them really weird and commercial that I'd probably never even consider seeing -- in a relatively short timeframe (Natalie Portman's Shaved Head, All American Rejects, Os Mutantes, Low vs. Diamond, Akimbo, Elvis Perkins in Dearland, Matt & Kim, the Whore Moans, Gang Gang Dance, Uh Huh Her, Telekinesis, Sheryl Crow, Kay Kay and his Weathered Underground, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Holy Fuck ×3, U.S.E., Romance, Vivian Girls, No Age, MSTRKRFT, Jason Mraz, DJ Spooky, Akron/Family, Black Eyed Peas, Dead Confederate, Wallpaper, the Cave Singers, the Portland Cello Project, Audrye Sessions, Modest Mouse, Metric), plus the writers of LOST chatting with an EW obsessive, and some phenomenal art curated by awesome friends.

With all of it, the little thrill of the urgency of rushing from stage to stage, using your fancy stickers to skip lines, and getting to be in the front row for a few songs to see the bands and/or their theme park productions up close and look back at the true fans going nuts to see their favorites after actually enduring the weather, dancing in their neon sunglasses, being crowdsurfed either for sport or to escape to the throngs. Along the way finding cool posters to add to the stack/rotation, subsisting on available comped food and energy beverages, seeing the press fleet taping themselves up like racehorses, and not needing ending up needing to use the silly camera plastic rainsleeves after all. And, finally, staying up all night turning a couple thousand images into a hundred and fifty.

So, you know, fun and tiring times. The usual cycle of overstimulation and reactionary introversion. But next week, an adventure to Portland for a laid-back in-city type festival and maybe next month a weekend in San Francisco for more bands on stages on an island [treasureisland], because, hey! flights are cheap and maybe there are couches to be found so why not?

recent happenings, mid- to late-august edition

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 06:41:29 GMT

In which I reconstruct the last couple weeks through my foursquare history:

a long time ago we went to Whidbey Island for wedding festivities. Pizza parties at a spiritual retreat, brunch in cutiepants downtown, a ceremony in a lush garden, reception in a converted barn, bagels and bocce in a park. It gets very seriously dark away from the world and you can close out a bar after a wedding reception and still be at your weird hotel before midnight.

the next day was my birthday happening, mainly at Bathtub Gin, which is an ideal modestly hidden not as small as it initially appears little bar. Lots of people buying good drinks, fake tattoo sleves, and a pocket dolphin. Eventually, we left for Del Rey where being a good sport about disgusting drinks leads to a hazy conversations with deadbeat French pilots, an inexplicable peach from a loud music cab driver, and a pretty seriously unpleasant next day.

later in the week, an event at a hotel where area bartenders mix instant coffee into creative cocktails for pride and charity. Afterwards, stumble through a major gathering spectacle for "Lullaby Moon". Kids in clock faces, bunches of balloons, adults in horse or cat heads pushing carriages. Owls with glowing eyes. Top hatted ceremony masters. All convening around the art museum.

then, the last of the mural concert series at Seattle Center spent between blankets and beer gardens, with the Fruit Bats, Johnny & the Moon, and the Moondoggies. A quick cab to Cal Anderson for 9 to 5 with Rancho Bravo and Molly Moon. Though I'd seen the movie before I remembered only parts of it, often incorrectly. Then, an acquaintance trying to launch a glutenveganfree cupcake business, a foursquare scavenger hunt to find friends leading eventually to a series of bars on fifteenth.

matinee District 9, some post-alien ruminating and recovery, followed of course by a convergence at Linda's around a not big enough table, and then a nonstalgia stop ath the cha cha, mainly as a reaction to the faux nostalgia corporate block party that we all avoided.

a bunch of reading resulted in missing lawn games, by the time I ventured out of the cafe and toward Volunteer Park, night was falling quickly and my sense of geography was contorted. through text messages and voicemails and dodges through back streets I managed to find the croqueteers at Smith. One part of the party was sending off a British Islander another was getting ready to receive a couchsurfing German.

let's see, there was also the matter of the excellent happy hour at the Saint and then a couple rounds of saving the world from infectious disease through the cooperative board game of Pandemic at the too-dark Stumbling Monk.

At some point, there was a trek to the newish Twilight Exit to send a pack of friends off to Vegas.

And then this weekend included dinner at candle-overloaded Barrio, proof of the superiority of ice cream over frozen custard, watching Inglourious Basterds , meeting friends at a bar before closing time, and then wandering around the neighborhood in a successful search for latenight rooftop drinking. Later, we realized that no one on the roof actually seemed to live in the building.

And yesterday, the Brunch of Dreams Come True on the Linda's patio, topped with lemonade sorbet, a show in the park (exhoxos), and concluding with the deck at Captain Blacks. No sunburn.

Also quite a bit of reading Infinite Jest, mostly at Vivace along with my newfound warm-weather appreciation for iced americanos, especially with lemon zest.