Cleanse

Monica originally got me interested in the concept of fasting. A few years ago, I saw that she had a "Fasting for Dummies" book on her nightstand. My first instinct was to laugh for about five continuous minutes. How in the world could anyone need a big thick book to explain how to stop putting food in his or her mouth? It's simple. Just don't! Right?

With some encouragement, I cracked open the book and read some of it. As I read, I realized the book wasn't so much explaining how to stop eating. It was explaining the benefits and mechanisms of fasting, what to expect, and how to prepare.

Until then, I had always thought of fasts as usually performed in the context of spiritual practice, political statements, or dieting. It had never really occurred to me that a fast could be of any value to me.

One particular benefit of fasting rang especially true for me as I read further. The book tried to convey the substantial amount of energy our bodies use on a daily basis to digest food. During a fast, the left over energy not being used for digestion is available for the body to use for other purposes such as self-healing and improved mental function. Like most people who have experienced food coma, I was immediately able to relate to this energy rhetoric and take it seriously. Even though I already knew eating a meal used some energy, it never occurred to me that my body might do brand new magic things merely by quitting food for a few days. Maybe it was worth a try.

Back then, I initially tried a three day fast. I can't remember how far I actually got. Not far enough to realize any major benefits. But I did feel that I gained a measure of power over food. I knew that I could do it longer under the right circumstances. But somehow those circumstances never seemed to surface. Or maybe I just wasn't committed.

But now during my two months off of work, I have a comfort zone to worth within. No work meetings or deadlines to worry about being woozy for. No big eating or drinking occasions to get in the way. Erin initially brought up The Master Cleanse, a no-less-than ten day diet consisting of nothing but a drink made of lemon juice, maple syrup, cayanne pepper, and water. She had done it once before and said it felt great. I have heard of the cleanse from many people around town by now, all with stories of great benefits. She was looking forward to doing it again after running her marathon in May. It was a good opportunity for me to give fasting another try, and so I said I would do it with her after we got back from Mexico.

So now here we are - the first day of the fast. I didn't do a whole lot of research. I am relying mainly on Erin's experience with it. Also, from what I have read, there doesn't seem to be much to it. The hard part is - you guessed it - not eating.

Below I will chronicle the highlights of each day of the cleanse. I'll add more to this post as the days go on.

Day 1 - We went shopping for the ingredients of our magic drink. Ideally, the cleanse should be done with all organic ingredients, so we headed to Rainbow Grocery, the wholesomest of all wholesome stores in San Francisco. There we loaded up on organic lemons, organic maple syrup, and organic cayenne pepper. Our first batch of drink was a little bit clunky and awkward to build, but to my surprise it didn't taste too bad at all. I think I can survive on this for a few days. Sipping it the first few hours, it seemed like a piece of cake. I even took a bike ride since I was still feeling fairly energetic. I heard the first couple of days can be rough hungerwise. It wasn't until later that I realized I was going through the day's batch kind of fast. The notion of conserving it hadn't occurred to me. This could make my days hungrier than I first thought. I'll have to supplement the drink with water, but water just won't feel as satisfying.

Day 3 - This was the hardest day so far. I was having a hard time keeping my mind off of food. It became clear just how much time each day is spent thinking about, acquiring, preparing, or enjoying food. In addition, my social life tends to revolve around occasions when people are eating or drinking. I regularly visit my good friend Shannon during her lunch break at her restaurant to share a bite. I have two regular pub nights during the week where I meet up with separate sets of friends. I like to go out dancing frequently and usually have a cocktail or two in the process. San Francisco is an eating and drinking city. It's what we do here. Luckily I have a hobby project I have been meaning to spend more time on so at least I have something to focus on during my idle time. Erin and I took a drive out to Bolinas as a non-food activity. While sitting on the beach together, all we could talk about was what we plan to eat when we're off the fast. Later we went to see a movie. That was a good low energy, no food activity, but by the end of the night both of us had substantial headaches. Day 4 has to get better.

Day 4 - The laxative portion of the diet is kind of messing with my stomach and my sleep. Tea at night and salt water flush in the morning. I'm not too sure about this salt water thing. Critics of the fast point out it flushes out needed digestive bacteria. It also tastes terrible. It is basically drinking two full pint glasses of sea water. It just feels wrong. Besides that, I'm kind of tethered to my house for at least an hour or two afterward. Now that my gut seems to be fairly clear of all solid food, I may not continue it. We'll see. Besides all that, I feel pretty good. I feel less hungry today, and even do a light workout at the gym. I'm not super obsessed with food, but still feel quite nostalgic about it. Even though I feel better, I have a nagging concern about my nutrition. Primarily I am concerned about my calorie intake. I calculated my diet to be about 1000 calories per day. Mainly I just don't want to lose much more weight. I'm already down three pounds in four days. All I can think is that by tomorrow I'll be about half way done. Although now I'm starting to read about potential health dangers of this thing. Am I just looking for an out so I can have a hamburger? Not sure, but I'm definitely keeping an open mind about finishing or continuing. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Day 6 - Tired of nothing but food-related life all around us, Erin and I drove up to Harbin Hot Springs to soak in the soothing spring water and enjoy nature in a relaxing setting. The water was just what the doctor ordered. We fit right in with our bottles of drink. There is relatively little food around there unless you go looking for it, so we had a break from temptation even if only for a day or two.

Day 7 - After getting home from the mountains, I was starting to feel kind of loopy. Not in any sort of physically uncomfortable way. But I just felt kind of, well, dumb. I lost my keys, and after searching the house and garage for an hour, I finally found them stuffed into my shoe on my shoe rack with a piece of paper stuffed in behind them. Ugh. When I went to leave the house, I pulled my keys out of my pocket to unlock the door - even though, after four years of living here, I am well aware I don't need a key to exit. Double ugh. That sort of thing. My mind felt foggy and it was frustrating. At this point I started to have some concern about my physical state. Am I hurting myself? Erin had a terribly rough day at work feeling hungry and tired. We had tickets to see a show, but she just felt terrible and couldn't go. We discussed seriously quitting the next day. We decided to sleep on it and see how we felt in the morning.

Day 8 - We push forward. I think both of us are determined to finish what we started. Neither of us feels as bad as the day before. Although I am still concerned about my weight loss, I decide it is nothing that I cannot replace. Even though I am thinner than I'd like to be, I decide losing my gut and mini spare tire is nothing to lament. That night I hung out with my other friend Erin who is studying nutrition. She told me that we are definitely not drinking enough of the potion. We should be taking in at least 1200 calories per day, and we are really only getting about 1000. This is probably the reason that we are dragging. I personally find it tough to drink enough as it is. I could chug more. I guess I'll have to. At this point I am still considering making day 10 an ease out day since the first ease out day is nothing but orange juice anyway. But my other voice says that is still quitting the cleanse too soon. Again, we'll sleep on it.

Day 9 - Erin feels pretty good today. I am not. I don't feel physically bad. I'm not even really that hungry. Today I just feel an emotional weight. I don't really know why. I can only assume it is from malnutrition. I also seem tongue tied and have lost my normally fairly sharp wit. I really can't believe that people do this for 30 or even 40 days. I really think people who do that must have a lot of extra weight and fat to burn off. I just don't have much to burn. I am really considering quitting again. But Erin gives me a massage with peppermint oil and that really improves my mood. I am determined to finish the cleanse! I decide to buy the ingredients for the 10th day plus some extra maple syrup that I will just sip by itself to boost my calories. On our ease out day, we decide to combine day one and two so we'll get to start eating vegetables sooner. At this point, it is a mental challenge to finish. If I were to quit today, then I would wonder what the other days days were for. I know that the number 10 doesn't by itself provide any inherent benefit. Maybe ten days isn't any more beneficial than nine. But I'll be disappointed nonetheless if I quit this close to the finish line.

Day 10 - Maybe it was just the fact that I knew I was so close to being done. But I felt pretty good today. As soon as I woke up, I knew the plan. I'd make one more batch of drink. When I finished that I'd start the ease out process. First orange juice, then vegetable broth, the whole fruits and veggies, then freedom. I am very anxious to get some other nutrients into me besides sugar and acid. But I am also resigned to complete what everyone says is the minimum time period to get benefit from the cleanse. Does the 10th day matter? Well I will say, without being too graphic, that I do believe there is more room for cleansing my gut. If this experience wasn't enough to scrub me out completely, however, then I just may never be completely cleansed.

After finishing the cleanse, both my mind and my body are different. I can't say whether I'm healthier physically. Over the past few days, I have developed a sore in my throat and a nagging cough has gotten worse instead of better. The corners of my mouth are sensitive because of all the lemon juice and red pepper, so even salad dressing hurts my lips. I neither have increased energy nor better mental focus. In fact, quite the opposite.

I have, however, taken on a different view of my weight loss. Even though I'd rather not be as light as I am, the slight gut and mini spare tire were really not doing me any good. It feels good to reset... and to know that I can reset.

As far as what food I'll start eating when set free - I will say that the food I'm craving now has changed for the healthier. So that could be a positive outcome. I have been craving fish more than any other food. Today I have been keeping to an all veggie diet, but tomorrow (what would be day 12) I'm going to buy some sashimi salmon from Najiya Market and wolf it down like a grizzly. I can't wait. I had some Pepperidge Farm cookies in my cupboard that have been calling to me over the past days, but tonight when I went to eat one, I saw the ingredients list, and just put it back. I put all this effort into putting good stuff in my body. It just seems too soon to toss that aside, especially with a fridge full of sweet tasty fruit.

Will I ever do this cleanse again? I'm not sure. Maybe if I'm overweight someday and have more fat to burn. That doesn't mean I regret the experience though. I always wanted to try it and it was a tough mental challenge. I'm glad I persevered and finished what I started. Lots of people say they could never do it - that they're just not strong enough.

But I'm proud to say that I am.

Downtown

For the past five months, I have been contracting for a large national bank in downtown San Francisco. The reason why I don't use the name is that they seem a little bit sketched out about people blogging anything that might affect their company. They don't forbid it, but I figure this way neither of them nor I have to worry about it.

I have basically had three jobs since I moved to San Francisco in May 2000. All three have been in the traditional business corridor along Market Street between Van Ness and The Embarcadero.

I have never really been the type to prepare and pack my lunch for work. Partly because I just don't make the time to do it, and partly because I just can't stand being indoors for eight straight hours. I need to get some fresh air and sunshine. I like to be in the hustle and bustle.. people-watch.. stretch my legs. My lunch hour contributes to my daily dose of these things, and it's painful to go without it.

I struggle each day to maintain that age-old balance between hitting those spots that I know I'll enjoy, and seeking out new good spots I can add to my lunchtime arsenal.

There are several factors at play in evaluating a lunch spot.

• Time - It depends on the day. Some days I have more time than others. I don't mind traveling for lunch. Sometimes it's worth it, but watching the clock can take away from a relaxing dining experience. So can slow service and long lines.
• Food - Obviously no one wants a crummy meal, but I like to stay healthy, so besides taste, I also try to pay attention to nutrition. Greasy paper bag specials abound, as do the fast, tasty, and cheap national chain stores. I can do those now and then, but bad habits are hard to break. Why create a new one?
• Price - If you do the math on lunch, it's a really big expense if you dine out every day. ($10 x 5 days x 50 weeks = $2500/year, $20 lunch = $5000!). I try to keep my lunches around $6. It's a challenge and I don't always make it, but I know those meals are out there! Tip: One thing you can do to keep it healthy and cheap - ask for tap water - they always have it.
• Environment - If I am short on time, I might eat my lunch at my desk, but if I have time, I'd prefer to have a nice comfy relaxing atmosphere. Outside in the sun is best, weather permitting.

Too much to ask for a financial district lunch? Well it takes some searching, but it feels like a real accomplishment when I find something good.

Today I found a new spot, and I felt so accomplished I had to write about it:

1. Toaster Oven - 3 Embarcadero Center, 2nd floor concourse. They have a small selection of good sandwiches, all of which they run through a slow conveyor toaster before putting on your choice of fixins. Don't forget to pick up a free cup of pickled peppers from the counter! They taste just like the hot peppers on the famous Rosamunde sausages. $4.99 + tax. I got tempted by the bag of chips, but really the sandwich is enough. This is a double bonus because it is directly next to a great spot to eat in the sun I'll call the Davis Bridge.
2. The Davis Bridge - between 2 and 3 Embarcadero Center on the bridge crossing Davis street. It's not a restaurant, but a nice place to eat. I just can't believe how pleasant this spot is. In the concrete jungle that is downtown, it's tough to find a nice sunny spot not overshadowed by a skyscraper (and that doesn't smell like pee). Somehow this spot is uncrowded, bathed in sun, clean, quiet, nicely landscaped, with comfortable tables and chairs. When I'm there, I cannot stop quietly thanking the architect.
3. Ichiban Japanese - Stevenson alley off 1st Street. I go to this place a lot and always get their Teriaki Chicken Bowl. There are a few teriaki dishes. The bowl is the smallest and cheapest, but really is plenty of food for me. Rice, chicken, and some tempura vegetables. $6 including tax. It's a mom and pop type of place. They have the lunch rush down to a science. Service is curt, but solid.
4. Mastrelli's Delicatessen - The Ferry Building - Like any good deli, just take a number and wait. Grab the bread you want from the box and hand it to your sandwich artisano when they're ready for you. Great ingredients, hard workers. Yum. Italian Combo Sandwich $6.25. Trivia: Owner used work at the famous Molinari in North Beach.
   
5. Prather Ranch Meat Company - The Ferry Building - I have only tried their BBQ pork sandwich. Tender, sauce-soaked meat on a nice sourdough roll. Simple, tasty, and filling - $5.95
6. Rubio's - 4 Embarcadero Center - Ok, it's a national chain. But the ingredients seem pretty good. I'll get a taco plate with corn tortillas and beans. The salsa bar is great and plentiful and the service at this particular store is especially good - fast, smart, and friendly. Two taco plate with chips and beans - about $7.

I think when I am fully evolved as a human, I will prepare my own lunch. That would be cheaper and healthier. I'll have more time to enjoy my break and more cash in my pocket at the end of the week.

But for now, I'll keep seeking out the bang for the buck.

Chinatown

This morning I walked to work along a new route. My girlfriend Erin is subletting my friend Heather Rae's studio apartment in a neighborhood I would like to go ahead and nickname "The China Nob". It's two blocks from the top of Nob Hill and one block above Stockton street in Chinatown. San Francisco neighborhoods are amazing the way they morph into one another in a single block. Her block is the no man's land in between.

Last night I helped her settle into her new surroundings. I brought over a bottle of champagne after work to toast the new digs, and then we set out to explore for the evening.

It really is quite remarkable how Chinatown is shoehorned into a few square blocks between two extremely sought-after pieces of real estate: The Financial District and its gajillion dollar high rises, and Nob Hill, the historic home of the wealthiest of tycoons and their mansions.

As we walked, I recalled a story I had heard about how some political interests had made an attempt to eliminate Chinatown just after the 1906 earthquake. I was impressed to learn that the Chinese government itself had stepped in and used its leverage to preserve the neighborhood and rebuild it as a Chinese community.

As we descended a few more blocks into North Beach, we got a taste for what that area is like on a weekday evening. Living on the other side of the city in The Lower Haight neighborhood, I rarely make the trip out this far, especially on a quiet weekday, and I avoid it altogether on the weekends. In my experience, North Beach fills up on weekend evenings with drunken Bridge and Tunnelers. It gets crowded and I often find the nightspots rather obnoxious.

But I always knew North Beach to be a vibrant local community also, rich in history and colorful inhabitants. I look forward to the opportunity to sink into that a little bit.

After dinner at the always tasty (and busy) Tommaso's, we walked back up the hill to investigate a spot named Le Club. The name was so cheesy and intriguing, we just had to see what went on in there.

It turns out, it is indeed a bar/social club. Apparently it used to be a super fancy restaurant, and now, although it is still upscale, caters to a somewhat lower crust crowd with its pool table, poker/chess room, and chatty bartender. It's ok. But not the white leather 70's disco (le) chic I was hoping for.

This morning, I headed down the hill to the high rise I currently work at only ten blocks away from Erin's. It's funny how different a neighborhood feels in the morning. I've been in Chinatown on the weekends and a few choice evenings, but never in the morning. As I walked down Clay street with the Transamerica Pyramid facing me at eye level, I felt like I had moved to a completely new city. It reminded me of what it felt like when the taxi cab dropped me off my first morning in Buenos Aires last year. Everything was comfortably urban and serene, but nothing was familiar.

My same old home town, but from a new angle.

Snow

Sunday night I was at The Buccaneer. It was a dual occasion. It's my regular Sunday night bar, which is an occasion all its own. But it was also the Za Christmas party. Za is a pizza restaurant down the street from The Buc where a couple of my friends work. Za and The Buc are sort of sister businesses. The Za staff often comes to the bar to socialize, and it made sense for them to have their informal little Christmas party there.

My friend Jamie, who I know as a regular from the bar, works at Za and so was in attendance as expected. Jamie is an avid skier, and we have always talked about hitting the slopes together over the years, but somehow it had never actually happened.

Jamie announced that a snow storm was afoot and that he was heading up to to Kirkwood on Tuesday with one of his Za compatriots. He strongly suggested that I come along.

"Do we have anywhere to stay up there?" I asked.

"Mark might know someone. I'm not sure. We'll figure something out."

I'm at the point now, where I seriously consider any opportunity to follow good snow conditions up to the mountains. I have become a bit of a powder snob. That is, for me to make the several hour trip up to the Sierras, I would prefer that the snow conditions will be excellent. This doesn't always mesh exactly with the rest of my schedule. I'm back to a 9 to 5, Monday through Friday job, once again and, in my previous life, would consider myself relegated to weekend trips only. In addition, I don't have a car anymore. I used to have the luxury of hopping in my Jeep at a moments notice to make the trip, accompanied or not. No more.

So this one sounded nice. I have been eagerly awaiting the snow season to begin. I only had one snowboarding day last season because I was travelling during most of it. On Monday, I texted Jamie to double check his seriousness about it.

Somewhere around 2pm he called me while I was at work. He was somewhat hungover from a big night of Christmas partying, and sounded somewhat pessimistic about making the trip. He was planning on spending Christmas day at his mom's house up near the Sierra's, and didn't want to make the trip twice. It probably wouldn't work.

I sighed and said I understood. "We'll try again next time."

Less than five minutes later he called me back. He apologized for being negative about the trip. He really wanted to help me get up there and, if I really wanted to go, he would make it happen for me. "I want to be your oak tree," he said. I think he meant that he wants me to think of him as a reliable friend who I can count on to keep a promise and provide support. In the past, something has always seemed to fall apart with these proposed trips. He decided to hold strong to his commitment even though it was less than convenient for him.

Energized by his show of friendship and our shared enthusiasm about hitting the slopes, I cancelled my meeting for the next day, and announced at around 3pm that "sorry for the late notice," but that I wouldn't be at work the next couple of days. See ya.

We planned to head up early Tuesday morning. 5am. Jamie had to stop in Davis to pick up some equipment for his friend Mark to use so it would add almost an extra hour to the trip up. I went straight home after work and dug out all my snowboarding gear, packed a bag, and did my best to get to sleep as early as I could.

Sure enough, Jamie was ready for me just after 5, and the three of us headed east.

The trip was long. The mountains were drivable but somewhat snowy and slow. A highway patrolman stopped us at the chain control on Highway 88 to strongly remind us that the speed limit was 25 MPH and that they didn't have many resources to help us if we had problems on the road. Poor Jamie kept us going while Mark and I alternately nodded out, sleepy from a still-too-short night in bed.

At Kirkwood, I did my best to remain patient while Mark rented some boots and Jamie waited in a crazy long line for his season pass. It was after 11 by the time we got on our first chair lift, but I knew we probably weren't in good enough physical condition to last more than five hours anyway, especially on our first day up.

I was right. After our first warm up run down the hill, we all moaned and groaned about our legs. That said though, we all marvelled at the snow condition. One or two feet of new snow had fallen the previous day and night, and it was still only about 25 degrees out, cold enough to keep the snow light and dry. This was going to be a great day. Let's keep the moaning to a minimum.

Jamie is a big fan of Kirkwood and knows the mountain much better than I do. He told Mark and I to watch one of the chair lifts off in the distance. That side of the mountain was closed, but he suspected they might open it up. He said if that chair lift starts moving, we'd head over that direction.

The mountain was busy but not crowded and there was plenty of nice fluffy snow for everyone. After a gleeful several hours of great conditions, we took a break for some food and drink. We plopped at the bar and had some snacks along with coffee spiked with whiskey and Kahlua. The break didn't last long though. We were eager to finish the day strong.

Jamie ran into a friend from school at the bar and, since he was an intermediate rider, we all decided to head up the lift and take an easy run down to get warmed back up.

But while Mark and I were on the lift together, we noticed that the lift off yonder seemed to be moving. Jamie who was ahead of us would surely spot that and be excited.

At the top, Mark and I gestured wildly toward that direction. Jamie hadn't noticed and when we told him the lift was turning, he said a quick "Sorry but we'll see you later" to his school friend, turned to Mark and I, and said "Let's go!"

We rode down to the lift where the operator told us "Ya, sorry that side of the mountain isn't open, just this little hill." Ah, ok well it's not the backside, but it's still a lot of nice fresh snow that no one has hit yet. This could still be quite fun.

But then at the top, just as I was about to head back down to the bottom of the same lift, Jamie yelled to me. "No! This way. They just opened it!"

An hour or so earlier, I had actually made a bet with Jamie that they wouldn't open this side of the mountain so late in the afternoon. By this time it was 3 o'clock, only an hour left in the day before closing time. Why would the resort send employees out to run the lifts, set up the little rope fences and signs around the lifts, just for a single hour of operation?

But they did it.

They did it knowing very well what kind of Christmas gift they were giving us, the lucky few who made the trip over. The lucky few who cancelled their meetings. The lucky few who got up at 4:30 in the morning. The lucky few who kept their commitments to their friends. The lucky few who didn't have any guarantee of a place to sleep, but went anyway.

This was our reward.

The backside of the mountain hadn't been opened for the season yet. The two feet of fresh snow, and everything under it was completely virgin. As we rode the lift up to the peak, we didn't see any tracks at all. No skiers. No people. Nothing. Jamie and I just looked at each other in amazement and disbelief. We were shouting and laughing and high fiving like little kids.

It was about 2/3 of the way up the lift before we saw the first skiers and riders coming down the hill. They were the lucky first. But we were just as lucky. The entire mountain was fresh. In every direction, all anyone could do was to cut a beautiful powdery highlight-film-style line down the side of the pristine mountain.

This type of scenario is what skiers and snowboarders dream about. They get up super early to try and catch the first chair of the day. They pay thousands of dollars to take helicopters deep into the mountains to get at snow that has never been touched.

And we had it. For one hour. Enough for three runs down the hill. Each lift operator got an ear full of "Thank you! Thank you!". Some gave a little thumbs up and nod.

Then they sent us home. Packed up the little rope fences and signs. And that was it. One hour of heaven.

Back in the parking lot, the few folks that were left were grinning ear to ear and woo'ing and pumping their fists in the air. Everyone was high from excitement.

Mark got a hold of his friend in South Lake who invited us to stay the night. We were weary and completely exhausted, but managed to socialize for awhile, then headed back to the city in the morning.

Jamie dropped Mark and I off back in the city, then promptly turned around the same night to head up to his mother's house in Arnold. Until then, I hadn't realized just how brutal Jamie's day in the car would be, all in the name of giving Mark and I the opportunity that turned out so great.

Thanks Jamie. You're an oak tree. I owe you one. Oh and a shot of Van Gogh for being right about the lift.

The Buc

It's funny. I find myself telling this story a lot. When you're a regular at a small local pub in San Francisco, it's sort of assumed that you live in the neighborhood. When people are used to seeing your face around the place, and then you tell them you live fairly far away, they generally cock their head and squint their eyes, trying to think of a decent reason someone would travel any substantial distance to sit on a worn out stool and listen to the same jukebox tunes over and over again.

For some reason, Sunday nights at The Buccaneer Pub in Russian Hill pull at least a few of us regulars in from relatively far and wide. Each of us has our own story about why we do so. Here's mine:

Sometime around 2001, a friend of a friend named Mike Griffen, who fancied himself as an up and coming comedian, was putting on a low budget public access TV show. The concept behind public access television is that, in the interest of maintaining a voice for local interests, the airwaves should be open to anyone who wants to broadcast any content whatsoever. So local television and radio networks are required to provide airtime to virtually whoever asks for it. The Griff Show was your run of the mill funny-guy-at-the-desk with sidekick-on-the-couch show. Mike taped the show at his sidekick's apartment who lived down the hall from him in a building near Polk and Union streets. The apartment could only be described as swinger-cheesy. It had a red and white leather couch with a matching red and white leather mini cocktail bar. A bookshelf behind the couch held martini glasses and a picture of Frank Sinatra. As hard as it was to believe that anyone would choose this decor for his own apartment, it made a perfect setting for the show.

His tapings had become essentially theme parties that were fun for friends to attend. We would bring some beer, sit on the floor and watch the tapings, acting as the studio audience, oohing and awing, groaning and laughing at the appropriate moments. It was fun.

Griff, as he liked to be called, enjoyed hitting the local bars and chatting up attractive young women whenever possible. He was the funny self-effacing guy who seemed to enjoy being entertaining more so than actually realizing any success with the women he spoke to. But talking about the show was a great opening for him, and he would regularly invite pretty girls to be guests on the show. It was a good racket.

At some point Griff announced that he wanted a band for the show. Someone to play a theme song, and play music to introduce guests, and have witty banter with during the show. He asked for volunteers. I said I would be in the band if I could play the bass. I had never really played the bass before, but I always wanted to. It was a good excuse.

Some friends and I rehearsed a few songs at my house in Glen Park and also donned some grubby rock musician alter egos to go along with the new group. We named the band Ass Pocket, and taped a few shows, crammed into the corner of the apartment during the tapings.
The show was broadcast on San Francisco channel 29. Time slots for programs were determined by a lottery at random. The time slot given to the Griff Show was 10pm Sunday nights. Griff's favorite pub was The Buccaneer, a couple blocks from his apartment on Polk street, and he got the bar to agree to tune their TVs to Channel 29 every Sunday night so we could watch ourselves.

That was always super fun. It was kind of a train wreck of a show. Poorly produced, poorly edited, sometimes funny, sometimes not so funny, sometimes more or less unintelligible. But it was ours and we loved it.

The show didn't really air for that long, but while attending those regular Sunday nights, I got to know some of the staff and regulars at the bar. It became an especially comfortable place for me to just show up any time and feel welcome. I usually knew someone who was there. After awhile it just felt like home.

People come and go, but the regulars and staff are all very friendly and socialize with one another all the time.

One day while the show was still on the air, a young new bartender named Marty was on duty. When we rolled in to watch the show, we were concerned he wouldn't tune the TV to 29 for us. "No no! They told me about it! Don't worry!", he said.

Seven years later, Marty still works at the bar on Sunday nights, and I still make semi regular appearances.

It's a family.

Blue World

On this terribly unscientific but interesting website called iftheworldcouldvote.com, the author attempts to poll the entire world on which US presidential candidate they would vote for if they had the opportunity.

Rather than look at the US as a grid of red (McCain) and blue (Obama) states, why not look at the world as a grid of red and blue countries? If you vote on the website and look at the results, you'll see that the entire globe is mostly bright blue, with only a couple of countries approaching a purplish, not-nearly red color.

While I was traveling this year, it struck me how interested and knowledgeable international people were when it comes to US politics. I knew that we were influential in terms of culture (music and movies), products and branding (Nike, McDonald's, etc), and foreign policy with our over sized military. But I didn't know the extent to which the world seems to look at the US as an omnipotent force. They feel they have a real stake in how our country operates, and the next president is foremost on their radar at the moment. Isn't it a shame they can't vote too.

We saw first hand this summer how deep the US influence can be economically. When the US credit markets started to freeze and stock markets started to plummet, the effect was felt immediately all over the world. Would the US have been as affected if Great Britain were to slide a bit?

I don't really know.

Soap Box

I love how San Franciscans will tolerate their neighborhoods being used for just about anything... as long as it's fun.

Saturday was another splendid sunny day, perfect for getting into costumes and rolling funny looking cars down steep hills.

Dolores Park, plus three or four blocks of Dolores Street hosted the annual Red Bull Soapbox Race.

I hadn't planned to attend, but it was just so darned nice out, my friends and I walked the ten or so blocks over to the park and spread out a blanket. About a hundred thousand other people had the same idea. Apparently a record turn out for the event. Blame the sun.

From our vantage point, one couldn't see much of the course but Red Bull was nice enough to put up a couple of big screens, so essentially we just watched the event on television while it was going on right over there.

No matter. We had a great time watching team after team, yammer some cockamamie story to the hosts at the top of the hill, then play a musical selection along with some kind of choreographed dance, before jumping into their zany coaches and tossing themselves full speed down the hay bailed boulevard.


The contestants ranged from real life garbage men in their mini garbage truck, to some college math geeks in their Rubik's Cubemobile, to some Trekkies and their rolling Death Star. Contestants were judged not only on speed, but on creativity and excitement

There were some good laughs and wipe outs, but my favorite part of the event was the end.

The race was over, the big screens went black, but someone was nice enough to keep some music playing. This is the part where people would normally pick up their stuff and head to the next stop for the day. But not this time. Most of the crowd stayed right where they were, splayed out on the grass on a beautiful day surrounded by friends and neighbors.

It took a zany, fun event to get us all to the park. But once we were all there, we realized there was no better place to be.

Congratulations to the winning garbage man team.

Flying Skulls

This show sort of just fell in my lap. My friend Christie called me down to the Madrone Lounge on Wednesday night to see a free show. This is great news for a broke guy. The Madrone is a pretty stylish place, decorated in what I would call skater chic, the art and design sensibilities that pervade the Lower Haight neighborhood where I live. It rides the line between expensive and divey, adorned with a rotating exhibit of pricey local paintings, a gorgeous carved wood bar, and an array of infused vodkas, but also has homey couches, cheap drink specials and many free music shows. It reflects the mixed crowd that lives in and around the neighborhood.

I checked the Madrone calendar and found that The Flying Skulls were playing. I had never heard of them, but the free price and the words "nu school electro breaks" used in their description sounded interesting enough for me to take the four block walk down the hill.

I thought they'd start playing right at 10pm. Silly rabbit. I forgot to notice the "and friends" after their name in the calendar. A couple of really good djs played before them. One guy opened and closed the evening with some dance floor friendly tracks spun from his laptop/vinyl Final Scratch setup. I enjoyed his tracks and selections. He started the show slow and groovy, and ended the night with uptempo dance floor friendly tracks - the only ones that really got anyone on the dance floor for the evening.

Another fine gentleman rocked an Ableton Live set with some crazy uptempo beats. He was on fire with his PC-less knob & button station, twirlin' and queuein', fadin' & groovin'. But still only a smattering of dancers.

Only the truly foolish will try and judge the merits of music. But I sometimes remember that one objective metric that can sometimes say a lot about a DJ. If the music is uptempo and there are people ready and willing to dance.... then why aren't they?

Around midnight or so, the Flying Skulls came on. Three guys, one with a keyboard, and two others with some random electronics. From the buzz I had heard on the street, I was expecting them to blow my mind.

They didn't though. And the guy that was buzzing about them actually got arrested that night. Go figure. This is why one must see a group for one's self.

I enjoyed the music. There was groove to it for sure. To me it sounded like if the Gorillaz made a full length movie, this would be the background music. It had a slow movement to it, more lively than ambient, but mostly not dance worthy. The crowd reacted appropriately in my estimation. Stand with your drink and bob your head along with the band.

The DJ that followed them proved the crowd was indeed prepared and willing to dance. He threw on some soulful tracks that got everyone going.

So the question is... If the crowd doesn't dance, is it a success?

I suppose that depends on the genre and the expectation of the audience. But somehow in this case it felt like it mattered.

Decompression

This Sunday was Decompression in San Francisco, a party thrown by and for Burning Man participants that acts as a reunion to the bigger, dustier party thrown in the Black Rock Desert the month before.

I wasn't sure I was going to attend the event this year. I have been to a few. It's a nice way to spend a sunny day, but I am usually all about the music, and I didn't recognize more than a couple of names slated to perform. But enough of my friends were going, that I dug out my playa costume gear and headed for the Dogpatch neighborhood where the party is thrown every year.

Just getting to the party was an exercise in radical self expression. I don't have a car, and can't afford a taxi, so I was relegated to taking the 22 Fillmore bus across town in freaky raver attire. Starting my journey, I felt a little bit ridiculous. But little by little as we got closer to the event, more and more colorful folks boarded the bus. And by the time we reached the event, we found ourselves steeped shoulder to shoulder among our freaky brethren. Suddenly I was almost not ridiculous enough. More face stickies, please!

The line to get tickets ($10 in costume, $20 without) was a good two blocks long, but the volunteer staff kept the line moving fast, and we were in within ten or fifteen minutes.

After reuniting with some playa friends, we collectively chose a direction - The Opulent Temple & Deep End stage. I went straight for the sun bathed dance stage at the front and proceeded to boogie down with the colorful crowd, faces emblazoned with industrial strength smiles. All of us knew we were in paradise. Why would any of us be anywhere else today?

The housey elektro beats Opel was playing were fun, but we were ready for something different, so at some point, our group moved on to The Space Cowboys' RIPE stage. An equally brilliant crowd was pumping next to the mobile groove center graced with a disco-ball-mirrored limousine parked right beside.

DJ Mancub started spinning some breaks and that was all I needed to camp out there as long as necessary to deplete either the music or my leg muscles, whichever came first. Every now and then I'd get lost in the crowd. At one point, my friend Heather said "Now I know how to find you whenever you're lost. Just go toward the speakers." I nodded in agreement and smiled.

Then I noticed Jim Shissler (aka Shissla) standing behind Mancub. I didn't remember seeing his name on the roster, but I was certainly encouraged by this development.

There's a back story behind Jim that I must impart here.

Jim has been my hands down favorite DJ for years. I love breaks, and Jim plays the best. His skills are masterful, and he never disappoints, not even for one track... ever. To me, Jim is a celebrity.... one of my favorite celebrities.

Last year at Burning Man, I got the opportunity to DJ on our camp's art car. I made up some CDs of the breaks I was playing. In case anyone seemed to be especially enjoying the music, I could give them as gifts. I decided to make up a CD for Jim and scribbled a thank you note on it, a humble offering for all of the great music he has graced me with over the years. While Jim was spinning on the House of Lotus art car, I caught his attention and laid the gift along with some chocolate chip cookies next to him and gave a little bow of thanks.

Weeks later, he sent me an email thanking me for the gift and attached a cute picture one of his campmates took of my CD next to his sleeping head. Cute.

After my trip this year, I got an update email from Jim listing some events he was playing, and also mentioned he had updated his website. I noticed that the photo of him sleeping next to my CD was on the site! Awesome!

So now (back to the decomp party) this was the first time I had seen him since I've been back, so I went over to say hello. He doesn't know me, so I said "Hi Jim. I'm Miles. You posted a picture of my CD on your website."

Jim went ape shit. To my delight, he was super happy to see me. He introduced me to a couple of his friends and we chatted for a bit. He truly appreciated my gift. I guess it meant a lot to both of us. He told me, also to my delight, that he was about to go on in a few minutes. Perfect. There is no place I'd rather be than a Shissla set.

There isn't much I can say about his performance, but "Holy cow." Jim was also working with the Dust City Diner earlier in the day serving grilled cheese sandwiches. Now, still wearing his apron, he served up the breakbeats like a champ. He has a way of channeling the crowd's own energy into his own performance. He clearly loves the music he is playing. Those who have been to his shows know what to expect and are never disappointed. Others who may have just wandered up only know that they've found a party they're not likely to leave until it's over.

People (including Jim) bouncing, dancing, waving their hands, wide eyed, grinning ear to ear... occasionally looking at each other in astonishment, shaking their heads in disbelief. That's a Shissla show.

Later on after the set, my legs were quivering toothpicks, my back ached, and after six hours of dancing, I was generally exhausted and ready to go home. But what a great way to get that way. I couldn't help but marvel all day long at how lucky I am to live among such fun people... people that make this happen.... people who know how to have fun and aren't afraid to get freaky.

It's truly inspiring.

[review]

Glitch Mob

For weeks I knew about this show. But I was torn. I had two other things on my calendar: My friend Annie Bacon had a show happening in Bolinas and another friend was having a super fun birthday party near the panhandle. Also, the $20 ticket price for the Glitch Mob show seemed expensive and I'm a little on the broke side.

But then it got down to the day of the show and a couple of friends called to make sure I was going too. Ok, now I can feel the jealousy coming on. Tickets are selling fast. It's sure to sell out. I don't think I can miss it. Damn it!

I went down to the Mezzanine to buy tickets from the box office. I hate paying those Internet fees and I also wanted a real ticket in my hot little hands so I wouldn't have to wait in the inevitable will call line. But no luck. No box office today. So back to the Internet to buy my will call ticket. Hmph.

That night, I met a few friends at Anu bar around the corner from Mezzanine for a pre-show cocktail. A guy I know, Ben (aka Porkchop) was spinning some heavy Whomp beats. I like Anu because there is no cover and the crowd is generally pretty cool. We figured the party might really get going at Mezzanine around 11, so we hung out there for a bit.

Big mistake.

When 11 rolled around and we walked around the corner to go to the show, there was a line a half block long just for will call. I knew the will call line would be a drag, but I didn't know it would be a good forty five minute wait. The crowd outside was fun though, and I couldn't help noticing how damned glamorous many of the folks were, in their own playa chic vs. hipster DJ best. It seemed like an underground Hollywood premier or something. I kept wanting to see giant search lights waving in the sky.

When we finally made it inside, the place was already more full than I had ever seen it. There were a couple of DJs rocking the house and the energy was already awesome. Everyone was dancing. No spectators. I tossed my hoodie on a speaker and we headed straight for the front of the stage.

I didn't know who the DJs were at the time, but it turns out they were Megasoid, a couple of awesome producer/remixer/djs from Montreal. They played a high energy set of synthy elektro hip hop they have coined "turbo crunk" (heh). Really excellent stuff. Everyone, and I mean everyone in the place, was hitting the ceiling. I mean getting down for real.... all the way to the back of the club. Not a crew of dancers at the front of the club and stand-and-schmoozers in the back. Everyone was dancing. I have rarely seen such great energy from a crowd at any show.

After a brief intermission, The Glitch Mob, a four man DJ crew came on. Known for pushing forward the relatively new glitch subgenre of electronica, they have been touring around the country spreading the word.. er.. beat. Glitch gets its name from the sounds used to make the music which sound sort of like electronics breaking down, crashing, skipping, etc. It's a way to make great music out of otherwise painful sounds.

The guys inherited a great energy from the previous performers. The crowd kept on dancing even during the break. And they kept the party going admirably for the better part of the show. I eventually had to abandon my prime real estate at the front of the stage just to escape the intense heat coming off the sweaty bodies.

The music was great, and the crowd was pretty stoked about it. But I was hoping to hear some of the great remixes I had heard recently. Also, as seems to happen at some shows, is that the tempo of the music actually slows down over the course of the show. I would think one would build up the crowd to a speedy frenzy as a finale... I have heard that it's good DJ practice to let your crowd rest now and then so they have the energy to stay on the dance floor. But eventually I just got tired and lost the big energy I had started with, and started to lose interest. Could be heat... could be overexertion, dehydration. But I am going with the tempo.

I also noticed what seemed to be a cheesy Hollywood factor that seemed to have crept up on them. They wore matching business suits, pumped their fists, and shouted rah-rah hip hop-ese to the crowd. (e.g. "Wu's up San Franciscoooooooo?!"). They are clearly popular and talented, and whatever they have been doing seems to be working for them. But some of it seemed distracting and unnecessary.

I will continue to download and listen to anything and everything they put out. I truly believe these guys are a major force in a new direction of music. That's ultimately why I felt like I had to go to the show. It was not to be missed.

I have to say, I enjoyed myself more during the Megasoid set, who as it turns out, have begun working with the mighty Ninja Tune label.

After the show, I headed to the house where that birthday party was still going on. I got to get down in a more intimate atmosphere with some super great folks to some fantastic soul and disco spun skillfully by Chard, who works at Ko Ko Cocktails on Sunday nights. I had just as much fun dancing to his set as I did at the Mezzanine. Apples and oranges though.

Maybe I'll go check out his set at Ko Ko's tomorrow night.

[review]

Nikka Costa

After an exhausting day at Love Fest, I still had one more show to see to round out the busy weekend. Nikka Costa.

I saw her once before at the same venue, The Independent. It had been awhile, but I remembered being so blown away by it, I knew it was a must see... so I bought myself a ticket.

My friend Elena said she wanted to come, so I planned to meet her down there. I walked by the box office to see what time Nikka would go on, and I saw the sold out sign. Doh! It must have sold out in just the past couple of hours. I didn't notice anyone selling tickets outside, so I called her told her the situation and she turned her City Car Share around.

It wasn't long after going inside, though, that I struck up a conversation with a girl who's friends actually had an extra ticket. I made the call to Elena, but she had already checked the car back in... Ugh.

My timing was great though. After only a couple of minutes, Ms. Costa came on and busted out another great show.

Her music is a mix of R&B, funk, and pop music. Her voice reminds me a little of Chaka Khan. Very powerful, yet cute. Her band was superb and had a couple of guitarists, a keyboard player and even a couple of horns. Each band member got his or her time to shine and show everyone their substantial chops. After some initial adjustments with the sound mixing, the show was just phenomenal. It was a shame though that her new albut wouldn't release for another week, so I hadn't gotten a chance to hear some of the music and compare it to the stage arrangements.

I remember wondering after the previous show how come she wasn't more popular. How come she isn't playing in bigger venues. It seemed like a coup to see her in such a small place, yet here she was again a couple years later in the same club.

The Independent tends to be a springboard for good artists. They tend to book only very talented artists that aren't extremely well known. When artists are very good, their popularity is generally bound to increase. So what usually happens is that artists play there once, and then by the time they return to the city again, they have outgrown the venue and graduate to The Fillmore auditorium - the next larger, yet still classy and somewhat intimate venue.

She did mention during her show, however, that she wasn't interested in playing larger and larger venues. She seemed to really enjoy interacting with the audience. She often called on us to be part of the band by clapping a certain pattern or singing a background part - stuff that with a bigger venue, just wouldn't have the same fun factor. She is a true performer and seems to have found her niche and enjoys keeping things real, right at this level.

I hope she does. I'll buy a ticket to her show any time she plays here, as long as it doesn't go bigger than The Fillmore.

Later, after the show, I wandered down to The Page, my local neighborhood bar a few blocks down from The Independent. At the bar, I was chatting with the funky looking fellow sitting next to me who turned out to be Nikka Costa's guitar player and musical director, Joshua Lopez.

Joshua and I had a lively discussion about the show and what could be improved, what worked well, etc. This was only their second show on a long tour, and I felt excited that he seemed to be really interested in what I had to say. We got along great, and I tried to pull him out to one of the great late night Love Fest parties going on around town (even though I was completely exhausted), but alas he had to run and get back on the tour bus which was about to leave for Salt Lake City.

Ah, the life of a touring musician. Shame. We would have had fun.

[review]

Love Fest

For the last few years, San Francisco has tried a small experiment. Spin off Berlin's famous Love Parade, a celebration and exhibition of electronic music that brings thousands out to dance into the street to music spun by some of the world's best DJs.

San Francisco's Love Fest has grown over it's first few years and now, it's clear, is a full fledged annual institution in the city.

It does start as a parade in the morning. Moving dance parties lumber down Market street, pumping their beats until they all settle in front of San Francisco's City Hall. A full city square block is closed to traffic, and somewhere in then neighborhood of twenty sound systems simultaneously pump fabulous beats to the sunny delight of the flamboyantly costumed crowd.

For this Saturday of the parade, the weather forecast had been daunting. Rain. The sunny memories I had of parades past were in jeopardy of being at least chilled, if not washed out altogether.

But I tried to remain optimistic, and in true SF weather style, the forecast was completely wrong and the day turned out sunny and warm as could be.

I donned my best playa wear and even borrowed a new pair of red velvet pants from my roommate Kathleen. Yes girls' pants. And they fit me like a glove.

I strolled down Oak Street looking like a refugee from The Soul Train, and in true SF jaded style, no one batted an eyelash. Once I got within about three blocks of the event, I started to see other freaks like me. In Hayes Valley, passers by were clearly a bit baffled by all the people walking around looking like they lost their circus, but once I did hear one guy say, "Oh yeah, Love Fest is today." But mostly, the downtown area was going about its business as if nothing was going on.... until you got to City Hall. It's amazing how you can push a hundred thousand party people into one square block of the city, and it hardly creates a ripple in the surrounding blocks.

I walked through the gate and tossed a small donation into a bucket and began the often futile task of finding my friends in the sea of madness. That task was actually secondary though to the task of finding the best music. I had written down a few DJ names I knew along with the name of the parade floats they'd be playing on. But it became clear that I may not find them, and that the best plan of action was to find a dance party you like.... and then dance.

I did a quick once around, popping into the crowd at a few parties, all the while texting my friends to see if we could meet up.

After an hour or so of surveying and sampling, I did manage to find my good friend Heather and her posse. I stuck more or less with them but popped off occasionally for a wander and to see what was going on at various stages.

I guess I spent most of my time that day on McAllister street where the Pink Mammoth crew, the NeuroWeapon car, and whoever was next to them. All three neighbors threw down seriously good beats all day long.

I did get to see Ana Sia again. Twice in two days. Crazy. I did note that her set was quite different from the set I had seen the night before. Her Love Fest set was great, but the tempos were often quite slow and I found it less danceable than the night before.

Also rocking the NeuroWeapon was David Starfire. I had never heard him before, but Heather had noted his presence, so I went to check him out. When I got there, I bumped into Paula, a girl I had met the night before at 1015. Not recognizing me in my costume, she handed me a flier for an after party that night... I squinted at her and lowered my shades. She laughed and gave me a big hug and we chatted some more about the music. It's funny how people who like similar music are bound to bump into one another over and over around here.

Starfire was the highlight of the day for me. His remixes were stellar, a diverse, upbeat mix of hard rock, hip hop, and breaks. The music on his Myspace page, however, rocks music with a more Indian flare. His sets could vary a great deal I imagine.

I knew I still had another show ahead of me that evening, and my legs were screaming for mercy from a full day and previous evening of dancing. So sadly I departed.

On the walk home, I found myself walking next to Ana Sia. I said hello and told her I enjoyed her sets, both today's and yesterday's. She said thank you. But wasn't very warm I have to say. Paula told me some DJs aren't super nice. I'll give her one more shot before passing any judgement of my own.

Great beats though, girl.

[review]

Ana Sia

My friend Christie showed some strong interest in going out dancing on Friday night and asked me for a suggestion. I have been trying to get out and see Ana Sia for awhile and knew she was on the bill for that night at 1015 Folsom. By looking at the flier, you'd think Ana was some super opening act and Adam Freeland was the main event. I had seen Freeland a couple of times already at Burning Man this year. I liked his sets. They had good energy and kept people dancing. Keeping to my tendency to describe music using at least three genres or artists, I would describe him as techno/elektro/rock.

But Ana Sia had been elusive to me. I had only seen her one time before at the Howeird Street Fair over a year ago. She was playing this glitchy hip hop (some call glitch hop) that was spinning the sunny daytime crowd into a groovy frenzy. She is one of those artists that clearly feels the groove of her own set and dances right along with the crowd while putting her set together. She has a focused intensity while playing, turning knobs and staring at her electronics, while her petite frame bobs and rocks to the beat. It's a cue to the crowd just how funky the beat is. And they seem to take the cues from her.

Finally I had a chance to see her again.

Christie was hot to run down to the club around 10 pm. I said "No way." I know a little about the tendency of these late night clubs to be virtually empty until it starts getting really late. She was worried about missing a good act. But I knew we would just be standing around for hours. No earlier than 11:30 in my opinion.

About quarter to midnight, we got to the club and guess what? Three of the four dance floor rooms were shut. Only the front room was open. Only around a hundred people in a club designed to hold one or two thousand.

After midnight, the main room finally opened and DJ Mehdi started playing. We were satisfied that we could hang with his music for awhile if need be, but after a bit took a walk to check other rooms. An-ten-nae and Laura were playing in the front room and were rocking some strong glitchy beats. We were sold and stuck around there dancing. It was clear that the front room and main room had completely different crowds. There were clearly some more playa costumes and the crowd had a more spiritual look while the main room had a more mainstream following. There was no clear headliner in this club tonight. Two distinct main events.

I love the burners. They are generally warm, friendly, love to adorn themselves in delightful attire, and love to dance. That night was no exception.

After a bit, Ana Sia got on the decks and continued the thoughts of her predecessors, but all I really remember is that the groove got turned up a notch. I just remember looking all around me on the dance floor with faces looking astounded at how funky, how hard the groove was, how much fun this music was.

The place wasn't packed though. As best I could tell, this was because it was Love Week. The Love Parade was to start early the next morning, and those inclined to listen to music like this likely had grand plans to dance and party all day Saturday and probably well into Sunday. Only the hard core fans made it out the night before to see their "must see" artists.

I probably would have been in the more conservative group without having been encouraged by Christie to attend.

I'm glad we did.

[review]

Dispelled

This week's minor tragedy. A comparison of the marketing photo of a yummy looking double bacon burger and the real life version. The author writes, "they tasted like greasy sadness."

Full story

MSTRKRFT

I love their name, MSTRKRFT . It's a sign of the times. There are some other bands, products, and even businesses with names like this - abbreviated almost beyond recognition. Many people use Motorola's RAZR cell phone, or the Flickr photo sharing website.

There are a couple of reasons I am aware of for this not-so-new trend. First is the rise of texting. Typing messages with your thumb on tiny cell phone keypads is something to be minimized. Folks have learned to abbreviate in a way that is both efficient and (usually) understandable, and so now have become accustomed to reading and writing this way. Second is the scarcity of decent Internet domain names. If you want your name on the net with the almighty .com extension, you almost have to do something crazy to the name to find one that isn't already taken.

So now that we have that out of the way....

These guys, the best I can gather, are producer/DJ's. Talented, in-demand. I have never really heard an actual album of original music from them, but have heard some impressive remixes and good reviews of their work. My spider senses told me that I should check out their show last night at Mezzanine.

I don't have much disposable income these days, and struggled with whether to get a ticket for a show I didn't know much about... but somehow my legs still walked me right over to their box office the day of the show. My legs made me do it.

I didn't show up for the opening acts. I knew that would be too much standing around, especially since I was going by myself, so I had some drinks at home with Kathleen and Elena and headed down around 11. Even showing up that late, two other DJ's preceded their appearance.

When they did come on, they revealed an impressive stage setup for what is really just two DJ's on the stage. A wall of television screens with some very exciting and vivid video effects. They were silhouetted inside the video madness and appeared as two shadowy figures, complete with hipster cap and bouncy DJ moves. Every now and then one smoked a cigarette. Other than that, you couldn't see much of them. So they, the artists, still remain quite mysterious to me. If I had bumped into one after the show, I wouldn't have recognized him.

I knew from the few remixes I had heard that their style would probably contain a fair amount of elektro. I have a Drum & Bass remix from them in my collection, and even a remix of a heavy metal song. Would they play their remixes? Would there be vocals? I didn't have any idea what I would hear.

As it turned out, their show was a pretty homogeneous set of solid, dance floor friendly elektro-house. I had a great time and so did about half the crowd who was packed close to the stage on the dance floor for majority of the show. However, for a talented pair who have worked with music from a wide range of artists, I expected to hear more variety.

That isn't, however, a complaint. I am satisfied that I got my money's worth, and it was great to see them play out, and they had the most visually interesting setup I've seen in a small club since Coldcut played there awhile back.

Only regreet: I should have found some ear plugs. Their amps were turned to 11.

Upcoming show: Nikka Costa @ The Independent, Saturday Oct 4

Reboot

Ok.

After a fairly successful run at blogging during my travels this year, I think I should keep it going. I got some good feedback from friends and other readers, and it has been enjoyable for me as well to read my own thoughts many of which I have forgotten even after only a few months.

So! I will make a go at reinvigorating this, my original general purpose blog, which I stopped writing a couple of years ago. Why? Not sure. Lost inspiration I suppose. The traveling re-inspired me. New experiences, new settings, new people. Whatever it was, it worked.

What I have been thinking for this run is to continue the general musings I recorded in the past. But this time I'd like to include my own music reviews and other general delights I find around the web or in my email.

One thing I like to do in San Francisco is see shows. DJ's, live bands, whatever. I'll probably still write them in a narrative fashion and not in an authoritative way. I've always wanted to review music, even for just my friends to read. In the past couple of years, I have spent a fair amount of my free time reading about and listening to new music, always looking for that next great artist. And guess what? There are lots and lots of great artists out there, new and old. And there's nothing more fun for me than to go and see them in an intimate setting. I am over the big stadium and festival shows. The sound is usually awful and I don't really like crowds anyway.

The rest of the postings may appear in a boing boing like format. Random stuff just thrown up there for your ammusement.

Once again! Let's see how long I can keep this up.

Filter

I'm very interested in the idea of using the Internet to let people help each other.

You have surely seen websites such as Amazon and Netflix that use software called a recommendation engine to try and steer you toward other products you might be interested in. It's a very effective marketing tool, however it's rare for me to discover any new really great music this way. At the same time, I regularly go out to public places where I do hear really great music I'm not aware of. So I know it's out there.

Systems like Amazon's use a technique called collaborative filtering to try and match the tastes of others to your tastes. This method is good for finding others with similar music collections, but doesn't take any of the qualities of the music itself into account when making a recommendation.

A new service called Pandora tries to remedy this by hiring a staff of music experts to painstakingly listen to lots of music and catalog the musical qualities of the music. By matching songs you like to others with similar musical qualities such as genre, tempos, chord progressions, type of lyrics, etc, Pandora can pick music that is similar to songs you choose.

Pandora then plays a radio station for you of music similar to your taste. I like to listen to the music on Pandora, but I still rarely get any really great new recommendations. I'm still more likely to hear something better by going down to a local hot spot. I regularly ask staff members "what's playing right now?" only to get an indifferent shrug most of the time.

In the mean time, I have made two really good recommendations for friends in the past month. I hear something new and immediately think of people who I think would like it. The surprising part is that I have had a pretty stellar record of success in that my friends tend to really enjoy what I recommend.

To me this is vague evidence that maybe humans are better recommenders than computer algorithms. What if humans could recommend music to one another instead of computers. What a concept.

Wouldn't it be nice if you could put out a list of your favorite songs that are similar. Maybe even some text describing what you like about them. Then other users having the same favorite songs on their lists could read yours and suggest new ones to you.

Why would they do this grand favor for you? Well in my last few ideas, I've used the give and take model. By giving good recommendations to other users, you put yourself in a better position to get recommendations by others. Give some, get some in return.

I'll discuss this idea with others to see if they would think getting better recommendations would make them likely to spend some of their own energy to do so. I'll also see if I can find anyone else doing anything similar.

Here's one interesting article I've found.

Furniture

I decided last week that it was time to explore a new hobby.

One of the things that has always bothered me about my software development career is that it is just too darn abstract. The work I do only exists inside the computer. If the power goes out, it's as if it never existed. If I want to show someone work I have done recently, I have to bring them to a computer. Something about this has always bugged me. It's as if what I do is imaginary. I realize that my work is generally quite useful to those who use it, and often saves people large amounts of money in more efficient operations. But still, I have an envy for those who create things more concrete. Things.

Somehow, furniture has always intrigued me as something both useful and, at time, graceful and stylish. Furniture is something everyone needs. Furniture is something everyone understands. Furniture is something that lasts. Hopefully. But most importantly, furniture is something you can touch, sit on, sleep on, stand on.... Its real.

Making useful things has always been important to me, and has led me in to the software industry. What's missing to me lately, has been this notion of a concrete solidness to my work.

Furniture seems such an intriguing area, that I feel I should explore it further. I don't have any real woodworking experience, nor much crafts or design experience for that matter. I am completely green, with only curiosity to fuel me.

To document my journey, I have started a separate blog, Concrete Utility. The name describes the two most important aspects of furniture to me. It's certainly far from prose, but I hope it helps me remember what I have learned along the way and to keep track of tips and resources. Maybe it will even help someone else along a similar journey if they somehow come across it.

A new hobby. Just like that.

Amos

Something must be wrong with me.

This past weekend was supposed to be dedicated to packing and preparing for our trip to Sydney. I get terrible travel stress. Until I am actually on the plane, I am very nervous that something will go wrong, be it missing my flight or forgetting all my underwear. I suppose it is because I don't travel all that often and therefore feel certain to screw something up.

In any case, rather than take care of all my business, I went to three separate music shows; Manu Chau at the Greek on Friday, Soul of Man at Mighty on Saturday, and Amos Lee at the Indie on Sunday. For some reason, rather than calming my nerves by completing everything on my list, I tend to push the envelope and squeeze in lots of fun as well.

Monica bought the Manu Chau tickets and invited Shannon and Michael along as well. Shannon and Monica had both traveled in South America, and Manu Chau's music was a nostalgic part of both their trips. I was especially impressed, however, by his opening act, Kinky. Kinky is a band from Monterey, Mexico that seems to have concocted the best fusion I have heard so far between live rock and electronic music. It was very dancable and reminded me of The Mutaytor, Latin style. I am now offically a fan.

I had noticed earlier in the week that Soul of Man was playing at Mighty, but resolved to stay home to be responsible and pack and work on bills. It only took one phone call from someone else itching to go see music, and of course I ended up going. I wasn't disappointed. I had heard of Soul of Man during the Love Parade this year. I wanted to go and see them but they were playing too late-night for me, like 5am or something crazy. I had gone on to the website of their record label, Fingerlickin' and was delighted with the funky breaks they had, and bought a few tracks online. I have to say that the live set wasn't exactly what I expected, but the crowd that night was gleeful and getting down in a big way, so a great time was had by all. We'd been "licked"!

By Sunday, I was wondering what I was thinking by getting tickets for that night's Amos Lee show at the Independent. I had heard a couple of tracks I liked but wasn't a huge fan or anything, so now the show sort of felt obligatory.

When we got there, I was surprised to see the place packed to capacity while the opener, Mutlu, was still playing. That level of crowd anticipation is even unusual on a weekend night, much less a Sunday. We struggled to figure out what the huge attraction was. As soon as Amos Lee came on, we found out. From note one, he put on a captivating set of music that was flawlessly executed and seemingly effortless. I kept being reminded of many great musicians while he played. While he sang, I heard Jim Croce, Paul Simon, Ray Charles, Bonnie Raitt, Randy Newman, and others. It's like they were all bouncing around inside him. This constant recognition became distracting, reminding me that I wasn't seeing a lot of originality. However, I was so enthralled with the musicality of the performance, that it didn't seem to matter that only one or two songs sounded fresh and new.

I couldn't help feeling like I was at an important show. I also couldn't help feeling like he came off very self important. When speaking, he was very curt and seemed insincere. I think the audience was actually put off by his intense demeanor. Maybe he fancies himself as mysterious. I think if he lightens up a bit, he might actually become somebody.

Just kidding, Amos.