Friday, April 30, 2004

Poet's Corner

Not only is our new library just gorgeous and full of cozy chairs and large hassocks and windows and sunlight and air, but one particular favorite nook is right next to all the poetry books. I call it Poet's Corner.

I hadn't noticed whether the shelves held cook books or geography or algebra, I just loved the chairs there. But the other day I was snuggled into an armchair to read and when I came up for air, looked over at the shelf and realized all these wonderful people were lined up there looking over me -- all the Beat Poets in their great black beatnik garb -- shelves full of them and down the way, I saw Auden, Frost, Dickinson, Plath -- all my pals -- and on the far side I can see the more modern poets like Pinksky and Brodsky, one of my professors at Columbia, unfortunately no longer with us, but his words are. All his words right there at my Poet's Corner.

Of course my friend Matthew, a poet, didn't miss it for a minute. It's our favorite haunt now.

She Drives Me Crazy

Great piece about that French Bombshell, Brigitte Bardot, by Alan Vanneman in the City Lights Film Journal.

Facial Intercourse

What a term for kissing -- facial intercourse! Here's a tease from the piece I mention in the post below:
She Gives Good Lip

"The way you kiss says a lot about how you make love," says Ava Cadell, Ph.D., an L.A.-based sexologist and author. "I call kissing 'facial intercourse.' It's not just using the lips; it's using the entire body. If she uses her hands on you and presses her breasts into you and moans and groans, she's going to be a great lover. The best female lovers also create sexual anticipation. They start with baby kisses, and then maybe lick your top lip and suck your bottom lip, and as they're doing that, they play with your hair, or put your hands on them. It's sort of like a dance."

And I thought I'd written about kissing pretty thoroughly, but I guess not.

Seven Signs She'll Be Good In Bed

In one of my favorite magazines, Men's Health, don't miss this fun piece called 7 Signs She'll Be Good In Bed by Chris Connolly. No news to me. I do love coffee ice cream, I do love to dance, but honestly I'm not too skilled on the flying trapeze.

Are You Working Hard At Your Relationship?

If you weren't working hard enough at work, now you're expected to work hard at getting hard guys, even for the same woman you've shared a bed for 25 years with -- is that reasonable? Is this what the notion of working 24X7 has driven us to?

I'm reading a most amazing book, Against Love by Laura Kipnis where she suggests we've all gone off the deep end in America in terms of bringing the Puritan work ethic to the bedroom. She suggests giving up on "working at your marriage" and put a little passion in your life -- it's called adultery.

Some snippets:

"Nevertheless, our age dedicates itself to allying the turbulence of romance and the rationality of the long-term couple, hoping to be convinced despite all evidence to the contrary that love and sex are obtainable from one person over the course of decades, and that desire will manage to sustain itself over thirty or forty or fifty years of cohabitation (Should desire unaccountably sputter out, just give up sex; lack of libido for your mate is never an adequate rationale for "looking elsewhere.") Of course both parties must also work at keeping passion alive (what joy), given the presumption that even after living in close proximity to someone for an historically unprecedented length of time, you will still muster the requisite fizz to achieve sexual congress on a regular basis."

"And true enough, some couples do manage to perform enough psychical retooling to reshape the anarchy of desire to the confines of the marriage bed, plugging away at the task year after year like diligent assembly line workers (once a week, same time, same position), aided by the occasional fantasy or two to get the old motor to turn over, or keep running, or complete the trip. The erotic life of a nation of workaholics; if sex seems like work, clearly you're not working hard enough at it."

Work Work Work Work Work Work Work

Are we just overdoing it? I'm writing about it over here at Worthwhile this morning.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

This Day Begins

This day begins with me cleaning some old stuff out of the refrigerator and forcing it down the drain. The motorboat blades in the sink will ... in theory ... chop up just about anything and send it on its way down stream. A hard boiled egg, some old slices of mango, a leftover happy meal.

I always keep my fingers clear of the scary monster, held prayer-like at my waist, praying no one throws a wrench or even a spoon in the works.

It will make a clean sweep of it for you, but honestly as I watch it swirl and hear it grind -- syncopated ba-dum -- I remember even though it works remarkably well, it smells and unnerves you and no one really enjoys doing it.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Naked Fish

Also had a most delicious lunch at Naked Fish with a friend from Mitre today. Excellent food, excellent conversation, excellent funky Cuban decor and great music in the ladies room ... okay, I admit, that was me doing the samba in the mirror. A very passionate place thanks to it's owner.


Had a terrific meeting today in Cambridge with Ping Identity Corp's CEO, Andre Durand. Will be writing all about it tomorrow or Friday here and on Worthwhile blog. I think he helped me finally get my head around digital identity, what that means in a network environment -- worldwide network that is -- and what the future of his business is all about. Very very interesting.

Got some great pictures of Andre and Jeremy Allaire and me. I'll post them soon.

Rainy Day Men and Women

Had fun at The Charles Hotel last night.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004


Sorry not to be around lately, been busy. But you can visit me over here too.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Reading, Writing, 'Rithmetic

Well, sorry to hear Estee Lauder has passed away. Seems Yahoo News fell for that old line about her being not a day over 39.

The arithmetic is most mysterious.

They call her 95 years old here.

They call her 97 here.

I still think no one deserves 39 more than she.

Get The Math Straight

The following headlines are currently running -- I'm not sure how to link to them:

On Yahoo's main screen "Tens of Thousands Rally For Abortion Rights"

Click on that story headline and the headline becomes "Thousands March For Abortion Rights"

Then read deeper into that same story in the body copy and it says, "Authorities no longer give formal crowd estimates, but various police sources informally estimated the throng at between 500,000 and 800,000 strong."

So when is 800,000 = to "tens of thousands" exactly? Seems a little misleading.

You Only Have To Be Yourself

I was thinking of this on my bike the other day. When you're a kid, you're taking most of your cues from your family as to who the hell you are. You find out pretty damned quick, they don't know you from Adam.

Then, you start trying to figure out who you might be -- and that it might be nice to be yourself, on your own terms.

That's where I got stuck.

It was like a stick in the spokes of my bicycle wheel making a rickety-tickety noise.

Being yourself -- on your own terms.

That "your own terms" part is killer.

What if they really loved you when you were being your most unique and unusual self ON YOUR OWN TERMS. Not growing up to be the person they thought you should be, or the person they wanted you to be, or the person they approved of, or the person who "fit" in their world.

And then the truth of it occurred to me -- there are always a few people, maybe only one, when you are a kid, who actually does approve of you on your own terms. And that's all you need. You can set your compass for due north with that one solid mother lode (and often as not, it is a mother who loves you despite all the crazy things you do, but it can be your dad or an uncle or a wild great aunt or your older sister -- doesn't matter who.) You just need one person who likes you for being the weird you that you. And that one person will help you become yourself on your own terms. They'll save your life.

But as you go from 10 to 15 to 20 to 25, you still get bullied and buffeted about from pillar to post, being encouraged to fit into something, fit into somewhere, be someone else.

And just about the time you've been pushed around enough and you've really been trying to be everyone BUT you, then you suddenly realize you might try just being YOU. That in fact, it's the only person can be. So you put your foot down and make a stab at it -- being you. And the strangest part is -- it works.

In fact, nothing else ever works as well.

It's just so hard to get around to it.

Chipmunks Squirrels Baboons

There are so many wild animals in my backyard doing funny things and basic animalistic hijinx. They make me laugh out loud. I tell you. On a spring day, they are jumping for joy.

Talking Heads -- Animals

I'm mad...And that's a fact
I found out...Animals don't help
Animal think...They're pretty smart
Shit on the ground...See in the dark.

They wander around like a crazy dog
Make a mistake in the parking lot
Always bumping into things
Always let you down down down down.

They're never there when you need them
They never come when you call them
They're never there when you need them
The never come when you call them down down down down.

I know the animals...Are laughing at us
They don't even know...What a joke is
I won't follow...Animal's advice
I don't care...If they're laughing at us.

They're never there when you need them
They never come when you call them
They're never there when you need them
The never come when you call them down down down down.

They say they don't need money
They're living on nuts and berries
They say animals don't worry
You know animals are hairy?
They think they know what's best
They're making a fool of us
They ought to be more careful
They're setting a bad example
They have untroubled lives
They think everything's nice
They like to laugh at people
They're setting a bad example
(Go ahead) Laugh at me.

-- Talking Heads

Death of Ivan Ilyich

Have you read this? Check it out.

This new edition combines Tolstoy?s most famous short tale, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, with a less well known but equally brilliant gem, Master and Man, both newly translated by Ann Pasternak Slater. Both stories confront death and the process of dying: In Ivan Ilyich, a bureaucrat looks back over his life, which suddenly seems meaningless and wasteful, while in Master and Man, a landowner and servant must each confront the value of the other as they brave a devastating snowstorm. The quintessential Tolstoyan themes of mortality, spiritual redemption, and life?s meaning are nowhere more movingly and deftly explored than in these two tales.

-- Amazon


Women are marching on Washington DC this morning. Check it out. Wish I were there.

Say What You Will

Okay, okay, okay, we all know astrology is bogus. But some days ... it sure hits the mark.

This morning I was thinking, I'd rather be having an easy Sunday, reading the paper and all, but decided it was essential to get down to some serious spring cleaning. Started the day by tearing apart my closet, vacuuming it (it's a walk-in closet) and rearranging everything this morning -- lining up my shoes by color -- piling up the stuff that's going to charity. Then I go to the computer and read this horoscope today.
Forget the fact that it's Sunday, and you really should be enjoying yourself. You'll be in the mood to work, and work hard. If all else fails, tear apart your closets and cabinets. You know what they say about cleanliness.

Friday, April 23, 2004

To Sir With Love

OhmiGod! My friend Alison and I had such a blast rocking out to Lulu's To Sir With Love on the radio the other night. Boy, did I have the hots for Sidney Poitier when I saw that movie the first time. I'm going to watch that and Lilies Of The Field a few 100 times this weekend I think .

Thursday, April 22, 2004

My Blue House Boarded Up

I'm always intriqued when people "go black" on their blogs. Looks like My Blue House is planning to be quiet until next year. Doesn't 2005 sound really really far away?

Upgrade = Downgrade Per Usual

I was trying to use my Windows Media Player yesterday with some new CD's a friend sent me. They were playing but the volume didn't see quite right. If I set the computer's volume at the top level, it wasn't very loud at all and if I set it at 1/2 -- right in the middle of the guage -- it was mute. Another friend asked me what version I was running of WMP -- I checked to find 8.0. Apparently 9.0 and up are the most recent.

He suggested I do the Windows Upgrade. I hesitated. Everytime I upgrade, something completely screws up and that new problem proves nearly impossible to fix and results in either a completely NON-working computer, or some totally screwed up application. In my mind there is absolutely NO correlation between the words "upgrade" and "positive" -- it's always a negative result.

I try to keep an open mind.

I decided to risk it. I ran the upgrade thing and it told me there were 6 applications that needed updates. It also told me some COMPLETELY INDECIPHERABLE TECHNICAL-MARKETING-BLAH-BLAH thing about needing the "Exclusive Service Package" and of course that this must be done first.

I had no idea (NOR WANTED TO KNOW) what the hell their Exclusive Service Package (or whatever the obscure language was) did or why I needed it. Also the word "exclusive" was confusing to me -- what's exclusive about it -- do I have to pay for it? Is it exclusive to only certain customers? What the hell is "exclusive service" -- an 800 number with a non-Bangalorean person on the other end?

It also had that anti-customer tone of "you know you have to do this before you do that, of course" except I had no idea WHAT applications were being upgraded (there was a spagetti pile of words I couldn't make heads nor tails of) and why I might have to do one first or not. Shouldn't the software guys who are so keen on these being done in some order, SIMPLY DO THEM IN ORDER, ALL ON THEIR OWN. Why are they asking me to do that? Oh, yeah, I forgot, because I'm a PhD in Computer Science with nothing to do for the next 5 hours -- NOT!!!!!

I "nexted" through it and started the download which took a long time.

When it was done, I thought, "Great, I can go back and listen to my music LOUD."

Of course, you can forget any notion of instant software gratification -- or upgraded applications that actually work after you download them.

It had to do some sort of post-install thing.

Okay, I let it do that.

Then it had to restart itself.

Well, when it was done with that -- there was a big error message about how my Windows Media Player w/Yamaha speakers wasn't working.

I checked the new version -- to find it had NOT upgraded from 8.0 to 9.0 -- the whole frigging point of the wild goose chase -- and now it had disabled my speakers and I could hear NO MUSIC.

Well, at least it's nice to know you can count on some things in this world -- NEVER EVER EVER BOTHER TO UPGRADE. The word "upgrade" is an illusion.

Upgrade actually means downgrade.

The final step of my upgrade process involves removing the CD from the computer, walking across the room and putting it in the Sony CD Player. Voila! It works!

Enough With All The Drinking

Don't miss this piece about "Newman Day" at Princeton -- a binge drinking event.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

Acting Out Again Mad Miss?

Big Chill Watusi weather, crank that music -- I'm shaking my money maker -- my little girl can-can can oh yes, she really really can today.

So I figured it out. This blog is where I can act out and be a little mad. On my other blogs I keep my Mary Janes fastened, as it should be, as it should be.

Over here, I hear the siren songs and I keep remembering we can die in a flash -- just like that, like tomorrow, or later this afternoon. Go out and get in the car and make the wrong turn and you go out.


So shake your booty baby, you're here NOW and I think that's about all you can be sure of.

I'm sure sure of it -- like fer shure.

This Frigging Web

Welcome to the people's place -- The Web -- this weird and wacky wonderful frigging web where someone added a list of who sang lead on which Beatles song. All the tons of stuff you would never easily find before is here for your entertainment and amusement. A web of everything strung together like a crazy crappy stingy mess of spider webs and you can get very stuck in it and stuck on it -- I love it. It thinks this crap matters -- and so do we.

We're all here. All the lyrics, all the ideas, all the languages, all the useless trivial shit that makes us really odd funny great weird wacky frigging complex human beings.

Thanks for stringing all the funny wires -- all the lovely strings of lights -- illuminating a big sparkly net.

Okay Kevin ... Since You're Always Right

I work with this great guy now named Kevin Salwen. But honestly he's a royal pain in the ass, because not only does he read all my shit, but he always notices mistakes and he always corrects me and he's always right. He is serious mensch material -- so you can't help but adore him while hating his guts.

So today he asks me after reading the post below ... "Wasn't that McCartney singing the lead on I've Just Seen A Face?"

So now I have to go look. My problem is I'm a total Lennonfreak and I think Lennon sang the lead on everything -- or if he didn't he should've. I mean I think he even sang, "You can trust your car to the Man Who Wears The Star, the bright red Texaco star!" And boy, Lennon can wipe my windshield any old time. I'm mad for the man.

So Kevin. Let's see ... yeah, you're right.

Other Girls Were NEVER Quite Like This

I think I'll never get over the simplicity of the tunes, rhythms, words, ideas and especially the rhymes of the Beatles songs. They are brilliantly simple and do something really well in a really simple -- seemingly easy -- way, which of course is really hard to do. There's not much they miss.

And they talk about love and kisses and tears and longing better than just about anyone ever has in rock.

Listen to :

I've Just Seen A Face

I've just seen a face
I can't forget the time or place
where we just met ...

She's just the girl for me
And I want all the world to see we've met
Hmm mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm ...

and you can hear that hurly-burly falling down a flight of stairs falling in love stuff as he tries to recall the scene of the crime -- where he met this girl, the time and place. It has a hurtling forward pace that's "cherchez la femme" at top speed.

He can't explain it but he knows he's falling. And the opening guitar vamp of that crazy inebriated swirly bubbles going down the drain -- or up -- sound gets you ready to be swept off your feet.

The frisky guitar and the "Mmmm Mmmmm Mmmm" lyric is brilliant because for a lyricist to throw a line like that (which is so purposeful) and says in so many words, "I don't even know what to say -- I'm THAT taken by this girl." (Reminds me of the early brill Taupin lyrics like "I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue" in Your Song. It's that lyricist-so-smitten-he-can't-even-write-a-line pose.)

And the guitar solo with its intentional energetic pounding, has the same feeling of -- "Hey, I gotta figure this thing out."

Great song. John Lennon's voice -- what can you say? Only the best. The best ever.


There are places
I remember

All my life,
Though some have changed

Some forever,
not for better

Some have gone
and some remain.

All these places
have their moments

With lovers and friends
I still can recall

Some are dead
and some are living

In my life
I loved them all.

Oh Girl

Was she told when she was young
that pain would lead to pleasure
Did she understand it when they said
That a man must break his back
to earn his day of leisure?

My Oh My!

I get high when I see you go by.
My oh my.

Music Maestro

Someone nice just sent me some nice music. Thanks!


Now that we're finally having great weather, I'm finding myself outside almost all day long. Doesn't do much for one's blogging. Bear with me, this is New England, the weather's sure to change.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Madame Librarian

Our new library was renovated -- took the last 3 years -- and opened today. It is so gorgeous. I feel so spoiled. I could just move in here I love it so much. Lovely couches and chairs to cozy up and read in -- very Barnes & Noble -- terrific kid's floor. Great internet access. Heaven on earth!

Monday, April 19, 2004

Are You Happy?

I've been asking the question over at Worthwhile. See this link. Thanks to Rodney's blog for the original source.

Red White Blue

Back from the re-enactment on the Battle Green -- actually didn't get up early enough to make it, okay, I was up, but my slumbering cub scout wasn't. So we made it to the line-up area for the parade and off we marched for the Patriot's Day parade in our cub scout pack. Pancake breakfast at a local church followed the many speeches and flag raising. I love to see the old minutemen and minutewomen all dressed up, especially on such a lovely day.

Sunday, April 18, 2004

If The Beckham Affair Shocked You

Wait until you read The Scarlet Letter by new novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne. It too suggests that some men actually sleep with women other than their wives! I know this is news to everyone, but I wanted to break it to you slowly.

Little League And A Perfect Day For It

Gotta dig my glove out of the closet and then we're off.

Catch you all later. Play ball!

New Thongs

No, no, not these. I mean I got a pair of cool new Speedo waffle pattern pink thong sandals at Target. Can't find a picture. I'll link it later -- just get over there today and get ready for all this great hot weather!

New Bikini

Had to score one of those. Welcome Summer!

Should fit by ... say ... Labor Day.

New Skateboard

Had to get one of those today -- the Canadian Maple Hardwood kind. Welcome Spring!

Boston Marathon Weather

I'm sure no one called this one -- that it might be 88 degrees for the race tomorrow! With the very cold winter and very cold spring (like up until LAST WEEK), we were all praying for no snow on race day. Now it's actually going to be too hot. Go figure.

Early American Alpha Male

Tomorrow's Patriot's Day here in Boston and I've been reading a lot about many of our "founding fathers" and I was particularly intrigued by Paul Revere's biography and have been thinking about what it must have been like to live in those days.

First of all, Revere married Sarah Orne and had eight children and then was widowed -- something I didn't know. Sarah and their last son, both died in childbirth. Very sad, but soon he married again and had eight more children with his second wife, Rachel Walker.

That was nothing compared to all he did in business and politics and the military. What was fascinating to me about his biography is how much he did and how long he lived and how much was required of people starting a new country. Copulating was serious business when you were starting a new nation -- the more fathers fathering the more new baby patriots, the better.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

Beautiful Day

Off to the beach. Make the most of yours.

BloggerCon: Jim Moore

I have to say Jim, it was cool to catch up with you, but I did expect you to have a rather more encyclopediac knowledge of Bug's Bunny's operatic oeuvre. What are you studying over at Berkman? You seem to be missing some key data.

BloggerCon: Jay Rosen

Great to see you last night, Jay, though your travel plans sounded much plagued by the Murphy's Law Travel Bureau. Can't wait to hear your thoughts this morning. I'll throw some links up here later.

Good Man At The Tiller

Whether you're sailing a ship or getting your garden ship shape, you need a good man at the tiller.

BloggerCon: Frank Paynter

It was great to see Frank last night, even better to leave the party with him. The spring night air was great outside the noisy Durgin Park restaurant hubbub. See the thing is, Frank and I both write over here, so as the night gets later and the partying gets harder, we get bored -- we don't drink. We strolled the ancient bricks around Faneuil Hall and headed up to Government Center. It's the first really lovely spring night in Boston in what feels like 800 years, after a hellishly cold winter. Everyone was out and happy and funny and silly. It was terrific.

I'd parked on Beacon Hill, on the edge, so it gave us a little evening walk -- always nice -- and then we found the car -- found no ticket -- hosannah! -- and headed our wheels along Cambridge Street bricks towards Harvard Square.

The oldies station was on -- Frank, hope Pretty Woman by Ray Orbison wasn't cranked TOO loud -- but I love the radio. The Longfellow Bridge has the Boston T subway like a zipper running right up the middle of it, as you cross the Charles River on a fine spring night. They'd hauled all the skyscrapery costume jewelry out for the glittering night -- the rhinestone necklaces in high windows dotting the skyline -- ladies dressed up for the evening across Storrow Drive -- and shining VERY bright were the lights from the Red Sox game over at Fenway, across from Frank's hotel, The Hyatt, with their "to-die-for" view of the river, as we pulled into the driveway.

BloggerCon: Renee Blodgett

Renee looked great last night. She knows so many people. She's moving to SF soon and selling a bunch of cool stuff. She's getting rid of both a Palm Pilot and a Treo she doesn't need. Renee knows everyone -- I asked her if the Treo comes with her addressbook -- a few thousand names.

BloggerCon: Treo Nation

There were a lot of Treo's out and about last night at the BloggerCon dinner. People swear by them and Mary Hodder told the greatest story about using hers calmly as a truck tried to flatten her car and the pictures were so clear, so fast and so impressive, her insurance company was back in a flash only asking, "What Can We Do For You?" (translate -- you got us, just tell us how much you want.)

BloggerCon: Dan Gillmor

Good to see Dan and all the moblogging going down was fun too. Check this out.

BloggerCon: Britt Blaser

Always great to see Britt. I'll be back to talk more about what he's up to. It's very interesting. It's very political. It's very cool.

BloggerCon Betsy Devine

By the time Betsy Devine mosied on by, we were thrilled to have her Feedster credentials in the mix as we were talking about real site metering and real "counts" on blogs. If you consider spidering and feeds and actual eyeballs, we're left with a very questionable "Neilsen Rating" for a blogs actual traffic. Sounds like this is getting fixed or will be soon.

BloggerCon: Werner Vogels

If you don't know Werner Vogels from Cornell and his blog "All Things Distributed" -- where have you been? He was telling us funny stories about international Googling -- where his name which means BIRD -- brings up a lot of weird results for birdwatchers worldwide.

BloggerCon: Mary Hodder

Lovely to meet Mary Hodder from Technorati -- not the politician from Canada or whoever that is. Another Google issue she was explaining -- how the other Mary Hodder was ahead of her in the Google line a while back and now they've switched places. I'm not sure how I missed meeting her before but we had a pile of friends in common and she had so many interesting things to say. She was more than generous about hearing the many compliments I had for the new Technorati user interface -- also the gripes. The old one confused the heck out of me. I'm still not sure if I can find the same results putting in "Worthwhile Blog" as I would with "Worthwhile Magazine" and "" and I think I shouldn't have to think so much about it when I go to Technorati -- or any engine for that matter.

BloggerCon: Jeff Jarvis

Jeff is cursed with as much non-stop energy as I have, poor man! We had fun talking about the nearly impossible obstacles to getting a computer to the Iraqi bloggers. Also blog advertising models and what's coming down the pipe or better expressed, what NEEDS to and how that might evolve. Henry Copeland, were your ears buzzing? You should have been there. Also about googling old girlfriends, old neighbors, old neighborhoods, all sorts of old strolls down memory lane. As he and I were both chatting, I was beginning to think about a world where you never have to say (or CAN say) good-bye to old boyfriends or old girlfriends. Is that GOOD?! I thnk not some days.

Friday, April 16, 2004

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Not To Be Missed!

Thanks Dave for posting my private email! Please, all Bloggercon folks, join us for drinks and dinner.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Remember -- Online Women Are Perfect

Gary Trudeau knows the truth. Online women are perfect.

You Think You Have Money Problems?

Taxday is never fun. But at least you're not Courtney Love.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Give Those Muscles A Rest

Back in the groove, sort of, with my exercising. I was such a lazy butt all winter and with this bitter cold being no inducement to be out and about, I'm in flabby not-so-great shape ... HOWEVER ... I've been working out a lot in the last two weeks and did a really heavy session yesterday, including lifting weights. I'm so glad to be exercising again, I feel like jumping in again today, but everyone tells you to give your muscles a rest the day after heavy lifting. So I'm officially off the hook. Can't I do a little yoga though? Please?

Hey Early Birds

Rise and shine guys -- let's take over the world while the rest of them are asleep. They'll never know what hit them.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Rainy Day Things

Hey, hey, hey you! Don't go getting sad!

Here are some things to do on a rainy day.

Crank up that music you love love love and dance at your desk -- at least until someone notices!

Coffee -- have absolutely all you want, have a lot of milk and sugar with it, even if you NEVER have milk and sugar.

Oh, go ahead, write that sexy email or mushy love letter to that special someone you really shouldn't be flirting with.

So how's that mood now? Much improved?!

Why You Don't Come Here To Read About The War

I certainly could write about it. I certainly have an opinion about it. I certainly don't think you come here to read about it.

I want my blog to be a place you can visit that cheers you up. Or calms you down. There are never enough of those places.

My blog has fun and happy furniture. It looks like this.

In the waiting room of my blog you can read magazines like this one or this one. And we serve this and also this. You pick. Oh, yeah, on Fridays we do these -- dozens of them.

When you get your chance to come in and see the doctor -- she tells you you look MARVELOUS and today is going to be a great day. She knows it!

Monday, April 12, 2004

We Matter

Blogs let you remember what you think, what you feel, what you say, how you say it, what you care about and how you live in this world actually matters.

Blogs remind us WE MATTER.

That's a big deal in a world hell bent on making you feel like you don't matter at all.

The Apprentice: Kwame or Bill

I have to wonder out loud here how Donald Trump is going to pick a white guy entrepreneur over a black guy with an MBA from Harvard Business School and a resume that has Goldman Sachs on the top line. Who will be the apprentice? I don't think it will be that tough to guess. I put my money on Kwame.

But maybe there's a really weird plot turn heading our way -- with Jessica Simpson pulling some strange deux ex machina turn-around at the last minute. Maybe SHE wins?! That's it! I should have guessed it! The Apprentice will be Ms. Jessica "Chicken-Of-The-Sea" Simpson!

Not To Be Missed: Critical Section

Ole Eichhorn's blog Critical Section is bursting with great stuff, like a spring garden blooming in every direction. I wonder if he knew how crazy I am for The Phantom Tollbooth and New Yorker Magazine covers and a ton of other things he's been writing about. Can't wait to see him at BloggerCon this weekend.

We Want Out

I've been writing about work a lot lately and especially the notion that even if the job market recovers -- we don't want no stinking corporate jobs -- and employers are going to be pretty surprised how hard it will be to hire good talent. I called my post in February on this subject "One Big Bad Boyfriend: The Way We Worked"

Alan Webber, founding editor of FastCompany, takes on this very subject in USATODAY here. Check it out. He really nails it.

Try It

Take someone at work a cup of coffee -- a good one from a good place -- someone you've never bought a cup of coffee for. It will surprise them.

Seems to me we can't go far wrong being kind to people. No one is getting enough of that.

Off To Jump Rope

I'm really getting into jumping rope. Not sure why. I even found a heavy jump rope my ex left behind in the great split-up of physical goods. I suppose I should ask him if he wants it back. It's a mighty fine jump rope. He has a DVD of mine I want back. We'll meet at the Berlin Wall and swap hostage items. No Berlin Wall, rethink that one. Off to Jump Rope.

Monday Again

How did they decide on this "seven days of the week thing" anyway? What if they had 14 new days and this wasn't Monday but something called Eightday or something else like Venusday and then you finally ended the week next Sunday on Novaday? Why not.

In Bed With Larry Lessig This Morning

Finally got my hands on his book, Free Culture. It's really good. Made it tough to get out of bed, I'll tell you, even for an early bird like me.

I promised to read the whole thing and write an executive summary, which I will do, and make it available by audio as well. You can listen to all the chapters here, on AKMA's site where he asked all of us to contribute.

Jen's New Blog

Everyone love's Jen Balderama's blog -- but did you know it's slipped off to a new address. It's all spruced up and looking sexy. Don't miss it.

Robin Williams

I saw Robin Williams on The Actor's Studio last night and I was thinking about how amazingly unrestrained he is and how fluid and how brilliant really, even if he gets on your nerves, you have to give him credit. There were some great moments. James Lipton asked him where his art, his comedic talent, his stuff comes from and he answered almost every question by jumping out of his chair and doing amazing comedy monologues -- especially this one -- answering that most basic question about "why/how do you DO this?"

The thing was so fast as he riffed on why he did what he did -- looking small like a little boy reaching for his mom's breast, baby-talking in a tumble of words about wanting his mother's love and attention and then letting his mind run wild, as if to present it as a specimen in a petri dish, for scientists to dissect how his humor takes him here, then there, then back, watching him physically playing with characters, mentally playing with words, with rhymes, with voice -- jesus, it was amazing. Play -- that's the word, both noun and verb.

Lipton said that when he'd interviewed another comic -- was it Billy Crystal -- I don't remember, but that they said that Robin Williams called comedy "legalized insanity" and I liked that phrase a lot.

He does what all great creative minds do -- he lets you see the world the way he sees it. Van Gogh had these sunflowers he wanted to show you. DaVinci had this babe with a funky smile he didn't want you to miss. Williams wants you to see how incredibly funny and dear the people are who live in his world can be. He's so good at it.

Last night he reminded me of a psychic -- a medium -- I had once seen, who could use his body to take on the form of just about anybody. I'm serious. It's hard to explain until you've seen it, but it makes you realize that the body is completely plastic, can be completely transformed into another type of vibration or energy. This medium was making manifest people in my family -- showing me amazing things. He made me understand that the body is a mask, a very fluid mask. The spirit that energizes that lump of clay gives it life and definition. You know this if you've seen people die. They leave that lump of clay behind.

Williams uses his body in this way, incredibly well. That's why he had to answer every question by standing, moving, expressing ideas physically. His lump of clay is completely fluid. His body is amazing. His face is amazing. His face is a nun, a gangster, a prissy schoolteacher with a will to power, a genie, an infant, an old Jewish woman, all in 5 minutes. He is so physically creative, it's thrilling.

Morning Person

I am hellishly awake in the morning. I am a dreaded morning person to the nth degree. Night owls have told me.

If I had my way work would start with a big group meeting around 4:30am on a Monday and be done by 11:30am, that same Monday and then we'd all have a big lunch, go home, take a nap, then play outside the rest of the day. Nah, the rest of the week.

Things We Said Today

Having a real Beatles craving lately, seem to be binge-listening to them non-stop. Just flipped on the radio, expected Morning Edition on NPR but I was tuned to an oldies station and this was playing. Strange one, but just right.


You say you will love me
If I have to go.
You'll be thinking of me,
Somehow I will know.

Someday when I'm lonely,
Wishing you weren't so far away,
Then I will remember
The things we said today.

You say you'll be mine, girl,
Until the end of time.
These days such a kind girl
Seems so hard to find.

Someday when we're dreaming,
Deep in love, not a lot to say.
Then we will remember
The things we said today.

Me, I'm just the lucky kind.
Love to hear you say that love is luck.
And, though we may be blind,
Love is here to stay. And that's enough

To make you mine, girl,
Be the only one.
Love me all the time, girl.
We'll go on and on.

Someday when we're dreaming,
Deep in love, not a lot to say.
Then we will remember
The things we said today.

Love me all the time, girl.
We'll go on and on.
Someday when we're dreaming,
Deep in love, not a lot to say.
Then we will remember
The things we said today.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

One Cellulite-ish Thigh

I'm running an experiment, putting this cellulite cream on one side of my butt and thigh. I like to be scientific about these things. Need to keep one side in a natural cellulite-ish condition in order to compare. I'll report back the detailed results.

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

What a strange and interesting and beautiful and frightening movie. I saw it last night and it's still hard to put words around it. I liked it a lot.

This review helped me decide to go see it. The screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman, also wrote Being John Malkovitch and Adaptation -- so if you know those two movies, you know this movie will play with your mind. (Rent both of those if you haven't seen them.)

Ever had a relationship that leaves so many poignant memories -- sweet AND bittersweet -- so many powerful memories, that it's just too hard to go on. And what if you had the option, imagine if there were a service that could erase all the memories you have of a certain lover from your mind forever. Would you do it?

Well, shy guy Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) finds out his ex-lover, a sexy extrovert with ever-changing hair color from blue to orange, Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) has done just that. All his friends have received a confidential card from the Lacuna Service, the company performing memory erasure, explaining that she has erased him from her mind, and please do not mention her to him anymore. A friend lets him see the confidential card, when sends him reeling. And that's where the movie starts and only gets more and more strange from there.

Visually, there are shockingly beautiful and haunting scenes of the specific geographic locations they made their early memories -- beach, frozen Charles River, train to Montauk. These places start to merge, resulting in strange juxtapositions like their lovemaking bed existing in their apartment and then instantly on a beach next to the surf, the wind blowing sand on their sheets and a small picket fence slowly covered with drifting dunes. The scene with Jim Carrey playing a 3-year-old hiding under the kitchen table and his full size reduced to the height of a small boy, (but he retains a man's proportions)while his mother and other women in the kitchen are large, him begging for ice cream, barely about to reach the freezer door and incredible and incredibly surreal.

500 Degrees Below Zero

A friend who used to live here in Boston and moved south to that tropical paradise, Philadephia, sent this along today:


60 above zero:
Floridians turn on the heat.
People in New England plant gardens.

50 above zero:
Californians shiver uncontrollably.
People in New England sunbathe.

40 above zero:
Italian & English cars won't start.
People in New England drive with the windows down.

32 above zero:
Distilled water freezes.
Moosehead Lake's water gets thicker.

20 above zero:
NYers don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, wool hats.
People in New England throw on a flannel shirt.

15 above zero:

New York landlords finally turn up the heat.
People in New England have the last cookout before it gets cold.

People in Miami all die...
New Englanders close the windows.

10 below zero:
Californians fly away to Mexico.
People in New England get out their winter coats.

25 below zero:
Hollywood disintegrates.
The Boy Scouts in New England put on long pants.

40 below zero:
Washington DC runs out of hot air.
People in New England let the dogs sleep indoors.

100 below zero:
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
New Englanders get frustrated because they can't "staht the kah".

460 below zero:
ALL atomic motion stops (absolute zero on the Kelvin scale).
People in New England start saying..."Cold 'nufffor ya?"

500 below zero:
Hell freezes over.
Red Sox win World Series.

More Than Just Holding Hands


-- Paul McCartney, John Lennon

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
'cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you would love me more than her

If I trust in you oh please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too oh please
Don't hurt my pride like her
'cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two

If I fell in love with you

Happy Holidays

I like Martha Stewart. I really do. I've met her and she's a good egg. But there's something about the way she made everything about every holiday pretty and decorative and festive and charming and pleasant and creative and adorable and PERFECT, that was really getting on my nerves.

It really wasn't her fault -- that is, her fault that she made me feel totally inadequate if I couldn't make a perfectly cute homemade Easter basket with hand-dyed pastel eggs and hand-sewn felt chicks or some other useless craft item perched delicately on real green wheatgrass, with Godiva dark chocolate eggs, jellybeans called jelly eggs and an expensive light lavender wire-edged ribbon crimped just so, that looked like something from her magazine -- but I have to admit, now that she has fallen from grace, it makes this holiday one whole helluva lot easier. I like this extremely imperfect Easter. I like the badly painted eggs the color of vomit. I like the baskets with headless chocolate bunnies on display. I like things NOT being perfect. I'm finding life isn't perfect and neither are holidays.

But my point here is not about Martha Stewart, but rather what she and a few other "perfectly happy" brands represent. I could have just as easily taken Hallmark to task. In fact, I might as well call this phenomenon I'm describing Hallmark Hell. It's all about feeling trapped in the perfect holiday card, where the perfect people live, who celebrate holidays perfectly.

Certain married people seem to exert their marital muscles strongarming you in to celebrating all the happy holidays with forced glee, without even noticing they are doing it. They just don't think anyone should be alone or not with them on a holiday. Let me say it plainly married folks, that your "happy holiday" is another person's annual nightmare. For divorced, separated, widowed, single, gay and a lot of other people, the "happy family" image of holidays is something not to celebrate but to dread.

Not to name names, but all these well-meaning married people want to throw holiday events and invite you over to make you feel ... I don't know ... sometimes I have to think, just to make you feel inadequate. I used to be one of those married people, but even then I saw no joy in inviting 20 people over for a traditional family holiday celebration.

There is no "traditional family" to invite over any more -- did you notice? Throwing the perfect holiday party isn't enough for these perfect holiday people, they also want to see if you measure up and are as perfectly and happily married as they are. Nothing keeps them from humiliating everyone they invite over with "Why Don't You Fit In?" type inquiries.

If you're a single woman age 20 - 45, get ready to be asked why you're not married. If you're a single man age 20 - 45, get ready for someone to whisper in the kitchen to someone in your family or circle of friends, "is he gay?" If you're gay and want to bring your same-sex partner to the party, someone you actually DO want to marry, tell me that's easy to pull off in front of these happily married people? If you're divorced, the rude inquiries seem to know no bounds. If you're widowed, everyone wants to fix you up and can't refrain from asking if you're "ready yet?" whether you lost your spouse 2 days ago, 2 weeks ago, 2 months ago or 2 years ago. When it comes to "ready" you are tempted to rephrase the question. Ready to bash Aunt Fran in the face for asking? Yes, you're VERY ready for that.

Why we still keep pretending everyone is one big happy family, I do not know. The statistics are all against the notion. The more "non-traditional" families we have, the more we seem to cling to outdated images of the happy holiday celebration of dad, mom, junior and sis. It' s most peculiar and really high time we got over it.

Try something new this year. Butt out of my family business and respect me and the way I happen to live. Try asking me about politics, movies, sports, the weather. The sense that certain subjects were taboo in public conversation, was something about the "good old days" worthy of retaining at the holiday dinner table. You can actually have guests over and NOT ask them the bloody details of their child custody battle or why they are wasting their lives dating married men at 35, when they obviously are desperate to get married or other "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS" subjects. Is this inquiry the kind of thing that's supposed to make guests feel welcome?

So all I ask is a little consideration. Consider the fact that I would rather go to the movies or shampoo my hair or rake leaves on your "special day" and it's really okay to leave me out. Or if I do join in -- yes, thank you for invitiing me -- but feel free NOT to ask me how my perfect happy holiday is going. It's not so perfect.

Saturday, April 10, 2004

Easter Bonnet

Isn't this the perfect Easter Bonnet?

Easter Bag

Isn't this the perfect Easter bag?

Got Ants?

I do and they are driving me crazy. Read that this stuff really works. Terro -- hope it's Latin for sending them back into the terra firm where they came from.

Big Summer Fashion

Little girl bobby socks and big girl high heels -- watch for them this summer everywhere. (They call them shortie socks here -- whatever.)

Bike Ride

Off for a bike ride. Gorgeous day. 60 degrees. I've been having a funny conversation with a friend in Florida about how 60 degrees is practically bikini weather for us in Boston and 60 degrees for him is "turn up the heat!" and throw an extra blanket on the bed weather.

All depends on what you're used to -- and after this bitterly cold winter, believe me this is hula skirt weather. Or at least thongs and flats weather.

Amanda Peet in Something's Gotta Give

I thought Amanda Peet was great in this and didn't get nearly enough credit what with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton being so much larger than life. Come to think of it Keanu Reeves was also great in Something's Gotta Give. Rent it if you didn't see it yet.

No South Beach Diet Miracle Here

I'm not on a diet really, but I'm watching out for Easter candy. Trying to keep myself from a sudden binge on fattening junk I don't need to be eating.

And I am thrilled to announce I have managed to avoid lavender, pink, yellow and green marshmellow peeps and have not eaten even ONE jellybean so far ... but it still is the day BEFORE Easter. Still, I plan to hold my ground!

Family Visits

Easter and Passover week. Time to visit the family. Admit it -- now that I don't have too many family visits to attend -- I'll come clean and tell the truth that sometimes visiting old relatives is so incredibly unpleasant.

We always had these old relatives that kept the house about 212 degrees.

They never wanted to go anywhere or do anything -- I used to find this insanely frustrating if you are used to a day with a lot of physical exercise, as I am. They hold you hostage and feed you horrible fattening food you would never eat anywhere else.

If you don't smoke -- chances are THEY SMOKE.

If you don't drink -- chances are THEY DRINK.

If you smoke -- "Not in the house, dear!"

If you do smoke dope and really want some, I guarantee you're visiting someone this weekend who would have a heart attack even KNOWING you want to smoke a J in their house.

If you do drink and would kill for a decent glass of wine -- they have some sweet shit you think they poured out of a Nyquil bottle by accident.

If you drink Pepsi, they have Coke.

If you drink Coke, they have Dr. Pepper.

If you drink Diet Coke, they have Regular Coke.

If you're on Atkins, they have a big pasta meal ready for you after a 10 hour drive.

If you don't eat meat, they give you a big slab of Easter ham and then yell at you for not eating it.

If you make the mistake of sleeping in their house, you get not a wink from all the weird noises, smells, midnight rambles of grandpa banging around in the kitchen downstairs.

If you are rational enough to book a hotel, your mother or step-mother, or some older matriarch in your family gets on her high horse, saying loudly in front of everyone at the table "What, my house isn't good enough for Ms. Goody Two Shoes?" when she knows you just want to spend the night with your new boyfriend and it's none of her business and she'd put you in separate rooms in her house in torture-chamber rack-type single beds.

And of course, twelve people make you wait to use the ONE bathroom after the big meal, and lucky you, with the 13th flush, it overflows all over your white satin Easter shoes.

Hot Cross Buns

Something I really like that I still haven't bitten into this season. Here's the idea behind them.

Hot Cross Buns!
Hot Cross Buns!
One a penny,
Two a penny,

Hot Cross Buns!

The math is a little sketchy -- wouldn't it be one a penny, two for two pennies? It's that odd old English nursery rhyme math. Never makes sense.

Easter A Total Rerun

With the overmarketing and in-your-face-every-day-since-the-beginning-of-Lent splash of the movie, The Passion, I tell you this Easter thing is like an overplayed hit record. Enough, enough! We get it -- cross, nails, mobs, torture, betrayal, blood, guts. yuck.

Friday, April 09, 2004


Two years ago today.

William Wallace Suitt

November 29, 1918 - April 9, 2002



When my dad wakes up today, the first thing he will notice is that he is dead. But he'll take that in his stride, because my mom will be cooking bacon downstairs and getting the coffee ready and these divine smells will keep him from worrying too much about it. He will dance a jig as he jumps out of bed, to realize he's got his young healthy body back. He'll pant with excitement to find a Life Magazine on his nightstand. It will be 1948 and he will be 30 and he'll be in Youngstown, Ohio long before they had a zip code of 44444.

He'll dance a "ain't I cute" happy dance in the mirror to look at his strong, lanky, 6'4" body all dressed up in a perfectly well-worn pair of red plaid flannel pj's, size XL, his boyish dark brown hair thick and devilish. He'll marvel at his graceful dancing feet, like a baby in a crib discovering his own new toes, ready to do their entrancing steps. He'll fly downstairs to grab my mom for an impromptu kitchen Lindy, cranking the post-war Big Band music on the kitchen radio and arching her backwards into a ballroom swoon, safe in his steady, strong arms.

She will say with a sexy sneer, "What the hell's gotten into you?" And if the frying pan weren't full of hot, greasy bacon, crisping up perfectly -- even she can't burn the bacon in heaven -- she would take the pan and give him a whack on the butt with it, but instead a swipe with the spatula will have to do. He will yank her by the apron strings reeling her towards him, into a big hug and kiss. She'll finally just give in and let him mess up her pretty make-up. But then back to business, she'll push him away. "Get out of here," she'll warn with a phony sternness. "Go get the kids."

He'll stop dead in his tracks to realize he even HAS kids. She'll point out the kitchen window to the yard -- a green heaven of wavy, windy, grass and flowers, daffodils blooming, bending down to bow to him, on a perfect spring morning. Jean and Bill will be 10 and 8 and mucking about in a mud puddle with sticks and leaves, fascinated with the tiny boat they've built. My dad will choke up to see this, but my mom will have none of this early morning lollygagging, pushing him out the door.

The screen door will slam with a happy familiar whack, and my dad won't miss that often ignored sound of home. Look at him grin. He will relish it, but not for long, because he'll nearly fall over his old retriever dog, who will shoot from stage left to see if he can upend this happy man. The dog's got the paper in his mouth, and every damned story is good news, one better than the next, but he'll have no time to marvel at it. He'll run to his kids and scoop them up, squeeze them so hard they'll whine, "Dad!" They'll roll on the grass in a mock wrestling match, the two of them unable to keep a good man down.

When he drags them in the house, my mom will see two kids covered in mud, and her husband up to the usual malarkey. "March," she'll order, pointing towards the bathroom. Dad will supervise the soap and make the thing bubble, splash and spill all over the bathroom, making a bigger mess than either kid could muster, much to their delight. They'll be in giggles and my mom will hear them playing. She'll serve up the fried eggs, over-easy, just right and the perfectly crispy bacon, the A&P coffee will be dark and rich, she's pouring it now. She'll take her apron off slowly, hang it on the hook, sit at the table primly, a shapely wise and wonderful brunette, suppressing a grin as she hears them horsing around. And with a yell, she'll begin a new day, "Get in here you ruffians!"

They'll come flying in a pandemonium of boyish, girlish crewcut and braids, grins from ear to ear, trying not to laugh. But where's my dad? Obviously planning an entrance, the kids can barely control their giggles. My dad will turn the corner now, all eyes on him suddenly. He's still his pj's but now sports a porkpie hat, and has a beard of bubbles, "Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" he sings out. The kids run to swipe the bubbles off his chin.

"Cut that out. Get over here and eat your breakfast," Mom gives Dad her best scowl, makes her "no-foolishness" face. They sit down to breakfast, she passes my dad the biscuits. He deftly applies butter and honey. "Katie, my girl," he says, with a smile that can never stop, "I've died and gone to heaven."

BloggerCon + JetBlue

If you STILL haven't decided whether or not to attend BloggerCon next Saturday -- JetBlue just made it even easier. Boston<--->Oakland and Boston<--->Long Beach -- just $99 each way. Check out these rock bottom rates.

Here's the schedule so far.

Thursday, April 08, 2004

"I Sent You To MIT For THIS?!?!"

I can hear this poor kid's dad now, after sending his geeky boy to MIT for four years, what does he get -- an entrepreneurial gig at some start-up with VC's handing him and his buddies cash like the old go-go years? NO!

A consulting gig with Accenture? NO!

A fast-track job with the innovation team at Royal Dutch Shell? NO!

CIO for eBay? NO!

No, his kid's going to play baseball with the San Diego Padres!.

"Jason! Jason! Where did I go wrong?!"

Thursday Is A Good Day

Thursday is a good day because you can almost always get through it and know you'll likely find Friday at the end of it and who doesn't love Friday? Also Thursday is a good day because it looks rather serious and work-a-day and you can look quite efficient but you know that it's really like Friday Jr. -- a day to hack off and have fun. Also, they load up all the good TV into a big fattening Thursday night package and that's fun to look forward too. And of course, a lot of people and restaurants and bars and other places act very Fridayish on Thursday night -- watch out Thursday night Happy Hour can end some time on Saturday morning in bed with someone you could swear is named Chris ... or is it ... anyway, be careful. And a Thursday night party is really the coolest thing to have, because it says, "who cares how tired or hungover you are on Friday anyway?" and only very cool people throw a party on Thursday night -- so if you're invited to one you know you're only invited because you're cool too so you can smugly drag your tired butt into work the next day knowing you're much cooler than all the other dopes you work with.

And of course, Thursday is the ultimate day in the spring and summer because if you've got any good sense at all you take Friday off and so when everyone is saying their normal "bye! bye! bye! see you tomorrow!" stuff on Thursday night you can act like you'll be there the next day but HAZZZZAH! your friend is waiting on the curb with the car all loaded for a weekend in the mountains or by the beach or wherever and YOU'RE OUTTA HERE!!!

Happy Thursday!

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Thank God For Ashcroft

I'm so glad he's busy winning the war on porn. But I get the distinct impression there's some other war going on somewhere ... that they're losing.

Ashcroft has already been so successful. Look at his reach -- THANK GOD he grabbed a hold of this ... I mean, rectified this disgusting situation and covered up Lady Justice's Bare Tit.

We've needed a leader who's so committed to Justice.

Bridges Burnt Big

I like this story my fellow blogger Kate Yandoh at Worthwhile posted about how an editorial assistant at a Hearst publication told the truth about how bad working there was on a chat board and got axed as a result. It does have a happy ending.

Jump Rope

Been having a lot of fun volunteering at my son's school for an early morning fitness program. I've been jumping rope like a boxer, fast and furiously. It's not easy and great aerobic exercise. Makes me sweat like a pig.

How Are You Supposed To Actually Hold Down A Job?

All you people without kids, go have a kid and then come back here and read this.

Here's the school calendar this week:

Monday -- 8:30am-3:00 (routine day)
Tuesday -- 8:30am-3:00 (routine day)
Wednesday -- half day (teacher's conferences? Anybody ask me if it's convenient? No, it's a little teacher holiday they scheduled all for themselves of which there seem to be about 500 a year. ) 8:30am - 12:00noon
Thursday -- half day (believe it or not it's 1/2 day every Thursday for my kid) 8:30am - 12:00noon
Friday -- no school

Explain how you are supposed to be in an office for more than 12 hours a week with a school calendar like this to deal with. It's amazing. Welcome to the world of working mom hell. Of course we love our kids and would love to be HOME with them every day. We need to work however, to pay for unimportant stuff like milk and bread and an occasional pair of sneakers for them.

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Small People's Small Pieces

Where the heck have I been? John Porcaro just pointed out David Weinberger's kid's version of Small Pieces Loosely Joined, which I had NOT read. (Embarrassed blushing happening here.)

It's so cool and just right to read to my kid. Thanks David!

Waiting Eagerly For The Phone Not To Ring

So if they have BAD news for you at the Mammography Lab about the results of your mammogram, they call you by phone soon. If they have GOOD news for you, they DON'T call you and by Thursday evening (today's Tuesday) you can rest assured you're fine and they will mail you a letter confirming that.

Thursday come quick! Phone please don't ring!

[Editor's Update: Saturday morning -- no call and the doctor says I'm A+ healthy, all's well! Hurray!]

Daylight Savings Time The Death of Me

It's not MY problem adjusting to the one hour difference, it's my son's refusal to get with the program. He will NOT get to bed on time, just can't seem to get into the swing of it.

Tonight's the night.

We'll crack this nut -- 9PM and lights out OR BUST! Yes, we're on the road to an early night. Hosannah!

He Looked Good In Genes Too

Why do these sexy studs always end up in skirts?

Digital Pix of My Big Boobs

Oh, you were thinking about something like this?

I was thinking of something like this. And my boobs aren't that big, but they sure looked big up on the screen.

In fact, I just got back from having a mammogram and want to tell all the girls (of a certain age) to RUN don't walk to your local doctor to get a mammogram.

The new digital machines are so much better -- faster, less painful, and so much more accurate -- even a great mammogram-avoider like myself is keen on running right back in to get another pic taken ... well, not exactly, but honestly, they are a world apart from the other procedure.

In the old days (last year?) a mammogram took so long. You stood there with your tit in a vice essentially, being squeezed very hard and it was really painful, while they took plain old xrays, loaded the big heavy film cassettes, etc. It took forever.

And worse, then the films had to be developed and so you wouldn't get the results for awhile time -- and in some ways that was the most painful part -- waiting and waiting, your mind running wild at the possibility of having breast cancer. Now, the radiologist can read the digital pix this afternoon and let me know what's what. That is terrific.

Ask your doctor for "full field digital mammography" and if they don't have it, find a clinic that does.

And do what I do as a reward for getting a mammogram -- buy a sexy new bra!

First Album

Had a fun talk with a friend last night about the first album we owned -- by ourselves -- not bought by an older brother or sister, but really OURS. Both of us mentioned Beatles albums. Then we got on talking about old records we liked. I was nuts for Rubber Soul and Revolver.

Then I remembered this very early Elton John song. I used to wear white socks too.

First Episode At Hienton

--Elton John, music
--Bernie Taupin, lyrics

I was one as you were one
And we were two so much in love forever
I loved the white socks that you wore
But you don't wear white socks no more, now you're a woman
I joked about your turned-up nose
And criticized your school girl clothes
But would I then have paced these roads
to love you

For seasons come
and seasons go
Bring forth the rain the sun and snow
Make Valerie a woman
And Valerie is lonely

No more to roam on the snow hills of Hienton
Undecided with the guardians
of the older generation
A doormat was a sign of welcome
In the winter months to come
And in the summer laughing
Through the castle ruins
we'd run

For the quadrangle sang to the sun
And the grace of our feeling
And the candle burned low
as we talked of the future
Underneath the ceiling

There were tears in the sky
And the clouds in your eyes
were just cover
For your thighs were the cushions
Of my love and yours for each other

For seasons come
and seasons go
Bring forth the rain the sun and snow
Make Valerie a woman
And Valerie is lonely

The songs still are sung
It was fun to be young
But please don't be sad
where `ere you are
I am who I am
You are who you are
Now Valerie's a woman
Now Valerie's a woman
Now Valerie's a woman

Monday, April 05, 2004

Group Blogs: Four Corners

I've been hitting a treasure trove of group blogs today, ever since we launched ours today and Seth Godin pointed out that the blogosphere is changing the magazine world and group blogs are the thing to watch.

Check out Suw Charman's recommendation -- a new one she's writing for -- FOUR CORNERS.

Four Corners -- Living. Creating. Adventuring.

And who's doing all that fun stuff? These cool authors.

All You Ruggedly Handsome Programmers Out There

Hey, call me crazy but I'll bet you could use some new spring clothes from Land's End. Check out these duds for ruggedly handsome brainiacs like yourselves.

And they've got great chinos, jeans and shorts too. And they aren't very expensive. Get your credit cards ready. New clothes by the end of the week -- and what are you gonna wear to BloggerCon anyway??? Harvard Square here you come.

Thanks Seth

Seth Godin is speculating about the trends in blogs which look more and more like magazines. Thanks for mentioning Worthwhile. We are different from many magazines which also have websites or weblogs. We are starting with the weblog then adding the magazine, instead of the other way around.

Using our site meter, I can already see which writers on the new blog are getting hits and which are not ... will we keep them or dump them according to their numbers? That would be a little like a SURVIVOR Magazine Show -- horrors! But, don't worry, we won't use stats for that. Instead, we'll get a very up-to-the-minute reader feedback loop, telling us what people want to read about and what bores them. [Needless to say with 4 women writers and 4 men, we've been making bets! Go, girls, go!]

Last week I was talking to a friend over coffee who mentioned he likes the idea of Worthwhile a lot because he finds other monthly or weekly business magazines are too stale for him, even the day they are published, since paper just takes so long to write for, print, distribute and get into a reader's hands. He loved the idea that we could publish up-to-the-minute business blog posts on what's going on with a trial like Tyco or other business news hitting the wires right now.

Worthwhile Magazine Live Today

One of these days we'll tell the tale of how this baby got birthed with me here in Boston and Boris, our Ace Uber-Tech Webman in Tokyo and Kevin and Anita, our founders in Atlanta and the rest of us scattered from one end of the globe to the other, but not right now. It 5:25 am here, I'm still in my pj's and going back to bed and it's dinner in Tokyo and Boris has to grab a bite.

Too bad we didn't ask Ms. "Where In The World Is" Carmen Sandiego to write for us. Some of our bloggers, like Tom Peters, you actually can track worldwide.

Worthwhile Magazine -- easily found at and we hope enjoyed by all today. It's a blog about ... read this.

I have to say, I didn't expect to read David Weinberger writing on hot stone reiki back massages. And now you can even subscribe to his own personal RSS feed.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

1 Out Of 8,130,000

Tonight, in my referrer log for Halley's Comment, I found out that I am number 1 out of 8,130,000 results for the Google search:

what to say to a woman

which certainly made me laugh. I'm hardly an authority, but better me than anyone else. Actually I think some other people who spoofed my blog post had even better things to say than I did. Like this. Big thanks to the person who inspired that post -- little did they know what the result would be.

[Or maybe you'd prefer the number one "SPONSORED" link. Free of charge here on my blog. you gotta love it.]

Science Project

We've been working on a science project all afternoon about electromagnets. We need to explain how regular old magnets work and how electromagnets work with an experiment that's simple, obvious, fun and NOT dangerous. Sounds easier than it is.

Palm Sunday

It's Palm Sunday. Not Palm Sunday, not even Palm Sunday, but Palm Sunday. It's been an interesting one.

My son and I volunteered to help out with "coffee hour" in our church. Connie, who runs the coffee hour program and is an old hand at the business of setting out great cheese platters, vegetables, dips, cookies and everything else you'd love to eat at 11:30 when church is over. She did most of it. My kid and I set up the kids table with Dunkin Donuts munchkin donut holes and also big donuts -- glazed and chocolate glazed. We sure didn't have trouble getting rid of them.

For some unknown reason, and this continues to happen, my kid has decided wearing socks is not cool. He does anything to avoid wearing socks. So when we pulled up to church this morning, he gets out on the side where there are bushes and there are thorns and he's walking where his ankles are getting scratched by thorns and it hurts and he's making odd noises, torn between how it hurts and how he doesn't want me to know he was busy sneaking out of the house this morning with no socks on. Sometimes raising a boy is like raising an alien invader, I have absolutely NO CLUE why he does some of the weird things he does. And when I say "no socks" let me remind you it's cold and rainy here and may snow later. It's not Palm Beach, or Palm Springs, it's just Palm Sunday.

Two Years Ago

I was going to post some things about what was going on for me two years ago, but when I took a quick look, I've decided against it. My dad passed away April 9, 2002.

I can't decide what's worse, reading the passages written when I didn't know I would lose him within the week or reading the passages about losing him. Nothing good about either.

And even reading the stuff I wrote about getting ready for spring and setting the clocks ahead on this Sunday two years ago, to know that time for him was running down to a lifetime low, to know that the clocks were about to meltdown anyway, all so strange, this life. Leaves me with the paradoxical and unachieveable desire to have just one more hour with him. And what would I say in that hour? A lifetime of words, or just be silent and hold his hand? I don't have the answer.

In Another Language

"Et puis tiens, je viens de me rendre compte que tu as “switché” vers le français pour parler d’amour. Intéressant. ;-)"

"I Found The Ocean!"

My kid is playing a new videogame Test Drive Off Road Wide Open. He's in Hawaii in a Hummer that lets him drive up and down volcanos, through lava, after a while -- I've asked three times why his tires don't melt or catch on fire -- he says "they're modified" -- "for what?" I ask -- "they're modified for lava -- everything in my Hummer is modified." Okay, right sure. The graphics are gorgeous but taking the 45 degree angle up the side of a volcano and then rushing the rim to come plummeting down into a pool of boiling lava -- well, just not my idea of a good time.

A mom can breathe a little easier when he yells out, "I found the ocean!"

And considering it's Hawaii, I figured he'd have to find some water at some point. "Modified" or not, his tires can use the cooling off I figure.

But talk about "OFF ROAD!" He hits the beach and drives RIGHT ACROSS THE WATER, drives right up along side a sailboat and then veers off towards a glorious rocky beach where big waves hit big boulders with mile high spray.

I'm trying to imagine how I'll get him out of a Hummer that drives on the ocean, into church clothes and off to hear the oh-so-dull-now story of Jesus H. Christ who was just a guy who walked on water. In today's episode, Palm Sunday, he rides a mule into town and people make fun of him. Tough sell. Only a jerk would pick a mule for a vehicle, any gamer knows that.

Episode 1018 AABF14

"Simpsons Bible Stories"
1018 AABF14
Original Airdate: 4/04/99

"A particularly boring sermon by Reverend Lovejoy sends each member of the Simpson family into his or her own biblical fantasy. Marge imagines herself and Homer as Adam and Eve, living in harmony with the flora and fauna of the Garden of Eden until Homer stupidly eats from the Tree of Knowledge. Lisa dreams of herself and the other kids of Springfield Elementary as the Israelites in ancient Egypt. Principal Skinner is Pharaoh and it's up to a nervous Milhouse to act as Moses and free his people from bondage. In Homer's dream, he is King Solomon, solving every dispute by cutting the contested object in half. When Lenny and Carl bring a pie to the King, he cuts it in half and eats both pieces. In Bart's action-packed fantasy, he is David, fighting Nelson as Goliath's son, Goliath II. When the Simpsons awake from their dreams, they discover that Revelation has come and it's time for God's final judgment. Only Lisa is allowed into Heaven, but Homer drags her down into Hell with the rest of the family."

Sunday Morning With Reverend Lovejoy

And as we pass the collection plate, please give as though the person
next to you were watching.

-- Rev. Lovejoy, "Simpsons Bible Stories"

Friday, April 02, 2004

Britt's Up To Something Cool Per Usual

Check out what Britt Blaser's up to over at his blog, Escapable Logic.
Open Republic helps activists grow their community, their support, their contributions and their political power. This is the entry point for the tech-averse political novice and a backroom operations guide for the tech-savvy political pro: Dean done right.

Tyco Mistrial

All those months, all that money, it's a shame. Retrial possible as soon as May. Read about it here.

Strong Jobs Numbers And Kerry In Peril?

Pssshaw. What, like a registered Democrat with a job is miraculously transformed into a Republican? I doubt it.

It's not JUST the economy, stupid!

Please Stop Asking Me About BloggerCon And Orkut

I get about 3 or 4 messages a week asking me if I'm attending BloggerCon and about 4 or 5 invitations a week to Orkut. So I've been spending a lot of time telling people I was previously booked and wasn't able to attend the event, and "Thanks, but no thanks," I'm not joining Orkut even if God invited me.

BUT ...

Things have changed in my calendar and I WILL BE ATTENDING BLOGGERCON. How could I miss some of these speakers. They are too good.

I'm still not joining Orkut.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

Harvard Business School Or High School Diploma?

Tonight, the reality TV show about business, Trump's The Apprentice put two men in the hot seat in Donald Trump's boardroom -- Kwame, an African American from Goldman Sachs with an MBA from Harvard Business School vs. Troy, a natural salesman and street-smart closer with a high school diploma.

It is an interesting choice. The thing is, from an entrepreneurial point of view, the salesman would probably go further in a start-up or new business situation. But from the point of view of Trump hiring a polished, experienced "aide-de-camp" the guy from HBS is not to be beat.

Interestingly, the street-smart guy Troy, had the choice to bring in either Kwame or the other guy, Bill, the founder of a cigar store business to face the possibility of one or the other being fired. If Troy had chosen someone more like him in credentials to go into the boardroom with him -- in other words, Bill -- he might have appeared stronger and saved his own ass -- so the choice of Kwame was a disaster. Don't go into a fight with an HBS grad when all you bring to the table is an H.S.D.

I think that error in judgment was more significant than the reasons Trump gave to fire Troy. (Essentially that he was a "loose cannon" and not as experienced as Kwame.)

Trump was featured in the beginning of the program giving a lecture to a full room of eager listeners. He was talking about passion. He had wise words -- if you don't feel passion for your work, forget it, you'll never succeed at it.

Oreos and High Tea

If you could see the rain in Boston today -- it's unbelievable -- there's sure to be flooding all over and the evening commute will not be pretty. So the only rational remedy I can see is Oreos and High Tea. And that's just what I'm having.

Kinja Live

All sort of new blogs being born -- today Kinja goes live. If it's a Denton blog, it's bound to be good. Now, wait, wasn't that about Smucker's Jam? Whatever... I haven't read it deeply enough yet to give my opinion, but I will.

Worthwhile Coming To A Theatre Near You

No April Fooling around here. Yes, Worthwhile debuts next Monday, April 5.

Lessig Review In New York Times Book Review

Got an advanced copy of the Lessig review by Adam Cohen of Free Culture. It will run in this Sunday's (April 4, 2004) New York Times. Not sure if it's online yet.
The shrinking of the public domain, and the devastation it threatens to the culture, are the subject of a powerfully argued and important analysis by Lawrence Lessig, a professor at Stanford Law School and a leading member of a group of theorists and grass-roots activists, sometimes called the "copyleft," who have been crusading against the increasing expansion of copyright protections. Lessig was the chief lawyer in a noble, but ultimately unsuccessful, Supreme Court challenge to the copyright extensions act. "Free Culture" is partly a final appeal to the court of public opinion and partly a call to arms. ...

To his credit, Lessig avoids the classic law professor's trap of writing about legal cases and doctrines as if no actual people were involved. He humanizes his arguments with stories like that of Jesse Jordan, a freshman at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute who innocently put together a new search engine for his school's computer network, and, after students started using it to trade music, was notified by the Recording Industry Association of America that he owed them $15 million. (They settled for $12,000, his life savings.)

Lessig grounds his argument about the new rules' impact on the culture in a basic observation about art: as long as it has existed, artists have been refashioning old works into new ones. Greek and Roman myths were developed over centuries of retelling. Shakespeare's plays are brilliant reworkings of other playwrights' and historians' stories. Even Disney owes its classic cartoon archive -- Snow White, Cinderella, Pinocchio -- to its plundering of other creators' tales. And today, technology allows for the creation of ever more elaborate "derivative works,' art that builds on previous art, from hip-hop songs that insert, or sample, older songs to video art that adds new characters to, or otherwise alters, classic films."