Dude, That Is So Sic!

I was at this confab/seminar/sales show yesterday and one of the
presenters would, from time to time, throw in phrases I thought
grammatically passable but unusually casual. As I heard them, they
might read: "This is one of our more performin' systems!" or "IBM p6 is
really performin' when paired with this BI front-end!" Oh, OK. Kind of
like "bitchin'" or "smokin'" as polished up for the corporate set.

No. It's a "whole nother" word, and I hope you're hearing it here
first: performant.

Say It With Beans

Little E in Space Cadet Gear for Birthday Party

Virginia Tech Media Aftermath

Shouldn't manifestos by murderers be passed directly on to researchers, do not pass go, do not collect $200?

Seriously: Do not collect your two hundred dollars while you wallpaper the airwaves with psychopathic-false-martyr home videos. I don't think I'm talking about censorship... but perhaps I am. Allowing the sensationalism of a news item to decide coverage amount is like relying on markets for morality, and this feels like a place for some supply-side control. I strongly believe that the world would be a better place -- and the future less bloody -- if big media would stop delivering shocked viewers to their advertisers while implicitly promising the front page to the next whackjob.

Guns N' Huh?

If you thought it was impossible to simultaneously sweep unregistered guns off the street AND get a bunch of inner city youth turned on to mid-period post-metal Sunset Strip butt rock fronted by a famous bigot... think again. Proudly presenting the most demographically stunted promotional crimefighting mash-up of the century!

John Forms the Beast on Grill, 42 lbs.

Kendall Foils the Grill Up

BL 2006: Weber Ranch Eats a Standard Kettle

Pumpkin Patching in Folsom

Saw Sufjan Stevens at Zellerbach last night. Ambitious and epic and childlike all at once. Huge band: eight strings, three horns, 20+ voice choir, drums, Sufjan and two other utility players all cycling between piano, guitar, banjo, bass, celeste and vocals. There must've been near 40 people up there. Opener was good, too, My Brightest Diamond, sort of a PJ Harvey/Björk/Jeff Buckley operatic singer-songwriter based trio plus strings. Great show.

Sky and Fighter Planes

Stoked

Breakthrough run on Sunday: broke the 50 minute threshold on 10K at the Whole Foods race yesterday. And Little E raced, running in the 4 year olds 100m! Super fun.

(Prep notes for self: solid three weeks of training -- typically 5 tempo and a 7 easy, one speed on treadmill, 2x bike, 3x strength -- only easy 5 week of race, but kept up bike intervals and strength all the way to Friday; speed workout limited but hard; ate light the week of; big the day before and gu'd 15 mins. before start (Cola Clif shot.))

OK, enough nerdin' out. Great weekend. Visited friends in Mountain View for dinner Saturday, the race Sunday, beautiful weather all around.

...And Not the Good Kind of Attention

I hit the newstand downstairs, indoor and tiny, trying to find a skate magazine.

Slightly arrogant Marina girl is reading a Vogue; Islamocapitalist woman of unknown country of origin working the register beneath a promotional cigarette plexgilas arch.

I start in the sports section. Nothing. I go to hobbies, motorcycles, guns, pretty much by rotating my body, but now and then sidestepping along the perimeter of the store. Nope. OK, how about lifestyle stuff, music and fashion? Rolling Stone, Q, Mazim, FHM. Suddenly, I find myself in the no man's land between the magazines where cover models have their mouths closed, and the magazines where they have their mouths open.

"Hey," I call across to the cashier, who is wearing what might be described as a demi-Burkha, "do you have Transworld?"

"I don't know. Is that new?" she says, gesturing toward the adult section. Oh, boy. Marina chick scans the room and scowlsl.

"No. Well, do you have Thrasher?"

Cashier gives me The Big Eyes and says "Oh, no, we don't carry THAT." Marina girl looks at me sideways and leaves.

Uh, sorry.

Santa Barbara, Day 2

Friday, we followed our newly adopted morning routine: oatmeal, hardboiled eggs, cantaloupe, bagels and croissants at the motel, then over to Coffee Bean across the street for some real caffeination. For the purpose of getting O to nap, we drove from Arroyo Burro -- a northerly beach -- down to Butterfly Beach at the south end and back to Arroyo Burro. We set up on the beach, played in the waves, E and I jogged from one end to the other, and we ate some lunch from the snack bar.

Back at the motel for O's nap, E and I swam in the pool, then it was time for dinner. Actually, we got over to State Street an hour ahead of our reservations at Palazzio, so we stopped in Chicken Little, a children's clothing and toy shop, and K bought a birthday present for a friend. Next door to Chicken Little was a nicely stocked Copeland's boardshop, and E had been encouraging me to get my birthday skateboard while we were in Santa Barbara... so I wheeled O and his stroller in and picked out an Almost deck, Independent trucks, and some wheels and bearings and the guy behind the counter had me hooked up in no time.

The skate-posing began immediately upon arrival at the restaurant, where I asked the hostess to stash my skate. I hate to but have to admit that I actually felt slightly cool. Heh.