The Pjammer Chronicles

A Ghost Story.

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:30:47 GMT

Do you believe in ghosts? If so, have you ever seen one?

n the words of Chato Cadena, from the fantastic-but-canceled-by-shortsighted-studio-executives television series Kingpin: "I don't believe in ghosts - but I saw one."

The following occurred in Winter of 1992 on an empty road somewhere in the desolate stretch between Los Angeles and Fresno. Good friends who attended University with me at the time know this story already, but for casual acquaintances and readers, this is probably new.

_________

Finals week, UCSD.

Thanks to an unfortunate coincidence between the physics and chemistry departments, I had THREE finals scheduled back-to-back-to-back on the same day. I didn't know it at the time, but students in such situations were allowed to petition a rescheduling of one of their final exams. No matter ... on about four hour's sleep, wired up to my eyeballs on caffeine, I marched to campus with countless facts and formulae precariously crammed in my beleaguered skull ... with bright hopes of swinging some Post-Finals Genuis Effect mojo into the three hours when the knowledge actually mattered. Hours pass, and by the time I turned in the final of my final exams, the morning light that greeted me bled into an inky nightsky.

Having already packed my belongings for the trip back up to SF in the trunk of my car, I stupidly thought "Hey, I'm packed. Why not drive back home tonight?"

So on four hours of sleep over 48 hours, I began the northbound drive from San Diego on the 5 freeway, crossing Los Angeles at midnight. An hour north beyond the Grapevine is a vast expanse of farmland and rural desolation; in the wee hours, the only vehicles on the road are long-distance trucks, rumbling landlocked leviathains ferrying their cargo hinter and yon.

And it was here, miles from civilization, the effects of my fatigue rapidly began catching up with me. Sleep researchers call them micronaps ... lapses of consciousness lasting a few seconds ... during which my wheel would drift over the bumps in the road to a loud BRBRBRBRBRBR (between friends, we refer to this phenomenon as 'brailling') that jerked me awake, only for me to drift off a few minutes later. Dangerous, I know. Did I mentioned I was young and stupid?

An hour or so north of the Grapevine pass, I saw in the corner of my eye a young boy, who couldn't be older than 10, dressed in a black leather jacket too large for his frame, huddled on the side of the road. He has a scared look in his eyes, and shivering from the December air. A runaway, I thought as I approached the boy's position. What's he doing way out here? Kid's probably hungry and been walking for hours. Maybe I should pull ove-

He runs. Across the freeway ... a hard sprint that places him on a collision course with the trajectory of my car. I stomp on my brakes full-stop, and even as I hear my tires screech, I know there was no way I can stop in time. Brace for impact in three-two-one ... but as he crosses the beam of my headlights, he vanishes ... just fades from sight.

For a full five minutes, I sit roadside, gasping for breath ... pulse roaring in my temples while I try to cool my nerves.

Where the hell did he go?

I search the grounds around where the boy stood, walked the line next to the long black stripes on asphalt where my tires left their mark. Nothing.

Did I imagine the whole thing?

No matter. Clearly, I was in no condition to drive and desperately needed rest. I pull into a convenience store parking lot six miles up the road, put my seat back and promptly drop into a dreamless sleep.

And to this day, driving along that stretch of road between Los Angeles and Fresno during nighttime still gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Who was that boy? What happened that night?

Your turn.

Tell me a time when you've had a brush with the inexplicable/supernatural.

April Madness

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 02:24:18 GMT

ast week, This week:

Fixed the domain-name registration issue that threw me into a frenzy for a few days. Domain-jacking scum : 0. Thanks for the help from those who chimed in their advice!
Had a wonderful week with a person who always brings a smile to my day. You know who you are.
Cleaning up a presentation in Keynote I will be delivering next week.
Ate more gelato than really healthy.
Caught up 80% on backlog of emails. Hurrah.

I fear my posts are sounding more and more like twitter blurbs.

More substantive updates pending.

FOOD FIGHT, History of 20th~21st Century Warfare

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 14:16:44 GMT

whimsical tour through a century of major world conflicts, told through ethnic foods representing their respective countries.

PS: For those of you who can't tell your matzah from your falafel, a cheat sheet of the 'cast'.

TED Last week. What Happened Yesterday. Today's Agenda.

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 14:54:33 GMT

he rollercoaster of my "high Beta" life continues its relentless pace.

Last week: TED was a phenomenal experience, and I am grateful for the connections that got me a chance to mingle with some of the brightest minds in the world, including a 5-minute conversation with Al Gore (!!!). Got a chance to meet a BMW executive who took me behind the wheel of a hydrogen-powered BMW 750 to showcase its seamless switching between H2 and conventional gasoline modes.

BIL was a huge hit, and while I felt unprepared for my speech/presentation, it seems the audience received it enthusiastically and I had strangers mob me after the talk to continue the conversation. More on that later.

Yesterday: Car accident. No bodily injury as far as I can tell, but car is gone. If you're a RL friend, can fill you in on details of that by voice or email.

Today: As VP Membership of Adobe Toastmasters, I am hosting my good friend, Bruno Bowden (lead engineer at Google Earth), to speak at Adobe's San Jose HQ office at 4pm and share secrets/hidden parts of Google Earth to an audience of Adobe folks. Non-Adobe employees are welcome to come by if you are in San Jose - just email me your particulars and I can pass your name to Security for a guest pass.

Chocolates will be served by Cacao Anasa.

From time to time, I want to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week straight.

This is one of those weeks.

But no rest for the wicked, as the saying goes.

	Only two bags of this design in the world ... The much-coveted, subject-of-wild-rumors TED swag bag for attendees. With about $600 of electronic goodies and one-of-a-kind gifts inside.
	Hydrogen Powered BMW Drinks Hydrogen, belches out water as exhaust.
	A Jawbone in every Bag Last year @ TED, Jawbone showcased their wares, but teased everyone by saying they are not for sale. Now, they are free in every bag.

TED Tonight, BIL Tomorrow.

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 16:20:36 GMT

o.

A few of you who know me IRL know this has been a HELL of a few weeks - in every sense of the word; your support and caring means more to me than I can convey in a simple blog post. All I can say here is - thank you.

In a moment, I will begin the long drive toward Monterey for pre-TED get-togethers; If I had my druthers, I'd reschedule these things, but unfortunately, commitments are what they are and there are promises to keep.

It's not all downside - I am having dinner tonight at 7:30 with fellow TED attendee Jon Staenberg and some mutual friends/business contacts. Local Monterey folk, LJ friends (I'm looking at you mauitian), are welcome to join in - please message me and I'll fill you in on details.

A repeat from a previous post: are there folks I know in Monterey, or people I should meet with when I am there? Are there others on this list who will be attending BIL or TED that I should meet? Please speak up!

More soon.

Divine Caroline. Artist Casting Call.

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 21:10:00 GMT

wo unrelated contacts in as many weeks suggested I take some of my essay-ish writings/dream journals and publish them on Divine Caroline, which looks to be a user-generated-content online version of the Oxygen Channel.

Does anyone reading this have any experience with/heard of Divine Caroline?

Also: on behalf of a client willing to pay good $ for the right person; I'm looking for a community of portrait/manga artists with a good eye for detail (preferably in the San Francisco area) - is there a specific group/community I should be aware of to make some inquiries?

BIL & TED's Excellent Adventure in Monterey

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 07:45:29 GMT

o.

Through a confluence of good fortune, positive relationship-building mojo and no small measure of social engineering, I will be at the uber-l33t and completely sold-out-a-year-in-advance TED Conference in Monterey, CA. Hurrah!

This will be my first time in attendance, so a question: for those of you more familiar with its attendees and the environment - suggestions, recommendations, input?

Since I will be in Monterey, I've also signed up to speak at BIL, a 'counter conference' that is to TED what BARCAMP is to FOOCAMP, an open-source collaborative counterpart to its expensive, exclusionary cousin. Both have their virtues, and I will be speaking on the topic of positive psychology borrowing heavily from Martin Selgiman's fine work in Learned Optimism.

Are there folks I know in Monterey, or people I should meet with when I am there? Are there others on this list who will be attending BIL or TED that I should meet? Please speak up! :)

Cities of the Future - San Francisco Skyline 2108

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 00:00:47 GMT

his weekend, I will be photographing History Channel's City of the Future contest, where top architecture firms from major metropolitan areas compete to assemble their vision of skylines of their respective cities 100 years in the future.

Local LJ friends/long-time lurkers/friends without blogs ... want to meet up for lunch?

View Poll: #1123628

MAJ Andy Olmsted, KIA

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 21:36:45 GMT

eath, as the saying goes, is the great equalizer, and sooner or later, we're all bound for the bone orchard.

For Major Andy Olmsted, it was sooner - much too sooner. As a solider serving in Iraq, he understood, better than most, the ephemeral nature of life and had the presence of mind to entrust a final blog post to a good friend in the event of his untimely death.

On January 4th, 2008, MAJ Andy Olmsted's team was ambushed, and he was KIA in Iraq. As my only sibling is an officer in the U.S. Navy, I've thought hard about the harsh price that war extracts from the youngest and brightest of our citizenry.

The following are excerpts from MAJ Olmsted's final words/post:

What I don't want this to be is a chance for me, or anyone else, to be maudlin. I'm dead. That sucks, at least for me and my family and friends. But all the tears in the world aren't going to bring me back, so I would prefer that people remember the good things about me rather than mourning my loss. (If it turns out a specific number of tears will, in fact, bring me back to life, then by all means, break out the onions.) I had a pretty good life, as I noted above. Sure, all things being equal I would have preferred to have more time, but I have no business complaining with all the good fortune I've enjoyed in my life. So if you're up for that, put on a little 80s music (preferably vintage 1980-1984), grab a Coke and have a drink with me. If you have it, throw 'Freedom Isn't Free' from the Team America soundtrack in; if you can't laugh at that song, I think you need to lighten up a little. I'm dead, but if you're reading this, you're not, so take a moment to enjoy that happy fact.

...

I do ask (not that I'm in a position to enforce this) that no one try to use my death to further their political purposes. I went to Iraq and did what I did for my reasons, not yours. My life isn't a chit to be used to bludgeon people to silence on either side. If you think the U.S. should stay in Iraq, don't drag me into it by claiming that somehow my death demands us staying in Iraq. If you think the U.S. ought to get out tomorrow, don't cite my name as an example of someone's life who was wasted by our mission in Iraq. I have my own opinions about what we should do about Iraq, but since I'm not around to expound on them I'd prefer others not try and use me as some kind of moral capital to support a position I probably didn't support. Further, this is tough enough on my family without their having to see my picture being used in some rally or my name being cited for some political purpose. You can fight political battles without hurting my family, and I'd prefer that you did so.

On a similar note, while you're free to think whatever you like about my life and death, if you think I wasted my life, I'll tell you you're wrong. We're all going to die of something. I died doing a job I loved. When your time comes, I hope you are as fortunate as I was.

...

I wasn't the greatest husband. I could have done so much more, a realization that, as it so often does, comes too late to matter. But I cherished every day I was married to Amanda. When everything else in my life seemed dark, she was always there to light the darkness. It is difficult to imagine my life being worth living without her having been in it. I hope and pray that she goes on without me and enjoys her life as much as she deserves. I can think of no one more deserving of happiness than her.

"I will see you again, in the place where no shadows fall."
Ambassador Delenn, Babylon 5

I don't know if there is an afterlife; I tend to doubt it, to be perfectly honest. But if there is any way possible, Amanda, then I will live up to Delenn's words, somehow, some way. I love you.

Andy, I've never known the privilege of sharing a cold one with you and hearing your laughter, the playful twinkle in your eye I can just visualize when you regale others with your stories. Now I never will - but your words will echo in eternity, as will your love for your family and friends.

I've considered your request to play 80s music in your honor, and combed through my extensive collection - the one that kept coming back at me was Joey Scarbury's 1981 hit single from the TV Show "Greatest American Hero."

Been playing it on repeat since hearing about your passing, and its lyrics, in connection with news of your death, holds a new poignance.

Look at what's happened to me,
I can't believe it myself.
Suddenly I'm up on top of the world,
It should've been somebody else.

Believe it or not,
I'm walking on air.
I never thought I could feel so free-.
Flying away on a wing and a prayer.
Who could it be?
Believe it or not it's just me.

It really should have been someone else.

May your G.A. carry you to Valhallah on swift wings, and may your love carry Amanda through these dark moments of her loss.

White Privilege Counter-Meme

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 16:39:23 GMT

o it seems the 'privilege meme' (authored by Will Barrett) has been making the rounds; people bold the things that are true about their upbringing from this list as a way to showcase how much 'privilege' (read: unfair advantage) they had over their peers - perhaps supposed to feel guilty about it?

As an immigrant for whom English is my THIRD language (and whose parents started over in their mid-30s in a new country with a new language), the entire excercise irritates me on so many levels I felt the need to create a counter-meme. The truth is, by global standards, EVERYONE who just lives in the westernized world is absurdly privileged, and it is incredibly destructive to focus on the miniscule 'unfairness' of how so-and-so got to go to a museum as a kid, and you didn't.

Go through the list below. Bold the stuff that's true about you.

Or I'll make it easy on you and just list the stuff that's UNtrue.

Poverty
1	Unlike 50% of the world, I have always had access to clean, potable water.
2	I don't know anyone who does NOT have access to clean, potable water, and until I read the above, did not know the percentage of world population that does not have this benefit.
3	I don't know anyone who died from malaria.
4	I don't know anyone who died from malnutrition.
5	I don't know anyone living on less than US$1000 per year.

Government, Education, Internet
6	I live in a country where the average citizen has a life expectancy over age 40.
7	I live in a country that has a literacy rate of over 95%.
8	I have a connection to the Internet either personally or through a library in my city, and through that, can access the repository of the world's knowledge with a few keystrokes.
9	My country does not enact nationwide internet censorship and will not forbid me from reading articles or posting comments critical of my country's leaders or policies.
10	My country does not jail or execute citizens who express dissent with its current leaders or government policy.
11	From age six to eighteen, I have access to a public education system that is free to residents of my community.

White, Heterosexual Males (others, please skip down to next section)
12	If I am financially successful, I am told the only reason I have a comfortable lifestyle is because of my 'white privilege' - any hard work, risk-taking or personal work ethic I applied to better myself during my schooling or career is discounted. I am obligated to 'share the wealth' and endure confiscatory taxes of my income and investments as 'reparations' to nonwhite strangers I'm presumed to have oppressed on my way to to top.
13	If I am financially/professionally unsuccessful, I am solely responsible for my failures and can expect to be openly ridiculed by mainstream culture ('hick' 'poor white trash' etc).
14	I must never acknowledge reverse-racism/anti-white discrimination; the existence of women-only fitness clubs, race-gerrymandered college admissions or government set-aside contracts for less-qualified competitors are all legitimate recourse against centuries of oppression perpetrated by people of my skin tone/gender.

NON-White Heterosexual Males (N-WHM)
15	If I start a business, there exists an entire federal bureau dedicated to granting me access to capital, consulting and mentoring, based on my ethnicity or gender.
16	There exists advocacy groups of my specific ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation, who strongarm special privileges for my group from governments and give me access to free legal and media representation if I ever feel aggrieved by a WHM and wish to make a big to-do about it.
17	There exists Oppression Studies majors at most universities where students can earn bachelor's and even advanced degrees just by studying/cataloging how those with my ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation don't have it as good as WHMs.
18	If I, as a minority, express an opinion skeptical of the notion of 'white privilege,' I will be scolded as a 'self-hating [minority type]' who has 'internalized my oppression;' there is only one correct opinion to have on the matter and if I dissent, I can expect to be branded a 'race traitor.'

Alethia, G.A. - Caroline Aftermath

Fri, 28 Dec 2007 20:16:11 GMT

Note: for new/casual readers, the following may not make much sense unless you have some essential elements of context. Please read: Sandy Ego. Caroline. and Alethia, G.A. before proceeding.

elocity.

A one-word answer to Alethia's question: "So, what happened?"

It's a word that bookmarks entire conversations we had years earlier on the topic, untouched until recent events brought them to the surface. We talked at length about 'velocity matching' in those days, she was the one person whose ambition and drive matched mine, and the future I envisioned for us revolved around us chasing our respective dreams at full speed, fueling and recharging each others' reserves in the quiet moments between, mending battle wounds as they occur. We would offer each other encouragement in moments of doubt and defeat, and a one-person cheering section in moments of triumph.

Instead.

"Velocity," I said as Alethia nodded her understanding. "I kept going and she fell to a different orbit."

"It's strange, you know. Everything I loved about her has died or faded except her physical beauty; I had dinner with a shell holding the ghost of an person I kept loving that was long gone, kept alive frozen in time in my memories."

She leans forward. "Look, if you're going to write about me again, shouldn't you at least start from the beginning of this dream?"

Ah. meta humor.

But fair enough - I guess this would make more sense if I started from the beginning.

December 26th, 2007

I'm at the seaside coffeeshop again, tasting a light salty breeze through its antique stained-glass windows in my nose.

Odd.

My seat - our table is front of me, but my G.A. is not there. She's always early, waiting for me, always with a full spread of files before her that I am forbidden to peek.

I take my seat and wait. It's a strange how tightly we associate certain places and smells with certain personalities, and how the absence of one of those things dramatically alter our experiences of them.

I take my coffee and sit, waiting - slowing noticing details of the place that escaped my attention in previous encounters - the grain of the wood on the table and the scars it accumulated in its time. A scrap of parchment-like paper on the table, folded over once. Why didn't I notice it before?

I unfold it - it had just two lines in fountain-pen style script:

Behind you.

- A

I turned and there she was, sitting behind a silver laptop computer with an evaluative look on her face.

"Christ, you scared me! What are you, Batman now?"

She fixes a quizzical stare at me.

"Oh no. No no no, you're not going to pretend you don't recognize BATMAN now, I know you better than that."

"You got me," she raises her hands in acknowledgment, grinning mischievously. "I've been reading a lot more of your books and graphic novels since I took over your account - I quite like them."

"So."

"So."

Just as I was about to point to her new computer and ask 'what's this?' she spins the laptop around and beats me to the words:

"What's this?"

On the display was my journal post about her.

Her expression was impossible to read - I can't tell if she's upset, amused, or ... something else. A pregnant pause, as she's expecting me to respond.

Crap. Did I just get busted?

"I ... uh ... "

She let the moment hang for a moment longer before bursting into a sly smile.

"Quite amusing. I see you edited out a few things."

Relief. I nod, not saying any more.

"Wise enough to begin, then. So now that we're all caught up, let me ask again: what happened?"

Flashback humor. Great.

"Velocity," I said as Alethia nodded her understanding. "I kept going and she fell to a different orbit."

"It's strange, you know. Everything I loved about her has died or faded except her physical beauty; I had dinner with a shell holding the ghost of an person I kept loving that was long gone, kept alive frozen in time in my memories."

"In her time - in our time, she stood at the precipice of greatness: brilliant mind, fiercely ambitious, intellectual curious, at the nexus of infinite possibilities. She traded it for security with an older man half her IQ and ambition but I hoped, (foolishly now, in retrospect) she would keep that best part of her regardless."

"Oh?"

"Her clinical research during medical school was exceptional - she applied for and won offers for fellowships and residencies at Harvard, Johns Hopkins to practice cutting-edge medicine with the best minds of her generation, but she turned them down for an internal medicine job nearby so it wouldn't disrupt her husband's shitty mid-level management paper-pusher career at some anonymous cubicle."

"Maybe she did it because she loves him?"

I flinch inwardly a little bit at that.

(Ok, maybe not just a little bit.)

"I'm sure she does. But if he loved her, how could he possibly accept such a pointless sacrifice? If it were me, I would sacrifice my career in a heartbeat and start over in another city so she can flex her wings fully."

"But it wasn't you. Wasn't your sacrifice to make or accept."

I sigh and nod.

"Now? Now she now lives in a world of $50,000 kitchen remodelings, comparison-shopping of Lexus SUV mommy-mobiles, overpriced package vacations to Europe. Domesticated. That spark that I loved flickered out years ago."

"I can't help but wonder: if she had stayed with me, would her transformation into this have happened regardless? Or was this ... this entire thing the consequence of her choosing security over me?"

Alethia spread her hands out in a half-shrug.

"So there's nothing left to hold you?"

"No."

"So you are finally free."

"Yes."

She reaches out to hold my hand "Merry Christmas then, darling."

"Likewise."

And then I awoke.

Posted using TxtLJ

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 11:45:21 GMT

Quote of Evening (while slow dancing w tall redhead Bebe model)

Me: So who did you come with?
Redhead: my mom drove me.
Me: Uh ... How old are you?
R: 17.
Me: !!!

Foob, eat your heart out.

Posted using TxtLJ

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 05:28:20 GMT

@ Ford Modeling Agency xmas party in SF. Ratio 3:1 girls:guys. Holy smokes, the avg girl here is 5'9. pics forthcoming.

Sandy Ego. Caroline.

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 16:31:28 GMT

gainst my instincts for self-preservation, my insatiable curiosity has always prevailed and this week has been no exception.

On my upcoming trip to San Diego, I've agreed to meet for dinner with Caroline, an old flame from a decade past - someone I've moved boulders for and the genesis of my recurring dreams with my Guardian Angel, Alethia.

From the photos she sent me, she looks almost the same - a face frozen in time, little worn for the years but remarkably free from the ravages of time that has decimated the beauty of other loves from that time period.

It's a fool's errand, most likely - but your thoughts?

View Poll: #1104329

So many years come and gone
And yet the memory is strong
One word we never could learn
Good-bye
Our love is frozen in time
I'll be your champion and you'll be mine
I will remember you

- Amy Grant "I Will Remember"

Pixar Company Party

Sat, 08 Dec 2007 14:33:39 GMT

mong the Christmas party invitations stacked dozens deep in my inbox for the month of December, a few stand out: the annual bash at Pixar Animation affords those of us who do not work at the world's coolest corporate office a chance to enjoy the amenities of Pixar's amazing campus in Emeryville, CA.

Took Cath to Pixar's soirée (her first time, my third) and a great deal of fun was had by all.

Now, enough of horking my gym's wireless and off for my morning run to burn off the calories I consumed last night. Hah.

	Cath, outside Pixar Campus
	Yeah.
	CARS! Pixar's driveway..
	WALL-e
	Ratatouille Rats and food.
	I swear I am not shorter than Cath. WTFBBQ.
	Beauty and the Beast. ^_^
	WALL-E
	View from Above Pixar's floor
	Ratatouille boards
	Sketches of Ratatouille chars
	Uhm ... you look a little young to be ordering a merlot
	face-painting for the kids
	Sully, Mike, Cath and me.

El Aye. Sandy Ego.

Wed, 05 Dec 2007 00:34:51 GMT

outhern California.

Have a few social calls and year-end business meetings that require my presence from Dec 13th to Dec 18 in Los Angeles and San Diego.

The Usual Suspects are welcome to email me with your schedules - would like to Hike with the Geeks on Sunday before heading down to San Diego for a few meet-and-greets.

Lindsay, Lexi - the offer for a quick tutorial afternoon of range-time/shooting is still open - how does Sat afternoon (Dec 15th) sound right now?

Hope you are all well. Talk soon.

This post will self-destruct in 24 hours.

Alex Roy @ Enigma. Tim Ferriss (Four Hour Workweek Author) Interview

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 22:19:42 GMT

s motorsport enthusiasts know, the movie "Cannonball Run" was based on a long-standing underground race driving from NYC to Los Angeles - and the most recent record of 32 hours and 7 minutes (set back in a day when police cars couldn't break 95MPH) seems like an impossible time to beat in this age of high-speed pursuit vehicles and radar. Rally Car driver Alex Roy spent two years obsessing about the record, and the story of his pursuit in breaking it (and numerous speeding laws all across the U.S.) is documented in this story:

The Pedal-to-the-Metal, Totally Illegal, Cross-Country Sprint for Glory, in Wired Magazine.

Video of Alex discussing legally questionable modifications he made to his BMW M5 in preparation of his attempt at the record

He's written a book about the story, and will have a movie out in early 2008; Alex will be in town for a wine and fancy h'orderves served book signing at an exotic car dealership Enigma Motors in Dublin, CA on Nov 26th (Monday after Thanksgiving).

We're getting people from the Diablo Porsche Club, Bay Area BMW club, Enigma's own clientele, and motorsport enthusiasts there - and anticipating a crowd of 150 people (capped at 200).

I introduced Tim Ferriss, author of the #1 New York Times Bestseller The Four Hour Workweek, with Alex for a phone interview; the conversation is now live at Tim's website Meet the Real Fast and Furious: 130 MPH, Creating Supercars, and Breaking Records.

If you want in on the fun: http://alexroy.eventbrite.com (code: kaialexroy)

Posted using TxtLJ

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 03:52:25 GMT

Curious - Guy down hall in ER being treated has 2 cops guarding him. Under arrest? Me, still can't legally drive for another 3 hrs b/c narcotics. Yay books.

Posted using TxtLJ

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 03:29:10 GMT

Bad news: multiple fractured ribs. Good news: they're minor fracs that should heal in 3 wks. And that injection of narcotics ten minutes ago ... Heavenly. :-)

Posted using TxtLJ

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 01:27:11 GMT

At SanRamon medical ER. Wipeout spill earlier hit sidewalk. Hurts 2 breathe right now. Hopefully just bruises no rib fractures. Will find out soon.

Descant, P.I.

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 17:06:02 GMT

s some of you know, November is the month for Nanowrimo, better known by its full name: National Novel Writing Month. Aspiring scribes of varying talent commit to a hard 50k wordcount by the end of November, using the occasion as a vehicle to eliminate procrastination.

Now, like most low-traffic blogs, the average Nanowrimo project isn't worth a second glance, unless you're connected to the writer somehow.

Through an odd confluence of searches related to recent semilucid dreams and no small measure of serendipity, I stumbled across a Nanowrimo project that blew me away with its sharp dialogue, sardonic antihero protagonist, and a richly nuanced cast of supporting otherworldly and mundane characters - Descant.

A quote:

I’m not a sorcerer.

I tell you this, because it’s usually the very first question almost anyone who comes into my office asks me. They expect a man who deals with the supernatural to be some sort of supernatural being himself, I suppose. It's odd that they ask, really, considering that very few people really believe in the stuff, but I guess that doesn't mean they're not intrigued by it. Tolkien, and Rowling, and Lewis, and all those other writers who created fantasy worlds sparked the creative imaginations of the human race and made them wonder if any of that fiction was based in reality.

It is, obviously. I'm just not a part of it - not really anyway.

...

I suppose that means half my customers are disappointed when they come to my office expecting to find some steely-eyed Gandalf-meets-Columbo type character, and what they get is me- Desmond D. Descant, Paranormal Investigator, just a normal average guy. Almost.

- Chapter Two: Whatever the Case May Be, Descant

Like any work-in-progress, the tale as it stands can use some editing - but the objective of Nanowrimo is volume, not perfect prose - and for an unedited stream-of-consciousness story, it's a hell of a yarn.

-

Alethia, G.A.

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 19:35:54 GMT

rom time to time, I dream of angels.

I should be more precise: from time to time, in my dreams, I am visited by one angel - a hard-drinking woman of indeterminate age who identifies herself as my guardian angel, whose intense gaze lingers in waking memory like an afterimage in conscious moments. She made appearances in recurring dreams starting close to a decade ago - returning most often in times when there was a love interest in my life.

Alethia first appeared to me in the spring of 1997 ... at the turning point my first heartbreak whose aftermath still echoed in memories years after (and once again, more recently).

The business of transcribing dreams, especially those a decade old, are fraught with its own oddities; in the language of dreams - there is almost no exposition because things simply understood in the dream sound utterly alien to an outside observer - but recent events have brought Alethia back into my near-waking hours, so I thought I would go back to what I meant to write when she first appeared to me.

April, 1997

The seaside coffeeshop allows a light salty breeze through its antique stained-glass windows and in the instant-exposition world of dreams, I already knew who I was seeing.

The woman seated alone in the shop wore a white shirt and dark denim trousers - hair back in a loose ponytail - leafing through manila files. She looks vaguely Eurasian, with reddish tones in an otherwise black mane of straight shoulder-length hair. Her face had an androgynous beauty to it - willowy frame nearly my height, topped by a face of hard lines and angles - with brown-hazel eyes that can bore into a man's soul and miss nothing in its sweep.

Sharpshooter's eyes.

Upon seeing me, she motions to the empty seat across her and I settle in.

"Huh." I began, after a pause "I guess I was expecting someone-"

"Taller?" She interrupts with an impish insouciance. "Male?"

I laugh. "Ok, ok - I didn't really know what to expect. I know WHAT you are but up until now, never really imagined any particular form - but now that you're here, I can't imagine any other that would be fitting."

Silence. Her expression is curious ... playful, waiting for me to speak again.

"So ... what do I call you?"

She puts the folders down, smiling. "I'm sorry, this must all be very confusing for you. Here," and at that, she presents a translucent business card, shimmering with ever-changing colors like the surface of a soap bubble; the card's printing is in an elegant, undecipherable glyph, vaguely reminiscent of Hebrew.

The only thing I can read is the single word below where the name on a business card should appear; the line right under a long string of symbols, in san-serif font around quotes:

"Alethia,"

she says, extending her hand to shake mine. "My true name is unpronounceable in any human language, but 'Alethia' is a good approximation. You know what I am - but I am still working on getting to know you, since I've taken on your case two months ago after you drove your most recent G.A. to early retirement."

She flips through her files casually then props her head on steepled hands. "You seem to have a knack for driving your G.A.s to resign their posts or requisition 'less stressful' assignments."

"Resignations? Retirement? Christ, I have a thousand questions I want to ask, but you've just given me another set of things I'm dying to know."

Alethia takes out a flask and pours what looks to be a liqueur into her coffee.

The heat lifts the aroma of the drink to my nose and the smell is unmistakable. Kahlua.

Say whatever else you will - my guardian angel has excellent taste.

"Rookie G.A.s don't have much choice in who they get assigned. The hapless schmucks that drew you? Lightweights. That, and let's just say you have a way of being extremely hard those closest to you."

I must have given an incredulous look in response, because she pauses and looks at me with her steady gunslinger's stare.

"True, yes?"

I begin a retort, then think better of it, and acknowledge her point with a nod.

She leans forward. "Me? I volunteer for the hard cases that others give up on."

"Hard cases? So what - you're like, The Cleaner of guardian angels?"

She raises an eyebrow. "The Cleaner?"

"Did you ever see La Femme Nikit- nevermind."

Her quizzical expression remained fixed on me. She's expecting an answer of some sort beyond a dismissive 'never mind.'

"Human movie." I continued, after a pause. "Blood, bullets, a story of redemption over a pile of villains' bodies. You'd like it." I say, realizing at that moment I actually have no idea what a centuries-old ethereal being would actually enjoy.

Alethia smiles warmly. "I don't watch a lot of your movies, but I do love those kinds of stories. Your hunch about me is quite right."

"Just lucky."

"Your intuition about others is your gift. False modesty doesn't suit you."

She goes back to her files. "Impressive. You know, most humans take several decades to rack up a rap sheet this length. I can see why your former G.A.s turned in their early resignations."

I drink from my cup. "Does this happen a lot? G.A.s resigning from the posts, I mean? And how many did I go through before you came along?"

She shook her head and held up four fingers as she took another sip from her fortified coffee.

Questions pour from me like rain. "So what's your role in my life exactly? How does this all work? Are you always around? Does everybody get assigned a G.A.? Why is there so much misery and pain in the world if so many of you running interference on behalf of your human charges?"

We palaver, and it turns out my estimate of a thousand questions was a wild overestimation - but prompted a fascinating exchange nonetheless. My questions about God. My apostasy. Heartbreaks and triumphs. She ducks thrice as many questions as she answers, speaking in measured tones, a bare hint of amusement at my incessant curiosity - confirming something about me that she gathered through tertiary sources and crystallized into fact by our dialogue.

I learn from our animated conversation she is an old soldier in a millennia-spanning war for souls, a war that is going rather badly for her side in recent centuries. Even in this, she maintains her comportment - steel in her soul, a smile on her face.

"Tell me - how long did my last G.A. last on the job?"

"Three months."

I snort. "So how long do they give you, before you quit?"

Her eyes shifted from playful to serious in an instant - voice lowered as she leans forward: "I've been at this job for over two thousand years. Two thousand years - and I have not quit an assignment the entire time. Others will do what they do - but as for me, I will not leave you nor forsake you, not for so long as you live. "

"My role is not to make your life easier. It is to forge you into someone worthy of your potential. You were right about my liking stories of redemption -I've built my career shepherd those like you - those born with great promise, saddled by tragedies and scars, to realize flourishing lives whose gifts touch lives across generations. I will warn you now: there will be times you will not like me or what I do, and I am prepared to accept that. There are things I know that I will share if I think it can help, and other pieces of information I can't or won't let you know. But I will never lie to you. I will never fail you."

"I volunteered to be assigned to you because I saw what others missed - that yours is a life sown with the seeds of greatness, and the seeds of destruction. My job is to weed out the the latter so the former can flourish; My job is to see you, all of you - for what you are, what you can be."

I nod. I look at the table - the letters on the tab of the manila folders Alethia was leafing through, and realized with a bolt of clarity that they were initials of ex-girlfriends.

And ... my then-current love interest.

I reach for her folder and she slaps my hand and slammed the folder shut. "HEY! Do you know how many rules I am breaking by just meeting with you like this? Did we not just cover this?"

A moment.

"I won't mollycoddle you or shelter you from every disappointment; only through adversity can you learn resilience. There is steel in the soul of every great man, forged in sorrow, tempered through the fires of tragedy and heartbreak that would break lesser men. I've dedicated my life to building great men - and I will be damned if I fail with you."

I take it in - I take it all in, and lean back.

"Alethia. It's a beautiful name. You know, if I ever have a daughter, I'd like to name her aft-"

"Oh, you will."

"Cool - wait ... what? WHEN? With WHO?"

"Oops. Said too much. Don't you have an early class to go to? Someone you need to say a few things to?"

And then I awoke.

Damn it.

Old habits die hard - even in dreams.

(to be continued)

FlashMob Invite

Fri, 12 Oct 2007 18:25:59 GMT

o.

A good friend and lifelong Florida resident recently accepted an offer to be the new Art Director of a major San Francisco-Headquartered web portal, and will be wheels down in SF next week at Oct 17th.

Because of my supposedly large number of contacts here, I've been volunteered to be the ringleader of a Flash Mob welcoming her to the area. Right now, we're envisioning two stages for that evening:

Working with the Cacophony Society, we will have a small welcome-mob at the SF Terminal when she crosses baggage claim, and then segues into a mixer/wine-and-chocolate tasting somewhere in
the city. Participants will have printed instructions on what to do at each stage, and the idea is to make her a temporary 'celebrity' by having a crowd of 'paprazzi' and autograph-seekers crowd her as she steps out of a limo into Union Square.

If you or someone you know is in the SF Metro area and want to be in on the fun, please reply below.

Details forthcoming.

View Poll: Flashmob - Oct 17th 2007 7:00 pm -> 10:00 pm

Thai Commercials

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 13:46:53 GMT

s a seasoned curmudgeon, not much gets to me - and if you would have told me a Life Insurance commercial from Thailand would be the thing that wrenches at my jaundiced heart on a Sunday evening, I would have laughed at you merrily before showing you the door.

From ad man caffeineguy.

Grandpa Chew

Also: Father And Son.

Christ, where are these kinds of commercials in the U.S.?

Chocolate Sunday @ Cacao Anasa - Act Deux

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 22:52:42 GMT

unday - Chocolate Kitchen Redux.

Thanks to the overwhelming response of the previous Chocolate Sunday, we revisited Anthony Ferguson's Cacao Anasa for a second act of touring his kitchen, making a series of ganaches, bars and potent chocolate liqueurs with a few familiar faces, and a some new ones.

Photos to follow.

	Heidi, amused at something.
	Etak, trying to temper the choc again
	This is your ganache. This is your ganache with nuts.
	chocolate-dipped cookies
	spice chocolate
	Dhwani, looking on
	Down the kitchen with the bar team
	Rebecca, stirring the choc.
	Dhwani, I will buy a vowel.
	Putting on the aprons
	With Etak and the Pixar crew

The Pjammer Chronicles

A Ghost Story.

April Madness

FOOD FIGHT, History of 20th~21st Century Warfare

TED Last week. What Happened Yesterday. Today's Agenda.

TED Tonight, BIL Tomorrow.

Divine Caroline. Artist Casting Call.

BIL & TED's Excellent Adventure in Monterey

Cities of the Future - San Francisco Skyline 2108

MAJ Andy Olmsted, KIA

White Privilege Counter-Meme

Poverty

Government, Education, Internet

White, Heterosexual Males (others, please skip down to next section)

NON-White Heterosexual Males (N-WHM)

Alethia, G.A. - Caroline Aftermath

Posted using TxtLJ

Posted using TxtLJ

Sandy Ego. Caroline.

Pixar Company Party

El Aye. Sandy Ego.

Alex Roy @ Enigma. Tim Ferriss (Four Hour Workweek Author) Interview

Posted using TxtLJ

Posted using TxtLJ

Posted using TxtLJ

Descant, P.I.

Alethia, G.A.

FlashMob Invite

Thai Commercials

Chocolate Sunday @ Cacao Anasa - Act Deux