firefox has cancer.

Recently my internet browser has been experiencing problems. I've been using Mozilla Firefox, and it has been working splendidly for the longest time, but just within the past week or so it seems to have become slightly brain damaged.



Two of my most visited websites are Myspace and YouTube. Really, as long as I can connect with people and watch funny videos, the internet serves me well. But suddenly Firefox began having seizures, freezing up when trying to play a YouTube video or visiting certain Myspace pages. And I became all too familiar with a pop-up screen telling me that Shockwave Flash "has performed an illegal operation" and that I am "strongly advised to restart Firefox."



I've always hated the term illegal operation. It's another one of the many vague, nonsensical computer terms that nobody can define but computers love to use. What, did Shockwave Flash rob a bank or something? Why isn't this perpetrator plug-in being arrested? Maybe then it wouldn't continue its illegal activity every fucking time I use the internet.

So I turned to Google to try and find a solution to this problem, and discovered that several people are experiencing the same thing. But sadly, forum after forum after forum, nobody could offer a definite way to remedy Firefox's retardation. I tried everything suggested in these forums, and just like the others I was unsuccessful. Some users had been trying to fix the problem for months, to no avail. Several others eventually gave up and reverted back to Internet Explorer, somewhat reliable but still inferior. Still others opted to download newer browsers and start from scratch. Needless to say, it is frustrating and sad to find out that several people have the same problem with Firefox but all are powerless to fix it. Firefox can't be cured. Firefox has cancer of the Flash.

So until I find a cure, I must use IE for my networking and video needs. It works okay, but it's a step backwards.


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a political moment.

Last weekend I went with my family down to Arcata California, where I had a pleasant Thanksgiving with relatives. During the car ride down from Oregon we passed through a lot of 'God's country', and I saw several campaign signs and bumper stickers promoting the political right-wing. You know, stuff like this:



So, being a mindless follower like them, I decided to join in and make some of my very own republican bumper stickers. Print them out, put some adhesive on the back and slap 'em on your car (click for larger size):










































And my own personal favorite...

sickpatch dispatch.













I've been a bit ill lately. Cold season and all that. I'm drinking lots of tea and juice and eating soup, but the coughing and sniffling continues. Anyway, here are some news bits from the last couple weeks.

"Kevin Costner's Field of Knives," the latest show from Renob Control, is over'n done with. The show officially ended with our appearance in Miz Kittyz Parlour, a (very vaudevillian) variety show thing at the Imbibe. We went on after a jazz guitarist. No joke. Aaron, Danielle, Chad, Emerson and I did the best we possibly could considering we had no time to tech, no backstage or sidestage, and virtually no lighting control. But although we performed three of our strongest sketches, the clientel of the restaurant (mostly 40+), for the most part, just didn't seem to get it. Personally I'm not sore; those people are probably more attuned to the comedy of Bob Saget and The Golden Girls, so I wouldn't want them laughing at us anyway.

My birthday came and went, and my family blessed me with a POD and a new camera. My camera has an interesting setting that isolates single color tones, so I can take crazy pictures like this one:

My eyes aren't even green. Wacky!

One Wednesday, Joanie and I ventured to Eugene to catch a show by Little Girl, Big Spoon. The name is the alias of a tiny 17-year old named Michelle, who plays acoustic folk songs on a guitar almost bigger than herself. These days it's hard to throw a rock without hitting some high schooler playing dreadful emo songs on his or her acoustic guitar, but Michelle's music trascends all the wanna-be folk music and rises to a level of real, no-shit folk music. Her guitar playing is simple, hypnotic at times, and her use of a high-placed capo helps give her songs a distinct sound. Her voice has a tone that harmonizes with the guitar almost like a seventh string. The lyrics reflect on the kind of romantic troubles that all young people face, but they're written with a sense of clear-headed wisdom that you wouldn't expect her to have until years down the road. Whatever the formula, Little Girl Big Spoon's songs are effective, beautiful, and downright moving. Caws Pobi even covered one, but he did it more like an operatic sea-shanty, so it isn't beautiful or moving ("Lost Ships").

This little kid was dancing up a storm at the show. It didn't matter that she was playing sad songs on a guitar- this kid was hearing ABBA.

Caws's new album The Manticore is now finished. Contact me if you want one; Octavio and I even designed a little paper sleeve for it to go in, complete with track listing and liner notes.


And here is my rundown of some movies I've rented or seen lately:
-V for Vendetta - A rather idealistic, 1984-meets-Batman story featuring a London controlled by evil conservatives and a freedom fighter/terrorist who looks like a big puppet and talks like a douche. "Ah, the Count of Monte Cristo. My favourite film. Have you ever seen it?" Gay!
-Annie Hall - Woody Allen's first movie to have him playing Woody Allen. If you're one of those people who just wants to punch him in the face, don't see it. Otherwise, it's funny, cleverly written, and nicely acted.
-Return to Oz - Hey! Let's make a sequel to one of the greatest fantasy movies of all time, but let's make Dorothy younger, use shitty special effects, and throw in as many creepy, nightmarish creatures as we can think of! Because nothing says family film like a terrifying stop-motion stone man who will swallow your soul.
-The Wicker Man - A modern classic. Gets better every time you see it. Unless you're a devout Christian, in which case this is the worst movie ever. Filth!
-The Warriors - "First we start with a miracle. We've got The Saracens sitting next to the Jones Street Boys. We've got The Moonrunners right by the Vancourtland Rangers. ...Can you dig it?"

happy halloween, kids.



"You won't climb me conversing above your easy desert. She wants to call fat carpenters near Zebediah's lane. What Dianna's sharp film receives, Basksh orders among tired, pretty signs. They are dining behind sick, around poor, at angry kettles. Plenty of dark hat or river, and she'll truly comb everybody. Hey, it kicks a dog too wet between her bizarre structure. Who answers wistfully, when Wail likes the stupid paper beneath the ladder? Ahmad believes the egg in front of hers and regularly plays. Gawd, go nibble a raindrop!"

I found the above passage at this website. But don't expect any kind of explanation.
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dispatch from work.

Today you find me at work at the hotel, waiting for some lawyers to finish their meeting so I can go in and clean the room. Since I am currently the only caterer here, and I have some time to spare, let me take this time to tell you about a band I've been listening to lately.



Cansei De Ser Sexy means "tired of being sexy" in Portuguese, and it is also the name of a stylish young band from Sao Paulo, Brazil. The group, called CSS for short, got together through an internet networking website, similar to a South American Myspace. While they all knew that they wanted to play music, upon their first meeting few of them actually knew how to play a musical instrument. Musical roles were assigned through just plain fucking around, figuring out who could play what better than anyone else. The lead vocalist, known as Lovefoxxx, became the band's singer/rapper when she showed up to practice one day without her guitar and opted to shout irreverent, pop-culture savvy rhymes over a microphone. The group's talents were tied together by Adriano Cintra, the band's producer, multi-instrumentalist and lone male, and one hell of a progressive-electronic-dance-rock outfit was born.
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live welsh rarebit!

So what happened at the little show Caws Pobi played? Music happened. A thin boy in black with linkisch hat and a Team Dan button sang his songs of darkness and dismay...and Newport. The reviews were all positive. The sound setup worked well, my band-in-a-box mp3 player idea along with Lyle and my CP custom amp. I started with my interpretation of Leon Redbone's "Seduced" (which, itself, was an interpretation of a song by Gary R. Tigerman), and I was pleased with how it sounded. So then why was Caws so sour after the show? "Baldershit," he said to me afterwards. "Wuz a doggone pissaround. S'not what the songs should be. Mere compromised art tossed to familiar ears, our eyes on the watch while some rip-knees burn cloves outside waitin for the loud boys."

What made him a bit flustered was the fact that our show had been double-booked. Even though Fade 13 and I set the date on Interzone's calendar back in June, a few days before the show somebody at the coffee shop told the bands Tourist and Elefante that they could do a show on the same night. My understanding is that Interzone's owner was gone at the time, so one of the less-aware workers made the mistake. Anyway, what all this means is that we had to be done by 9pm. I didn't get set up and playing until about 8, and around 8:24 Fade 13 gave me the signal to wrap it up, because he still needed to perform. My 40-minute set had been severed down to half its length, all because some uninvited (albeit talented) bands were allowed into our time slot.
Oh well. Such are the shortcomings of live performance. The show itself was certainly not a disaster, but right now I am in no great hurry to play again. Caws is currently wrapped up in his idea blanket, murmuring about a new post-Manticore aesthetic.
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in case you didn't know...





















poster design by Fade 13 (& Caws Pobi)
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recording...

renob control in Austin.


So Renob Control went to the Austin, Texas Out of Bounds improv/sketch comedy festival.



Austin-tatious.




The festival was held in the Hideout Cafe & Theater. Our performance? We kicked balls. Brought the house down. Caused a couple laughing-induced heart attacks.



And what goes great with sketch comedy and shaky improv? Drinking! Every night! Here we are at the Spider House with our one-man host family, and member of The Plurals, Adam Hilton.



That goofy guy in the red is Orf, who was our personal caddy and all around great bloke. And in that picture above, most of you probably just see me crouching next to some colored balls in somebody's backyard. You don't see the champion of an hour long bacci ball game which ended with this first-time player scoring a miraculous point over his opponents, breaking a tie and bringing home the gold.




More drinking and merriment with some Texans.



The trip ended with a big ol' mini-golf tournament with all the performers. Here we are golfing ...y'know...in a wacky manner.

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pinball psychedelia.

I think a big part of who I am today comes from watching this on Sesame Street several times when I was a child.



Years later I would declare Yellow Submarine one of my favorite movies and cite Milton Glaser as one of my favorite illustrators. I think this clip is why.
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songer-singwaiter.

Last night the ghost of Harry Nilsson showed up in my apartment and we wrote a little song. Today I recorded it using my little Coby mp3 player. And it can be heard here.
















Me and Nilsson. "No, I was solids."
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return from exile.














































































































(click on photos to see larger size)

I've been leaving my blog more or less alone for quite some time now, for some reason or another (girlssummervacationalbumdepressionwork), but I figured it about time to get back into my musings and pictures. These are photos I took while on my voluntary exile in Avalon.
T'was a lovely island town with lots of fellow vacationers and perfect weather (people on the mainland were dropping dead in the heat wave while we relaxed in the upper 80s). Here is what I have to report:

-Golf carts are the dominant vehicle in Avalon, since bringing over cars and trucks is expensive and requires a lengthy registration process. The carts are mostly electric, which is great environmentally as well as financially, considering that the one gas station on the island was selling gas for about $4.85 a gallon. Not being a big fan of cars, I enjoyed an environment free of obnoxious radios blasting 50 Cent from SUV windows and diesel pickups roaring down the street. Also, golf carts are more pedestrian-friendly, as their open-air cabs allow the driver to be more aware of his or her surroundings.

-Every day, hundreds of people (thousands on some days) get off the fairy boats or visiting cruise ships to explore the city, lay on the beach, or get drunk in the bars. In the evening, another mass of folks pile back onto the boats to head home. I liked this idea of a constantly shifting population. Fresh people, every day.

-Since the town is so small an localized, the locals enjoy a high-density living area. Everything you need is kept within walking/biking/golf-cart distance, promoting social activity and excercise while discouraging isolation. (While touring the inner island we passed a few lonely, isolated houses which were appropriately in the vacinity of a Christian radio station. Because as long as you have Jesus, you don't need real people and all that sinful socializing.)

-The mail in Avalon is not delivered. Instead, you must go down to the post office near the waterfront to collect and distribute your letters. Again, the key word is activity. Take a walk, pick up the mail, say hi to some folks, eat a hotdog...

-Because Avalon is a tourist haven, most of the bars, shops, restaurants and ice cream parlors on the main street are open late. I just really appreciated this coming from Corvallis, the city that is in bed by 8:00. And since the streets are well lit, and there are always plenty of barhoppers around, nobody mugs you or stabs you in the face.

-Of course, there were some downsides to Avalon. For example- The city's trademark casino, which was the place to party from the 1920s through the 60s, is only open now for guided tours and a few private banquets every year. T'would have been nice to at least get a martini in the ballroom. Something else I noticed about the island was that the 18-25 crowd was a bit underrepresented. I guess all the young people go to college on the mainland and only venture home when they can afford the trip (in addition, Avalon is certainly not Cancun). And finally, Avalon has no CD stores. So as relaxing as the place is, this assures that I could never live there.
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