Portfolio

Sundries

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrel:
I try to avoid any book that I see people reading on the train. It's not so much a stance against popular culture as it is an egomaniacal need to feel above whatever it is others are interested in (I should probably take this up with a therapist sometime). When Susanna Clark's massive tome made its US debut, dozens of readers lugged it around for months. I wrote it off as an extension of the Harry Potter phenomenon and thought nothing more of it. A pity, really, as now that I'm lugging the book around myself, I find it quite engaging. With lots of characters, side-stores and footnotes (that go on for pages) Clark has crafted a pleasant world to get lost in.

A Young Adult Novel that I Cannot Mention:
A dear friend just signed a two book deal with a respected publisher. I was honered to read the first draft and offered lots of suggestions and notes. Fortunately, the book really is good. There's nothing worse than having to tell a friend that their book, band, artwork, poetry, or similar expression is . . . really great! No, really, you're totally talented!

I've been in that position more than once. It's hard to maintain a pleasant countenance when, deep down, you feel rather nauseous about the whole thing. This experience was pleasantly different. I'll plug it when it's actually in book stores. For now, I've been sworn to secrecy.

Chris Thomas King
In college, I spent countless hours listening to old, scratchy recordings of blues and folk music. I'd scores of albums, many of them from the amazing Smithsonian Folkways catalog. Sadly, in the days before albums were easily ripped to hard drive, I sold the entirety of my collection to (a very happy) used record store. I needed the cash to support an incredibly stupid relationship. Chris Thomas King, with his extraordinary rendition of the classics, has reunited me with the music that once meant so much to me. I've more or less forgotten about the girl.

His Name is Alive
Fuzzy, geek-synth, electronica from Michigan. With sexy vocals. I downloaded Detrola the other day but have yet to listen to it extensively. I think it's good, but it requires a certain situation (and headphones) to be properly appreciated.

Information Aesthetics
I've been on the job interview circuit for the last couple of months. In countless conversations I'm asked "What sites to you read regularly? Where do you draw inspiration?" The answer, inevitably, is Information Aesthetics. It's the sort of site that looks great to prospective employers and has the benefit of actually being a source of great inspiration.

Journal

Tuesday, May 29

ON THE PERILS OF GOOGLE
While still living in an empty room and sleeping on the floor (I’ve since become fully furnished), I desperately needed a distraction from the bare walls and my old sleeping bag. So, I turned to an old friend: the pleasant, fictional, and mildly surreal town of Cicily Alaska.

Like most sensitive men who came of age in the 90’s, I’ve long harbored impure thoughts about Maggie O’Connel, the knockout bush pilot with the boyish haircut and fantastic lips (perhaps I reveal too much). As it’s been more than a decade since the program went off the air I thought I’d see what Maggie (Janine Turner) has been up to in the interim. To Google! To IMdB!

This was a mistake.

In an effort to maintain the look that made her famous, the once beautiful Turner has become the Loretta Swit of her generation. It’s all quite sad, but I can understand the warped body image that results from a career in front of the camera.

It’s her political beliefs that are much harder for me to come to terms with. Maggie O’Connel, the witty feminist, was played by a fiercely religious Republican. A Republican who received an honorary appointment from George W. Bush himself.

Moral: Never, never, never research your juvenile fantasies. It leads only to heartbreak and disappointment.

Monday, May 28

THE BEAUTY OF STALLED BIKES
Being new to San Francisco, I’m not at all up on the politics of the place. It’s refreshing, in a way, to know nothing at all about the city council or local controversies. I’m a blissfully ignorant bumpkin who’s greatest concern is figuring out how to get on a bus. (When, for example, is it appropriate to board - illegally - through the middle doors?)

As I automatically reach for an alternative newsweekly around the middle of the week, some of the vital issues of the day have started to seep in. Thanks to The Guardian, I am now fully versed on the great San Francisco bicycle roadblock.

Here’s the digest version: The San Francisco city council has developed a plan to greatly expand resources for cyclists. New bike racks, dedicated bicycle lanes, incentives for bike riders - the works. The initiative enjoys widespread support and was approved without much dissent. However, thanks to a lawsuit filed by local crank Rob Anderson (who thinks additional bike traffic will actually increase vehicle emissions) it’s all been put on hold.

Which warms my heart.

See, Chicago is a very bike friendly city. There are dedicated lanes on lots of major streets, bike racks are plentiful (a glance at an Alderman will get one installed outside your workplace) and Lake Shore Drive is opened up to bike traffic once a year.

The Mayor, who wields absolute power in Chicago, makes it so. He likes to ride bicycles, so everyone likes to ride bicycles. He likes the idea of gondolas on the Chicago River, so the entire city gets behind gondolas. The gradual erosion of public housing? Everyone’s for it! That’s the way things work in Chicago. Dissent simply doesn’t exist.

But here in San Francisco, a lone fanatic can affect the workings of an entire city. I expect this is profoundly irritating to most natives. But for me, it’s a refreshing breeze. There’s Democracy here! It’s something I’m not at all used to.