CLOTHING LECH: Preppy-Punk

These sneaky pics are rotten, but this woman's outfit is fresh: lightly broken-in black Doc Martin's, gray Joe-Strummer-tight skinny jeans, gray cardigan buttoned down under a close-fitting, black-on-black letterman's jacket. And then she has a deep red bob, is wearing light-colored cat-eye-esque glasses, and is fully absorbed in her book. I wanted to shout, "you look amazing!" across the two sets of train tracks between us, but the station is noisy and bellowing unintelligibly at strangers isn't my style. So instead I'm secretly snapping pics? Yeah, that's not creepy. Anyway, whatever. Standing ovation to you, Preppy-Punk Lady. You absolutely nailed a fantastic look.

The INXS Effect

Years ago, a coworker and I had a little bit of an office crush going. Nothing scandalous, just a mild mutual attraction, maybe a little flirting but with zero intent. We were both contractors, so soon enough, we didn't work together anymore. Shortly after, we ran into each other again. He had a studio in the same building where we cut the Eggplant Casino record and the sound track for Evolution: The Musical. I was there a lot recording, so I'd stop by to hear what he was working on. We'd talk music and gear and make goggly eyes at each other, so naturally one day we made plans to go out on a date.

The date was going well, we'd coasted easily through dinner and were kicking back cocktails when he mentioned "the INXS Effect". 

"It's when you're, like, on a really long car trip and you can't get any radio stations. Then suddenly some shitty INXS song comes in really loud and clear," he explained. "And it's always INXS, too. It's the worst."

I looked at him stone faced and said, "I love INXS. I really love INXS. I cried when Michael Hutchence died."

And that was the end of that.

Anyway, I'm reminded of that story now because I'm out at a cafe & INXS' Mystify just came on really loud & clear. I love this song. 

Hey everybody,

I need to apologize. I thought I'd come home from camping over the long weekend, send out a few emails, post a few status updates, and raise a couple hundred bucks to help kids, youth & families escape homelessness through the Homeless Children's Network.

But I was wrong. I grossly underestimated your generosity and enthusiasm for a great cause. In less than a day, I've gotten over $900 in donations - that's almost four times my fundraising goal. And a majority of that was donated by the good folks at RichRelevance. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude at how wonderful you all are. I don't know who I thought I was talking to, but obviously my expectations of you was entirely too low, and I'm gonna need to step it up a bit if I want to keep up with your awesomeness.

So what do you think, $1,200? $1,500? I bet we can hit $1,500. Sure, that's 600% of the original goal, but it's that much more funding for a local non-profit that helps kids overcome and even avoid the trauma of homelessness.

Donate here here here!! 

And please let me know if you need a donation receipt. And if you'd like me to write anything special along with your name on my running outfit. Of course, if this keeps up, I'll be sharpying names onto my arms and legs, but I'm cool with that.

Thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Do It For The Childrens!

In March, after months (*cough*years) of saying I was going to get off my backside and get in shape, I started a running program for lazy people, figuring I wouldn't like it but eventually might get good enough at it that I'd stick with it for a while. Much to my surprise, it only took a few sessions for me to discover I actually totally love running. I completed the program and have run three times a week without fail since. I know right? Crazy.

So I figure I might as well put all this new found happiness to good use, and am going to run the Homeless Children's Network Annual 5K for Kids Walk/Run Fundraiser this Sunday, June 2 in Golden Gate Park, and I would be honored if you would be one of my sponsors. My goal is to raise $250, which will support HCN in their mission to provide mental health, education, and intervention services to homeless children, youth, and their families throughout the Bay Area. Your sponsorship will help break the cycle of homelessness. And just like a NASCAR driver, if you're one of my sponsors, I'll include your name on my running "uniform", so you can cross the finish line with me. 

You can make donations online through wepay.com

Thank you for your support! 

The Hotel Room

I'm in a really fantastic hotel room right now. I'm not far from home, in fact I can see both my house and the office from here. The window near my cubicle faces this direction, and the next time I'm at work, I'll look out the window at this tall hotel and see this spot and know that I was here, in this room on the south-east corner of the 26th floor.

This room has a stunning view of San Francisco, and a good view of Oakland and San Leandro and beyond. I'm in the dark - so I can see better - in bed, and so help me I could stay here looking at this view for days. I plan to leave the curtains open all night, so when I inevitably wake, I can look at the view.

The Bay Bridge is covered in lights, millions of lights, an art piece recently installed that flashes patterns suggestive of other not-bridge things - champagne bubbles, eddies of water, cars driving, falling rain - and I have a damn fine view of that especially.

The thing is, some jackass put an enormous flat screen tv against the window across from the bed, effectively blacking out the center of this stupefying view. The San Francisco skyline stands lit up and majestic at my feet, but no, here's a fucking tv with it's back turned dumbly to it. If I was staying here longer, I'd move the tv, but since it probably weighs as much as I do, I've been working around it. I ordered room service and pushed the cart right up to the window to eat my dinner, with the lights off of course. Earlier, I stood at the windows at one end of the room then the other and strained to look around the edge, to see as far around the sides as I could.

But it hasn't all be this eager looking. I also went to the spa. As it happens, many months ago I bought a package of three massages at a deeply discounted rate at the hotel spa, and since I was staying here tonight anyway, I figured this would be a perfect time to use up my last rub down.

The therapist I had was excellent. Not only was the massage deep and relaxing, but after, he filled a paper cup with wine so I could take it to the hot tub - no glass at the tub, of course. What a pal! When I got to the tub, it was full of little children, but I was relaxed and happy and had a to-go cup of cheap chardonnay, so I didn't mind. By the time I got dressed, I was ready to become a batty eccentric and move into the hotel, spending my days staring out the window and going to the spa (who'll pay for it I have no idea).

But none of that is why I'm legitimately here. I have an excuse: it's for work. I'm doing a work thing in a ballroom here tomorrow, a thing that I arranged and produced and am responsible for. I have had many emails and phone calls and meetings with the good people of this hotel, and am spending a lot of the office's money here, and I can only assume that's why I've been upgraded from the normal room I was supposed to have. Or maybe it's just because the hotel people came to understand, over all those emails, phone calls, and meetings, how much I'd love this view.

Regardless, after the spa, I came back up to the room, put on my pink velour track suit, turned out the lights, ate mac & cheese and salad while watching out the window, and listened to 70s soft rock. There is little more I could possibly want or need. A humidifier maybe - it's dry as a desert in here. But a trip to the steam room would take care of that.

The Traditional Posting of the Link

pinched from http://centreofthepsyclone.wordpress.com/2011/12/14/war-is-over-if-you-want-it/

Ah the holiday season. Like repeated viewings of Charlie Brown, debating the disgustingness of eggnog, and avoiding the Little Drummer Boy, this most wonderful time of the year wouldn't be complete without the traditional link to the Happy Holidays (If You Want It) mix, a set that contemplates war, peace, life, loss, childhood, Christmas, and polka. It features hand-turned 78s, a vintage Soviet kids’ record, radio recordings, Tchaikovsky, Vince Guaraldi and FDR.  I hope you enjoy!

http://soundcloud.com/sighafstrom

Track Listing: 

·         CH 3/72 Reuge musicbox, "Nutcracker Suite"

·         The Philadelphia Orchestra, Piotr Ilich Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers", from "The Nutcracker Suite"

·         Frank Knight, et al, "FDR 'Day of Infamy'"

·         John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)" 

·         George Harrison, "All Things Must Pass" 

·         Moreno Veloso, "Deusa do Amor" 

·         The Vince Guaraldi Trio, "What Child Is This" 

·         Meryl Streep and George Winston, "The Velveteen Rabbit" 

·         David Bowie and the Philadelphia Orchestra, Sergei Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf" 

·         Sir Adrian Boult and Members of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, "The Viola" 

·         The Philadelphia Orchestra, Tchaikovsky's "Chinese Dance", from "The Nutcracker Suite" 

·         Frank Knight, et al, "President Truman Announces Hiroshima 'A' Bomb Attack" 

·         Sirat, "Moon Over the Ruined Castle" 

·         The Philadelphia Orchestra, Modeste Moussorgsky's "Night on Bald Mountain" 

·         Philip Glass and the Kronos Quartet, "Temple of the Golden Pavilion ("Like Some Enormous Music")" 

·         Donovan, "Season of the Witch" 

·         The Broadway Cast of Hair, "Aquarius" 

·         Walter Cronkite and Crew of Apollo Eight "'...On The Good Earth'" 

·         The Vince Guaraldi Trio, "Skating" 

·         The Philadelphia Orchestra, Tchaikovsky's"Dance of the Reed Flutes", from "The Nutcracker Suite" 

·         The Firesign Theatre, "The Further Adventures of Nick Danger" 

·         Alex Pulaski and the Polka Dots, "Holiday Polka" 

·         They Might Be Giants, "Famous Polka" 

·         Jan Waters and his "Polk-Alongs", "How Good for Me Polka" 

·         Cantor Josef Rosenblatt, "Achanu Kol Beth Israel (Our Brother Israel)", 

·         “Teremok”

·         Music Hall Drama Group and Orchestra, "Santa's Surprise" 

·         "Jingle the Christmas Mouse" 

·         The Christmas Carol Orgy-
from the albums "'Twas the Night Before Christmas", by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, and "Hi-Fi Christmas Party", by Domenico Savino and his Orchestra and Chorus; Charles Smart and James Blades, "Holy, Holy, Holy" and "Eternal Father"; Monks of the Benedictine Abbe, En Calcat, with Boys' Choir from L'alumnat, "Christe Redemptor (Christ the Saviour)" and "Hodie Christus Natus Est (Christ Was Born Today)" 

·         Simon and Garfunkel, "7 o'clock News/Silent Night" 

·         Jiminy Cricket, "When You Wish Upon a Star" 

·         15 1/2" Regina musicbox, "Silent Night" 

Recorded live in Oakland, California, December 2003

The First Writing In Ages And I Fully Intend...

Sunday afternoon at the Country Estate - a condo in suburbs north of San Francisco. I'm poolside, drinking a shandy and listening to Thelonious Monk, Brad Mehldau, Stevie Wonder. The sunshine is plentiful, but the air holds some cool, hinting - or perhaps overtly revealing - that just outside our sparkling sunbelt, the fog rolls, asserting itself, throwing its weight around. It's also an oblique reminder that summer is on the decline - oblique because in these parts, we still have glorious Indian Summer ahead of us before the seasons turn earnestly chilly.

Indian Summer is just ridiculous. Beautiful and perfect and calm, warm sun, long sunsets, a sense that everything is just good in the world. Of course, then the sunsets get longer as October stretches in, rain maybe even falls a time or two, then daylight savings abruptly ends one night at 2am, and we're plunged into darkness till we spring forward next year. 

But that's ages from now - two months - so for the moment, I will drink my shandy by the pool and stay in the warm sun and avoid thinking anything outside of summer being endless. 

There are three men in suits carrying bibles and stalking around the condo complex. They go from door to door silently, I assume proselytizing but who knows - it's the perfect disguise for robbing houses on a Sunday afternoon, and doors could be unlocked around these parts. They've noticed me and are noticeably  not looking at me, in the sun with my bikini and my drink. Monk's Honeysuckle Rose plinks away thought the little speakers on the side table.

Alex, love of my life, is up in the Country Estate writing and recording bass clarinet parts for a new song.  The low, throaty tones mix in the breeze with the sounds of a prop plane, rustling leaves, bird songs, the ubiquitous cars-on-road, my keyboard strokes, Brad Mehldau Trio, and occasionally a human voice.  And a weed whacker.  It is Sunday after all.  

I feel like I can hear the pool, but it's imaginary synesthesia.  It is a thing of beauty, though: artificially tropical blue, Caribbean-colored, from a bleachy bluish white in the shallows to a deep, clean sky at the 9 foot end. There's something perfect about a swimming pool: a promise of perfection, a dream, a myth - contained and controlled, but wet and therefore wild. David Hockney saw it, got it. Flying into an airport near a neighborhood rich with swimming pools, one can't help but look down into them and think "this is the place". A Talking Headsian paradise.  

Or something like that. Anyway, my shandy is running low, and I must must must keep writing - the first writing in ages, and I fully intend...