Tuesday, March 30, 2004

so long, lover
Well, I cancelled my Netflix subscription and returned my last film, The Dreamlife of Angels. Life without Netflix. Let's see how that goes. Let's see if I go through withdrawal. Let's see if my thumbs blister from excessive twiddling. Let's see if my life is the dream of some "comatose" angel somewhere. Let's hope. But if by some miracle, plans go as planned, I'll be gone for two or three weeks starting this Monday. It's a flaky bit, so I don't know if it'll happen. But if it doesn't, let's see how fast I reactivate Netflix.
There were other CDs at Amoeba that caught my eye. Like Paul McCartney and Wings - "Wings Over America" used, the live album that was originally released as a triple album on LP. Blonde Redhead's new album is out. Rainer Maria released a live CD/DVD package for the price of a regular CD. I saw Shannon Wright's old "Flight Safety" CD used, and a Shannon Wright CD copyrighted 2004, used. Did she release a new CD? Her career goals obviously do not involve selling records. I'm perusing my CD collection for more stuff I can part with. Is it sad that out of a CD collection of over 500 CDs, I'm having trouble finding 7 or 8 CDs that I can definitively let go of?

Monday, March 29, 2004

I actually didn't mind waking up with Bob Marley going through my head. Truth to tell, it was much better than the ELO that has come to occupy precious aural space through my days. Still, after Critical Mass on Friday, I stopped off at Amoeba and they had the Light Years import compilation, but I couldn't justify purchasing a CD at this point. Then today I realized I could sell CDs to pay for it, and that worked out just fine (and scored the Last Exit, vol. 1 DVD used as well).

Man, I can't believe I'm sitting here listening to a double CD ELO compilation. Good grief.

At their best, they put out music that anyone would have to say represents some of the finest of that decade. But the stuff that wasn't so great, really wasn't so great. I never get tired of their hits, but their non-hits barely get my attention. And after seeing those lip-synch/backing tape portions of the live DVD, and looking up their history on the internet, well, they've had their share of pathetic, embarassing moments. And I must rant about folks who think Bev Bevan was a drummer with chops. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've always liked Bev Bevan, but more for those big, thunderous fills, and that inimitable snare sound (which Greg Bissonette imitated really well in the most recent line-up of ELO - I was thorougly shocked when I found it wasn't Bev Bevan), not because of his chops. In fact, from the live DVD, he looked like the archetype of 80's metal hair drummers, bleah!

Friday, March 26, 2004

Well, practice period is over. Not even a yay! or a pat on the back, "good job". I guess that's what I ask for by doing these things solo and refusing to attach myself to a group. Nine weeks of getting up at five in the morning and now I'll disappear just as quickly as I started showing up. I did get the name of one person who chatted me up briefly in the last week, but otherwise it was just familiar faces and smiles exchanged.

Do I feel like I accomplished something without any external validation? Not really. Do I need external validation? No, I don't, but I notice it when it's not there. Would I do it again without any external validation? Probably not. Bottom line - external validation is probably a good thing in whatever form you can get it. Peers, community, support groups, just the knowledge of bouncing yourself off other people, seeing your own reflection in them, what you think you might look like from their point of view is motivation. No one at SFZC had any idea I was doing a concurrent practice period, and anyone I told I was doing a practice period really had no idea what I was talking about. So when I walked out of the last session this evening, the sky was the same color, the air smelled the same, and I rode off to see if I could find Critical Mass. And I did. It was easy enough, I was riding down Market Street and they were riding up Market Street, Hello, Critical Mass!

I turned and slipped into the Mass and was absorbed, and almost immediately ran into the only other person I know who does Critical Mass, an ex-co-worker, Ken. He's not the easiest person to talk to, and I hate talking while riding, but maybe because of the let-down of getting no external validation from practice period, I chatted him up and we chatted for the entire Mass, which turned out to be relatively short. Really short, come to think of it, given the size of it. From Market Street, we just skimmed the Castro, took Fell Street along the Panhandle into the Haight, and then doubled back into Golden Gate Park and ended at the bandstand, and that's where it lost momentum and ended. Well, there were still a lot of people when I abandoned, so maybe it started up again after that. I wasn't about to sit around waiting for them. I had just completed a practice period.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

I'm still stuck on waking up with Bob Marley going through my head, but it's getting better, thanks to Electric Light Orchestra.

I cancelled my Netflix subscription until further notice (and now have nothing to look forward to in my mailbox except bills and junk mail - why bother?), and one of my last rentals was "Electric Light Orchestra - Live/Discovery". The live portion was a recording for television back in the '70s from the "Out of the Blue" tour. It was partly disappointing because of the few songs where, I believe, they are so obviously playing along with a backing track or outright lip-synching! Or they may have added in the studio elements for the broadcast, but I'm not sure they had the technology to do that so precisely back then. Either way, the effect is the same when what you're hearing doesn't match what you're seeing, and it's even worse when what you're hearing is verbatim what's on the record, studio processing and everything, but that was only one song, the opener.

But they're really performing for most of it, and that was cool. The "Discovery" portion is cheesy studio performance lip-synchs of every song off their "Discovery" album, which I think I still have on vinyl in New Jersey (grooosss!!). Great album, but I wouldn't want it taking up space on my CD rack. The point is it's been a walk down memory lane and put Out of the Blue in heavy rotation on my CD player. I love going back to albums I loved when I was a kid and hearing it in a new way as an adult. And "Out of the Blue" is one damned fine album, start to finish (with the CD, I now listen to the excellent Side 4, which I never used to listen to because "Mr. Blue Sky" at the end of Side 3 sounded like such an album closer, making Side 4 sound more like a coda). Adult, huh, yea.

I woke up to "Exodus" going through my head this morning. Other songs I've woken up to in the past week include: "Exodus", "Trenchtown Rock", "Jammin'", "Zimbabwe", "Ride Natty Ride", and "3 o'clock Roadblock". Let's hope things change after tomorrow, the last day of waking up at five in the morning.

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Drat, I knew this would happen. The weather here has gone back to normal after two weeks of record breaking highs, record breaking for any time of year in San Francisco. Just about everyone in the Bay Area has been mentioning it on their blogs. I knew I should have been taking advantage of the weather to get outside, get on my bike, lounge outside, read outside, anything outside, but I squandered it. And now it's back to the old pattern, thinking it's sunny outside, it seems like it might be nice outside, but there's a chill in the air, and if it's chilly in the Mission, it might not be all that nice by the ocean, or the park, or riding across the bridge, I think I'll just stay in. It's a pattern of indecision because there's no knowing what it's like in another part of town. In fact, by the cloud bank low over the city in the west, I'm betting the Sunset and Richmond Districts are fogged in.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

OMG! I swear that mention of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" had no conscious connection to the last comment I left for jahva a few days ago. I knew I left a comment recently, but totally forgot what I wrote, and so I checked, and it took a few seconds to register that the quote was from Wizard of Oz! And that's what I liked about jahva. Her posts were simple to the point of being simplistic and mundane, but there was a magic to it, too.
I've been wondering what happened to dear ol' jahva. We started blogging right about the same time and we commented on and linked to each other's blogs. She started a fotolog, then I started a fotolog, and we commented on and linked to each other's fotologs. She got her husband to start a blog and a fotolog, and though he never got into the swing of it, he seemed to be a most agreeable and likeable fellow. I liked jahva's simple, positive, enthusiastic little ditties of posts. Her husband's not posting would be no surprise, but jahva has been quiet since December, and I think jahva's last picture in fotolog was not too long after that.

So is that how it goes with online acquaintances? Suddenly they're gone, no word, no clue, no way of finding out what happened? I wonder what happened to jahva, but I can't say I'm affected in any profound way by her absence. If something tragic to them happened, I'll never know about it and it will remain a mystery. And it would be "them", since if something tragic happened to either of them, I'd hope the other would post some explanation. We're not that insignificant, are we? It's just so unlike her to just disappear without a trace. If I were a DJ, like Chris-in-the-Morning from "Northern Exposure", this is where I give a shout out to jahva wherever she is, and start spinning a poignant little ditty for her on the turntable. Maybe "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" from the Wizard of Oz would be appropriate.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Well, as practice period rounds into week eight out of nine, I must say that it really has been . . . I dunno. It's been good. It's like I've always been doing this, even though prior seven weeks ago, I've never gotten up at five in the morning to ride two miles to go sit for an hour, save for that week at Deer Park last October.

But then prior to the start of this practice period, it had felt like I had always been sitting twice a day for 45 minutes, but prior to Deer Park, I don't think I sat for 45 minutes ever, much less twice a day. And prior to Deer Park, I had never sat with a Sangha, practice was a flaky bit that could hardly even be called 'practice' even though I considered it a core part of my identity, and I never discussed stuff like this out in the open.

But doing this practice period, I don't think I'll ever say that it feels like I've always sat four times a day. It hasn't always been easy, and I let myself be flexible so as to not get discouraged. But it's hard regulating oneself. That said, for the last two weeks I'm allowing my second night sessions, the home one, be optional. ***YAAAAY!!!!***

Man, but that does take a weight off.

After I finish my ninth week, I'm taking a week totally off while SFZC does their week-long intensive, haha! I can't afford the intensive week practice, for once being poor comes in handy. But then starting the first week in April is the Tassajara work-practice program, so I have to decide on and commit to that sometime in the *ahem* near future. Three weeks of monastic living, sure to give me a better idea about it than the one week at Deer Park, no? I should commit, shouldn't I? Just do it. Just have to make sure I do my taxes before I go. Don't think about money otherwise. No expenses during those three weeks. Work, sit, run, get dirty. Yea, run. Since I won't have a bike. I should start running now to get over the soreness stage of starting a running season before I go there.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

I'm about to collapse, all good and well to get me to sleep in time for eighth week of practice period. Yesterday I went for my first ride of the season, riding up to Marin and doing the Paradise Loop in Tiburon. The Paradise Loop is the standard ride, the training ride, the ride everyone knows by name. It's easy, negligible climbing, not bad car traffic. From my apartment, it was a total of 44.12 miles which I completed with minimal stops and completed just under three hours. Still, riding that distance like that on the first outing took it out of me, and I felt it today. I can practically feel the electrolyte depletion. On every hill, I went down to my gramps gear and got on the sidewalk. Mountain bike gramp gears are miracles on wheels when you're totally sapped (I decided calling it the "granny" gear is sexist. Like calling the backseat of a tandem cycle the "bitch seat". When's the last time you saw a guy on the backseat of a tandem? Women should insist on guys getting back there and still calling it the "bitch seat").

So two more weeks of practice period. I'm wondering if I'll feel tempted to start slacking off. Especially since I'm considering doing a three week work-practice period from April 5-April 25 down at SFZC's affiliate monastery down in Tassajara. Questions about my future still abound. You can practically see the question marks floating over my head.

Friday, March 12, 2004

ex-bandmate Lisa came by today to pick up and take away, on indefinite loan, my Trace Elliot bass rig, once my pride and joy, now a very expensive and very heavy (and potentially very loud) piece of furniture (my neighbors are lucky that they're reasonably quiet, lest they prompt a volume war). So much effort into pushing my music equipment away from me, scattered across the country now, and I still have four guitars in my apartment. We got a bite to eat at Atlas, and it's interesting that we were close enough that after two years of absence, our conversations have immediately been on the same level as they used to be (that's neither good nor bad, just fact), but then we weren't close enough to remain in contact for those two years, and quite honestly it wouldn't have made much difference if she didn't call on me this time around.

The strangest thing she said was that she couldn't see me not cycling. Maybe she just meant biking, as in just transportation, since every time we did anything when we were in the band, I was always on my bike. But cycling, aside from transportation, is just something I do now because I like it. I don't have to do it, no primal drive to ride, "cyclist" is not on my personal CV. It was strange because she can't see me not cycling, but . . . she can see me not playing bass or drums? And I do feel a void in not playing anymore, I do feel I've let go a part of my personality. It may be something I regret years down the line, but right now I need to stop, unattach, and let go of the way-too-much music equipment I have.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

It's March and we're having weather fit for a Summer anywhere other than San Francisco. I should be on my road bike doing the Paradise Loop, getting my ride legs back up to snuff. I should be on my mountain bike getting to know the trails in the Headlands. I should be sitting in Golden Gate Park plunking out Kinks tunes on my guitar. I should be at Zeitgeist out on their outdoor porch with a beer and a book. Why am I not? Indeed, why?

And I'll regret it once the winds switch directions and we get the cold ocean air back. I forget that days like this are abnormal at any time of year, and must be appreciated. And I hate that. All this pressure to appreciate the rare nice weather days we get, which occur days at a time, maybe a week, rarely more than that. Nice to me means getting to around 80 degrees and being able to wear short sleeve shirts outside once the sun goes down.

Sunday, March 07, 2004

The sixth week of practice period came and went uneventfully, although it didn't start off so great, surprise, surprise. I think I even randomly skipped a morning and didn't regret later, I don't remember. I do remember finding it hard to get up at 5:00, in contrast to the beginning of the practice period. When it was fresh and new, anything was possible. But now that it's tried and routine, it takes even more of that little push to not think and crawl out of bed and automatically get dressed and get out of the apartment within 10 minutes. By Wednesday I was back in the groove.

Seventh week also brings the Asian American Film Festival. The way I've been treating film festivals in my unemployment has been to only go to matinee screenings and to not buy tickets in advance. This was all a compromise ploy to not spend too much money. If a show was sold out, tough. But unfortunately, this year's festival is rather anemic in the discount matinee screenings, and what little they do have aren't of much interest to me, although I'll give them a second look later. Plus, there were three films I really did want to see, so I paid full-price and in advance.

Yesterday, I saw Travellers and Magicians, out of Bhutan. A funny line from the movie was, "I hear in America, they don't even know where Bhutan is", and judging by the laughter, I think the audience largely shared my realization that despite having knowledge and interest in the area of the Himalayas because of Buddhism, Tibet, and Nepal/Mt. Everest, no, we couldn't pinpoint in our minds exactly where Bhutan is! Sure, we've run our eyes over the map of the region countless times, sure, we've seen the name and know it's a Himalayan country, but only if we had a reason to look for Bhutan would we finally be able to pinpoint it's precise geographical location. It's south of Tibet, east of Nepal/Mt. Everest in the Himalayan range, and north of India/Bangladesh. Your welcome.

It was a great film, almost two films in one - one for the metaphor, the other for the metaphor for the metaphor. OK, maybe not. Maybe. On a personal metaphysical level, if you believe in reincarnation, it made me smile and think, Well, why did I come to America? Is it the land of dreams I hoped for with its opportunity, material freedom and excess?

Later today I'm seeing Wheel of Time, which is a documentary overtly about Buddhism. And tomorrow I'm seeing S21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine, which I'm not looking forward to, but feel I have to see for the same reasons I want to see the new hyped-up Mel Gibson movie. I just watched "The Killing Fields" recently and Spalding Gray's companion monologue, "Swimming to Cambodia", so the ideas of the horror and tragedy involved are fresh in my mind. To say that the premise of this documentary is compelling is understatement. It's mandatory viewing for anyone interested or moved by what happened in Cambodia and why and how.