I had the hiccups

Three days ago, I had a few bouts with the hiccups. I used to get them frequently when I was a child, but this was for a different reason. After ruling out a few things, I realized it was the eating of crackers, and drinking of water that was precipitating them. Of course, it wasn't really the fault of the crackers and water. It was the Vicodin that I'd been popping. Dulling physical pain as well as my mind, I guess it also dulled my muscles and their abilities slightly. So what pain was I dulling? Well, on Monday morning, I had a brief surgery. Yup – in and out in about three hours, said surgery added a nice scar about belt level, a shaved stomach and leg -- and hiccups. Lest anyone be overly concerned about my well being, it was surgery for a "lifting of heavy weights" injury – yes, a hernia. Minor, and something from which I will fully recover with no restrictions (eventually), it is currently a nuisance.

So, 'hic', I am now focusing on things that don't require much movement. I am relaxing from exercise until the good doctor says otherwise, and am exploring the wanderings of the mind when popping Vicodin. Actually, I've drastically cut back on the stuff and am using just half (or less) of what is being prescribed. While it's not a bad feeling, I am having a need for full use of my mental faculties. I'll take a bit of discomfort if I can think straight.

Of course, right now, I'm about to go to bed and with my side is hurting a bit….

Maybe half.

'Hic.'

Loyalty in the New Year

These meandering thoughts began with my attempt to fix the sync. No, that's not a typo; this all began when Yahoo.com, my internet homepage for quite a few years, stopped synchronizing with MS Outlook. Follow the trail of thoughts and see where it leads.

Basically, I am an extremely loyal person. I am not one to give up or move on from something very quickly. Dogged perseverance has been one trait I've had as long as I've been around. While this is generally considered a positive trait, I also see it as a detriment. For years, I owned a British sports car. While beautiful to look at, mechanically, it was a piece of junk. That perseverance and hope for a better day only led to me being stranded countless times – betrayed, shamed, humbled. Why did I keep with it? Why did I keep working at it? Why did I think it would somehow change?

I have had similar experiences with other machines, as well as Banks, pets, stores -- and people. It's not a trait that is unique; I'm sure this is striking a nerve, right?

So, back to fixing the sync. I tried. I really did. I bet if I were to spend more time with it, I could get it to work. But it shouldn't be that hard. Not in this day and age. So, I'm looking elsewhere. That is the thing I'm going to do differently in the New Year. I won't call it a resolution; the word is too trendy around this time; it's going to be 'a thought process'. I'm simply not going to try as hard with something that is obviously broken. Already, the last few days have involved deleting, removing, and disposing of useless detritus from the past and I'm happy to say, it gets easier with practice.

1. Yahoo, get it together or good bye. I will switch my homepage to Google entirely – and it DOES sync, with Outlook.
2. I am writing this on a laptop which runs Windows XP Pro. I've been a Windows user for many years, happy that I didn't have to cow-tow to a company that insisted on providing hardware, software AND a state of mind. However, I now also have a Quad-core top-of-the-line computer sitting just to my left, from which the desktop of Apple's Leopard OS X has just gone to a screensaver that is … frickin' awesome. Like everyone else that experiences OS X, it has been a very nice pleasant shift. Is it better? Eh, I don't know. It's prettier. I certainly haven't been converted to an Apple-Store-Zombie, ready to kiss the ground that Steve Jobs walks. However, it is all working well (and considering that I built the computer, I'm absolutely amazed) So… from here on in I am going to allow for much less patience with software/hardware issues of any sort – on either system. Microsoft – Get it together, or good bye.
3. I have used Ipowerweb.com as an ISP for years and have a bunch of websites. However, this past year, they let me down once too often. Ipowerweb -- Good bye. I've moved to Bluehost.
   

You get the idea. Those are all web and computer based geek-issues, but amongst the other pruning that I've done thus far, phone numbers have been deleted from my cell phone (that felt great), a credit card was dumped (awesome), and food thrown out that I hated, that had been occupying precious shelf space for months (just good sense).

Still to come- artwork, clothes, discs of music and software that I'll never use or listen to…

I highly suggest you try it. Chuck the baggage, downsize, fire, eliminate, break-up, throw-away. And don't look back.

It's a new year. It's a great time to shift loyalties to new hopes and dreams. And hell, if someone did it to you – be it an employer, a friend, a dream, a lover, a (fill in the blank)… good riddance. It's a new year!

From Matewan

Squeaking, clacking and low rumbles of a mile-long coal train are echoing outside of my window as I write this. The tracks are only a quarter mile away and it is sound I have heard often over the last couple nights. The streets are shiny wet from a light snow that is falling but not quite sticking.

I'm in a decrepit hotel in Matewan, West Virginia -- the area famous for the Hatfield-McCoy feud, among other also-violent happenings, mostly involving coal mining and unions, sometimes a flood. We drove the poorest Appalachia to get here. Matewan, with a population of about 498 is actually quite a bit larger than the 'towns' we went through to get here. All no more than a quarter mile in diameter, restricted by the mountains, these collections of buildings exist only because of the railroad tracks that wind through the bases of the mountains – the tracks upon which is delivered the coal, coal, coal.

Most of the buildings in these railtrack-side towns are prefab or trailer homes. I think that carting things away is too expensive or too much effort for many. Junked cars, appliances, etc. pile up next to buildings and frequent burned out shells of homes stand next to still-occupied ones. There is no shortage of churches. The denominations one would expect in this land – Baptist, Revival, Methodist, Zionist, Fundamental, are all within walking distance of any domicile in these towns. But even the churches look sad and more than a handful have been abandoned; left to be devoured by the elements. No matter what your beliefs, a house of worship crumbling down upon itself, is one of the bleakest sites to see, especially in a town that is not quite dead.

The mile long trains laden with Coal frequently lumber down the tracks and the massive coal mines themselves, appearing suddenly as one goes around a bend in the road, are an impressive sight. In one place, we actually drove under a huge conveyor belt that moved coal from the mountain on one side of the road, to the tracks on the other side.

Disturbing to see are the areas where strip mining has occurred. Huge swaths of forest, hundreds of feet across – one seemed to be about a mile across, are gone, bare ground chewed into by machinery. They look like bomb blasts. And another form of mining that I was not aware of is also taking place: mountaintop removal. I leave it for the interested person to click on that hyperlink to learn more.

I took this picture not knowing what exactly was being said. Click on the picture to see it in full size -- then zoom in on the sign to see what caught my eye. Googling provided the answer. It is the sign of one Mick McCoy, an English teacher in these parts. Were it not for that sign, I would not have become aware of this insidious form of mining.

Tomorrow will be cold so I'm preparing as best as possible. It's hard to believe that I'll be back in L.A. in a few days. It seems so distant from where I am right now.

Another horn of a diesel engine has sounded. Another mile-long train, cars piled high with coal is beginning to pass. I'll go to the window to watch it, then to sleep.

What day, what hour, what state?

We are getting to a point where we really have lost track of what day it is. Since our day off doesn't fall on any particular day, certainly not the weekend, it is no help, chronologically speaking. Time, the actual hour, is also getting a bit tricky. Bouncing back and forth through time zones does that. And states? All I know is that I'm experiencing an east coast autumn this year. Twice. Much of the areas we are traveling look similar to where I grew up in Pennsylvania, though the moment the locals speak, it is obviously the deep south. Today was a dreary gray, rainy day. The temperature is mild for the moment, though I fear the inevitable plunge of the mercury for which I am not fully prepared. I'm hoping that I'll be back to sunny Los Angeles before that happens in earnest.

I am enjoying the hotel we are currently in. Little things like complimentary breakfast, a microwave in the room and decent internet make all the difference in the world. We were dreading the next location; a place that was quite unlikely to have these amenities (not to mention fitness rooms, a bar, LAUNDRY!, etc.) Once we discovered that the commute wasn't much different, we petitioned to stay in this hotel. Petition granted, we are happy that our current beds and bathrooms will remain the same. In a couple days we will be heading to the new location, Salley, South Carolina; a town with a population of 412. Our crew will actually, temporarily, increase the population of that town by 2% as well as completely screw up their ethnic demographic. Even the people who live here (here being Lexington, South Carolina) have, for the most part, never heard of this tiny burg.

Should be interesting. There, we will be shooting part of the "Chitlin Strut", the event for which this town is known.

Getting here from Austin, Texas was one of those trips one hopes never to repeat. At the airports we have a combined 36 cases of equipment and personal luggage. Most of these are massive cases that store lights, cameras and grip equipment. At the Continental gate, one of the first camera guys checking in was told that his personal check-in bag was too heavy. He was then given the bleak information that the weight limit was 75 pounds, well below the 95 pounds that other airlines had placed. We all turned to look grimly at the mountain of equipment cases looming behind us. This was very bad news.

The arguing of a harried producer with the airline resulted in nothing. This was not a problem that money could solve. It was either ship them by ground, or by Fedex or lower the weight somehow.

With about ten cases well over the limit and with a shoot the very next morning, we had no choice but to open up the cases and move things around as best as possible – shifting things from one case to another in order to get some of the 95 pound cases to weigh 75 pounds. It is certainly not a good way to move expensive equipment and with cases of open camera gear; tripods, large lights, cables, etc. spread out on the airport floor as we moved things around, it was not a great way to start the morning of travel. We hoped it was a final kick in the teeth from Texas, rather than portents of South Carolina. We did finally succeed in getting things on board and happily flew out of Austin. Hopping on another flight in Houston, we watched from the windows of quite a smaller plane as the baggage handlers below the wings argued with each other about the mountain of equipment that was supposed to go into the belly of the plane. The shaking of heads, staring at our cases, more shaking of heads, and furrowed brows shifted to the sounds of much thumping and banging as they loaded our stuff aboard. After about thirty minutes, this was interrupted by an announcement from the captain that 'some' people wouldn't be getting their baggage on this flight as ten 'random' bags were going to be removed due to weight issues. Our intrepid producer stomped down the aisle of the plane to the front, where the powers-that-be were getting off the intercom, and explained with frustration that if all our equipment didn't arrive with us, thousands of dollars worth of production were at stake.

I heard that it was a rough and bumpy takeoff, with more than one crew member cursing under their breath as they stared out the windows. I heard that it seemed to take a long time to get up to speed for take off. I don't know. I was asleep as something about being on a plane puts me to sleep as well as a tranquilizer dart. I did awake briefly for a jag of turbulence that really made one aware of just how fast we were flying. Arriving at a tiny airport, we finally, after much checking and cross checking saw that we were only missing a couple lights and a monitor. We got lucky and the show went on without hitch.

Meanwhile, some innocents aboard that plane didn't get their luggage because of us and our obnoxiously large cargo. We, the crew, apologize. Blame Continental. They should have known better from the start.

Now, it is eleven thirty (or is it eight thirty?). Tomorrow is another day. What day? Uh, I don't know.

I do know that I'm tired and the bed is calling.

Good night.

From Austin

Road journal? No, sorry. The days have been too long and I've been rolling into bed pretty quickly after shoots.

I happily watched Obama's victory in Mercedes, Texas. For our day off, I went to South Padre Island, waded into the Gulf of Mexico and had a Margarita and burger at an outdoor beach café that, with the peeling paint, weather beaten wood paneling and 'Creedence' playing over the busted speaker – couldn't have been more perfect.

Mercedes itself is like a town out of Last Picture Show. Now, I'm in Austin, which is quite a cosmopolitan city. However, from the vantage point of a hotel room, there's not much difference between the two. We'll be having a day off in Austin, so I'm looking forward to a bit of fun. I haven't been here in quite some time, and am looking forward to it.

About the shoot itself, I really can't say much. Confidentiality contracts and all that. However, it's a doozy. Eventually, I may spill the beans.

From Austin, we go to South Carolina, and then Kentucky, or Missouri. I don't know which. Then, supposedly home, by the 24^th. Wow, that date seems far off right now.

If something exciting happens, I will recap.

Sorry for the tepid entry. Gotta sleep.

Hittin’ The Road

Got a gig that will be taking me out of town for about eight weeks over the next three months. When a job happens, it tends to happen fast. For this one, I had about a week notice and just got my itinerary this past Friday. I leave tomorrow morning – so, wheeee, of I go.

That's show business. Like working for the government, one is often required to drop everything and just go - wherever. Thankfully, the people that I hang with and the woman that I'm seeing, are also in the business and familiar with its turbulent nature. However, it is not easy on social life or whatever other jobs you are involved with. I have to unfortunately give up two projects I was very excited about.

Being a single person now, plans for house care - cat, bills, plants, trash – also take on a different level of planning than in the past. And what about voting? Aargh, absentee ballot mail-ins are tricky when you don't know what address things should be sent to.

I will try to blog a little from the deep south of the United States, which is where I am going to be in about 30 hours. It'll be interesting… especially on November 4^th.

Those who don’t remember the past… etc.

"We're in the Money,"
lyrics by Al Dubin, music by Harry Warren

We're in the money, we're in the money;
We've got a lot of what it takes to get along!
We're in the money, that sky is sunny,
Old Man Depression you are through, you done us wrong.

We never see a headline about breadlines today.
And when we see the landlord we can look that guy right in the eye

We're in the money, come on, my honey,
Let's lend it, spend it, send it rolling along!

Oh, yes we're in the money, you bet we're in the money,
We've got a lot of what it takes to get along!
Let's go we're in the money, Look up the skies are sunny,
Old Man Depression you are through, you done us wrong.

We never see a headline about breadlines today.
And when we see the landlord we can look that guy right in the eye

We're in the money, come on, my honey,
Let's lend it, spend it, send it rolling along!

"Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries,"
lyrics by Lew Brown, music by Ray Henderson (1931)

People are queer, they're always crowing, scrambling and rushing about;
Why don't they stop someday, address themselves this way?
Why are we here? Where are we going? It's time that we found out.
We're not here to stay; we're on a short holiday.

Life is just a bowl of cherries.
Don't take it serious; it's too mysterious.
You work, you save, you worry so,
But you can't take your dough when you go, go, go.

So keep repeating it's the berries,
The strongest oak must fall,
The sweet things in life, to you were just loaned
So how can you lose what you've never owned?

Life is just a bowl of cherries,
So live and laugh at it all.

Life is just a bowl of cherries.
Don't take it serious; it's too mysterious.

At eight each morning I have got a date,
To take my plunge 'round the Empire State.

You'll admit it's not the berries,
In a building that's so tall;

There's a guy in the show, the girls love to kiss;
Get thousands a week just for crooning like this:

Life is just a bowl of . . . aw, nuts!
So live and laugh at it all!

"Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,"
Lyrics by Yip Harburg, music by Jay Gorney (1931)

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.

They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Mystery Berries and taste alterations

My close friend, B, ever the curious and adventurous person, read about the newest "rage" among food-hounds several months ago; a mystery Berry that originated from Ghana or some other like-mysterious place that does strange things to your taste buds. I'm not sure of the exact science, but it is evidently a protein blocker or something of the sort – rewiring the tastebuds in such a way that things, especially sour things, don't taste the same.

After much research, B found the berry in a tablet form and ordered it. The tablets sat in his refrigerator for the better part of the summer, while he and his wife, E, waited for the perfect time to host an event where we would indulge in these curiosities. Two weekends ago, that day arrived, and with much excitement, I received my invitation for their first "Flavor Tripping"party.

What will they do?

E is one of the best chef/cooks/bakers I know (among her many talents) and an invitation to their home for lunch or dinner is always anticipated with delight. But on "taste tripping" day, the guests were requested to bring foods from a specific list, that, when laid out on the table, likely resembled the feverish nightmare of a culinary student before final exams. A bizarre amalgamation of Limes, Vinegar, Grapefruits, Feta Cheese, Blue Cheese, Peaches, Tomatoes, Radishes, unsweetened chocolate and more; the foods were carefully selected based on their strong character and texture, not how they would complement each other… or if they were even pleasant or edible to begin with.

With a little trepidation but mostly a lot of laughing, we, the lucky invitees, all popped the tabs, er, pills – the instruction being to let them dissolve on our tongues; swish them around, etc.

They had no real taste, being almost "Tums" like in consistency and flavor. I noticed no difference at all in the way my mouth or tongue felt.

'E', (B's wife) was the first to test the supposed effects of the berry. She took a slice of lime and boldly bit straight into it. We watched her face as she chewed on it… "It tastes wonderful… sweet." She proclaimed. We all were convinced she was lying, but there were no tears or grimaces to contradict the words. Could this indeed be?

'B' followed, also biting into a lime slice. He started laughing and at first we weren't sure if it was because he had been fooled by his wife or because, truly and bizarrely, the lime tasted good. He swore that it tasted great.

Enough for me, I grabbed a slice and doing the tasting-equivalent of jumping off a bridge, bit into the lime deeply. It was sweet, a wonderful taste. I couldn't believe it. This was no longer a lime, no bitterness or sourness remained. It had now become a fruit that I would pick from trees and eat with happy abandon.

Shortly thereafter, everybody started digging into the various foods. We would excitedly tell each other what we had discovered. We drank white vinegar by the table-spoonful, a slightly sharp cidery taste; huge forks of Feta now tasted like cream pie, oranges were now a fruit that might have been produced by the Gods. Unsweetened Cooking Chocolate had become a dark chocolate that might have been produced in Belgium.

Some food didn't taste so good and some food – radishes for instance, became bland – like mistakenly eating a waxen verisimilitude instead. Grapes suffered a similar fate. But overall, the effect of these mystery berries was stunning. As I was indulging in these normally potent foods, I had the fear of consequences. How much vinegar and how many limes can one ingest before the stomach cries foul? After all, just because one is anesthetized doesn't mean that the nail through the hand won't hurt in the morrow. Happily, there were no evil consequences. The effects of the mystery berry lasted for about an hour. Toward the end, the formerly wonderful lime started regaining its bitter strength, the Feta's strong 'Goatiness' returned, the wonderful Autumnal tasting punch… a Grapefruit/Bitters/Ginger/Lemon Rum concoction became – undrinkable.

So, for those who enjoy food, are a bit adventurous and have friends that are like-minded, I recommend investing in these Mystery Berries. It was a unique and entertaining culinary experience.

Opera:

Il Trittico was fantastic. I had no complaints except maybe for the last "choice" made in Gianni Schicchi. Suor Angelica, the 2^nd of the three parts was stunning. The soprano, Sondra Radvanovsky, was out of this world. I really believe she will become known as one of the great voices of opera. WOW.

A few days later, I had a chance to see the final Dress Rehearsal of Madama Butterfly as directed by Robert Wilson (Einstein On the Beach). This is a very famous production, having been performed in Amsterdam and L.A. before. There is a filmed DVD of the Amsterdam production available. Of the L.A. Opera production I saw, the voices are excellent.

Robert Wilson's Production of Madama Butterfly

But honestly, for all the hoopla of Wilson's production, I'm not so sure what I think of it. It is definitely "Butterfly" for the experienced. My complaint is that the ultra minimalist and stark nature of the production doesn't complement the music. This is the point, of course – forcing the audience to really listen to the music. However, the minimalism is so extreme, the emotions of the performers so blank, that it seems but one step from being a recital. Don't get me wrong, this is a wild way to see it and if one has the chance, one should. The costumes are beautiful and daring as is much of the choreography. Just don't expect to see things like… props, or smiles, or tears.

Crazy times in the Valley

I am just now catching up on email – flagged at the time of receivership, to be replied to promptly. My gosh, there's nearly a month of responding to catch up on!

The last few weeks have been consumed, spent in a bizarre and sordid world from which I'm still trying to wash off the stench. I think, like all overly-impressive experiences, it will take time. Suffice to say, I was working in a documentary capacity in the world of show business whose production takes place primarily in "the valley". Those who know what that means will, well, know what that means. Those who don't… eh, don't worry about it. You're probably better off.

I will say, (remaining vague while yet attempting to convey my thought) it seems, much of the time, people do end up in the situations they deserve. There are those that, no matter how hard one tries, will always shoot themselves in the foot. They are incapable of escaping the situation they are in; not for wont of chance but simply a lack of vision. No matter how hard one attempts to show them a way, a path, they simply can not comprehend or see it – much less start down it. They see nothing but the most basic of landscape directly in front of their feet, frequently through distorted vision. Nothing can be done and it is best for a sane person to simply walk away.

There may seem to be a certain callousness in these words (if they make any sense at all), a certain lack of social caring, but over the last couple weeks (and year, in general) I have seen that some people simply cannot be, or refuse to be "picked up by the bootstraps." They will cut those straps as soon as they are pulled taut.

On another note, an upbeat note – I have been spending the most delightful time recently with someone that for now, I will only call "S". It's so nice how the day can seem brighter, colors richer, (and any other cheesy hallmark platitude) when you've shared common laughs, thoughts, memories and opinions with someone. It's great when there's that "click".

This weekend, courtesy of a friend of "S" – we will be seeing Il Trittico at the Dorothy Chandler! This atypical opera (actually 3 little operas) has some wild stuff going on in it. One of the three (actually the third of the three), Gianni Schicchi opens with a standard sounding orchestral melody – that is then followed by a bunch of people grumbling and moaning – which then turns into the melody. It's a rather "Russian" sounding start, coming from Mr. Puccini, though the opera itself is a comedic one about greed. Were it truly Russian, it would be a tragedy about greed in which the entire village eventually suffers. And I really am only describing the first few seconds of the opera. It very quickly heads, sonically, "back to Italy."
I've read some preliminary reviews that have lauded this particular production, so I go in with high hopes. Sometimes, opera production can go horribly wrong when directed by "stars". This production is directed by none other than Woody Allen (Gianni Schiacchi) and William Friedkin (Il Tabarro and Suar Angelica). I'm not expecting to see any cleverly-written-kvetching or high-speed car-chases on stage, but I do know they aren't playing the operas entirely straight either. I'll let you know how it goes.

Now, onto the email, then to figuring out what the next step in my adventure shall be.

More coming soon... In the meantime enjoy this clip

Disney Lab Unveils Its Latest Line Of Genetically Engineered Child Stars