2004-08-30
Remember those gimmicks that turned spam into music, haiku or ascii art? Steve here just uses the subject lines.
I think it's been a week since I started with the Bus Project. You'll have to excuse my uncertainty - the seven umpteen-hour work days make for temporal perplexion. Week one duties started with a press conference. They then ranged from jotting off a many-thousand recipient email to chatting with the Secretary of State over Rubinators between hip-hop sets at our Crystal Ballroom CD release party.
Aside from some late-night climbing / motorcycle sessions for decompression, the only free time I took involved a trip to McMinnville, where I climbed into the fuselage of the Spruce Goose itself. Howard Hughes? Biggest airplane ever? Wooden construction? Flown a single time in the biggest media spectacle of 1947? That's the one. Somehow they trucked/shipped/barged the pieces up from California and put it on display in my backyard. This is the sort of jaw-dropping experience that makes you not notice the SR-71 Blackbird until it pokes you in the eye. Wright Flier replica, a cosmonaut return capsule, a B-17 Flying Fortress... they tossed these dinky toys around and under the Goose to fill up the rest of the building. Would have been the highlight of that morning, except that...
Trevor's no longer the only one in the family with some flight time. I logged a solid five minutes behind the yoke of a beautiful 1948 Stinson Flying Station Wagon, courtesy of Nicole and Tuck. He said I had the touch for it, but he's just being nice. It was just the freak winds of the crappiest day of the summer that kept us on course. And Tuck on the rudder. Once I figured out there was a pitch dimension to the yoke, things stayed much more parallel to the ground.
Verdict: I want one.
Aside from some late-night climbing / motorcycle sessions for decompression, the only free time I took involved a trip to McMinnville, where I climbed into the fuselage of the Spruce Goose itself. Howard Hughes? Biggest airplane ever? Wooden construction? Flown a single time in the biggest media spectacle of 1947? That's the one. Somehow they trucked/shipped/barged the pieces up from California and put it on display in my backyard. This is the sort of jaw-dropping experience that makes you not notice the SR-71 Blackbird until it pokes you in the eye. Wright Flier replica, a cosmonaut return capsule, a B-17 Flying Fortress... they tossed these dinky toys around and under the Goose to fill up the rest of the building. Would have been the highlight of that morning, except that...
Trevor's no longer the only one in the family with some flight time. I logged a solid five minutes behind the yoke of a beautiful 1948 Stinson Flying Station Wagon, courtesy of Nicole and Tuck. He said I had the touch for it, but he's just being nice. It was just the freak winds of the crappiest day of the summer that kept us on course. And Tuck on the rudder. Once I figured out there was a pitch dimension to the yoke, things stayed much more parallel to the ground.
Verdict: I want one.
2004-08-27
Adrienne sent me what's now my second favorite optical illusion ever.
My first? Gotta be the Ames room in Wanaka. In the left corner, weighing in at lots of pounds, you have... me. And in the right corner, weighing in at many fewer pounds, you have... me! (Click the pic for large-enough-to-see.)
My first? Gotta be the Ames room in Wanaka. In the left corner, weighing in at lots of pounds, you have... me. And in the right corner, weighing in at many fewer pounds, you have... me! (Click the pic for large-enough-to-see.)
2004-08-19
I hung up the tie this morning. Why would I resign from a pleasant self-paced job with six-figure likelihood that puts me outdoors and in front of people? Because the Oregon Bus Project handed me the keys to a full-time position with longer hours, more responsibilities, and a tiny fraction of the compensation. And those aren't the only upsides - others involve off-kilter concepts like civic duty and my continued transmogrification into a democracy geek.
Actually, it's just that my new partners-in-activism are somehow even sexier than the sales team I just left.
I done learned lots, though. Though less practical than my Hitchhiker's Guide to Hitchhiking, I present:
A Retrospective on B-to-B Digital Imaging Solutions Account Management
- You know the misconception that Eskimos have a hundred words for 'snow'? Same same for salesmen and 'money', aka rhino. Wad. The narrow. Fold. The kill.
- I already part-timed at Green Mountain (grassroots renewable energy sales) when I began selling copiers two months ago. I thrive on contrast, but geez. Office culture shock. Splitting time between two workplaces - one a flat 60 degrees, one 80. One that copies memos like it was its job, the other handing out agendas on the blank side of used recycled paper. One with a spacious two-desk window office for the new guy and videoconferencing systems in the board room - whereas in the other our meetings are held in a circle, sitting cross-legged on the floor. I'll leave it to the reader to guess which is which.
- If working the land in a t-shirt gets you a farmer's tan, then my current suit-shaped discoloration must be a traveling sales-tan. Now that I'm indoors more, it's the death of a sales-tan. Ba-dum ching.
- Foolproof way to keep your sales manager from riding along with you: don't have AC in your car during a Willamette Valley summer.
- Lunch of pho is more fun when you can order and thank your waitress in her native Vietnamese. That said, the best Asian grub in the greater Portland area (I now know with assurance) is at E. 31st and Belmont. The fact that I found a new job at E. 45th and Belmont is entirely coincidental. Really.
- I'd like to brag that I'm talented enough to lose a pair of dress slacks. Then find them in Beaverton a week later. It's, um, not what it sounds like.
- People kept getting it backwards and trying to sell things to me. Volkswagens. A new job. Financial consultations. Rebar.
I didn't need any rebar. I had the salesman's most treasured tools: breath mints and a four-function calculator.
Actually, it's just that my new partners-in-activism are somehow even sexier than the sales team I just left.
I done learned lots, though. Though less practical than my Hitchhiker's Guide to Hitchhiking, I present:
A Retrospective on B-to-B Digital Imaging Solutions Account Management
- You know the misconception that Eskimos have a hundred words for 'snow'? Same same for salesmen and 'money', aka rhino. Wad. The narrow. Fold. The kill.
- I already part-timed at Green Mountain (grassroots renewable energy sales) when I began selling copiers two months ago. I thrive on contrast, but geez. Office culture shock. Splitting time between two workplaces - one a flat 60 degrees, one 80. One that copies memos like it was its job, the other handing out agendas on the blank side of used recycled paper. One with a spacious two-desk window office for the new guy and videoconferencing systems in the board room - whereas in the other our meetings are held in a circle, sitting cross-legged on the floor. I'll leave it to the reader to guess which is which.
- If working the land in a t-shirt gets you a farmer's tan, then my current suit-shaped discoloration must be a traveling sales-tan. Now that I'm indoors more, it's the death of a sales-tan. Ba-dum ching.
- Foolproof way to keep your sales manager from riding along with you: don't have AC in your car during a Willamette Valley summer.
- Lunch of pho is more fun when you can order and thank your waitress in her native Vietnamese. That said, the best Asian grub in the greater Portland area (I now know with assurance) is at E. 31st and Belmont. The fact that I found a new job at E. 45th and Belmont is entirely coincidental. Really.
- I'd like to brag that I'm talented enough to lose a pair of dress slacks. Then find them in Beaverton a week later. It's, um, not what it sounds like.
- People kept getting it backwards and trying to sell things to me. Volkswagens. A new job. Financial consultations. Rebar.
I didn't need any rebar. I had the salesman's most treasured tools: breath mints and a four-function calculator.
2004-08-18
While I'm far too busy to type many words this week, let me just get this off my chest:
Clif Bars are mana. From heaven. You thought the Army had it good with MREs? Compared to my poison of choice, that stuff packs the long-term energy of cotton candy. No time for lunch today, but the mint chocolate Clif circa 6:40am is still doing its job. With a smile.
Clif Bars are mana. From heaven. You thought the Army had it good with MREs? Compared to my poison of choice, that stuff packs the long-term energy of cotton candy. No time for lunch today, but the mint chocolate Clif circa 6:40am is still doing its job. With a smile.
2004-08-14
Since I enjoy of history of flip-flopping* professions, I believe graduate school's just an efficient way of pricing myself out of most industries. So no Masters of Engineering courses from OIT any time soon. That didn't stop me from teaching one for an evening. A prepared 20-minute spiel about renewable energy marketing morphed into a 1.5 hour roundtable. Fun times - I'd forgotten that "school" and "tedium" aren't conjoined twins. None of the kids (all of whom are older than I) donated an apple for my desk, but one of 'em gave me his sweet-as pocket knife.
In other news: On my way to the They Might Be Giants gig last night (hi Lucas!), I ran into Sen. John Kerry mountain biking through Portland. He's windsurfing today, and I'm climbing, so it's doubtful we'll spend more time together until his next visit. That pow-wow might be awkward, since I'm withdrawing my support of his presidential campaign. Instead, all future donations of time and money will go to this kid, whose mother wanted a candidate both her Reaganomics-minded husband and my mom could agree on:
* Like flip-flopping? Dislike it? Either way, read Adam Felber's Aug. 11 post.
In other news: On my way to the They Might Be Giants gig last night (hi Lucas!), I ran into Sen. John Kerry mountain biking through Portland. He's windsurfing today, and I'm climbing, so it's doubtful we'll spend more time together until his next visit. That pow-wow might be awkward, since I'm withdrawing my support of his presidential campaign. Instead, all future donations of time and money will go to this kid, whose mother wanted a candidate both her Reaganomics-minded husband and my mom could agree on:
* Like flip-flopping? Dislike it? Either way, read Adam Felber's Aug. 11 post.
2004-08-11
If you have a couple minutes to kill, click these linkages. Watching them constituted the entirety of my uncommitted time this week. I left satisfied.
Will Ferrell just gained a fan, thanks to the best short film I've seen since that one with the cat.
Not up to your breakdancing quota? Join Voldo or Soundwave and fill that meter.
Will Ferrell just gained a fan, thanks to the best short film I've seen since that one with the cat.
Not up to your breakdancing quota? Join Voldo or Soundwave and fill that meter.
2004-08-08
What you don't want to see on a Bus trip to Eugene:
What you really don't want to see after a day of riding in the Gorge followed by revelry at a jazz festival:
Wasn't much we could do for the truck fire on I-5, but I was third on the scene to motorcycle crash. I pulled over not out of humanitarian instinct, but because my automatic mortification made it hard to keep riding. Ended up directing traffic for twenty minutes, shaking most of the time. This is the second bloody mess of a guy I've seen in Oregon this summer. At least tonight's will live.
What you really don't want to see after a day of riding in the Gorge followed by revelry at a jazz festival:
Wasn't much we could do for the truck fire on I-5, but I was third on the scene to motorcycle crash. I pulled over not out of humanitarian instinct, but because my automatic mortification made it hard to keep riding. Ended up directing traffic for twenty minutes, shaking most of the time. This is the second bloody mess of a guy I've seen in Oregon this summer. At least tonight's will live.
2004-08-06
Salesman walks into a realtor's office. Aging everything - never mind the clutter. They're certainly not in the market for a copier the cost of a sedan. Might as well drop off my card, just in case...
With an marvelous smile mirrored by the twinkle in her green eyes, Margaret Poe told me she's blind. This ran counter to the direct gaze she held me in. My stammering went unheard, apparently, because she next instructed me to speak up - she's also 80% deaf.
At the age of 93, Margaret fully operates the business she's headed for 55 years. And it was my privilege to follow her able tour of the premises. She interrupted my queries with questions about my relatively boring life. When my travels came up, she B-lined to her China pictures. I described each one as best I could. Reminiscent smirks from Margaret.
When she showed me her "reading" device, the only mishap of the afternoon occurred. As I wiped up the spill, she noted her embarrassment about overturning the milk carton. You see, her hand still quivered a bit - she burned it on the exhaust pipe yesterday when feeling for her footrest on her nephew's Harley.
With an marvelous smile mirrored by the twinkle in her green eyes, Margaret Poe told me she's blind. This ran counter to the direct gaze she held me in. My stammering went unheard, apparently, because she next instructed me to speak up - she's also 80% deaf.
At the age of 93, Margaret fully operates the business she's headed for 55 years. And it was my privilege to follow her able tour of the premises. She interrupted my queries with questions about my relatively boring life. When my travels came up, she B-lined to her China pictures. I described each one as best I could. Reminiscent smirks from Margaret.
When she showed me her "reading" device, the only mishap of the afternoon occurred. As I wiped up the spill, she noted her embarrassment about overturning the milk carton. You see, her hand still quivered a bit - she burned it on the exhaust pipe yesterday when feeling for her footrest on her nephew's Harley.
No beer festival this last weekend. ): Wine and arts festival instead! (: The cultural ying to that yang would be DJ Squeegee and The Snuggle-Ups, who rounded out the evening. You'll notice there aren't any honest-to-goodness rock stars on that list. No, those came Saturday.
Namely Everclear. Portland frontman Art Alexakis zipped back from the Dem Convention in Boston in order to get on the Bus with us. He wields a clipboard just like he handles his guitar. Either way it always comes back to the joys of a welfare Christmas.
Tried out some cultural exposure without actually leaving the city. Mexican buenos anos party. We traded some slacklining instruction for tutelage in cutting edge sign language. It's amazing how many different ways you can sign "13th Street" or "18th Street", particularly since the streets in question are in LA. Gotta love kids and cameras. They go together like, well, wine and art.
2004-08-05
Music rec for those not privy to the PDX buzz. Crosstide. You can download a succulent single for proper indoctrination.
2004-08-01
An unexpected turn. The snootier my media tastes become, the more likely I am to reach for comics. Not the Hellboys of the world, but rather those in strip form. It takes a mere second to read those worth snuff - the majority (as is typical of majorities) rends space and time with the sheer density of its mediocrity. Those that're good're good though. Try finding better or more succint commentary than Berkeley Breathed's new Sundays-only Opus strip. The catch? You can't. Actually, good luck finding Opus at all - he's not online.
But these are.
Jack Ohman. Family friend and one of my two favorite political cartoonists.
Clay Bennett. The Christian Science Monitor's secret weapon never overstates what he can shade in just so. He's as good as Jack, but gets mentioned second because I never babysat his kid.
Non Sequitur. Wiley's syndicated Washington Post strip. Rarely mentioned when comic strip dorks like me begin listing our addictions. This is because we're flawed.
Foxtrot. Jason's no Calvin, but the geek humor somehow stays more topical than Watterson reruns.
Doonesbury. Garry Trudeau's been at the top of the game for decades, but he's taken it to whole new levels against this administration. Having the character B.D. (who enlisted for Vietnam to get out of writing a term paper) lose a leg in Iraq reminds us of the nearly 6,000 wounded coalition troops. Trudeau's voice isn't only in newsprint - his offer of $10,000 for anyone who can verify that Bush fulfilled his Air National Guard duties stands.
Thank glorygosh for the democratic internet. Talent bubbles up, posts itself, then gets read by Mychal. In turn, he sends me the link, which tickles me so much that I rant about comics for an entire blog post.
The hour is late and the work is early. What strips did I miss?
But these are.
Jack Ohman. Family friend and one of my two favorite political cartoonists.
Clay Bennett. The Christian Science Monitor's secret weapon never overstates what he can shade in just so. He's as good as Jack, but gets mentioned second because I never babysat his kid.
Non Sequitur. Wiley's syndicated Washington Post strip. Rarely mentioned when comic strip dorks like me begin listing our addictions. This is because we're flawed.
Foxtrot. Jason's no Calvin, but the geek humor somehow stays more topical than Watterson reruns.
Doonesbury. Garry Trudeau's been at the top of the game for decades, but he's taken it to whole new levels against this administration. Having the character B.D. (who enlisted for Vietnam to get out of writing a term paper) lose a leg in Iraq reminds us of the nearly 6,000 wounded coalition troops. Trudeau's voice isn't only in newsprint - his offer of $10,000 for anyone who can verify that Bush fulfilled his Air National Guard duties stands.
Thank glorygosh for the democratic internet. Talent bubbles up, posts itself, then gets read by Mychal. In turn, he sends me the link, which tickles me so much that I rant about comics for an entire blog post.
The hour is late and the work is early. What strips did I miss?
