Upright & Stowed

To Everything Turn Turn Turn (dateline 10/31/09)

My seasonal preference, in order:  Summer, Fall, Spring Winter. 

My fantasy seasonal recalculation:  Summer (5 months), Fall (3 months), Spring (3 months), Winter (1 month). 

While I wait for global warming to turn my fantasies into reality (or move to South Carolina), I will continue to enjoy living in a place with four fully distinct seasons.  It’s one of the things I missed most during my years in San Francisco.   

I revel in the change of seasons: Different wardrobes … the move from indoors to out and back again … the changing light … the shifting moods.  Nothing captures the exhilaration of seasonal change more than autumn leaves.  This weekend I headed up the Hudson River Valley to Cold Spring, a charming New York town that is a launch point for a breathtaking hike.  I made the trip with my friends Bob, David and Jeff.

 Ahhh, the thrill of fall.   Ooooh, the thrill of it all.

 

 

Why March? Here's Why. (dateline 10/13/09)

We march because all men are created equal.

We march because history says we must.

  We march because we want to teach our kids well (go Rose!).

We march because we are all brothers (and sisters).

We march to make change with our friends. 

We march cause there's lots of great art in DC (and cute boys, at least at gay marches)

We march so that peace can rule our days. 

Fall Arrives on David's Deck (dateline mid-October)

Middle Age or Bust (dateline 10/3/09)

I graduated from Clayton High School 30 (gasp) years ago.  These were some of my  friends back then, and they remain so today.  We had a fantastic reunion.  Among the  highlights was attending the CHS homecoming game, played here on Gay Field.  Yes, you read it right, Gay Field.  Perhaps that has something to do with our losing every game played there during the four years of my high school youth.  Go Greyhounds!!!!

Oh, and just because I'm a good sport, here I can be seen picking up my date for the homecoming prom, circa 1977.  My date is Marianne, who was looking mighty fine in '77 and even better in the jean jacket, above.  Please note that in the above shot she is standing next to her husband.  He took her to the prom the following year, and fared appreciably better with her than I did.

The Journey of Friendship (dateline 9/23/09)

There are ways in which getting older sucks, and ways in which it doesn’t.   Wisdom and perspective are the great gifts of experience, and they make growing older a little less tough.

One of the things I’ve learned along the way is that friendships change, and it’s futile to try to keep them as they were at any special moment.  I have been abandoned by some friends, and I have chosen to leave others.  But mostly, I have worked hard to keep my friends in my life in some capacity. 

Here are two pictures of me and my friend Danny.  We first met in 1982.   We were friends for years before becoming boyfriends in 2001.  The first shot is taken that year, on a particularly perfect New Year’s Eve.   This was also the year that we took a solemn hike on Marin County’s Tennessee Valley Trail, stunned after a day watching the events of September 11^th unfold.    The second picture was taken when I was in San Francisco a couple weeks ago, and nine years later.    We were on that same trail, where we marked the anniversary and had a wonderful day.  In the intervening nine years our friendship, like so many others, has changed.  In good ways and hard ways.  But here we are, still making it work.  :-)

Whatever path you’re on in life, it’s a lot richer when filled with friendships, old and new. 

The Last of a Generation (dateline 9/17/09)

While I was at Burning Man a significant milestone occurred in my life.  My Great Aunt Doretta (in this photo, with me last year) passed away, at 86.  She was the last of my great aunts/uncles, and her death marks the passing of the final member of my grandparents’ generation.   Kind of weird to think about an entire generation of your immediate family being gone.   For me this generation loomed large … they were omnipresent in my childhood, served up guidance and wisdom throughout my life, and were my window to America in the mid 20^th Century.   Happily, most of them lived long and rich lives, mostly in the Midwest. 

I’m not a big believer in afterlife, but I like the idea that all four sets of my grandparents’ and all their siblings are now reunited… somewhere.  The thought is especially sweet in the case of my Grandpa Max, who lost brothers and sisters (and many others) in the Holocaust.  If your grandparents, great aunts or great uncles are still living, why not reach out and let them know how much they mean to you.  I bet it’ll make your day, and theirs.

Burning Man 09: The Recap

I spent the past two weeks preparing for, attending and decompressing from Burning Man.  I've written many times about this epic art/music/nature festival of creativity, innovation, spirituality and community.  If you haven’t spent an hour with me personally hearing me rave, read this article from the Huffington Post for a great description of what Burning Man is and isn’t.

I’ve made the journey to Burning Man five times and never had a better time than this year.  My compatriots in Barbarella Boot Camp were the most fun, hilarious, inquisitive, competent, sexy, open, chill, easy and amazing people you’d ever want to spend a week with.  Especially an intense week of 100 degree heat, dust storms, raging parties and roller coaster emotions.  I consider Barbarella Boot Camp to be my new Burning Man home, and I can’t wait to build it again.

Choosing the best shots from a year at Burning Man is always hard, but here are a few of this year’s great moments, with notes.  As any burner will tell you, the next man burns in 356 days.

Ready to roll!

 This year's theme was "Evolution."  Which couldn't happen without you-know-who.

An amazing sculpture made of nothing but locks and keys.

Killer view from the top of the giant astroturf slide.

Down we go.

Take out art car. If only they delivered.

 

This year's Temple ... the most spiritual spot at Burning Man.

Children will play.

Erika and me at a White Party.  She was my virginal Burning Man date in 2007.  Obviously she's got it down now.

Rubik's Cube on the Playa.   Even more amazing at night when lit.

Just a little head dress.  This is how creative Burning Man is.

Some of my amazing camp mates at Barbarella Boot Camp.  Hookers all.

The one thing Burning Man needs more of: Urban Soul.

Me and my faithful ride.

Let's go fly a kite.  Sunset and sunrise are the most spectacular moments by far.

Jungle Gym David.

Burning Man, Chapter 5

At 5am tomorrow morning, I will climb into my friend Rob's truck here in San Francisco and drive 6 hours to the Black Rock Desert in northwest Nevada to attend my fifth Burning Man.  I feel like a teenager about to return to summer camp.  And I look forward to bringing some of Burning Man back to share with you when I return.  Until then ...  

Photo: The Man, who is both the physical and spiritual center of the event, and who will burn on Saturday night.

Fatal Crash Miscellany

I am flying to San Francisco tomorrow, on a Virgin America A320, seated in row 14.  On the right is a nifty graphic with a variety of facts and figures about fatal airplane crashes.  The good news for me comes from my choice of carrier, seat location, aircraft type and general odds of dying in a plane crash.  The bad news for me is rooted solely in my chosen month of travel.  (Click on the image to see it full size.  It's fun.)

Overall, I expect to make it to SFO alive.  Were there a similar chart, however, on the survivability of getting to, from and through Burning Man, the story might not be so rosy.

Hawaii Five-0

Hawaii Five-0 ran on CBS from 1968 to 1990, one of the longest-running series in broadcast history.  You may not remember a thing about the show itself, but you will undoubtedly remember its theme song ... one of television's all time greats. 

Hawaii is on my mind because 50 years ago today it became the 50th state of US.  Pretty awesome anniversary, if you ask me.  In celebration, I post the above photo which was taken a tad 18 years ago.  I'm sitting on a cliff above Black Sand Beach in Maui shooting a commercial for American Express.  On my left is then-unknown/now-famous author Augusten Burroughs.  He was the copywriter for the commercial which, incidentally had no words. 

Happy Anniversary, Hawaii, and 50 big Alohas.

Getting Off The Grid

In less than two weeks I will take a 5-day journey to the remote desert in far northwest Nevada.  This will be my fifth trip to Burning Man in the Black Rock Desert.

Among the many gi-normous pleasures of Burning Man – art, music, costumes, fire, performance, nature, sex, dancing, diversity, love, hilarity, friends – one of the sweetest pleasures is the complete and total lack of cell phone service.  What a rare and precious experience to be in a place where no one is taken out of their present by a conversation with someone who is not there.  This is not some fantasy return to a simpler time … it’s just an observation of what a different experience we have when we’re truly focused on living in the moment. 

Last week Gail Collins wrote a sweet  and funny column in the Times about her trek to Woodstock 40 years ago.  In it she quoted a relative who had just returned from Lallapalooza and had been overwhelmed by the incessant blabbing away and texting on cell phone throughout the concert.  “I wonder how truly involved you can get with the music,” she asks.

I intend to be 100% involved in the experience of Burning Man.  This is partly because it is hard not to be present when it's 102 degrees, or when there's a total white-out dust storm,  or when a fire-breathing dragon rolls by.  But also because my iPhone will be locked away in my dusty glove compartment, untouched for five days. 

If We Knew Summer Was Gonna Be Like This...

I scanned this image from the paper the other day.  It shows NYC temperature and precipitation deviations from average for the past 10, 30, 90 and 365 days.  I post this as NYC has its first true hot spell of 2009.

Looking at the chart above, I'd like to draw your attention to the "90 Days" vs. average line.  The one where the temperature is on the far left (way below) of average and the precipitation is on the far right (way above) of average.  Yep.  That pretty much sums up the summer 09 in the Big Apple. 

Knowing what I know now, I might have chosen to spend the summer in, say, fog capitals like wintery San Francisco or chilly Seattle, since both have enjoyed unusually delightful summers this year.  But I stuck it out in NYC, as I always do, and I've enjoyed the real riches of summer in the city:  a never ending performance of street theater, more cultural events than you can shake a stick at, and my garden, which has never looked better.  A great summer so far ... though I'm rooting for hot and sticky dog days before it all ends.

One Million Virgins

I received an email from Virgin America yesterday announcing that they've reached 1 million members of their frequent flyer program, Elevate, in only two years.  They also announced a contest to win 100,000 Elevate points for the best story of your "first time" flying Virgin.  I entered, and my fingers are crossed.

Virgin America has upped the ante on delivering what customers can expect from a low-cost carrier.  The interiors are clean.  The staff is friendly (mostly).  The entertainment system is fantastic.  The planes are internet wired.  And the website is a breeze to use.  Topping it off for me, I once scored a date with the guy sitting behind me on my LAX-SFO flight.  If you're a Virgin virgin, grab a seat soon and say "Fly Me."  It's fun.  

The Softer Side of Texas

I own a T-shirt with the words “Imagine a World Without Texas” printed above a U.S. map with a gaping hole … you know where.   I wear it selectively.

This past weekend – as reported earlier – I went to Marfa, a teeny town of 2,121 people in far west Texas.   A stone’s throw from the southern border and 4,000+ feet above sea level, Marfa is the Big Texas of movies like Giant and No Country For Old Men, both of which were filmed in this region.  With its big sky terrain, heavy Mexican influence, and "Howdy Ya’ll” friendliness, Marfa is Texas of the finest sort.  

The look of Marfa is not much different than it was in its 1930s hey day.  But the spirit of modern Marfa began taking shape in the 1970s when Donald Judd moved here to create and display his art and those of other conceptual artists.  What evolved is an unusual little town that marries sophisticated art, culinary and architectural ambitions with the breathtaking beauty and historic sweep of a remote Mexican border town.  It’s a marvel, and if you’re at all intrigued, go.  Some pictures to inspire are below.

Needless to say, I will be retiring my “Imagine a World Without Texas” t-shirt.

  Sunrise at the Thunderbird Hotel, the place to stay in town.  Lunch at the Food Shark truck.  Best Banh Mi sandwich in Texas, for sure.

Reflection of moi in a Donald Judd piece at the breathtaking Chinati Foundation, the artistic soul of Marfa.

Sunrise on the main road cutting through town.

Swimming at Balmorhea Springs, a WPA-built watering hole north of Marfa. Dusk arrives at the Chinati, where we were celebrating my friend Robert's 40th birthday.  Me, Robert, Michael, Michael and Robert.  How's that for inventive first naming?

What's a Marfa?

If you'd asked me what Marfa was about a year ago, I'd have scratched my head looking for an answer, indicating my lack of cultural currency.  Fortunately I've recently become friends with Robert, who not only is culturally current but comes from Texas.  This weekend about 40 people are flying to Marfa to celebrate Robert's 40th birthday.

[Side note: I write this post from 35,000 on my AA flight to DFW, using my free Gogo Wireless coupon.]

Marfa sounds totally amazing, and I look forward to blogging a full report.  To get you started in your Marfa education, here's the 4-1-1 from good old Wikipedia ...

Marfa is a city in and the county seat of Presidio County in the high desert of far West Texas in the Southwestern United States. The population was 2,121 at the 2000 census. Its ZIP code is 79843.

Marfa was founded in the early 1880s as a railroad water stop, and grew quickly through the 1920s. Marfa Army Airfield (Fort D.A. Russell) was located east of the town during World War II and trained several thousand pilots before closing in 1945 (the abandoned site is still visible ten miles east of the city). The base was also used as the training ground for many of the U.S. Army's Chemical mortar battalions.

Today Marfa is a tourist destination, located between the Davis Mountains and Big Bend National Park. Attractions include the historical architecture and classic Texas town square, modern art, soaring, and the Marfa lights.

Amateur etymologist Barry Popik has shown that Marfa is named after Marfa Strogoff, a character in the Jules Verne novel Michael Strogoff and its theatrical adaptation; the origin was reported in the Galveston Daily News on December 17, 1882, after the Marfa railroad station was established but before Marfa received a post office in 1883.

In 1971, Donald Judd, the renowned minimalist artist, moved to Marfa from New York City. After renting summer houses for a couple of years he bought two large hangars, some smaller buildings and started to permanently install his art. While this started with his building in New York, the buildings in Marfa (now The Block, Judd Foundation) allowed him to install his works on a larger scale. In 1976 he bought the first of two ranches that would become his primary places of residence, continuing a long love affair with the desert landscape surrounding Marfa. Later, with assistance from the Dia Art Foundation in New York, Judd acquired decommissioned Fort D.A. Russell, and began transforming the fort's buildings into art spaces in 1979. Judd's vision was to house large collections of individual artists' work on permanent display, as a sort of anti-museum. Judd believed that the prevailing model of a museum, where art is shown for short periods of time, does not allow the viewer an understanding of the artist or their work as they intended.

Since Judd's death in 1994, two foundations have been working to maintain his legacy: the Chinati Foundation and Judd Foundation. Every year The Chinati Foundation holds an Open House event where artists, collectors, and enthusiasts come from around the world to visit Marfa's art. Since 1997 Open House has been co-sponsored by both foundations and attracts thousands of visitors from around the world.

Photo from Flickr user devidteter

Reeling in the Years

If you’d told me in 1978 that I would be attending a Steely Dan concert in 2009, I’d have looked at you funny.  Who can imagine being 48 years old when they’re 17?  Who wants to think about a favorite band – at its peak – playing well past its prime?  And who, at that time, would allow that Steely Dan would ever perform live again, given their move towards becoming the ultimate in-studio recording artists?

But there I was last night – in 2009 – with my college friend Rob (acclaimed music critic and Brown freshman year dorm mate from 1979) listening to Steely Dan play the entire Aja album (in order), plus 15 or so other classics.  This most fastidious of studio bands delivered a terrific live set, with all the complex jazz, rock, R&B and other influences sounding as smooth as I remembered.  Donald Fagan’s vocals were painfully strained, but his enthusiasm and commitment made up for it.

Memories of another time in music flowed:  Listening to an album as an entire composition … reading lyrics on the record sleeve … sitting in my bedroom with my Sennheiser headphones on… anticipating a band’s new release.  

What do ya know?  Thirty years later and there I sat, reeling in the years.  It felt good.

The Power of More Than One

"Try to remember that you are part of a huge community that produces its most creative and important works through collaboration.  You don't have to do it alone ... and will achieve more by letting others in, listening, giving, staying open."

I wrote these word to myself in 2005 from the Black Rock Desert at the end of Burning Man.  A friend passed out postcards to everyone, had us write messages to ourselves, collected them, and mailed them to our homes about 6 months later.  The idea was to reconnect us to whatever we were feeling at the end of this amazing event.  The picture above is a Burning Man art installation called "Crude Awakening," featuring a set of huge metal sculptures (one praying figure for each continent) in thrall of the mother lode of oil.  The derrick was blown up and set afire on the last night.  See the mind-blowing video here.

The creative collaboration that made this artwork possible is the same idea that Netflix is tapping into in its much praised @4 million contest to improve movie satisfaction predictability by 10%.  Here's a great article on the power teamwork, inspired by the Netflix project.

This week I made my official decision to return to Burning Man at the end of August.  I am beyond excited.  What I most look forward to is – once again – being inspired by the awesome creative power of man, especially when we come together to create as a team.

Aeroflot Un-Bloc'd

In 1997 I went to Russia for the first (and only, so far) time.  It was a fantastic and memorable trip.  The country was in its early stages of post-Communist transformation, and the many stages of visible history were fascinating to behold.  Halfway through, we flew from St. Petersburg to Moscow on former state carrier Aeroflot.  Here I am, just prior to boarding.  The interior of the plane was indeed worthy of a good knuckle-bite, but we made it through the trip safely.  A fun adventure.  Today's New York Times reports that Aeroflot will soon complete its makeover with a 100% US/EU-made fleet.  So long Tupolev.  Sayonnara Ilyushin.  And here's hoping the reprehensible 757 joins you in the junk pile soon.

My Icarus Wish

It is a truism in American politics that garbage floats on the surface a long time before it finally gets sucked to the bottom of the sea.  Happily, we're mostly rid of the political garbage called W.  It's only a matter of time before Cheney finds his deserved place in the history book of haters.

But the sexy narcissist known as Sarah has yet, I fear, to find her true moment in the sun.  If we are lucky, she will run for higher office and burn up as she reaches for that sun, just like Icarus.  I wish, I wish, I wish.  It will be SO fun to watch. 

More likely, she will join the trash heap of television personalities spewing close-mindedness and hate on Fox and other venues, causing far more damage.  Only time will tell.

For now, it's Sayonara to one of America's most embarrassing quitters ever.  Here's hoping karma comes around.

[Thanks to Vivirlatino for the great image.]

I Heart NYC, 32 Years Running

I've been dreaming about my nephew Jeremy's first trip to visit me in NYC since the day he was born.  This weekend that dream came true, and here we are in the heart of Times Square having a great time.

I first visited NYC in 1977 with my high school drama club (shocking news, right?), and it was the most influential week of my life.  At the time, the Big Apple was at its low by financial, crime, infrastructure, and many other measures.  But by its most important measures – creativity, energy, adventure – it was at a frothy peak.  This is a picture I took of my cousin Laurie and friend MaryAnne on that trip.  A lot has changed in New York in those 32 years, but the essential ingredients are all still there, and my love of New York has not diminished one bit.  Here's to you, New York, New York.