Miracle Recovery. Being Naked.

My computer is back, courtesy of the diagnostic geniuses at Apple. Best of all, they fixed it but didn't charge me anything.

I've gotta examine why I get so pessimistic quickly these days. My daughter excoriated me for this today, "I thought I taught you to stop being a pessimist. It's not nice!"

Last night's school dance was a challenge for my youngest son. He'll be a teenager himself in two months & change. But for now, it's just all too awkward.

***

Like many Americans, I get daily emails from President Obama and his team. We may have our first Spammer-in-Chief (just kidding). It is pretty nice to see Barack in my inbox and most of "his" messages have substance of interest to me.

The curious battle to get a stimulus passed appears to have been resolved, thanks to a coalition of adult Republicans and Democrats in the Senate. It all looks good, but there's nothing in there for those of us who live by our art, music, or writing as far as I can see.

Way too bad the Obama team lost my application for work. Well, it wasn't really an application; it was a proposal for how to reorganize government. Only occasionally have I lost a piece of writing due to a technological glitch, but apparently that is what happened this time.

I thought that I had saved and copied my ideas, but no, that appears to be untrue. Therefore, I can never recreate what inspired me on the day I wrote it. Of course, I know the general drift of what I proposed, but it was the way it was written that has been lost.

Every writer will tell you that as much as content matters, style matters even more to us. We are communicators. Sometimes we play with ideas -- we float conceptual balloons, we pose as different people than you think us to be.

I do this relentlessly. Monday I write from the left. Tuesday from the right. Which person is me? Either, neither, or both?

I don't know. I'm exceptionally open to ideas, always have been. I loved my Dad, whose instincts were conservative. I loved my Mom, whose instincts were liberal. As a youth, I was a radical, even a Marxist (in theory).

Later, I fell in love with the power of private enterprise, and I discovered a libertarian, free-market streak deep within my psyche.

At this point, I realize that I have never actually been privileged enough to become a true liberal. Lacking any sense of entitlement whatsoever, for whatever reasons, I identify with the poor, weak, disadvantaged, the out of favor. I always root for the underdog, except in the cases of "my" schools or teams.

Writing demands, finally, for the writer to stand naked before the world. Physically, no (that would not be a pretty site); but emotionally, yes. My weapons are my words. I have no gun with ammunition, no knife except a fishing knife.

Then again, though I know my words can cut, I'm not a slasher-writer. I mean to do no harm. I write out of a sense of love and responsibility.

Someday my kids will all grow up. Maybe one of them will read this stuff, assuming that I don't (in a sudden fit of self-censorship -- the worst disease any writer can suffer) simply delete all of these electronic signals some tyrannical night, from their virtual existence.

Even then, Google will retain them on a server somewhere, I'm sure. That's okay.

Writers are not really able to be like de Kooning. We can't erase what we have said, because someone, somewhere, out there, has a copy. Do you read me? This is what I meant about being naked.

BTW, this photo is of my bud, Oliver, who seems to have shed his collar recently but came to visit today, and let both of the children mentioned above hold him, stroke him, and let him know he is always welcome here in Weirville...

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Breakdown!

No not that kind. My long-suffering computer chose today to die, or at least to lapse into a coma. Thirty years ago, one of my dreads was that whatever old car I happened to own at the moment would break down. But today, a laptop that costs less than a thirteenth of my car is costing me (it's not yet paid off) is a far more important tool than my car.

Like most people, I don't backup my hard disk as often as I should, so today I confronted the possibility of losing a couple years' work. Had that occurred, more than my Mac might have suffered a breakdown. But the exceedingly patient young man who helped me at the Apple Store coaxed the old box back into enough life that I was able to transfer 6.45 GB of data onto a $30 flash drive, before he sent the Mac from the ER into the Intensive Care Unit.

He said they'll call me once they diagnose the problems. But I have a very bad feeling about this.

The timing, as usual, could be better, naturally. But I am back online, sort of, tonight on an old, fragile Japanese computer that has the unnerving propensity to suddenly and spontaneously switch languages on me 理家テャt！胃t八編sあs位sたれどwんあt手ぇけy簿あ like that.

Maybe I'll stop　漏れ無 now while I am ahead.

As for the photo at the top of this post, as they say in Japan "A thousand hearings are less than one view." Think about that.

案d位f用感フィグレ王tウァt手ぇヘッl位tmて案sれt目kの

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Pretty in Pink

All over this city, plum and cherry blossoms are bursting out, perhaps prematurely. This is not really a particularly rich agricultural area, compared to the Saginaw Valley where I grew up, but what we have here in fruit trees and native plants is nevertheless quite impressive.

Meyer lemons. Native, big, succulent, sweet and sour, and full of flavor. Who could cook a meal around here without including these amazing fruits?

Nasturtiums, wild lettuces, anise, blackberries, wild onions (which natives called "Chicago"), bay leaves, and other edibles can easily be gathered here by those willing to venture out into our forests and mountains.

But these ingredients do not add up to any form of a sustainable diet unless you also are willing to harvest the fish, birds and mammals who share this environment with us. Personally, I would have no problem doing so, but most of my fellow San Franciscans would be appalled at this prospect.

In this regard, I know I am a throwback to the hunter and gatherer phase of our evolutionary past. It all seems quite natural to me. So I submit that those who are offended by these instincts are perhaps more evolved than I am, or maybe they are simply more clueless.

Either way, only our common future will deliver the answer.

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Pure Joy

The new Academy of Sciences, which re-opened last September, features a four-story, sustainable rainforest, where visitors can move from below sea level, with large fish swimming over head, up through photic layers inhabited by snakes, exotic frogs, dragons and birds, butterflies, toads, and caterpillars, among other creatures.

Nearby is the "swamp," with a giant tortoise and alligators, plus a penguin habitat, which we visited at feeding time.

One of my own favorite young scientists accompanied me as we visited the new facility for the first time yesterday, and we were mesmerized. He's not always the talkative type but his words came out in long, excited paragraphs about what we were seeing.

I broke my self-imposed spending freeze on non-essentials to buy an annual membership, because this is going to have been only the first of many visits we make.

Overnight, in San Francisco, our drought finally broke with a steady rain that continued most of today. My homeless buddy, Gonzo, has been given a City-run hotel room, where he gets three meals a day and is out of the cold nights that have followed our deceptively warm days. These nights are particularly hazardous for alcoholics, as drinking gives a false sense of warmth even when their bodies are badly chilled.

My contractor buddy, Pete, is wondering why so many of the Congressmen who enthusiastically offered hundreds of billions of dollars to financial institutions are now resisting passing a similar bailout for "little guys" like him. The home improvement business that keeps guys like him busy has slowed to a trickle.

He can no longer afford the team of employees he'd assembled for larger jobs; the increases in the cost of liability insurance alone forced him to downsize back to just himself, so now he can only take on small jobs.

He's exactly the kind of small business operator both political parties blab about on the campaign trail and then promptly ignore once they take office.

The teachers at my kids' school voted for their salaries to be frozen, so they can continue to offer a broad range of classes to the students.

The drug dealers are operating even more boldly nowadays. These guys continue to do a brisk business, as do the liquor stores and the cigarette stands.

Gas prices stay low. Since I no longer commute, this barely affects me. No doubt when and if I find a job to drive to again, gas prices will rise, ensuring that my personal financial fortunes remain inextricably intertwined with those of the oil industry.

There's nothing green about any of this, which is why I'll be headed back into that humid rainforest again soon. And I don't even like saunas...

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Free Days at Museums

I love art in all forms, and I always have. In our city, the museums allow people to visit for free on the first Tuesday of each month, courtesy of San Francisco's generous aristocracy. Now that I am an unemployed person, without income, free days are the only days I can visit our cultural institutions.

And I love to be able to dwell among the paintings, sculptures, installations, and photographs of those who get displayed at places like our DeYoung Museum, today's destination.

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Down the Up Staircase

Everyone's being laid off.

Dozens here. Hundreds there. Thousands everywhere.

We're to become a nation of slackers, apparently. No workers, no taxes. No taxes, no government. No government, no jobs.

Uncle Sam wants you. He's hiring, but he's the only one.

Restaurants? Easy to get into these days. Forget making reservations. Cinemas? Empty, even for "hits." Parking? Parking's bad. Nobody has jobs so nobody drives.

Driving? Driving is good since nobody commutes anymore.

Dentists? Dentists get lots of work because everybody grinds their teeth when they are stressed.

Stress? Stress is on the rise. Did you realize that stress is the cause of most diseases, apparently. At least it always gets mentioned as a contributing factor.

Contributions? Contributions are down, and NPOs are hurting as a result.

Where does it hurt?

Now that is a silly question.

It hurts everywhere.

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Listen to the Music

One of the beauties of raising yet another generation in my home is to learn about their musical heroes -- a quarter century ago, it was Seattle grunge, i.e., Nirvana, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, among others.

Now there is a new generation of artists. Watch this video to see where today's teens find their story told. "Take only what you need from it."

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Comebacks

(Update: In the end it was Pittsburgh that wrote the storybook ending. What a great game.)

The story of America is really about the underdog. I have no idea what the outcome of tonight's Super Bowl will ultimately be, but there is no doubt what the perfect ending would be.

Arizona's amazing combination of passer Kurt Warner and receiver Larry Fitzgerald has just made the game a real contest. They were behind 20-7 until a recent TD drive. Now, there is a third of a quarter left and Arizona is only 6 points behind. If their defense can stop Pittsburgh, there is a chance that once again, a Cinderella ending may occur.

If this happens, the American idea will once again be confirmed through the channel of sports.

My bias is clear. Go Arizona!

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Finding It

It's summer. It's hard to be gloomy, whatever your circumstances, in this weather. We haven't seen clouds all week. It's chilly at dawn but with the ever-longer hours of sunlight, we have lovely afternoons and evenings.

This Super Bowl Sunday, our windows and doors are open. The backyard is covered with a carpet of clover. "You could probably find a four-leaf clover out there," my sardonic wit of a 12-year-old told me the other day, as we gazed out at the clover. He was, naturally, referring to the fact that I need to look for work.

I'm gonna plant some basil.

I'm gonna self-publish an e-book based on ten pieces that appeared here last fall ("The 3 E's").

And I'm gonna watch The Boss at halftime today.

President Obama just gave a great interview on NBC; how refreshing to hear his intelligence and humor and commitment all expressed in such an unfettered, articulate manner.

We have a great leader at the very moment our country has sunk to its lowest point in my lifetime. That's the main reason I'm feeling hopeful about the future.

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