Under the Lights

Yesterday I got a disturbing message from my landlord, claiming she had not received my February rent, which I distinctly remember mailing as of the 1st of the month. I even remember which mailbox I used -- the main one on my way to work, at Bryant and 18th Streets.

When I got home last night I checked my online bank account and sure enough she had cashed and deposited that very check on Feb. 9th. The bank conveniently supplies a photographic copy of both the front and back of the check.

I emailed her that information but heard nothing back.

Any decent human being would have acknowledged her error! I wonder what the hell she was trying to do. Does she think I am so old and senile that I don't know who I pay when?

***

Just before 5 p.m. yesterday, three colleagues and I went into Studio A, under the lights, and were videotaped having a fake story conference. Except it wasn't fake; we really are investigating a particular "Officer-Involved-Shooting" here in the Mission a year ago.

The TV-friendly episode, however, was what is known as a design-school-thinking approach to developing new types of programming. So we were essentially acting, even though our discussion was also "real."

Once the engineers flip the tape and I can get a copy I will post it here. It might interest my many, many readers to see how I work and also how I look in a suit coat! Not to mention my three very smart and articulate young colleagues.

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May the Beat Go On

Seeing my sisters this week reminded me how different my life as a child was from what it has been as an adult. I grew up in Royal Oak and Bay City, Michigan -- a suburb and a small town. In both places there were large open fields out back -- places to run around, get stung by bees, see snakes, shoot birds, and so on.

So I have always thought of myself as a country boy, even though I was never one, really. Especially not the racist kind. But I loved country music the first time I heard it, which was probably the old Hank Williams tunes. There was some radio station I found on the radio in Michigan and I listened to it a lot.

Then, by about age 8, rock had taken over. I heard Elvis.

Before college, the Beatles and Motown took over. I was taken by that too.

As an adult, here in San Francisco, I went to small joints to see the likes of Hoyt Axton, Jerry Garcia and others. Folk music, deadhead music, Part McCartney.

All of my life, I have listened to music, but these days I have stopped. My CD player is broken and must be thrown away.

But I can still listen on my computer.

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