The Bewildered Brain of Bearded Brian

Record Recommendations

2011-12-14T15:55:00.000-08:00

I'm still enjoying Foster the People's "Torches". It's like dance-pop for hipsters--though Mark Foster anxiously denies any association with the term (which, of course, just proves it). Torches must be taken in small doses. Straight-through listens will burn you out on their persistently upbeat and chaotic style.

The best new album I own is Fleet Foxes "Helplessness Blues", complete with mythic lyrical themes, killer melodies and fantastic instrumentation.

The above inspired a purchase of their self-titled debut LP, which isn't bad either. I can't say for sure yet, but my first reaction is that Helplessness Blues is a better album as a whole, but their best song is from the self-titled one: Tiger Mountain Peasant Song.

I haven't heard the whole record yet, but my next purchase will probably be the newest Coldplay record, Mylo Xyloto (my friend Joseph suggested in his blog a listen to "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall", and may have thus sold me on on buying the album--wow--KILLER song!).

Favorites from recent Spotify ventures:
-The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (any record)
-Jose Gonzalez-In Our Nature (while trying to stomach his Richard Dawkins-inspired lyrical propaganda)

Disappointments from recent Spotify ventures:
-The XX
-The Civil Wars

A murder of crows

2011-12-07T12:59:00.001-08:00

About half way through our stint in the land flowing with mint and potatoes, Liesl and I purchased our first home. It was in a brand new, and still developing, suburban paradise in Caldwell, Idaho, where human value was determined by the greenness of your lawn, the size of your truck (yes, bigger is better), and whether or not you had a three car garage.

During our three year stint in Idaho, someone told me that our town was the crow capital of the world. I remember very few, if any, crows in our neighborhood. I think it was because the tiny, young saplings the developers of the subdivision had planted were unsuitable, by crow standards. They preferred to reside in the large canopious (not a word, but it should be) relics that shaded the stately older homes near the center of town.

Fast-forward to 2011. We now live in an older neighborhood in Portland, Oregon, where human value is determined by the effectiveness of your water-saving lawn-subsitute, the number of gears on your bike (fewer is better), and what you are growing in your garage.

Our new older neighborhood comes with something closer to the canopious relics we had envied in Caldwell. In fact, we now live right across the street from a shady gem of green space called Berrydale Park.

Tthe crows like the arborous gathering place even more than I do. Berrydale Park is downtown Portland for the obsidian-feathered fowl.

The result is that Crowian has become a second language for Liesl and I. We even considered naming our baby Caw, but lengthened it to Koen to prevent him from crossing the street when the crows kept calling his name (apologies to Jack Handy).

In seriousness, crows are fascinating creatures, once you get past the annoyance of their constant, brash vocalization. They are rather like people. Americans, to be more specific. They are loud and brash, they are always on the move, they love to socialize in their spare time, they feast on the plunder of some poor soul that has met it's unfortunate end, and they drop surprise bombs on unsuspecting civilians.

OK, maybe some of those comparisons were inappropriate generalizations.

I have taken a liking to the crows in our neighborhood. I love watching them fly from tree to tree in groups of three to seven. I like noting their communication across large spaces. Two crows will often call or "caw" to each other from their respective trees. A crow right across from my house says, "Caw, caw, caw, caw." The comes a distant, "Caw, caw caw. Caw." They go back and forth like that for two or three minutes (don't quote me, I haven't timed them--that's an educated guess).

I once read somewhere that crows actually do communicate with each other, using a combinations of sounds and numeric repititions that help them share information about amongst themselves about danger, food, and other crowish interests.

They must be pretty good at it. Sometimes a large crow convention gathers in two very tall Douglas Firs that thrive in a yard near ours.

This must be their Vegas--their convention center. They seem to have a blast, whether it be a Crow Wars convention, where these fowl need not put on a costume to look like Vader; the Crowsumer Electronics Show, where they can give the latest touch-centric-carcass-finding app a test run on a yet-to-be-released crow tablet; or the National Association of Crowcasters, where crows learn how to better project their "caw waves" through the windows of human residences.

I've often heard these noisy scavenger gatherings referred to as a "murder" of crows. Strange. Crows don't kill. They let others do the killing for them. They simply enjoy the dead remains (yummmmy!).

But I think I know where the term came from. Every now and then I will hear a large group of crows, like a mob of auto executives chasing Al Gore down a dark alley, all shouting--er--cawing at the top of their lungs. I'm never sure what they are up to, but it always gives me a sick feeling my gizzard--er--stomach.

A few weeks ago, I was riding up the I-205 Bike Path, on my morning commute to work. The air was cool and humid, and wisps of fog rested against the trees and hillsides. The moist breeze felt good on my face. And suddenly, out of nowhere, a crow served in front of me. He zig-zagged a couple of times, then pealed of to the side and disappeared out of my peripheral (or into my peripheral, if my wife is correct in saying that I have none). Soon another crow did the same. At one point I had a crow on each side of me, flying beside my bike at the same speed and altitude as I, looking at me, then at the nearby houses, then back at me.

At first it was creepy. Then it became magical. For a few moments, the roar of the parallel expressway was cancelled as if by a pair of fancy headphones. All I could hear was the breeze moving softly past my ears and the "wiffwiffwiffwiff" of the birds' muscular wings.

The band (murder just doesn't sound right in this context) of about five crows flew with me silently for about 45 seconds, then elevated suddenly high into a nearby tree. It was one of the stranger and more beautiful experiences I have had in my life.

It was as if the still, small voice of God had joined me briefly on my morning commute, to remind me he was taking care of me. I never expected to encounter the voice of God in black, feathered form, but I was thankful to hear it on that quiet, misty morning. I needed that.

NaBloPoMo Victory (sort of)

2011-11-30T22:23:00.001-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 30 post 10

Just under a month ago, I became the latest soul to prove his inner nerd. I decided to give the NaBloPoMo challenge a shot.

Oh, it was a daunting obstacle. But somehow, I reached my goal. My revised goal, that is.

Early on, as the reality of my inability to complete this task became ever more clear, I revised my figures. I decided to adjust my goal ever so slightly, by aiming for 10 blogs in 30 days. Call it NaBloPoMo for new 21st century dads, if you will.

Today I am proud to announce to myself, and anyone else who accidentally clicks on a link to this posting while searching for tips on male facial grooming, that I have reached my (revised) goal!

Now my challenge is to keep that pace going, even after NaBloPoMo has ended.

October Road Trip: Part 1--Into Montana

2011-11-28T21:33:00.001-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 28, post 9

It has been decided. This is THE road trip I will finally blog. I will post pictures and thoughts on the places I have been every few days. Family, friends, and anyone else who likes to travel, can travel along vicariously with me.

Nevermind that the trip ended several weeks ago. Nevermind that I didn't post one blog from the road. I've still got the pictures and memories. It's not too late, right?

OK, here goes:

Eastern Washington. What can I say about it? I've driven through it so many times, and always thought it to be insanely boring. The land is not mountainous like other parts of the west. Nor is it mind-blowingly flat like Indiana or Florida. It's not even rolling, like the hills of the Dakotas. It's not lush, nor is it dessert. It is as close to nondescript as you can get.

On the other hand, the sky can be quite beautiful.

As we approached Spokane, the boring countryside began to change. The golden landscape was suddenly broken by the presence of a pine tree. Then another. Then a cluster of pines.

The next thing we knew, a vast army of trees has taken over the countryside.

The Spokane area is actually quite pretty--forests and fields, with mountains looming in the background. The city itself makes a nice spectacle too, as you enter from the west. High rises mix with old brick buildings that look more like something you would see back east. There is clearly some history here.

Whatever you do, don't stay at the Evergreen Inn, if you expect to have a WiFi connection. They'll say they have it to get you in the door, but they don't, and they know it.

After Spokane, the mountains begin. You climb past the popular Lake Coeur D'Alene and then ride up and down through small towns, past rivers, steep hillsides mixing pine, fire and Tamarack (which turn yellow in the fall).

Montana has port-a-potties along the train tracks. Imagine that! Who would have thought railroad workers have to pee sometimes too!

Missoula must be a wasteland for Mexican cuisine. Our GPS took us to three different non-existent Mexican restaurants. On the bright side, we did get some shots of occupy Missoula--the poor souls, staying true to their cause in the dumping rain.

We finally found a place to eat. Food for Thought is a student and hipster hangout right next to the university, and had all kinds of options, including some Mexican food. It fits right in with all the other northwest cafes that young people like to frequent, complete with chalkboard menus and bearded barristas.

Despite the clouds and rain, we did experience moments of the famous Montana beauty we'd heard so much about.

Montana is a state of contrasts. Golden grass against dark-green forest. Vast valleys against massive mountains. Heavy rain. Bright sunshine. The dirtiest hippies you've ever met. The staunchest, gun-toting, white-power militia-minded folk you can imagine. There are plenty of normal people there too, but what's the fun in writing about them?

In the snazzy town of Bozeman (I'm not joking--it really is a very nice town), our friends Ben and Tara (AKA, normal people) were kind enough to put us up for the night. It was here that Koen made a new best friend.

Our #1 turns 1

2011-11-27T20:59:00.001-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 27, post 8

Sugar has been deliberately excluded from our little guy's diet. Until now.

Happy first birthday Koen! You earned the cupcakes and ice cream your grandmas were thrilled to finally hook you up with!

Stacks

2011-11-17T10:19:00.001-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 17, post 7

I have this dream of one day getting through all the things that have stacked up in my life, and being completely organized---having "a place for everything, and everything in its place," as my mother used to say.

She used to also say, "work before play." Somehow, I spent most of my life doing the opposite of her advice in those areas. I played first, for fear the work would never get done, and there would be no time left to play.

The result was that often, playing never got done and there was no time left for work. This, of course, meant that I never established places for everything, not to mention getting the things into their places.

Over the last couple of years, I've desperately struggled to reverse this process. I've started by establishing places for a lot of the things in my life.

I've had some success. With the places now mostly established, the real challenge is finding the time to get the things in those places.

This should be easy--at least starting out. The vast majority of the things in my life need to go to a very specific place, called "away". In the trash. On Craigslist. Whatever it takes to get them out of my life.

Of course the easiest things to get to their places are the digital ones--the computer files, the emails, etc. However, this is where the largest number of things has piled up, as my new Gmail app pointed out to me this morning.

There is one advantage to failing to have "a place for everything and everything in its place." One gets very good with stacks.

I have mastered the art of stacking, as evidenced by my not-so-earthquake-proof dish drainer job last night.

I'm especially proud of that clear plastic fluid container that appears to be magically clinging to the side of the pile. Of course that item was first to lose its grip in the avalanche of dishes I created this morning when I tried to get to the coffee press.

Faster than my bullet . . . reflections on this last summer's musical sensation

2011-11-16T19:30:00.000-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 16, post 6

I like Mark Foster, frontman of Foster the People. I think its because we have a lot in common:
-An awkwardly short frontman who's bandmates tower over him? Check.
-Doesn't look like your typical model rock star? Check.
-Found his ultimate outlet with electronic music? Check.
-Tried the solo artist thing for several years, and eventually gave up and formed a band? Check.
-Clearly works out on a regular basis? OK, who am I kidding--I'm not even a wannabe on this one.

Photo Credit: WENN.com

Now that I'm finished with my desperate, "I'm just like a celebrity" self-inflation tactics, I can share my real reasons for liking Mark Foster, and his breakout band, Foster the People, are part music, part lyrics, part story.

I actually heard the summer smash hit, Pumped Up Kicks, back in March, when it was just starting to take off. My friend Bryan Larson, who fronts a band of his own, blogged about it. You can read the blog, and the ensuing discussing between Bryan and I here.

Lets just say the song has grown on me a bit since then.

In the interviews I've read/watched, Foster seems like a regular guy to me--like someone I would know and hang out with. But dig a little deeper and he's definitely an extraordinary person, and he's had a rough go of it--until recently.

At 18, Foster moved from his parents home in Cleveland, OH, to Los Angeles, to pursue a music career. He worked his tail off for years trying to master the art of songwriting and trying make an impact with his depressing acoustic ballads.

He told SFGate's Aidin Vaziri, "I would go to these crummy open mic nights and play in front of 10 other songwriters. Those are my most bleak memories - paying $3 and waiting for your name to be called. I delivered pizzas. I did telemarketing. I just bounced from job to job, going home to my home studio and recording songs and writing."

Eventually Foster began to dabble in electronic music and it opened up a whole new world for him. He even began producing music for commercials, to provide a source of income. Of course, he quickly figured out that its impossible to perform that type of music without a band. So he tapped a couple of friends, who agreed to join his efforts. Things progressed quickly from there, as Pumped Up Kicks went viral, and essentially became THE song of this last summer.

Which brings me to the next thing I like about Mark Foster. He's a realist. He's not afraid to dissect dark topics dark topics that are relevant to our culture.

Mark Foster told SFGate that the Pumped Up Kicks, a song about a kid contemplating a Columbine-style shooting, "came from being burdened about where the youth of this country has been headed over the past few years. More and more young kids that are not even old enough to drive a car are making very adult, very bad decisions. I wanted to start dissecting that. It's like Truman Capote trying to get into the head of the killer in 'In Cold Blood.' What would it feel like to be that isolated or pushed to the brink of doing something?"

Foster explores various dark topics on the ablum Torches, including Life on the Nickle, a super-catchy hook about a homeless junkie who's angry and lonely and yet considers himself the "king of the city".

Photo by Dave Lichterman--used under license permissions: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lavid/5557182682/)

I especially like the desire Foster and his bandmates, Mark Pontius and Cubbie Fink, have to make a positive difference in the world. Mark Foster told Cole Premo of CBS Minnesota, "We definitely have a heart for charity and helping people. That was a big reason we named the band Foster the People, because we want to do more with our lives than just music and make money off making music."

The band has since joined forces with the LA's "Do Good Bus", founded in part by Mark Pontius's sister, Rebecca Pontius (read more on that here), taking it on the road with them and recruiting fans to volunteer for key projects in each city.

But the final think I like about Mark Foster--or rather, the entire band, in this case, is the music. In my opinion, it's the funnest, most uplifting sound to hit the airwaves since, oh, I don't know, The Beach Boys? One of Mark's main influences, by the way.

The full record, Torches, gets a bit noisy and flat dynamically when you listen to the whole thing in one sitting. That said, most of the songs are strong individually, and there are several numbers on the album that are a total blast, including the two aforementioned, as well as Helena Beat, Warrant and Houdini.

One more way in which I am NOT like Mark Foster. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing this. Clearly, Mark Foster is a bigger man than I.

Why I Don't Have an iPhone

2011-11-09T15:08:00.000-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 8, post 5

In spite of all the Apple dissing I've done over the years, the fact is, I'd love one. I've played with Blackberrys, Android Phones and even a Windows Phone. None of them hold a candle to an iOS device, in my opinion.

The intuitive, physics-based fluidity of an iPhone or iPad is joy to use. Its the result of simple differences like the way pages bounce back when swiped--more or less, depending on how fast you swipe. It is an astonishingly natural feel. Once you've tried out an Apple touch device, the touch action on other devices feels clunky and sometimes downright jerky.

If I got a smartphone, it would definitely be an iPhone (though I wait with baited breath to see what Windows Phone 8 will be like).

So why don't I?

Put simply, the lack of shared data plans makes it too expensive in a two-adult family at my income level. According to my calculations, it would cost me an extra *$1,090 every two years. That's an addition of $545 a year, or $45 a month in expenses that Liesl and I currently don't spend. And it gets us nothing more than the convenience of cloud access when out of WiFi range--(in some places--I doubt I would have had any data access in Yellowstone).

My friends tell me its worth it. Maybe. Not for Liesl and I, when we have other basic financial goals we haven't met yet.

So we're holding out for family data plans. When mobile providers come out with reasonably priced data plans that give you a discount for having multiple data devices on one plan, I'll give the iPhone a second look (and rumor is that these are coming, if not sooner, definitely later--I can wait until later, though, as I just signed a new two-year dumbphone contract).

Until then, I get by with what I call the Poor Man's iPhone.

Yes, its not a fashionable combo, but it works.

Yes, there is more bulk, but the combo still fits in my pocket.

I don't have data on the go, but I can usually find a Wifi hotspot if I need it. The only other thing missing from my iPod touch is the 5 megapixel camera found on the iPhone 4 (now 8 megapixels on the 4S). At less than one megapixel, the iPod Touch's camera is pretty pathetic. But it does work if I just need to capture something (see the pics in my "Danger, Dad Cooking" blog if you're curious).

Other than that, I have all the apps and I DO have data access at home, and anywhere else I can find wifi.

How about you? Do you have a smartphone? What makes the cost worth it for you? Or if you're still holding out like me, what are your terms? What will it take for the mobile companies to get you on board?

*Cost increases based on cost of two iPhones and their data plans, minus the cost of our current phone/ipod touch combinations that are getting us by pretty well.

NaBlaPoMo Fail

2011-11-08T13:43:00.000-08:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 8, post 4

I knew it wasn't going to happen. I think I even said so to my wife when I started it.

Never-the-less, I had decided to give NaBloPoMo a shot. Look at the above log. Clearly 30 blogs in 30 days is not happening. However, I have done half-time. So maybe my NaBloPoMo goal is 15 blogs in 30 days. Heck, I'll get really realistic. I'm going for 10 blogs in 30 days. There, now I think I can do that.

To point to another accomplishment, I may have just completed my most "irrelevant to anything that matters to anyone else" post ever!

Speak of the Devil

2011-11-04T22:04:00.001-07:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 8, post 3

I'm not sure if we are newly fashionable holdings or if urban cleansing efforts have driven them out to us from the more desirable neighborhoods of the inner east side.

Either way, our home has apparently become the new place to be for Portland's mouse population. Over the past few weeks, our cat, Little Bear, has caught six of them. He remains the only trap in our house that is actually working.

Tonight I saw little bear jog a little faster than normal toward the laundry room, and without thinking much of it, I said out loud, "Little Bear are you finally done catching all the mice in this house?"

Not more than two minutes later, my first born furry fiend jogged back into the living room, hopped up on the couch, and dropped a live mouse in my lap.

I'm not sure if he was seeking accolades for being a good hunter, or simply wanted to see me dance.

Either way, I'm sure he was happy, because he got both.

Danger, Dad Cooking

2011-11-04T11:47:00.000-07:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 8, post 2

Ladies and gentlemen, guest blogger, Koen Vistaunet:

Mornings in the Vistaunet home are a time to be sober. To be vigilant. For Daddy briefly wrests control of the kitchen away from Mommy, and there's no telling what will transpire.

Below is what transpired this morning. Dad called it tomato frittata sandwich. I call it burnt eggs.

I wisely spit out the egg, but I did enjoy several pieces of Mommy's toast, to compliment my cream of wheat. Amazingly, despite Daddy's cooking, I've experienced no ill effects. Other than what some of the flavors cause my hair to do.

The end!

Water Bottle Piety

2011-11-02T21:27:00.000-07:00

NaBloPoMo Log: day 8, post 1

It is so much more than a drinking device. My water bottle is proof that I'm environmentally friendly. My water bottle helps me fit in with my liberal friends. My water bottle helps me lecture my conservative friends about how horrible and reckless they are. My water bottle reminds me that I'm a good person.

While I don't apologize for my turquoise companion, I do see the potential for it to take a negative presence in my life.

I don't want that.

I don't want it to be used to beat people over the head, so to speak.

I don't want a person standing next to me with a plastic water bottle to think I'm looking down on them. Heck, I've even been known to carry the occasional plastic bottle, when I've forgotten this one.

Lets be honest. My water bottle is a bit of a fashion statement. It helps me identify myself to others as a person who cares about the environment and use of foreign oil. It theoretically could give me more of an "in" with like minded people.

That's the reality of a large portion of the "green movement". While it has its benefits to the environment, it is easy to fall into the trap of doing it for outward appearance reasons, and for acceptance into a community, rather than to improve the environment. I think of a fellow musician I once met who bragged that his CD cover was made entirely out of recycled material, a couple hours before discarding his beverage can on the sidewalk.

Of course, I've also met people who call recycling a scam, and throw their recyclables in the trash, just to "stick it to the man." I'd suspect this is a sort of fashion statement, and community acceptance endeavor, of its own.

The fact is, we all have an element of selfishness behind the things we claim to do for the right reasons.

So how do we buck our human nature and make "doing the right thing" a bigger motivation than the recognition we seek from others?

If we shift our motivation, will that also change our behavior?

And how do we preach the gospel of responsible behavior, both in word and in action, without making others feel like we're taking a "holier than thou" approach, and looking down our noses at them?

Album Review: Death Cab for Cutie--Codes and Keys

2011-08-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

Ben Gibbard's poetry is not the dashingly clever fare that we've grown accustomed to. The band's melodies are more redundant. Their instrumentation is simpler and not as layered. The record's dynamics and tempo from song to song are not as varied.

Codes and Keys, the latest album from Death Cab for Cutie, has more changes that may send the last of the emo enthusiasts packing, and wannabe hipsters self-righteously panning it as "too mainstream".

Purists aside, Codes and Keys is Death Cab's best effort since Transatlanticism.

"Home is a Fire" is one of those "had me at hello" openings that helps define an album, featuring a pointed bassline that keeps the song moving and moody at the same time. Add the surprise minor chord that resolves back to major, and you've got another track, loaded with the things true Death Cab fans have come to love. The lyrics reflect a simple realization that so many of us claim to know, but fail to truly absorb--that a house doesn't make a home, and in fact, can sometimes be as far from home as one one can get: "Sleep, sleep with the light on/shutters and shades drawn/there's too many windows." And later, "With walls, built up around us/the bricks make me nervous/they're only so strong, Love."

The opener is followed by a very singable title track, and the steady groove of, "Some Boys", then an extended instrumental intro to "Doors Unlocked and Open" that proves the band learned from the uninteresting and over-compressed equvalent on "I Will Possess Your Heart". The song itself is much better too.

By now, it's clear that Codes and Keys is a strong starter. But the best is yet to come.

The first single, "You Are a Tourist", lands perfectly the the track 5 position, with a vocal hook that subliminally references the opener. As the rhythm dies, the piece melds seamlessly into the eerily beautiful "Unobstructed View". The building ambient noise warms the soul and prepares it for a perfectly timed piano entrance that, in one moment, catapults this record from good to great.

A set of catchy, mid-tempo songs follow, none of which stand out entirely, but all of which are enjoyable. We even enjoy a few returns to traditional Death Cab style brilliance, including the lyric, "Portable television, take us away/from this burden of reflection we've carried today/Oh, the generator's running but there's nothing on the air/And the static is a comfort, so we huddle around and stare". There's also a brief re-visitation of the old, emo-style guitar licks we were used to on the the chorus of "Underneath the Sycamore".

Near the end, the tempo slows again with "St. Peter's Cathedral", a strong, swelling, philosophical piece about what comes (or doesn't come) after life. This is followed by Gibbard's reconciliation with the once self-maligned Los Angeles, thanks to his new wife, actress Zooey Deschanel (500 Days of Summer, Elf, Almost Famous). "Stay Young, Go Dancing" is a catchy little Paul Simonesque tune that is totally out of character for the band. Despite Gibbard's worst fears (he good naturedly defended it on VH1, stating "As a newly married man, I'm allowed at least one love song."), the variety and simple beauty the song brings to the mix is refreshing, and a perfect cap on what is a more hopeful record than I've ever heard from a band with the word Death in their name.

Codes and Keys is another step forward in the band's musical progression, as they continue to simplify and de-layer the guitars, while using more effects and noise to create mood. The noise effects are particularly prominent on this album, and mark the use of a new way to bring back some of the old moodiness we used to love.

Yes, the dynamics from song to song are less varied. They also bring more impact to the dynamic shifts that do exist. Yes, the guitar parts are not as complex. They are also more disciplined and make the songs more compelling. Yes the band has evolved significantly. Yes, the lyrics are not as flashy. They are also more pointed, relevant, and true to subject. They also continue to evoke the same thought, emotion and interest that they always have. Only the methodology has changed.

Codes and Keys is beautiful, relevant, catchy, cool and musically interesting. It is no less an exercise in fine art than their previous works. Despite the evolution, Codes and Keys remains unmistakably Death Cab, and has more than what it takes to wash away the nasty taste that Narrow Stairs left in our mouths.

Oscar Predictions

2011-02-27T16:51:00.000-08:00

Last year Liesl and I made it to all 10 best picture noms before the Oscars. Our new little one prevented us from pulling off that feat this year (in terms of both finances and spare time). However, thanks to Netflix, we saw five of the noms, and thanks to our friends Tim and Heidi for baby sitting, we did get to see a sixth in the Theater.

I'm told that the three main contenders are The King's Speech, The Social Network and True Grit. True Grit is one of the four I have not seen, so my predictions are missing some key information (the other three I'm missing are Black Swan, The Fighter, and 127 Hours).

BUT, I still intend to keep up my tradition of making a prediction. So here it is:

The Social Network will win. My favorite was Inception, and I would be thrilled for a win on that, but I think the relevance of culture and era to our current world in The Social Network is to heavy for a more distant concept like Inception to be able to tip the scales its way.

So there it is! We shall see what happens.

The Oregonian: You Can't Prove It, That Means It Doesn't Exist

2011-01-26T16:33:00.000-08:00

I have been extremely disappointed in the Oregonian recently, specifically with an article and ongoing follow-up process on sex-trafficking in Portland.

As a volunteer for the Oregon Center for Christian Values (OCCV), which has helped get legislation passed to help human-trafficking victims, I am very aware of shocking and saddening stories of real girls who were exploited by this industry.

Naturally, I was shocked and saddened when the Oregonian published an article dismissing the issue and making assumptions about its non-existence, due to a lack of good data.

Here's a link to the article if you want to read it:

http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2011/01/portland_child_sex_trafficking.html

Of course anyone who has ever taken a journalism class knows that a lack of data is not acceptable proof that there's not a problem.

The article is presented as a fact-check of claims that have been made about human trafficking. However, the the writer goes a step further, filling in assumptions where there are holes in the data. The first assumption is made in the first paragraphs of the article. The story opens with Portland Mayor Sam Adam's claims that Portland is a human trafficking hub and Portland Police see an average of two cases a week.

Then it follows with this potentially INACCURATE statement:

"The problem: It wasn't true." This effectively says that Portland is NOT a hub and that police DO NOT see two human trafficking cases per week. We all know that a lack of hard data doesn't prove the nonexistence of an issue.

Mayor Adams, who is not exactly an authority on the issue, wrote a rebuttal:

http://www.oregonlive.com/opinion/index.ssf/2011/01/child_sex_trafficking_imperfec.html

In it he explains his source on the "two cases per week" statement--saying an it was an estimate from a veteran officer on Portland Police's Sex Crimes Unit. It may be anecdotal evidence, but that does not completely invalidate it--that doesn't prove it "wasn't true" as the Oregonian stated.

But in general, Adam's response was not exactly a fair or thorough critique of the journalistic problems with this article. Its not surprising that the editor of the Oregonian claimed that Adams "mischaracterized" the point of the original story. But the editor also fails to acknowledge the journalistic flaws in the articles assumptions, and defiantly states that the article was "accurate, truthful and responsible."

http://blog.oregonlive.com/oregonianeditors/2011/01/unusual_back_and_forth_follows.html

The reality is, because of the article's condescending tone, reckless assumptions, and failure to include meaningful input from organizations like Transitions Global that work directly with victims, the article is more than a simple fact-check. It is a baseless assumption, and has the potential, even if unintentional, to set back the clock on a critical justice issue that our state and country is finally waking up to. Thus, it IS irresponsible.

Being a journalist comes with tremendous responsibility, especially for a major media outlet. I doubt the reporter who wrote this piece meant to do damage to the cause. But its not enough to not be malicious. Good reporting requires accuracy, an ability to consider and provide voice to all angles of a story, and the elimination of assumptions. This article fails in at least the last two of those three categories.

I am not writing today to say that the Oregonian is a horrible paper. I've seen some great reporting from them at times. I'm also not trying to defend Mayor Adams. Those of us who live in Portland know that he isn't exactly the most trusted source of information around.

I am writing to 1) bring attention to the erosion of traditional journalistic standards in our media and 2) urge you not to allow reckless articles like this one to minimize the gravity of this issue in Oregon. Is our state a major hub for this activity? We can't prove it with hard data, but the non-profit community that works with victims gets an inside window to the reality of the issue that seems to support this theory. Regardless of whether or not Portland is one of the worst cities for human-trafficking in the US, we do know that sex-slavery exists here, and where it exists, those of us who care about "justice for all" must fight it.

Album Review: Vampire Weekend (self-titled)

2011-01-15T15:52:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be redunant and post my second album review in a row.

Better yet, my second Vampire Weekend album review in a row.

And redundancy is the big story in this review.

I often buy the album I think I will enjoy most when buying a new artist, then eventually work backward into some of their earlier work. Often, its the previous works that end up being my favorites.

This is NOT the case with Vampire Weekend. After enjoying their second album, Contra, tremendously, I decided to give their self-titled debut a shot.

Vampire Weekend starts with the hooky but somewhat obnoxious Mansard Roof, with the drums and guitars scrambling furiously to keep up with each other. It's a track that makes you breath a sigh of relief when its done. They create a similar sound much more effectively and accurately on Contra with the popular track Cousins. Its like the do-over track that gets it right the second time.

Our sigh of relief is rewarded with a fantastic little ditty called Oxford Comma, complaining about superficial snobbery, which becomes a major ongoing theme for the band, striking an interesting counter to the their ivy league prepster image.

Then comes A-Punk, a song that sounds different than from the rest of the album, and that's a good thing. Its hooky but not too redundant, and constantly interesting in the shifting of instrument and vocal combinations. This is followed by the more redundant, but still clever Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa, feeding us one-line snapshots with big spaces between.. These lines slowly compile together to paint a bigger picture:

As young girl
Louis Vuitton
And your mother
On a sandy lawn
As a sophmore
With reggaeton
And the linins
You're sitting on

The lyrics may not seem exceptional by themselves, but in the context of the music and the gradual way in which they are fed, I find myself anticipating each new line.

At this point, the album begins to decline. M79 tries to impress us with a fancy harpsichord part, but is the bad combination of catchy and redundant. It always gets stuck in your head, and that's never good. The burnout is exacerbated by the fact that the song is virtually the same tempo as the one before it.

Campus gets back the groove a bit, with a chorus guitar riff that brings The Strokes to mind. "Bryn" follows with a good, almost Irish-sounding hook, and would work better if it were not on an album with a bunch of other overly redundant songs. "One" is also catch and annoying, with the intentionally half-hearted and off-key echo on the chorus. The intentions are not as clear on the bridge, immediately after, where lead singer Ezra Koenig tries to navigate a series of large interval jumps and doesn't quite pull it off.

Then comes I stand Corrected, an interesting song that could be taken sarcastically, however the conviction in the tone of the music suggests the writer is actually admitting and renouncing a careless mistake, which is a neat sentiment not often voiced in popular music. Its too bad they have to follow it with Walcott, which repeats the same mistake made between Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa and M79, and this time its worse. This is the point at which I'm ready to turn the album off, out of sheer annoyance.

But the record recovers at the last second with The Kids Don't Stand a Chance, a strong finishing track with a well balanced melody and a fun instrumental riff, only marred by a sloppy string part that fails to hit several notes it is aiming for.

Vampire Weekend shows a lot of potential and the introduction of a very unique sound, combining Afrobeat and Classical music sounds with uniquely infectious vocals and "The Strokes"-style guitar riffs. The musical talent is clearly there, but sloppily redundant songwriting combines with rushed production to create an album where the annoyance factor is just too high to make it great. Contra fixes all of these problems, and while die-hards may criticize it for being too produced and too polished, VP's live performances have shown that Contra better represents their actual musical abilities. It is my opinion that there's nothing wrong with production allows that to be reflected in an album--in fact, this is what good production should do, and this is a major flaw in Vampire Weekend's self-titled album.

I'm glad I started with Contra and worked back, because if I'd started with Vampire Weekend's debut, I might have considered Contra too great a risk to spend $10 on, and missed out on what is now one of my favorite records.

Album Review: Contra by Vampire Weekend

2010-09-30T20:52:00.000-07:00

I shall break my blogging silence with my first published music review. This should come as a great relief to my millions of fans who are probably dying to know what's happened to me.

Contra is yet another great album Liesl and I discovered through our brilliantly cool friends, Dale and Delena.

There you go--that's the music review.

Yeah--you wish I was that short and to the point.

I'm not one for fun, happy music--usually. I'm not against it--have enjoyed it occasionally, but tend to gravitate heavily towards more moody, melancholy styles.

Vampire Weekend is the exception. I wish I could go into some kind of technical analysis as to why, but I can't really explain it. It's just a TON of fun!

Of course I figured, hey, they sound good, but they're probably terrible live. None of these happy, poppy bands ever sound any good in person.

WRONG! Saw them completely NAIL their craziest song, Cousins, on SNL. So now I'm pretty stoked--cool new band, they're actually good, not just well produced.

Contra is their second effort--I've heard the first one is just as good or better, which has got to be pretty good. But I'll explore it later, when I get tired of Contra.

Horchata is a perfect opener--first curious, then suddenly fun and full--and it floats between these moods without ever going over the top. From their the album is just bang-bang-bang from one catchy hook and melody to another. But its not generic-catchy, like you hear on pop-radio. Ezra Koenigs vocals are refreshingly spry and the guitars, keyboards, drums, bass, and electronic samples continually morph into new exciting hooks. There as almost as much centrality in the instruments as in the vocals. Each takes its turn dominating the moment, thus blurring the line between accompaniment and melody.

"White Sky" shows off Koenigs new brand of vocal gymnastics. Then comes Holiday, a nice simple pop song with a crazy bassline on the Chorus. The fun doesn't stop, though it relaxes slightly on California English, leading in to a nice smooth pause with Taxi Cab, then taking off again with Run. Cousins adds some edge to the sond, and nicely bridges the gap between "great song" and "showing off". Giving up the gun keeps the groove alive before they finally run out of gas on Diplomats Son--a long reggaeish piece that loses interest quickly. When we finally get through that one, we're saved in the end by the mysterious and mellow "I Think UR a Contra", which is proves the band knows how to tap into its melancholy side, even if it doesn't do it often.

THe lyrics? Well, I guess this review will not be complete. This is one of those albums where they words are complex enough to take some thought, and hard enough to understand to prevent you from putting a complete song together. I have bits and pieces of the lyrics in my head, but will have to sit down and do some reading to really get a feel for them. Generally it seems they use decent poetry and avoid obvious cliches, but as far as content and subject, I don't have enough information to really provide much insight at this point.

Whether you need some pick-up when you're feeling lethargic, or something to keep you in a good mood while you try to slog through a boring job, Contra is perfect. And its display of musicianship, showmanship, unique creativity, and great melody writing gives it legs as a good piece of pop-music art, and not just a formulaic manipulation of the senses.

Travel: Orlando, Florida

2010-04-02T19:08:00.000-07:00

I am in Orlando for meetings this week. Its not a town I'd likely visit on my own, but since I'm here, I can't pass up the opportunity to do some snooping around.

In my brief exploration of Orlando I do not feel like I have much sense of the culture here. I haven’t met many people outside of those I’ve encountered through the services I’ve utilized. Many of these folks are clearly not native. The rental car shuttle driver was from New York. Traci asked him about good local restaurants and he responded that there were none. He said this was the land of the chain eatery.

The more I drive around, the more I believe him. Orlando certainly has locals. The city itself has over 200,000 people and the metro area is in the millions. But my first encounters would lead me to believe that a significant portion of the population moved here to work in the tourist or travel industry.

That is really what the Orlando area is all about. Tourism. Huge hotels, theme parks and other curiosities are scattered sparsely across the central Florida landscape. Spend 20 or 30 minutes driving down a main drag near any them park and you’ll encounter the same chain restaurant two or even three times. Of course high tourism means high tax revenues, and as a result, Orlando has the smoothest, most well-marked roads I've ever driven. Of course half of the freeways charge tolls.

The city of Orlando certainly has some unique restaurants, shops and galleries. Traci (my co-worker) and I drove through it at about 7 a.m. on Sunday morning, so of course nothing was open. The only people on the streets were a few churchgoers, and the gardeners. Yes. The landscaping was beautiful downtown. All kinds of gorgeous flowers and plants in the middle and on the sides of the streets and in some places, multi-leveled hanging pots bursting with color. Downtown is very clean and well-kept. Eola Lake and the park surrounding it are also gorgeous.

Driving into Orlando from the south, we went through a fairly blighted neighborhood dominated by adult theaters and billboards for accident lawyers. Of course these billboards are everywhere in Orlando. Lawsuits seem to be a thriving business here. The TV commercials, too, are dominated by car accident and malpractice law advertisements.

After a brief wander through downtown, looking for a good breakfast café, we gave up, put Starbucks into the GPS and headed towards the College Park neighborhood. No good breakfast places open that early downtown. Just short of the Starbucks in College Park, however, we noticed a small building labeled Christo’s Café with people gathering at outdoor tables. Could this be the small, local culinary jewel we’d hoped to find for breakfast?

The grits and tasty omelets at Christo’s proved to be worth all the previous wandering.

Other good discoveries near Orlando include a yummy Cuban restaurant called Rolando's in a Suburban strip mall

and the exquisite community of Winter Park, with it’s snazzy shops and high-end restaurants, doors open to the warm evening air, wait staff dressed in black and live classical piano music.

Best Picture Noms part II

2010-03-07T15:16:00.000-08:00

PRECIOUS
In Precious, and her schoolmates, we see the rowdy kids on the street that make us roll our eyes and wonder what the world is coming to. Except now we see behind the scenes and begin to understand the personal life of some of these kids are forced to deal with.

One of the most intriguing characters in the film is Precious’ mom. She is portayed as a villain, yet near the end, we learn some things that, while not excusing her behavior, makes us realize that she is how she is for a reason. The film gets to the heart of the cycle of poverty and poor education, and how hard that can be to break. It may not be the most complete film of the year, but it’s a film that everyone needs to see and ponder. Sadly, for the many individuals who always expect an entertaining and satisfying experience from a movie, there will be very little pondering. If it is seen at all, it will simply go on the “hated it” list, without a second thought about what this means to them, and the society they are a part of.

UP
Up is my least favorite film in the group. This is not to say I didn’t like it. I have yet to see a Pixar film that I really didn’t like. But only a few really stand out to me as great films, and while they should be reviewed well, I’m not sure why they are frequently get rated as some of the best films of the year. Up is another well done animated family feature. It is entertaining, funny, beautiful to look at, and has a fairly decent storyline. But it is no Toy Story 2 (nor was Finding Nemo). A good film, but not a contender for Best Picture, in my opinion.

THE HURT LOCKER
This is the one. If I was a betting man, I would put money on this film to win Best Picture. I have a hard time seeing the Academy giving it to anyone else. Avatar will be a temptation, due to popular demand, but I think this film is still too complete and too well-made to be pushed aside by box office numbers.

The Hurt Locker is exciting, suspenseful, realistic, has a great storyline and effectively appropriate cinematography. Jeremy Renner is dominant as SSG William James, a bomb diffuser with no fear that infuriates his team at first, but gradually wins their trust and respect.

But the film goes deeper. It is also a psychological study. James is the ultimate risk taker. He frequently stares death in the face without so much as a flinch. In fact, he seems to feed off of his life on the edge. Renner’s character is contrasted with Sgt. JT Sanborn who calls the shots on the bomb squad, or at least did, until James joins the team. Both characters are members of a bomb squad who risk their lives on a regular basis. And both have kids back in the U.S. But for James, the bomb squad is his job, his kids are his passion. Sanborn has it the other way around.
The filmmakers are wisely intentional in their efforts to prevent the viewer from seeing either character as good or bad. The film is not a study in moral priority, but specifically in the novelty of SSG James type of character, how he thinks and what drives him.

UP IN THE AIR
Chalk up another good movie and performance for Mr. Clooney. Up in the Air is all business. Airplanes, suits, briefcases, offices, conference rooms, tech fairs, speaking engagements. Ryan Bingham is good at his job. He knows how to do what most bosses don’t. Firing people. He knows how to get in and get out, and leave a pretty clean slate behind him. He knows how to get his victims out the door without a big scene, and minimize the risk of retaliation.

So rather than facing their soon-to-be former employees themselves, bosses bring in Bingham to do their dirty work.

This film is particularly strong in its current relevance. The economy and the personal impact of layoffs are not the main topic explored, but provide a very relevant secondary narrative. The central topic is the idea of life without baggage. Bingham speaks of a backpack, and asks you to put everything in your life in it. Your belongings, your house, your family, your friends and relatives. He sees these things as weights that tie him down. Bingham can fit much of what he owns in a suitcase. He is always on the move, always in the air. He LOVES the freedom.

And then, the inevitable happens. He gets a few small tastes of why the things in the “backpack” seems to be so valuable to so many people, and he finds himself suddenly questioning his own philosophy.

Up in the Air is an Oscar type film. It is clean, polished, but also profound and relevant. If Hurt Locker or Avatar don’t sway the Academy, I think this one has the next best shot.

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
Quenton Tarantino wins me over again. It is not a profound film, but it is nearly perfect in it’s own right—spectacular, dramatic, and full of stylistic paradoxes that only Tarantino could combine in the same film without slaughtering it.

Tarantino explores a brutal alternative ending to the Nazi regime that seems almost as evil as the Nazi regime itself, and yet very hard not to take pleasure in.

Brad Pitt is Lt. Aldo Raine, the American leader of the Basterds, a group of rogue militants who have made it their personal mission to kill as many Nazi’s as possible. Their fates collide with a Jewish theatre owner in Paris on a mission to avenge the extermination of her family.

Christoph Waltz provides a phenomenal performance as a Nazi “Jew hunter”. This complex and serious character runs in stark contrast to Pitt’s almost cartoonish character (one of the aforementioned stylistic paradoxes).

The Best Picture Noms--Part 1

2010-03-03T23:00:00.000-08:00

So I’ve finally seen all 10 of them. I’m going to take the narcissistic route and do a quick and dirty review on each, based entirely on my own feeling and reactions to the films. Forgive me if they are not very profound or balanced.

AVATAR
An enchanting and beautiful film. I deserves some credit simply for the technological advancements it achieves—this is a giant leap in digital filmmaking.

The story has been told before and there’s not much new and exciting this time around other than the spectacular visuals. However, even in rehashing a sort of “Dances With Wolves” them, there are truths and reminders that jump out at me and make it worth my time.

The visual aspect is so compelling that it says a lot for the film by itself. Despite it’s predictability, watching it was a powerful experience for me. Not quite to the level of “LOTR: Return of the King” or even Titanic when I first saw it, but powerful none the less. Watching this foreign and beautiful physical environment react to the activities of the natives is stunning and gorgeous.

Avatar has that big sweeping feel that sucks you right in and makes you forget you’re in the theater. But it’s not a complete film—it’s not great all the way around. There’s nothing exceptional about the acting, the writing, or the storyline. Despite the power of the visual aspect, I don’t think it can carry Avatar to the top of the best picture category by itself.

THE BLIND SIDE
An incredible story based on real events. Yes, Sandra Bullock fulfills the potential we finally saw in Crash, and churns out a complete and compelling performance in a serious role. The rest of the acting is hit and miss, but the story is told well for the most part. The film manages to ward off the overly dramatic and unrealistic cheese that these films tend to fall into—at least for most of the film. It does start to break down a bit at the end.

One of my favorite things about this film was the way it placed a conservative family in a compassionate setting. The rhetoric of these groups often leads Hollywood to show things the other way around. Undoubtedly, conservative rhetoric has sometimes been horribly demeaning towards the underprivileged in the world. But while liberals like me try to speak compassionately and work to be better understand the plight of the poor, conservatives are more often the ones actually donating money and volunteering to help the same folks they seem to be putting down (yes, studies have shown this to be true). I don’t understand it, and they don’t understand me, but at least Hollywood was willing to recognize the power of a compassionate, Bible-belt family with a lot of faith.

It’s not going to win the Oscar, but it’s a solid family film that is further strengthened by the fact that it is based on a very good true story.

AN EDUCATION
An interesting “Coming of Age” film in a slightly disturbing setting. We have to remember that the film takes place in a different time with a different set of family values.

The main point I gathered from the film is the importance of Education, which can be a complicated, learn-the-hard-way process for many teenagers, even with parents who DO value education. It is a strong British drama with social relevance, and does a much more legitimate and believable job of making the point that Mona Lisa Smile tried to make in 2003.

DISTRICT 9
This may not be “my kind of film”, but it was compelling none-the-less. Sure, it draws some fairly obvious parallels about past racial injustices in South Africa, also the setting for this film. If these parallels are intentional, and it’s hard to believe they are not based on the many similarities, I’m not sure whether to be offended by disgusting alien bug-like creatures in that parallel role, or appreciative of the mental process it takes you through. I tend to want to do the latter. The film works hard to develop our sense of disgust towards the “Prawns” as these creatures are nicknamed. But then it takes us through a transformation, starting me out with all the biases and negative feelings of an entrenched racist, then slowly breaking down the shield of disgust as a more personal “Prawn” story took shape. It sounds ridiculous in writing, but it may make more sense if you see the film. It may also sound manipulative, but the manipulation is not simply to “surprise” the viewer and make the picture more thrilling. It seems to serve the greater purpose of guiding the viewer through a thought process.

Beyond the story and its parallels, the best part of the film is the main character, Wikus van der Merwe, an exuberant but clumsy young man thrust into a leading role in an operation to move the “Prawns” out of the city into a new camp that will isolate them from interaction with humans. We experience the transformation of opinion about the Prawns through his character. Sharlto Copley is fantastic in this unusual role, and captures a wide range of emotions in a convincing fashion.

District 9 is a Sci-Fi thriller, and has all the markings of one. Weird technology; blood and guts; stomach churning creatures. Suspenseful sequences. But the story is exceptionally strong and the subject matter is approached from a refreshing angle. It ends without a full conclusion, leaving room for a sequel which I cannot wait to see.

A SERIOUS MAN
There comes a time in every Coen brothers film where I snap out of my heavy engagement in the story just long enough to realize that the film must be almost over, and yet it’s nowhere near the conclusion I am hoping for.

A Serious Man is no exception, and may be the new standard, for movies that don’t end where we want them too. Despite it’s feeling of “ending in the middle”, A Serious Man is conclusive. The conclusion, of course, is that we cannot possibly reach a conclusion.

The film could be considered an exploration of why bad things happen to good people. “I’ve tried to be a serious man, you know, I’ve tried to do right, be a member of the community . . . I need help,” says physics professor, Larry Gopnik. His life is unraveling, and he doesn’t know why. But he is determined to figure it out. As the film continues, the challenges get more confusing, and the answers seem farther and farther out of reach. But there’s always hope. There’s always a new Rabbi to visit.

A Serious Man is a beautifully infuriating film. The story is engaging and frustrating. The casting is perfect. The cinematography captures an era in brilliant simplicity. The photography is large and compelling. A Serious Man is my second favorite film in this group of 10.

* * *

There’s the first five. I’ll do my best to get the rest done before Sunday!

Film Review: A Serious Man

2010-01-26T21:31:00.000-08:00

So I don't have time to actually write a review on this. All I can say is that it was brilliant and infuriating! Plenty of thoughts that can be pulled from this film if we all dig deep. But sometimes I can't help but think that the Coens are just messing with us.

A Serious Man is probably my 3rd favorite film of '09, behind Away We Go and The Hurt Locker, though I've still got several movies to see, so this list will likely change.

Finishing Strong

2009-11-29T20:23:00.000-08:00

It was a long day in the studio. I am finally back to work on my friend Pedro's recording project. Nearly all of the recording was completed earlier this year (the above picture is from that time), but most of the mixing process still looms. I've decided I'm going to finish this before I launch officially into my own project. Otherwise it will never get done.

So today, I plugged away on four of the songs, getting the basic mixes done. It was one of those really long processes. There's nothing like listening to the same songs over and over again for hours while staring at two computer screens. When I finally called it a day at 6:45 p.m. I had a migraine. Thank God for Aspirin!

This recording project began in the late summer of 2006. Pedro had put a large number of old hymns (in Spanish) to new music, and approached me to help him record. We build the studio from scratch and it's been a real learn-as-you-go project for both of us. Neither Pedro, nor I, have been particularly good at sticking with it, but when we do work on it, we are both so detail oriented it takes forever to get anywhere.

But today, Pedro has done his part. Now the ball is in my court, and I have not traditionally been good at finishing long, tedious, drawn out projects. I've started many such projects in my life, and finished very few of them. But with this one, I am determined to reverse the pattern and finish strong! My goal is to be done before the holidays expire.

Bad Kitty!

2009-11-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

Apparently cats party too when the parents are gone!

Driving at Sunset--NW

2009-11-21T10:02:00.000-08:00

It can certainly be pretty in the summer. Especially driving west through the Columbia River Gorge on I-84.

But nothing compares to a mostly cloudy mini-trip in the cold weather of late fall or winter. It is a spiritual experience.

Yesterday, Liesl and I drove from Portland to Auburn, Washington, for her mom's birthday. It was one of those trips. Layers of white, gray, charocoal criss-crossed at random above the horizon like a avant-gaard painting. The sky was an old lady in her garden with a spray nozzle, and we were the plants and bugs, subjected to her frequent and random torrents.

And then, the layers began to separate. Amongst the neutral shades in the sky, faint blues, yellows and oranges appeared, sometimes even protruded through the murky maze. The colors of the forest struck their contrasts--the darks of the evergreens against the yellows of the maples and cottonwoods.

It was a time to pray. A time to put on a peaceful record and sing along. A time to reach over the emergency break and rest my hand on Liesl's leg, and know that everything was OK.

A time to double-check my gas gauge and make sure I had enough to keep this moment alive. I didn't. It would be 35 minutes and a very grumpy wife later, and quite dark, by the time I found my way back on the freeway.

The World Outside My Shoes

2009-11-13T20:26:00.000-08:00

"Genocide stems from the thinking that 'my world would be better without you in it! You and your kind!'"
--Carl Wilkens

I got to hear my former pastor speak this week. He and his wife Theresa are biking 4,600 miles across America and talking on the issues that develop when we become so stuck in our own shoes that we begin to see other people as obstacles. In Rwanda, Carl witnessed it firsthand. His stories are shocking, but his message to us is even more sobering. In America, we may not have genocide, but we have our own ways of tearing others down or brushing them aside. What does it mean to truly step outside our shoes and refuse to be a participant in intolerance?

Read more about Carl & Theresa's campaign at the following links.

facebook

worldoutsidemyshoes.org

I only wish everyone could hear Carl's message. While it is one we all should know, it is one that many, including myself, forget way too easily. Carl brings a critical wake-up call. If he does end up speaking near you, I would urge you to make it a point to hear him. If not, maybe you can work to get him to come and speak near you. In my opinion, his message is that important.

Film Review: House of Sand and Fog

2009-11-03T21:22:00.000-08:00

3.5 out of 4 stars

House of Sand and Fog takes a sensationally morbid twist just before it asphyxiates, within the subject it appeared to be exploring all along.

In the film, Jennifer Connelly plays Kathy a clinically depressed divorcee. Too depressed to even go through her own mail. All at once, there are three men in her home informing her that she has foreclosed and her house is to be auctioned immediately. The foreclosure is the result of a problem she thought had been solved. Notices to the contrary lie unopened in the pile of mail just inside her front door.

By the time she is able to get a lawyer involved, her home has already been sold to an Iranian immigrant named Behrani (Ben Kingsley), a road worker by day and gas station clerk at night. He works tirelessly at thankless jobs to maintain his family’s wealthy appearance. He even goes to the trouble of changing out of his work clothes in a public restroom to appear well dressed when he arrives home.

Behrani gets an incredible deal on the home in the Pine forested hills near San Francisco, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Despite the view, it is a modest home, and he considers it a stepping stone to something better.

Kathy refuses to accept the loss of her home. When her lawyer is unable to get immediate results, she grows impatient and takes matters into her own hands. She gets a little help from her new friend Lester, a married-with-children cop who is having an early mid-life crisis. After shacking up together in a cabin in the woods, Lester decides to throw his official weight around to try to help her get the house back.

Kathy clashes with Behrani’s family on several occasions, but is often greeted with a surprising kindness, particularly by his wife. But as the film progresses, we see the sense of entitlement escalate on both sides.

The shock effect of the closing scenes seemed to stand in odd contrast to the rest of the film, and at the same time, make it unforgettable. I found it nearly impossible to move on without finding a way to reconcile these events with the themes explored in the rest of the film.

The spiraling tragedy experienced by the Behrani family cannot be stopped until it reaches this deafening crescendo. By this time it overflows into Kathy’s life, becoming her tragedy as well, as she realizes that she had come to love the family she had initially fought.

House of Sand and Fog grimly reminds us that an attitude of entitlement is not often entirely unjust, in its beginnings. But what happens when both sides of an argument are justified? And how far will we go to win? How much will we risk? Will we fight until we suddenly find ourselves exclaiming with Behrani, “I want only my son”? Sadly, it is often too late when we finally realize how unjust we can become and how much damage we do in fighting for what we believe is justly ours.