The Caveman's Valentine (2001): Stunning visuals and a great performance by Samuel L. Jackson manage to override a weak plot.

There are multiple levels in human interaction:
- There's the literal face value of words that one communicates.
- There are cues such as body language.
- There is a near-psychic undercurrent that comes between the lines.
- There is an undercurrrent that you imagine, and you know you're imagining it.
- There are levels that you imagine, and you think it's real.

People who can communicate effectively on all of the first three levels tend to do very well in life, and people who don't, don't.

"Crazies" like Jackson's character in this movie may deal ONLY on the third level and up, and are thus unable to cope successfully in communication with others. Those who are grounded in the "reality" of the first and second levels are only getting part of the story. You know, when someone says something to you that's completely innocuous, but you feel a completely different undercurrent? I often feel that I'm missing half of what's being communicated in certain interactions, because I get the first-level stuff, and some of the second and third levels, but fail to interpret and respond to it quickly enough to communicate effectively there.

It seems like these levels of communication almost contain a definition of the range between "sanity" and "insanity."

Discuss amongst yourselves...

No miles, but another five getting home last week...

Monkey Bone (2001): An entertaining movie, even though the actor-who-acts-like-he's-acting stars. Great visual effects, a lot of fun action, and here and there an amusing Hollywood self-referential gag. Wait for Chris Kattan's turn as Fraser returning to life in the body of a dead olympic athlete chased by doctors who want to harvest his organs. Meanwhile, Bridget Fonda is typecast as a sleep-researcher/eminently-forgettable weepy girlfriend, schlepping through another one.

12-hour day yesterday, expecting much of the same all week. Kinda fun, in a masochistic way.

1068.1.

Managed to make myself bike-and-bus it today, after more than a month off from biking. It's a short ride, but it's a ride. I think my rear tire is flat--at least it's low, but with the double-wall tire, it's barely noticeable. There are a couple of route options besides Sonoma State, in getting to a bus stop. I can ride up Stony Point and over on 116 to Redwood Way, which actually seems maybe the best option. Might try it tomorrow or Friday (and time the ride to work from there so I know when to leave in the afternoon).

Still holding a job, for now.

Lots of movies.

Drinking has sorta seeped back into our lives, especially around the July 4 stuff. I woke Sunday after a many-beers Saturday, thinking, "I haven't felt THIS bad since..."

Uh, that would be "Wednesday."

Oh well. Restarting the regular bike rides will help my mood a lot, I think. I've really missed it, and feeling my slim physique going horribly flabby inch by inch, pound by pound... I'm probably more tan this year than I've ever been (except maybe summers with Grandma by the lake age 10 or so). So at least I *look* like I get out a lot.

Panic (2000): This is almost exactly the point where Dark Humor turns to simply Dark.

Dude, Where's My Car (2000): Dude, where's my audience? Stupid, stupid, stupid. It had some funny moments, but christ, it was really stupid. I know, this was not a film that was gonna premiere at Cannes or anything - it's geared for adolescents, but even for a ten-year-old (who would theoretically be too young for this PG-13 movie), this one would be hard to watch. Did I mention how stupid it was?

I still have a job for now, and probably at least for another month - if this product is successful, I might even last through the release and for an indefinite amount of time afterward, but the worrying is almost worse than unemployment. More farewell emails from Marketing people yesterday. It's very difficult to manage any kind of enthusiasm for productivity, but as usual in a situation like this, one must try to maintain pride in one's work even while the walls aare crumbling around one.

Have suspected for some time that this would happen, but had placed it a few months further down the road.

The "Anthracite" FIMO is very cool. Takes quite a bit of working (and hand-warmth, I think) to get it non-crumbly, but the black with silver glitter makes everything you do look good.

State and Main (2000) movie within a movie... ensemble cast... morality play... Kinda fun.

My company has laid off a large number of people, and I am pretty much convinced that this entire 'satellite' office will eventually be discontinued. Though the original 10+-year-old company here produced the only products that are providing revenue for the two-year-old parent company, and everyone I've dealt with (and many with whom others here have dealt) has betrayed a certain predictable amateurism, by that very token, they won't be smart and keep the smart people. Logically, I might have several months before I get laid off. But logic hasn't been a highlight of the emanations from the parent office. I fully expect to be laid off any day now, and it's really tough to do anything productive under that expectation. Truth be told, if the job market was the same as LAST June, I may have already been outta here. Just searched techs.com for the 707 area code and "writer" in the description, and no matches are found.

Within my own department, this office has been more productive, more reasonable in disputes, more efficient, and more innovative than our counterparts in the other city. This is true also of the group in the third city -- all of whom were laid off last week. We've done a certain number of stupid things just to allow the parent group to contribute.

Be that as it may, I have created some nice things with FIMO clay this week at my desk. :-)

We have a post-mortem meeting now to discuss what could be improved and what should be repeated "next time." The irony in this is not lost on me.

Haven't been here in a while!

"Thank you for your patience," said the Frod representative after I blew up (well, more than I usually blow up - I got really sarcastic) about waiting eight weeks for their "silent rebate" check and finding it hadn't even been started because they got *copies* not originals, of the receipt for repairs, and didn't bother to let me know.

This came on the amazingly frustrating coattails of dealings with Pacific Bell and SBC for DSL service at home, which ultimately ended with me cancelling the order and thus remaining with no internet connection. And dealing with the other office at work again (and continuously) and their whimsical changes to the template that's been out there for review for more than three months.

The thing is, it wasn't my patience that got things done. I've always been patient, and crap like this NEVER gets done.

Haven't ridden the bike to work in almost a month. To be fair, there's been a lot going on - the reception went very well, all family members got in and out okay, and the County put on its best for that weekend for visiting Ohioans, Washingtonians, Coloradans, etc. 50-hour work-week last week.

Recently, a gradual lapse back into weekend drinking, and the first weeknight drinking since before xmas. Mixed feelings. I really like it while it's happening; afterward not so great. But it DOES add to music appreciation, to the point where, when I don't drink, I rarely listen to any of the 1200+ CDs in the house, and I'm kind of at a loss for anything to do. And drinking on a Friday night seems to provide enough recuperation time before work Sunday or Monday.

"Space Cowboys" and "Cast Away" last night. Not much to say about either, but neither was as bad as I'd expected/been led to believe. Figure "Cowboys" as a vanity romp for Clint Eastwood - he gets to play with NASA toys, maybe, in the course of presenting a forgettable but somewhat entertaining story. "Cast Away," similarly, gives Tom Hanks a vanity part in a film we can presume is underwritten by FedEx, where his most prominent co-star is a volleyball - pretty easy to look good with THAT kind of competition! Seriously, while not entirely believable, it kept me awake, and I generally liked the way things developed - it could have taken certain predictable "uplifting" turns and didn't. It made me think how I would fare, physically and mentally, if stranded on a tiny deserted island. Guess that's worth something.

Thoughts from this morning:

As a smoker/bike-muter, I'm kind of like a talking dog. It's not that I do anything particularly amazing, but that I do it at all. When I quit smoking, I'll be just another bike-rider I guess.

The difference between doing something well and true excellence is a matter of inches and seconds.

I'm really fried after:
(a) once again dealing with this guy from the other office (who has prepared a minimalistic style guide, done very little with it since, and keeps emailing it to all writers -- though we have an existing style guide that's about 100 pages and very complete); and
(b) my presentation (which went okay but would've been a lot better if we'd had access to current code).

The wind is already picking up. In spite of this, the ride home should be nice. It's sunny out, and I'm a little ahead (for now) of the vehicular commute.

1038.5.

Nice day, already a clear sky at 5:30 am. So I managed to get going early and get to work before 8:00. Very pleasant ride - never felt like I was straining to get over a hill or around the next bend. People pass me, but y'know, they don't smoke a pack a day, thus I am able to excel and "be the best" in my own mind.

It's Bike to Work day. Little "refreshment" stations are set up around the county, where volunteers give away drinks and Odwalla bars, a small reflecting/blinking light, some sample sunblock, and advertising for camelbak hydration devices. As expected, more cyclists than usual on the road, and more of them apparently unused to riding. A guy passed me without making a sound (thus risking both of our skins); another guy stopped at the refreshment station and promptly fell off his bike. Yeah, that dismount IS tricky....

My little sister arrived yesterday for this weekend's wedding reception/party. It's nice to see her, and to have some one-on-one (or two-on-one) quality time with her before others arrive. It's tough for me having these events where I have to meet'n'greet many people at once -- I'd always rather have "deep" time with one person than "shallow" time with many. Anyway, another sister (and her family) arriving sometime today, and mom and final sister (and family) arriving Friday. I have the day off Friday, and feel I really need it. It will be about a $2000 day, buying beverage stuff (incl. keg of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale) and later, dinner for 22. (I'm happy to spend this money, just always worry about the odd problem that will make it not go smoothly - really should just get a credit card one of these days.) (I also expect to have a LOT of leftover beer and wine and other stuff, but will not be disappointed at all if we don't.)

Flat Tire.

Man, I hate that. I want puncture-proof tires. I don't even want to learn how to fix a flat by the side of the road (actually, HAVE learned how, but don't want to do it), and I don't want to carry half an extra bike in my pack to do repairs either.

The flat was just the topper to a really poor day yesterday. The writers from the other city are tactless and inconsiderate, and they don't listen. Further, they're now trying to order me around. These kids have maybe five years of experience between them. Anyway, I spent WAY too much time being pissed off about that yesterday. Take a deep breath, let 'em stew in their own juices.

By coincidence, two Helen Hunt movies last night: What Women Want and Pay It Forward.

I am not qualified to discuss What Women Want - can't imagine that none of it would be offensive to women, any less than "What Men Want" would find ways to offend me. It was fluff; entertaining enough I guess, and certainly started with an interesting premise. For a movie directed and cowritten by women, there were no big insights here. Helen Hunt annoys me. six stars.

Play It Forward shows Hunt transformed, really, and I like her a lot in this movie. Haley Joel Osment does not see dead people, but does tend to see quite a bit more than I would expect a 14-year-old to see. E.g., when he knows when to give up on the addict. I was disappointed at the end, which seemed to me formulaic and manipulative. Anyway, ho hum, Kevin Spacey is great. seven stars.

1022.2.

Dead gopher snakes, some quite large. Must be mating season for them.

Passed a cop at the school on Roblar; he appeared to be waiting for speeders. Seldom do I feel any appreciation for this, but y'know, his presence makes the cars slow down a bit on that hill-and-curve. On the other hand, he also probably makes the drivers watch their rearview instead of the road ahead as they go into that curve...

Straight down Smoggy Point today - a little hairy on that last part, where the shoulder is like six inches, but not as bad as I expected. It's slightly downhill, which means I can be in top gear and get through it quickly. Bike to Work Day thursday - I can enter to win a trip to Tuscany. Root for me, man! Maybe I can trade it for cash!

Bit of fluff last night: Miss Congeniality. A Sandra Bullock vehicle, in which she is almost watchable. She does have a certain talent for the pratfall, but as an actor, she's found a character and always seems to plays that same slightly goofy "ugly duckling," with the hesitant delivery. Gets on my nerves a bit, but not so much in this movie. Call it fluff and give it five stars. Call it anything else, and start putting the stars back in their container...

1001.7.

Whoo-hoo! Now you will stop hearing about me being this or that number of miles short of 1000. Next, it'll be 1500 - and I hope to make the second 1000 significantly faster than 11 months.

Takes a lot of effort to ride again after being away from it for even a short time. But the actual ride was relaively easy, and I even sprinted quite a bit of the last few miles in the highest gear.

My new backpack has a built-in water thingie, whereby I can easily drink while riding (rather than stopping or slowing to grab a water-bottle from its little cage, pulling open the nozzle thing, drinking, closing the nozzle thing, and returning the bottle to its cage...). This Kelty pack was free, for test-driving a Nissan XTerra. It's narrower than the other pack, but has more compartments, and little mesh caches all over the outside. Seems to work pretty well.

To the showers. More later.

Still 15 short of 1000...

Married now, and back from another glorious week in the desert. Write-up for the vacation will eventually appear over there somewhere --->.

Weird how it can take days to get into expando-o vacation mode, but only a matter of minutes to fall out of it and back into compress-o work mode...

Ugh. Very windy and overcast; just don't see myself riding 17 miles in it tonight. And there's plenty of other things to do with those two hours this evening.

Must eventually get a routine going where I'm riding regularly - but not necessarily 33 miles a day. Think it's gonna be riding to work in the morning and taking the bus home.

We're doing cool things here - hoping it pays off...

985.4.

Foggy all the way, such that I had to stop every couple of miles (or at tops of hills, whichever came first) to wipe off my glasses so I could see clearly.

Opposite of yesterday - really DIDN'T feel much like riding, but made myself do it, knowing today is last chance to ride before vacation.

Again, plenty of work to do, and no particularly penetrating insights from me today anyway. Maybe more later.

In Two Days, I'll be below sea level.

No miles today.

Would like to have ridden today, but had trouble getting to sleep last night and then of course had trouble waking up in the morning. Will ride tomorrow and probably hit 1000.

Watched Cutthroat Island (1995) last night, pretty enjoyable for what it was.

Little Nicky (2000) later; slept through most of it. This could have been great. It wasn't, particularly, though perhaps a cut above Adam Sandler's other movies. Those Saturday Night Live people, it's like a weird curse incurred by Chevy Chase in the late 70s. They can be funny as hell, innovative, enjoyable to watch in hundreds of 5-minute skits, but put 'em in a 90-minute movie and they just can't hold it up. Exceptions: Bill Murray, "Groundhog Day"... Probably others, but I'm already bored with the topic.

Plenty of work to do today, and it seems like pretty good progress, getting things to a known state for VACATION IN DEATH VALLEY, ONLY THREE DAYS AWAY NOW!! Man, I can't wait, it feels like a million years since I've been to the desert.

Worked thru lunch... fading...

969.2.

Railroad Ave and Smoggy Point are really windy in the afternoon. Not unpleasant, if I take my time, but it tends to sap the energy, and even on the little downhills, remove all momentum from the equation. Orchard Station Road is a mother. From Roblar to a little past the star (on the linked map) is a ~140' elevation gain. Surprising myself, I topped it without going all the way down to the 1-1 gear. I think I went to 1-4, though. The downhill on the other side is bumpy, with an abrupt 90-degree left bend at the bottom, so I didn't get to accumulate much momentum there either. However, there's always the sense of accomplishment, the CV exercise, the ounce of weight loss, etc. And I take perverse pleasure in the hardship of the ride. I don't HAVE to do Orchard, but once I saw it, knew I must try it at least once.

Two guys on road bikes passed me during yesterday's ride. They should get real bikes. So often these "cycloids" (as I call 'em - like "android" part bicycle, part humanoid) don't even mumble a hello, or raise a (non-middle) finger in acknowledgement. Maybe they're just preoccupied with their fitness regime, but it comes across as snobbery. Mountain bikers generally acknowledge. I wave and/or say hi, anyway. When you get hit by a car and tumbled into a ditch, man, *I* am the only passer-by likely to spot you bleeding down there in the weeds and muck. So, in a very literal sense, it wouldn't kill you to make some sort of greeting a part of your daily riding routine.

1000 Looms Large. Another day like yesterday should get me there, just short of 11 months. (As I've been blogging since before 500, note that the first 500 took about eight months, the second only three). I imagine if I keep this up, I'll get the next thousand much more quickly.

The best man thing... Kept thinking of the TMBG song "Your Racist Friend" yesterday. He works in the building trades where homophobia (and misogyny, and racism) generally do run pretty high. He probably hasn't met more than three or four people in his life who he even knew were gay (in fact, one friend of mine that he met, I don't think John ever knew he was gay). Also, he's never struck me as a person who's willing to experiment sexually. And I believe this is where the "hatred" (if such it really was) comes in. He was especially disgusted by the idea of anal sex, which I guess I understand, but really, it's all environment, education, and experience. So I can justify it to myself in that way. You can't confer experience on a person. My experience of gay people is that they're often smarter than average, usually good-humored and witty, and NEVER, in my experience, overly pushy if they happened to be attracted to me. There was a tinge of that wierd mistake among homophobics, that gay men automatically would WANT to have sex with him because he's male.

About the term "homophobic" (a term with which another blogger took issue a while back...): of course these big manly guys don't actually *fear* homosexuals - but they fear the homosexual in themselves, in any degree. Much of the sad effect of homophobia comes from these guys frantically affirming "I'm not gay" ...

952.6.

It's only when I DON'T ride for a few days that my legs seem to get sore. More stretching than usual this morning, trying to get that lower-back thing straightened out. New gloves are nice, but a little tight, causing a tiny bit of pinky-numbness. Extra taillight on the backpack makes me feel a little more secure. One cycloid passed me on 116, but I kept in sight at least for a couple of miles. Other than that, a very leisurely ride in this morning. Crisp and clear, other than on those traffic-heavy parts of 116, Smoggy Point, Redwood Highway. Wish I could avoid that, but it's not really possible, and I am avoiding as much as I can by the routes I take.

Bike all tuned up; good for another 300, one hopes. REALLY want to get the flat-proof tires.

Drinking large on Friday night, leaving me hung-over and enthused-under for bachelor party (which, really, c'mon, I'm over 40, so no wild debauch is necessary or even desirable!). Got to see some guys I hadn't seen in a while, did a little bit of music (including the 30-minute D-chord that kept threatening to turn into "Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida"...), ate a TON of really good sushi, drank two or three real beers among several N/A beers, and was pretty much done by 8 or 9. Hope my best man felt like he got his money's worth...

A really sort of odd thing came out towards the end there, where he (the best man) noted that even though he knew it was "politically incorrect" and all, he "hates fags." I've known him... what? 20 years or more? ...and I'm sure this topic has come up before, but I always thought he was relatively "tolerant" and at least logical about it. I was stunned for a moment, and then just changed the subject after a silence of some 30 seconds - what are you gonna do? (I'd already noted that I don't have any problem with gay people of any stripe, and though I've indeed been propositioned etc. in my lifetime, it has never been persistent or annoying - actually flattering, to tell the truth.) I don't think you can really change a person's mind once they're over 40. I've never understood that hatred that some people seem to have, but have also never been particularly close to someone who had such a hatred. I was just really, completely, utterly stunned by this announcement out of the blue. Have to think about it more, I guess.

Five days now to Death Valley! Hoping to get three rides this week and get past 1000 miles. Perhaps I can get my spandex license soon.

We've been mostly non-drinkers lately - since before Christmas we've drank on maybe 6 or 7 occasions at most, and those always on weekend nights.

It's been something of a challenge - though I'm pretty sure by now that I'm not an alcoholic, I *do* like my beer, and its effects (up till the next morning anyway), very much, and I miss it.

Between that, no smoking indoors, no cable TV, no computer access, new place, and keeping the cats inside, life is very different at the Miller homestead lately. There are benefits and rewards, but they appear rather slowly -- had lunch with friends last Friday, and they were the first people to say I've lost weight, and that was really (really!) inordinately gratifying to me. Terrie never thinks I'm overweight. I know I am overweight.

Christ, I rode my bike 60 miles last week and over 50 so far this week, and of course have been getting that steady exercise for almost a year, and till now have had no visible sign that anything is different from the days of drinking 9 beers every other night, not exercising at all, smoking two packs a day, eating fast food frequently, and (perhaps most insidious) living with the daily prospect of being Larry Morrow's right-hand man at SBT.

I've not been happy with my body for almost ten years now; thru my first 35 years or so, I was skinny, and always thought of obesity as a sign of laziness, ill-health, maladjustment, and then there came a day when I looked in the mirror and was recognizably FAT myself! Irregular spates of exercise, at times, have started to work, but I never kept at it. Biking is obviously not the best thing for reducing the belly (non-drinking definitely is, though!), but slowly but surely, the cumulative effect is working.

Now I face a bachelor party and the prospect of drinking (tomorrow) with mixed feelings. I've looked forward to having (many) beers on this day, and probably will...

Took the bike in for tune-up yesterday; it's raining anyway. But I miss my morning ride and the feeling of accomplishment in getting another 15 miles behind me... I'll get it back Sunday, and hope to ride most days next week (and pass 1000 miles), preparatory to VACATION in the DESERT and GETTING MARRIED!

There's a new kind of handlebar post I'm going to try; it allows for an angular adjustment, giving up to two inches of additional height.

I drove some of the backroads on the way home last night. Orchard Station Road is pretty cool; it turns back on itself among some pretty impressive hills (the map doesn't really do it justice). Maybe I'll try it on a weekend.

Donuts; the place where I get my morning latte sells them, and there's always a fat person coming in and buying bunches, carefully selecting the custard- and jelly-filled, and/or old-fashioned, chocolate, sprinkles, glazed, and whatnot. There was a time (1973 or 4, I guess, when I had quit high school and moved to live with friends in Michigan), when I lived just down the street from a donut shop, and I'd count my pennies and go there first thing in the morning to get freshly-made donut holes (2 cents each!). Still warm from the oven, they were delicious to me at the time - among my favorite "foods" - now the smell almost makes me puke sometimes. I can't think of much of anything else for which my taste has changed so radically. I suppose it's a good thing - I don't NEED to be eating donuts!

Python (2000): Sometimes you think you "want to see a bad movie," but you may find that what you REALLY want is to see a GOOD bad movie. The tendency to show off and overdo it when panning a truly crappy can of film like this is well-documented; I will avoid that here, like I should have avoided this movie. But then I note in the IMDB reviews that some moron calls it "V. tongue-in-cheek, (with cheesy FX and hammy acting.)" I didn't get that sense from it at all. Cheesy effects, yes; hammy acting, yes; tongue in cheek? The actors in this movie that I've seen in other (also cheesy) movies have ALWAYS been hammy. Casper van Dien? Puh-LEEZ!! William Zabka? Leaves a trail of bacon all the way back to Karate Kid! Sean Whalen as the deputy in this stinker is the only one whose hamminess bore any trace of his tongue being anywhere near his (upper) cheek... One star (out of ten) for unintentional humor, killing Van Dien early, and educational value -- what NOT to do in a movie.

Okay, here's another old-fogey thing that you always hear.

In my lifetime, I've witnessed an information revolution that has profoundly changed the quality of (north american and western european) life.

When I was a kid, we got maybe five TV stations reliably, and we had radio and records. And books.

Now, we still have all that, AND we can potentially get hundreds of TV channels clear as a bell, or we can go to a nearby store and choose from among thousands of VHS and DVD recordings. We have CDs, tapes, minidiscs, MP3s (all of which have contributed to a revolution in re-releases of stuff that was rare on LPs).

Potentially, at a moment's notice, you can develop an interest in Dwight David Eisenhower, find a huge amount of biographical info on the web, and see and hear him speaking though he's been dead for 30 years. You can see and hear Dori Seda (if you can find "Gap-Toothed Women"). You can view the Marx Brothers' home movies, see interviews with their grown-up children, see George Fenneman talking about Groucho behind the scenes on the "You Bet Your Life" game show. You can take in a full live performance by Jimi Hendrix as if it was happening now and you were sitting on the edge of the stage. And you can do it all within an hour of deciding you want to.

Why this came to mind? We watched the documentary "Satchmo" last night, and I recalled hearing that he had died in 1971, and knowing almost nothing about him. How extraordinarily fortunate we are, to be able to see him in action on a videotape now! To be able to stop and rewind to see part of it again. To feel, in a very real way, that we *know* Pops now, almost as if we had met him -- and better, maybe, than some of his biggest fans during his heyday ever got a chance to know him...

Further, we can record our own lives in ways that simply weren't available a generation ago. When I was a kid, my stepdad had a super-8 movie camera - revolutionary in its time (and the source of much of the "home-movie" material you see in these documentaries) - and he could film us, take the film in, and get a movie back in a week or so. Now, I can film something and view it immediately afterwards on my TV. As a musician, I can record myself playing several instruments at once through the magic of digital overdubbing, burn it on a CD, and write and print the liner notes in color, producing a product that's virtually indistinguisable from what you buy in a store, all in a matter of a couple of hours.

It is nothing short of miraculous, the information that's available to us today via all sorts of media.

And kids these days, they just take it all for granted, don't they. :-)