Jazz Thursdays: Chet Baker's Let's Get Lost

Not a video, but a slideshow of Chet's publicity stills, under one of the most romantic songs (and performances) of all time. Let's get lost, indeed.

Insult of the Day

This feature has been gone from EE for too long. Perhaps, it's been waiting for this:

Realistically the competition is now between Hung and Casey. Both Brian, who makes no sense, and Dale, who makes no sauce, are both plainly outclassed and they know it. You kind of feel bad for Brian, whose years on Ritalin have left him a glassy-eyed surfer strewn on the beach of life with no board.

I love Top Chef. There, I said it. But Gawker's gentle assassinations run a close second.

Same Same, but Different

In August, I was away for a couple of weeks traveling through Cambodia with the husband and one of my friends from highschool. There is too much to say about this excursion right here, right now. The short version: Great food, terrible weather, awesome people, durian stinks, silk is cheap, ruins are big. I'll get around to more detail eventually.

Until then, enjoy the image above: Me, doing my best to make sure Angkor Wat stays a ruin.

Friday Fun: The Polyphonic Spree's Running Away

Cynicism and optimism are not mutually exclusive.

It's like running away/ With the wind in our face/ It's like flying/ And you and I are open wide.

DC Observed

I started the DC Observed photography project on May 18 this year. The original goal was to post a photo that was taken in DC every day for one year. I've come pretty damned close to achieving that goal. Vacations, work, and illness have kept me away now and then. But I'm not giving up. If I can do it at least 90% for the whole year, then I'll consider it a success and try for something bigger and better next year.

Fingers are crossed.

Jazz Thursdays: Bill Evan's Quartet

The Bill Evans Quartet sessions at the Village Vanguard are unbelievably cool and exciting performances. This video is a little low-tech, but the brilliance still shines through.

It's Time for You to Lose Your Excitement

This Larry Craig folderol has me asking the question: Are straight people ever going to get their shit together when it comes to sex? I''m being serious here. Straights may be the dominant culture, but it's obvious that--when it comes to the Big Nasty--they are as clueless as children.

It was nothing short of embarrassing watching the smirking, giggling newsreaders on cable try to get their arms around the reality that a man could marry a woman and still have sex with men. I mean, they seriously didn't know this happened? Has happened for all of history? Is happening? Sheesh.

I've personally known many married men who also fuck around with guys, and each of their situations was different. Some were cheating from deep inside the closet. Some claimed to be straight. Some were gay, but married because they wanted a "normal" public life. Some had arrangements with their wives. And while I certainly have opinions about their choices, I never made fun of them or even judge them harshly. Why? Because their lives, like my own, were messy and real.

And how about the serious--or at least professed--puzzlement about a fetishes such as anonymous sex or tearoom trade? I find it hard to believe that people in show buisness are more square and more naive than I. Seriously, the only thing that outpaced the ignorance was the squeamishness.

Embarrassing. Unbelievable.

To be clear, I have nothing but disdain for Larry Craig the politician and the immoral, hateful, and unrealistic policies that he and his party supports. But Larry Craig the man gets my sympathy. The snickering jackdaws that have made his life a living hell over the last few weeks have done nothing to illuminate the situation.

And no one has asked the most obvious question: Why are we behaving like immature assholes? Answer that, and you may know why a 60-somethinig Midwestern politician had to go into a men's room to get a blow job.

All my life, people have asked me if I'd ever wanted to be straight. My answer has always and emphatically been "no." There are many reasons. The last two weeks has highlighted one: Gay men understand sex. We know how it fits into life. We get that it's simultaneously important and frivolous. We embrace--however reluctantly--its messiness, its complications, its contradictions.

We are adults about it.

Finally, before you call me a bigot, I realize I'm making some generalizations. I mean, some of my best friends are straight.

How Soon Is Now?

I just finished a presentation on the state of Web 2.0 to a group of historians/educators in Atlanta. They were awesome, but I'm whipped. Up at 4:30 AM and won't get home until whenever.

Zzzzzzzz.

The Beginning of the End

I've been collecting compact disks from the beginning and now have thousands of them. I began to rip them to MP3 a couple of years ago, but just as I was reaching the end of the stack, my external hard drive died. Tens of thousands of songs and hours of my precious time just vanished. So sad.

I bought a new hard disk--with a backup--and began the process all over again in January 2007. And once again, I'm nearing the end of the stack. I may even finish up this weekend.

Then I will weep with joy.

Update 09.05.2007: I'm done! Now all I have to do it get the new external HDs ready, clean up the files list, configure the backup software, and we're off.