See the Light

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Sharpie Magic

Too cool for words:

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Democratic Process

Happy Election Day! I tip my subversively patriotic hat to all the voters out there, and hope that you too saw Forrest Hill of the Green Party and a Medical Anthropologist from the Peace and Freedom Party listed as options for Secretary of State. If not, at least your ballot did not also include the name of a man once referred to as “Conan the Republican” by George Bush the Elder.

I signed up for permanent absentee, which means that my participation in this fun civic ritual involved padding downstairs in my pajamas to Brooke and Lian’s place to replicate their voting strategy. I argue that, instead of indicating laziness on my part, this is actually an example of how resourceful I am. After all, Brooke and Lian are both heavily involved in progressive politics, and know way more about this stuff than I do.

Um, yeah. Obviously, that argument is completely transparent. Upon recognizing my loser-ness, I went precinct walking for Aimee Allison, a city council candidate from the district next to mine. While I couldn’t vote for her, this race is crucial to ensuring a progressive majority on the council. Brooke has been working mad hours in support of her, and I figured the least I could do was take one morning to trudge up hills and hang door signs. I did a super good job, too. I am confident those door signs will play an essential role in getting out the vote.

I eagerly await the election results. They will surely indicate that we have cast away our Governator, and that the Oakland City Council is well-poised to start the Revolution.

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Lunacy

The full moon the other night reminded me of an unfortunate but comical event dating back a few years. Watch the scene unfold:

Setting: A Friday afternoon at a hair salon in Champaign, Illinois. Janna is having her hair cut and highlighted before embarking on an eight-hour drive to Kansas City to attend a wedding. In the midst of putting foil wraps on Janna’s hair, her stylist, Kate, takes a phone call.

Kate: Oh hi, Maria! How’s your haircut working out?
-listens-
K: I’m sorry to hear that. I’d be happy to schedule a time for you to come in so we can rework it a little bit. How does Sunday around two sound?
-listens-
K: Wow, I had no idea. Well, listen, I’m with a client now, but I’ll have a break while her color sets. Can you be here in fifteen minutes or so?
-listens-
K: Great, see you then.
-hangs up-
K: (to Janna) That was another client, Maria. She doesn’t like the haircut she got the other day, so she wants to have it altered a little. But, um, it turns out she can’t have her hair cut during a full or waning moon. It’s bad luck or something. So she needs it done today. Don’t worry, It’ll only take a minute.
J: Um … huh. Yeah, OK.

-30 minutes later-

K: Maria! Great to see you! Let’s get to work.
M: Good. I have a lot of concerns about this.

-10 minutes later-

K: (to Janna) It’s time to rinse your color. I’ll just do this really quick and then finish Maria’s hair. It shouldn’t be long at all.
J: Good, because I really need to be out of here within the hour.
K: No problem.

-10 minutes later-

K: (to Maria) Here you go! Exactly what you asked for!
M: Hmmm. I guess this is right, but I don’t like it. I don’t think it’s flattering. Do you think it’s flattering?
K: Well, I’m not sure. It doesn’t quite fit the shape of your face. Janna, what do you think?
J: I think it looks awesome. I can’t think of a more flattering haircut. It’s perfect.
M: I’d like to try something else.
K: No problem.

Four hours after entering the salon, Janna emerges and travels across town to meet Sanjay and Rob, her Kansas City road trip crew.

S and R: WHAT THE FUCK!?!
J: This woman needed her hair cut before the full moon.

-blank, incredulous stares-

J: Yeah, that was my thought.
S: Who is that crazy?
J: I am pleased to say that I not only know the answer to that question, I have also met her in person.

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Jannas of the World Unite!

Lots of people seem to find this site by Googling “Janna,” so I decided to make Project Janna a clearinghouse of sorts. Check out this new page. Jannas are hot.

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Perfect Day for a Bananashirt

I went to my favorite Bay Area clothing store, Momoca, and found this banana shirt. Who can resist something that simultaneously evokes Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground, and J.D. Salinger?

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Let There Be Songs to Fill the Air

This post has a soundtrack, a lovely song titled “Ripple”, which also supplied the title. To hear the love, click on the video at the top. Once you’re situated, join me as I describe my unexpected affinity for the Grateful Dead.

I own (well, possess, as my compliance with laws is haphazard) exactly 16 Dead songs. However, each and every one is indelibly burned in my heart thanks to the 800,000 times I’ve listened to them. My friend Dave made me a Grateful Dead compilation CD last year before I moved to Oakland. I was supposed to make him a copy of the Rancid And Out Came the Wolves album, but because I suck, I didn’t. Nonetheless, his generous gift of time and music has altered my life such that I now know why people in my high school were crying after Jerry Garcia died. The music is just so perfect and versatile. It’s good music for driving, setting up an apartment, calming scaredy cats during a cross-country trek, and other activities ad infinitum.

Why, you ask, did I become curious about the Dead in the first place? I rented Freaks and Geeks, an amazing show that saw just one season, probably because it mocked George Bush the Elder and played way too much classic rock. In the last episode, the main character, Lindsey, is feeling conflicted about the fact that she is a closet smartypants trying to live the burnout life. Her counselor’s idea of guidance is to give her a copy of the American Beauty album. The end result is that she skips out on an Academic Summit to follow the Dead with newly acquired hippie friends, one of whom describes American Beauty this way:

That album is so good that I wish I never heard it, just so I could hear it again for the first time.

If that’s not a testament to genius, I don’t know what is.

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