In My Life

Yeah, yeah, I haven't updated my blog in two months. I've been busy living life. Here are some updates (give the slideshows a few seconds to load):

Spent a weekend in Vegas with Janet's sister

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Moved into a house in Culver City



Spent a weekend in Santa Barbara with my brother (& family)

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Adopted a dog

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Finished up a new Octopus Project EP (in stores July 14th)



Oh yeah, Janet's knocked up.

It's a Drag

I went surfing this morning, and it was coooold. At least I could feel my toes, thanks to a new pair of booties. A few weeks ago, I kept feeling something nipping at my feet after about 20-30 minutes in the water. I thought I had some seaweed caught in my toes, but then I realized it was actually my toes themselves, completely numb, flapping in the water. With the booties, I was able to stick it out for more than an hour before the cold got to me. I'm ready for summer to bring a little warmth.

There can be a lot of down time between sets of waves, and while I'm out there paddling or waiting around, I often get a song stuck in my head. It happens to everyone — certain activities trigger certain songs. A vacation a few years ago to a tiny idyllic island in an archipelago off the coast of Panama was nearly ruined when my mental shuffle played "Panama" and "La Isla Bonita" on infinite loop. A lot of times when I'm attempting to surf, this Big Drag song pops into my head:

Unless you lived in central Texas during the late '90s, you've almost certainly never heard of Big Drag, an obscure three-piece from San Antonio and one of all-time my favorite Texas bands. Big Drag was fairly popular in Austin's garage-punk scene at the time, yet they didn't quite fit the typical garage-punk mold. They had the sound — simple, '60s-inspired, three-chord rock doused in a sea of reverb & distortion with surf drums and repetitive quarter-note bass lines, but their songs were very poppy, melodic and lyricaly rather bittersweet at times. They sounded like a white trash Texan version of the Jesus & Mary Chain. Although Big Drag's singer/guitarist Milton Robichaux claimed never to have heard that seminal UK band, you could easily imagine the Reid brothers singing this:

I loved Big Drag. And although I only discovered the band after moving to Austin, I felt a certain connection, having grown up in San Antonio. Their music somehow captured the mixed feelings I have about my hometown, particularly the track "Someday," from the band's first 7" EP, in which bassist Colin Jones reminisced about youthful days sneaking out to drink beer, then one day suddenly noticing that all his friends had moved away.

It's funny hearing "Big Drop" now, because all the surf lingo actually does make sense, and I don't imagine that Milton ever surfed a day in his life. Of course I could be dead wrong and Milton actually had a previous life as a fierce ripper on the small brown waves of the Gulf coast before settling down in land-locked SA, but I prefer to believe that he wrote the song after a catching a Frankie Avalon marathon with a six-pack of Lone Star tallboys.

Sometime around 1995 or 1996, Yo La Tengo played a huge show in Austin at Liberty Lunch (RIP). YLT was touring in support of the Matador release Electro-Pura and was already well-known in the college/indie circles, and Spoon was opening for YLT in Austin, as they had just signed with Matador to release their debut LP Telephono. The night before the Austin date, however, some YLT fans had booked the band another last-minute show in San Antonio at a tiny punk & tejano dive called Tacoland (RIP), where Big Drag opened. Realizing the opportunity to see YLT in such an intimate venue with one of our favorite Texas bands, some friends and I road-tripped down for the show. The Austin show was huge and loud and amazing, and we were all giddy with excitement for Spoon's big break. In San Antonio, YLT played an entirely different set geared toward the smaller venue, with a number of mellower and lesser-known songs. It was a magical weekend.

At the San Antonio show, Big Drag played one of their staples, a fuzzed-out, hazy cover of The Beach Boys' "Little Honda," taking the oldie and making it their own. When YLT took the stage (and by "stage," I mean the tiny corner of the room where the bands played), frontman Ira Kaplan commented how much he enjoyed Big Drag's take on the song. A year or so later, Yo La Tengo released their next album, I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, and it was like a punch in the stomach when I saw "Little Honda" in the track listing. I tore open the CD and skipped to track nine... there it was: a fuzzed-out, Big Drag-style take on The Beach Boys' classic. No mention of Big Drag anywhere in the liner notes. This sound was a complete departure for Yo La Tengo, yet how similar does it sound to Big Drag? Listen and judge for yourself:

Not only did YLT ape Big Drag without credit for the album cut, they released a whole "Little Honda" EP and toured through Texas multiple times afterwards without ever acknowledging or thanking Big Drag for the inspiration. As much as I loved YLT up to that point (and still enjoy listening to those early records), it really left a bitter taste in my mouth. I mean sure, it was a cover, so it's fair game. But they ripped off the idea, the style and even the choice of song from Big Drag — no question. YLT was already a very successful touring band with a record deal, and where was Big Drag? YLT could've at least thrown Big Drag a nod in the liner notes or something. Bad form.

Big Drag only released two 7" singles and one full-length CD before they stopped playing sometime in the late '90s. There was also a bootlegged demo circulating with a handful of additional unreleased songs that many Big Drag fans have on cassette. I don't know if you can find any of those releases now, but they're worth tracking down. I'll leave you with one more track from their album to finish this post:

I heard Big Drag recently played a reunion show in San Antonio. I wish I could have been there drinking a Lone Star tallboy and nodding along.

UPDATES:

Since making this post, a couple of people have let me know that Yo La Tengo did finally give Big Drag a shout out many years later at a show somewhere in Austin or SA. Phillip Niemeyer says he asked Milton about it one time, and Milton said, "No big deal. We rip other people off, too."

Matt Murillo confirmed that Milton did indeed surf at Corpus Christi in his younger years, and Jennifer LaSuprema reports that Big Drag plays once a year at an annual rock & roll wake called Ram Jam in rememberance of Tacoland's owner, Ram Ayala, who was tragically murdered during a late-night robbery of the bar four years ago.

Also, according to Big Drag's MySpace page, a small box of the band's album was recently discovered in a warehouse behind a giant roll of linoleum flooring, and those CDs are for sale here. Get one while they last!

Picture Book

The JavaScript slide show I built for the Hard Rock Hotel was actually something I had started working on in my free time last month for use on this blog (see Mt. Baldy post), using JQuery and CSS to transform a simple unordered list of images into an interactive slide show. When The Joint needed a similar utility, I developed it a little further to allow the optional dynamic generation of captions and a thumbnail gallery. Here's a demo with all the bells and whistles, using photos from our recent trip to Kauai:

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Recent Work

I haven't written about work in awhile, partially because my biggest ongoing project is an internal brand asset management tool for PayPal, which I probably shouldn't post about publicly. For some reason PayPal is all serious about security. One fun project I can write about is a new website we just launched for the Hard Rock Hotel's 4,000-capacity music venue in Las Vegas, The Joint.

The Hard Rock Hotel completely demolished and rebuilt The Joint from the ground up and hired Springbox to develop a new site for the remodelled venue. I built the site on top of a .NET-based Kentico CMS, fully customized for the clients so they can easily manage their own content, promotions, press releases and events calendar. The flash module on the home page is driven by a dynamic XML feed, and I'm using a combination of custom .NET controls and JQuery for UI elements such as the subnav menus, the at-a-glance event calendar on the home page and the venue photo galleries.

The Joint officially reopened this past Friday with Las Vegas locals The Killers headlining, and we planned our client training session to conincide with the opening night gala so we could attend. As someone who grew up in the '80s collecting those silly Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts, it was a hoot to be there as an adult in a work capacity — the 16-year-old Travis would have been so impressed. The Killers aren't my cup o' tea, so my boss Aaron & I ended up ditching after a couple of songs and spending the bulk of the evening playing craps in the casino downstairs. I would have preferred to have seen the sold-out Paul McCartney show two nights later, but it was fun to spend a night out in Vegas for "work." It sounds like we'll be doing more work with these guys, so hopefully that will necessitate future trips.

LA On Foot: Mt. Baldy

Janet & I were in REI a few months ago looking at running shoes and browsing all the outdoor gear, when I joked that REI makes me feel inadequate. I mean, who are all these people living in the same urban environment as me that somehow need things like carabiners, crampons, ice axes and freeze-dried foods? How do they find themselves in situations that require such extreme gear? I want to go on adventures that require crampons and ice axes! But how do you get to that point? Where do you even start?

These questions had been kicking around my head for months when we decided to go hiking this past weekend. We'd already hiked a lot of the canyons in the immediate vicinity of LA, so we decided to venture out a little further to the San Gabriel Mountains in the Angeles National Forest, northeast of the city, near Pasadena. The San Gabriel Mountains are visible from many parts of Los Angeles, and a short 1.5-hour drive put us at the foot of Mt. San Antonio, better known as Mt. Baldy for its bare summit, which rises above the tree line. At 10,064 feet, Baldy is one of the highest peaks in Southern California, and on clear days in LA, its snow-capped crest can be seen looming over the San Gabriel range.



There are a number of trails to the summit of Mt. Baldy. We opted to start at Manker Flats and approach via the Baldy Bowl. Our plan was to hike 8.5 miles up to the summit and then take another route down where a ski lift is available to bypass the last few miles. We were expecting to start on dry ground and hit snow at some point as we gained altitude, but a fresh storm had covered the mountain a few weeks earlier, and we pretty much stepped out of the car into shin-deep snow. Baldy is a popular hiking spot, so we were not alone, but we seemed to be the only hikers without snow shoes and trekking poles. It only took a few steps to realize how ill-prepared we were in sneakers and jeans.

Although the mountain was covered in snow, the air wasn't too cold, and we ended up shedding layers down to our t-shirts on the way up. With every step, the snow and ice packed into our shoes, melting and soaking our feet. The views were spectacular, though, so we pressed onward. After about two hours, we made it from the trailhead at 6,160 feet to a small ski hut at 8,200 feet. The hut, built by mountaineers in 1937 and now maintained by the Sierra Club, served as either a turnaround or resting point for a number of other hikers already gathered outside. We stopped there to eat our lunch and admire the view.

The remaining stretch to the summit was much steeper and covered with deep snow. Even people with snow shoes were in it up to their knees, some falling through to their waist. We could see a few adventurous souls who'd made it to the top ridge carefully skiing back down what appeared to be an insanely steep incline. By this point all the melted snow and ice had soaked through our shoes, socks and jeans. Our feet were freezing, and the summit was still hours away even with proper equipment, so we had no choice but to turn back.

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The return trip took much less time, as we slipped and slid our way down the mountain in the snow. When we finally reached the bottom, we stopped for a drink in a nearby lodge and warmed our feet by a fire before heading back to LA.

We will definitely be returning to Baldy to see the view from the summit. I know we can make it to the top once the snow has melted and we're hiking on dry ground, but if we do return in the snow... I think I might invest in some snow shoes... and maybe even crampons and an ice axe.

Race Report: Austin Marathon 2009

Judy & I ran the Austin Marathon this past weekend. It was Judy's second marathon and my seventh. Janet wisely opted out this year but came along for crowd control and margaritas. Yeah, Janet pretty much has it all figured out. I love that woman.

I trained pretty hard this year, and after the half had gone so well, I began entertaining the idea that I might actually be able to qualify for Boston, an idea that had never entered my mind before. The Boston Marathon is the oldest annual marathon in the world and the only one which requires a qualifying time for entry. Unless you happen to be from Kenya, qualifying for Boston is widely agreed to be the ultimate achievement for a distance runner, and in my age division a Boston-qualifying time is three hours and 15 minutes. My PR (runner nerd lingo for "Personal Record") to date was 3:35, which I was surprised and elated to make in last year's LA Marathon. To qualify for Boston, I would have to beat my previous best by 20 minutes. And yet, somehow I believed that was possible.

The night before the race, my nerves kicked in and I slept poorly, tossing and turning for most of the night. When the alarm finally went off at 4:30 a.m., I'd been laying awake for over an hour. I got up and drank some coffee in the quiet still of the morning, calmly preparing myself for the run. I ate several bananas, a granola bar and an English muffin with peanut butter and drank a smoothie, then Janet & her sister Krissy drove us downtown. On our walk to the start line, we stopped into a hotel to pee and enjoy the warmth of the lobby before returning to the pre-dawn cold to wait and shiver in our running shorts with everyone else.



When the race finally started around 7:30 a.m., Janet & Krissy ran the first part with Judy to keep her company while I ran ahead. I started with the 3:20 pacing group and tried to run at a natural clip, which is actually pretty difficult at the beginning of a big race. It's hard to get a sense of what your natural pace really is with adrenaline speeding you up and the congestion of runners slowing you down. Frustrated with the bottleneck, I broke through the wall of onlookers and ran behind them to reach a normal pace, with Sonic Youth keeping me steady.

There are a lot of runners who get off on the group participation aspect of races. That's not me. I isolate myself in my headphones and run along the sidelines. I usually listen to NPR podcasts on my regular training runs, but during races I listen to music. Some people find it hard to listen to music while running because the tempo variation jacks with their running pace, but music motivates me. I prepared a 3.25-hour playlist, mindful of the tempo I should be keeping at various stages during the race, as well as the mindsets I would be in and when I would need a boost. Patti Smith's "Gloria" makes a great starting track, easing me into the run and building my energy. I filled the middle with a bunch of positive, mid-tempo songs and stacked the end with power tracks like The Stooges' "Loose" and Bowie's "Queen Bitch."

Strangely, I find that it's not the upbeat rockers that really bring the most out of me but the more desperate, emotional songs, like certain tracks by Blonde Redhead, Arcade Fire or The Cure. There's something about the sense of melancholy and desperation in these songs that makes me feel like I have to give everything to this moment, as if nothing else matters but this one thing, and I throw myself into it.

By mile five I'd passed the 3:15 pacing group and accidentally caught up to the 3:10s. At that point I checked my speed and stayed with them for the next 15 miles or so. My good friend Tom was playing drums in a band called Hollywood Gossip at mile eight, so we exchanged waves as I zipped past. Miles 8-13 presented some tough hills, but I'd worked a few monster hills into my training by running through various LA parks and canyons and felt prepared. For the first half of the race, it felt natural to run with the 3:10 group. On the latter half, it felt like I was working to keep up, and around mile 20, I started to feel them slipping away ahead of me. "If I can just keep them in sight, I'll be okay," I thought.

By mile 23 or 24, I could no longer see the 3:10 pacers. I was slowing down, but as long as the 3:15 group didn't catch up to me, I could still make it. I knew there was at least one more major hill towards the end and was mentally prepared for it, but as I rounded the corner just past mile 24, a much larger hill caught me by surprise and took a lot out of me. My legs were really starting to tighten up at this point. Every step was painful, but I pushed forward and kept running.

When I turned onto the final long stretch about midway through the final mile, I looked back and saw the 3:15 group not far behind. I tried not to panic and kept putting one foot in front of the other, but that half mile seemed longer than the previous 25. I was about half-way up the final hill when the 3:15 group passed me, and my heart sank. It took everything I had to fight the hill, and there was nothing left to keep up with them — no more speed I could muster, nothing I could do but watch them go by. I couldn't believe it was happening, after all this.

At the top of the hill, I passed the 26th mile marker. I could see the 3:15 pacers ahead of me and the finish line beyond and thought, "I can't let this happen." After so many months of training and preparation, I couldn't just let it slip away when I was so close. My legs were screaming with pain, but I put everything I had left into that final 0.2-mile stretch and started gaining on the 3:15s. With Spoon's "You Got Yr Cherry Bomb" playing on my iPod and the two walls of spectators cheering and funneling me toward the finish, I passed the 3:15s and kept going. The clock read 3:14:44 when I crossed the line. Sixteen seconds to spare.



So that's how I qualified for Boston. My actual chip time was 3:13:30, a new PR. Janet's parents took us all to lunch at Opal Divine's later, and Judy suggested that I order a Sam Adams Boston Lager. I did, and it tasted great.

Inauguration Day

I don't feel the need to use my blog to weigh in on national issues, but as I was just sitting here conjuring up an unnecessarily enraged post about some petty, perceived injustice the world has again inflicted upon me, it seemed somehow inappropriate for me to document my frivolous thoughts on such trivial matters — today, in particular — without commenting on one of the most important historical events of our times. I've waited so long for this moment that it's hard to believe it's really happening. Some thought it would never come, but finally, millions of Americans will at long last see all of our greatest hopes and expectations realized tomorrow night as we turn on our televisions to watch the inaugural episode of the fifth season of LOST. I am truly beside myself with excitement.

After a seemingly endless break, all our questions will be answered (Where did the island go? Or rather, when did the island go???)... and then immediately replaced with new ones. And yet, when I scour the headlines of the various news outlets for sneak peaks and teasers, the mainstream media has chosen to log-jam the airwaves and suppress this monumental event by force-feeding us non-stop coverage of the presidential thingamabob. Yet another example of how the corporate media elite control and dictate our national conversation.

I voted for Obama and was very excited to see him sworn into office today. I am hopeful that he can help bring some good change to our country, and yet, I'm also skeptical about how much change any president can truly affect. I do believe Obama was our best bet for right now, and he's obviously an incredibly inspirational figure. I'm just doubtful that significant change is really possible. Power corrupts, and those in power have a tendency to want to keep it. I am reminded of the late, great Bill Hicks' rant 16 years ago, when Clinton took office (listen below — it's only a minute and a half long):

I am happy that "our guy" won the election, and that he has the opportunity to try to instill change through policy in Washington. But meanwhile, Obama's opponents and detractors will simply pick apart his inevitable failures and shortcomings, waiting it out until the next election, hopeful for another power transfer. Policy does need change, but people need the most change, and that's not something a president can deliver. It's taken over 150 years since the signing of the emancipation proclamation for a black man to become president. How long will it take before we see an openly gay president? Or even just a president who is not Christian?

While driving back from Texas to Los Angeles during the holiday break, Janet & I ventured off I-10 and detoured through the desert and mountains, driving down nearly-empty, two-lane highways and stopping in random places like Marathon, Texas, and Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. The landscape out there is stunning and powerful. We hiked for miles with almost no other human contact along the peaks of pine-covered mountains in the Gila National Forest, the vast silence broken only by the wind in the trees and the crunch of snow under our feet. The views were spectacular, stretching out into the desert for hundreds of miles in every direction. It was wonderfully invigorating, like a long, cool drink of water for a parched soul. I found it encouraging to see so much natural beauty unspoiled by man, knowing that elected officials within the bureaucracy of our government recognized the importance of preserving this treasure and somehow managed to do so by protecting it with legislation. "Wow, maybe there is hope," I thought.



Later that evening, we found a local dive bar and stopped in for a drink. It was exactly what we usually look for in a small town honky-tonk — almost a stereotype, really — complete with a handful of colorful (read: intoxicated) locals who both welcomed and heckled us as we walked up to the bar. It was impossible not to eavesdrop as they conversed all around and over us. These people were both down-home friendly and backwoods deplorable as they talked openly about their disdain for gays, immigrants and of course those despicable "animal activists." One thing they did love was a fist fight. Apparently, a good one had broken out the previous night for no discernible reason other than the patrons were looking to start a scuffle, and as our hosts excitedly interrupted each other recounting the story, the pregnant bartender lamented the fact that she hadn't been able to get in a few good swings from her spot behind the bar.

Janet & I love finding these little, out-of-the-way holes in the wall, but it sometimes backfires when reality encroaches to shatter the bubble on our idealized snow-globe vision of how we'd like the world to be. As we left, I wondered how it could ever be remotely possible for a country with such deeply divided philosophies and social outlooks to ever come together. I just don't think it's going to happen within our lifetime — or ever. There will always be a tennis match for power — back & forth, back & forth. Look at the Middle East. They've been fighting since the dawn of civilization. And with every social advancement, there will always be something new to bicker about. How could California residents be so supportive of our first minority president and yet support legislation so hateful as Proposition 8? It makes no sense. We will always find something to fight over.

That said, in the same way that a stream can carve a canyon, I do believe that small, gradual changes are possible over time. I hope Obama lives up to his campaign speeches, and I look forward with optimism to the next four years in America. I suppose anything is possible. Afterall, there were many critics who said the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 would never get off the island.

Race Report: City of Angels Half Marathon 2008

Janet, Judy & I ran the City of Angels Half Marathon here in Los Angeles in December. Judy & I were training for the Los Angeles Marathon, and this race fit perfectly with the long runs in our training schedule (we were going to run 14 miles that Sunday, anyway). I say "were" training, because without giving any notice or reason, the organizers of the LA Marathon moved the event from Feb. 16th to May 25th. This leap left many runners already well into their training high and dry. Rather than extend our training an additional three months or stop and start over to adjust to the new date, we scrambled to find an alternate marathon in February, and eventually settled upon the Austin Marathon on Feb. 15th.

The course for the City of Angels Half started at the LA Zoo in Griffith Park and wound its way down through Silverlake and Echo Park, ending downtown near the Walt Disney Concert Hall. LA residents know that part of town has no shortage of hills, and we did encounter a fair number of slopes, but fortunately they spared us the worst. This small race was capped at 6,000 runners and started at 7:30am.

Did I mention that my office had its holiday party the night before? Springbox parties are known for their debauchery, and I'm generally known to take advantage when someone else is picking up the tab, so this proved an even greater challenge than any hill in Silverlake. I tried to control myself... who am I kidding, I knocked back beer, wine and even sake, for some reason, and quit only when my clear-minded wife pulled me away to go home and get some rest. When the alarm went off the next morning, I'm pretty sure I was still half-drunk, although it's hard to say as I'm not usually up that early. Maybe that's just how everyone feels at 4:30am.

By the time we drove downtown, parked and took the shuttle to the start line in the twilight haze of dawn, everything felt surreal. I'm not sure if I was coming down or going up as we stood around in the cold, shivering and enduring one of the worst renditions of "The Star-Spangled Banner" ever performed. When the gun finally went off, I don't know if it was the buzz from the previous evening or adrenaline or both, but I ran harder and faster than I had ever run any race before, finishing the 13.1 miles in an hour and a half. My chip time was 1:30:51, and I placed 101st out of 6000. If only I could just double that time for a marathon, I'd qualify for Boston, but it doesn't work that way. I wouldn't be able to maintain that pace for 26.2 miles. Janet & Judy also did great and beat their times from last year. Needless to say, I crashed hard that afternoon into the welcome oblivion of a three-hour nap.

Unfinished Business

When I logged into my blog last night to make my first post in six months, I discovered a few posts that I had started but never finished. One was simply titled, "Janet: Pros & Cons," but the post was blank. I leave the reader to speculate on what the content of that post might have been.

You Say You Want a Resolution

It's been awhile since my last post. About six months, to be precise. I've let it slip for a variety of reasons (work, life, etc.), but I'm also going to lay a good portion of the blame on Facebook. Well, the blame goes on me, but Facebook was the distraction. I started this blog partially as a means to share my experiences in California with friends and family back home, but I found that Facebook's status update offered immediate gratification, instantly reaching far more people "within my network" than would ever read (or even know about) this blog. So, without even realizing it, thoughtful exposition was out the window, and I began thinking about my life in a series of one-liners, constantly distilling my daily experiences down to single-sentence quips and witticisms.

I find, however, that in the same way that I feel gross if I don't run for a few days, I feel gross not having written anything in the past six months, like my brain is atrophying. Aside from composing emails to friends and work colleagues, I have no external reason to write anything anymore, and yet I miss the exercise of organizing my thoughts, even if no one reads it. So, in the new year I'm going to make an effort to push Facebook aside and put some effort back into writing. Resolution #1.

Janet & I have a bit of a tradition we've been doing for about four or five years, where we formally write out our new year's resolutions. Each of us has a list of ten resolutions — nine that we make ourselves, and one that we write for each other. So I'll come up with nine of my own, and my tenth comes from Janet. I particularly like that final resolution, written by the other person, because it forces us to think about areas for self-improvement that we may not have thought about ourselves.

Before making our lists for the new year, we evaluate each other on how well we lived up to the previous year's list. Sometimes a resolution will carry over into the next year if it remains unresolved. It can sometimes be difficult coming up with nine distinct resolutions, but they can be as specific as "BE ON TIME FOR WORK" or as broad as "THINK OF OTHERS" (both of which have appeared on my list spanning multiple years). This year my list also includes the following:

• READ MORE BOOKS.
• DRIVE CONSCIOUSLY & CONSIDERATELY.
• DON’T DRINK SOFT DRINKS. DRINK MORE WATER & NATURAL BEVERAGES INSTEAD.
• EXPLORE FEELINGS OF DEFIANCE TOWARDS FAMILY, WORLD.

Wish me luck.