Monday, August 31, 2009

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

The Station Fire burns on. This satellite photo gives you an idea of the size of it and the amount of smoke it's producing. There are no clouds in this photograph: everything you see is smoke. It has now scorched 164 square miles and the smoke is affecting Las Vegas and Denver. Estimated date of full containment: September 15. I don't think my eyeballs will stay in my head that long.

Not much to report in the way of personal activity, since going outside has become difficult. My eyes begin to burn and within five minutes it feels like my eyelids have turned to sandpaper on the inside. Then comes the sneezing and coughing, so I retreat into the house with the air conditioning. I don't even want to think of what the air filter looks like on the AC unit.

Some interesting stuff: Rick Jackoway, an editor I worked with at the Five Cities Times-Press-Recorder back in the early '90s, is a friend on Facebook. He sent me a link to this picture of "the gang," something we did every Christmas to print in the paper over the holidays as a sort of Christmas card to the community (I'm the devilishly handsome one standing to the left on the landing).

We also filled the paper with children's letters to Santa and readers' most memorable holiday moments and favorite holiday recipes and holiday pictures that preschoolers drew and anything else we could think of to take up space between the ads because the staff was on vacation and there was no one in the news room. We'd put the papers together before we left for the Christmas/New Year's week and hoped nothing major occurred in town until Jan. 2.

Well, the upshot of this is I've reconnected with a whole bunch of people in this photo whom I haven't seen or talked to in well over a decade. Seems all these folks were on Facebook all along and it only took something like someone posting a photo and wanting to know the names of everyone in it. The picture went from one person to another, and pretty soon we were all reconnected. It certainly is strange and wonderful here in the 21st century. Now if they would only get me that robot maid and flying car I was expecting...

My cousin Rick and his wife Candy are going to Paris in September and Candy wrote asking if we knew of any special bistros, etc., they should visit while they were there. I ended up sending her detailed information along with Web links to sites where they could purchase museum passes, boat cruises on the Seine, etc. It was lots of fun remembering the great time Steve and I had there on our trip a few years back. I told him we should go now (even though we had to put part of the trip on a credit card) because who knows when we'll be able to go again. And that was the last vacation we've taken (back in 2006). I think it was a wise choice.

Speaking of vacations, we're taking a tiny one up to visit mom over the Labor Day weekend. I wanted to spend some time with her since Kit died last month but, to be a bit more honest, I also just have to get away from all the smoke and heat and go somewhere for a day or two where the weather is pleasant, the air is clear and it doesn't feel so much like Armageddon.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Well, not really. In the above picture, you may think you're looking at thunderheads, but it is actually a wildfire burning out of control in the Angeles National Forest, and coming rather close to some very expensive houses up in those hills. This is taken on Lake Avenue, about two blocks from our house. We were on our way to the supermarket for weekly shopping on Saturday when I took this. I couldn't get the entire plume into the frame, and you can't see the flames at the base of the clouds, though one new plume is visible at the center of the frame: that cloud is in front of the mountains, not behind them.

The air is smokey. It makes your mouth feel gritty, your eyes sore and produces the most prodigious boogers you can imagine. Everything outside smells like a barbecue. Luckily, there's a lot of town to burn between us and the hills, so I think we are safe from harm. But still, we were in Petsmart today and some friends of ours who live up in the hills were buying a carrier for their cat as she was "freaking out" because of the proximity of the fires. I think, too, it was part of getting ready to evacuate, but they were too nervous to say it out loud. Here's a time lapse I found online. It gives you an idea of the explosive quality of this fire (called the Station Fire):

Time Lapse Test: Station Fire from Eric Spiegelman on Vimeo.


And it's HOT! Hot hot hot. Today was around 104, tomorrow will be 101. Thank God there are no winds to speak of, or this situation could be much worse. Still, there's a lot of brush up there to burn (last fire was back in the early '50s). It's so strange, because August has been very mild all month, and now the heat wave hits and everything's burning.

The job search goes on for me. There are lots of design jobs out there, but they are all for the Web. I'm ploughing my way through learning Flash and Dreamweaver. I have actually put together an animation where the images fade in as they slide onto the screen and then a pop-up frame with a description appears when you roll over each image. Only took me about an hour and a half! Recently, I've been converting PDF files of my work at the Hollywood Reporter for use on an upcoming Web site. It's quite a job to wade through the files, find the ones I like the best and get them prepped for use as buttons, images, etc.

Steve's job is going very strangely. He's the accountant/office manager at a plastic manufacturing place here in Pasadena. This next week they are laying off everyone in production because of lack of work. Steve and the two other office staff will be going to work, but it certainly does make us nervous. The gentleman who owns and runs the place is almost 90 years old, and sometimes his memory and judgment don't seem as clear as they might need to be. So we just take it day by day and hope for the best.

Last night we had the police pull a guy over outside the house. They got him out of the car and handcuffed him, then started searching the car: It was like having an episode of "Cops" unfold in our living room window. It was a very strange occurrence, sort of unsettling and entertaining at the same time.

I'm sure you've all heard about the woman who was kidnapped as a child in in the early '90s and turned up in the back yard of her abductors' house in Antioch, Calif., along with the two girls she bore with her abductor. Here's a really creepy Internet coincidence for you all to experience:

Go to Google Maps. In the address, put 1554 Walnut, Antioch, CA, and click on the street view when the map appears. This is the Garrido house where the girl was held. You'll notice a beat-up old Ford Econoline van sitting in the driveway. In the street view, you can pan around. There are also arrows on the street so you can move up and down the street.

Click on the left arrow to go down Walnut. As you progress down the street, turn your view to the rear and you will see the van pull out of the driveway and follow you. Once you get to Bown Street, take a right turn. The van will continue to follow you to the end of the street. On the final frame you can zoom in on the van and actually see Phillip Garrido sitting in the van. Very creepy. Also, if you click back to the map and go to the satellite view, you can see the compound of blue tarpaulin-covered structures out behind the house. This whole thing feels like the Charles Manson episode, except without the murder. And there's a chance that that will become part of the story before it's all over.

It's been a very strange month, indeed. Aunt Kit's passing, Ted Kennedy as well, this hellish weather, the bizarre culmination of an 18-year-old kidnapping case and now driving down the street to the sight of clouds of smoke rising to the north, seeing the flames lick over the edges of the canyons, one by one, seemingly unstoppable. And with no real routine in my life, it all seems to be terribly, terribly random. I keep hoping for some kind of epiphany where I will see the fabric and the texture of life as it's unfolding these days, but it just doesn't happen.

Perhaps I'm not looking hard enough, or perhaps I'm looking too hard. Or maybe the quality of the chaos of the universe just isn't terribly attractive at this time, from this vantage point. All I can say is, it's been one hell of a year so far.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Days of Note

When you think over your life, you can remember days of note; special days both happy and sad, joyful and angry, important and insignificant. And rarely do you realize on each of those days just what you will recall from it, what it will come to mean in the overall fabric of your life. The older you get, the more perspective you achieve, the more understanding you compile and, like anything fine in life, these days of note ripen and your appreciation of them increases. I've had two of those days in the last week, one very happy and one very sad, and both of them milestones in their own ways.

The most recent is the passing of my Aunt Kit. She had been ill for quite some time and knew her disease was terminal, but she kept going until the very end, no matter how weak or tired she was. She will be missed by more people than she probably realized. And while I am glad that she is through her suffering, I am angry at the sickness that took her from me and I reach back in my mind to try to find another day of note; that perfect time when I enjoyed and appreciated her most.

As a kid, I knew her only by reference. She and my mother had been close as kids. When they grew up and each married, they went their separate ways. My father had no qualms about expressing his dislike of Kit and her "irresponsible" ways, dragging her kids around the country from one regional theater to another, never settling down. To me, though, she sounded like an adventurer, my very own Auntie Mame.

I finally met her in my early 20s. She and her husband David were living in Brewerton, outside Syracuse, N.Y., and I had found my way to Ithaca, about 60 miles south. I was quite literally out in the cold, since I was rooming in a Cornell fraternity which was shutting down for the Christmas break and there was snow everywhere.

When I called Kit, I was immediately invited for the holiday festivities. She took me in and gave me more booze than I have ever consumed before or since. She cooked a lovely goose for Christmas dinner, amazed at the amount of fat she was syphoning off the thing. She took me to a Boxing Day party where I hooked up with some shady theater folk. When I ended up stranded after spending the night in a bizarre Victorian house (another story altogether), she drove into town to retrieve me. She took me to the world premiere production of William Gibson's "The Butterfingers Angel..." at Syracuse Stage, and I wrote "Another Little Christmas Story" for her, which I have inflicted upon the entire family each Christmas since. This photo of Kit, me, my mom Paula, and their stepmother Lilian is from around that time. Although very human, Aunt Kit was magical in my eyes.

When she retired and moved out to California, I shared an apartment with her for a short time after I broke up with Dave Mann (also another story altogether). We lived on Hyperion Avenue in the Silver Lake District of Los Angeles. While she tried breaking into commercial acting, she tended bar at the neighborhood gay bar, the Toy Tiger: I was an instant celebrity there simply by being Kit's nephew.

When my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she moved up to the Central Coast and became his caretaker. It was really touching to see these two develop such a tender bond after all the long-distance animosity between them. Once my father passed away, the household was referred to as "the moms'," and together they dubbed their home "Hag Harbor." The two sisters lived together for twenty years, until today. I can't think of anything beyond, and I appreciate all the rich years that she spent with all of us on the Central Coast.

I got to direct her in "Steel Magnolias," (although I didn't give her the part she wanted) and it was a delight. She got to direct me in "The Fantasticks," (although I took the part because it was abandoned two weeks before opening night, not because I was cast). Just this May we had a reading of "Arsenic and Old Lace" with the moms playing the roles of the sisters. Most of us involved agree it was awful, but we all loved doing it and had a great time: It was one last connection before Kit left us, and I'm so glad we took the time.

I drove up to visit just two weeks ago, so I don't feel so bad about being absent now. While I was there, she would constantly forget her walker when she went from the living room to her bedroom or vice versa. Was it on purpose? You never knew with Kit. All her life, she kept everyone guessing. She was a bold spirit who carved out an amazing life. She had her share of days of note, as well. I'm glad I got to share some of them with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

And after that recollection, the second day of note seems almost trivial, but for me it was a very important one: On Saturday, August 8, Steve and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Not only did we make it through the wedding last year, but the California Supreme Court was nice enough to validate our marriage while upholding Proposition 8 and keeping all other gay folks from having one, as well. (You can check out the wedding pictures here in the blog archives or go to Facebook and check them out there.)

We went down to Long Beach for dinner at Parker's Lighthouse, the place where we had our second date (which was the first romantic one). The Long Beach Jazz Festival was happening the same weekend, so parking was absolutely insane. The weather was lovely and, after some confusion, we got our patio table overlooking the inlet and the Queen Mary, ordering our food just as the sun was setting. We had our traditional appetizer (lobster taquitos). It was quite a special evening.

Being married to the person you really love (being able to be married to the person you really love) is such an incredibly important and special thing. I don't think most people understand that; they take it for granted, like it's just part of life.

Fritz Perls, father of gestalt therapy, once described most marriages as relationships of "intimate hostility"; hates and resentments built up over time and intensely shared between only two people. I think that happens because people take marriage for granted and one another, as well.

We are all of us precious, and our loves and marriages even more so. When we lose track of that, we lose track of why we value life so dearly. When status and position and possessions eclipse being alive and loving, things fall apart and life gets cheap and loses meaning.

Here in a time of shitty news and things falling apart, it's easy to despair. But no matter how bad things are (like being unemployed or scraping through the months financially), compared to all the humans on the planet, our lives are truly blessed. If you've lost your perspective of that, it's time to make a fresh assessment and see your life for what it is and focus once again on what you'd truly like it to be. Because, most likely, you're doing a fabulous job.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Time Off in Purgatory

That's what you get for jury duty. I'm sitting in the jury assembly room on the 11th floor of the criminal courts building at Temple and Broadway in downtown L.A.

The room has some of the same aesthetics of an airport waiting room, and you have to go through the same security procedures (except at court they don't make you take off your shoes) and the environment is just as stultifyingly boring.

I took the online orientation program last week, so I was able to arrive around 9:30 instead of 8 o'clock; that was nice. But if you've already seen the boring how-to videos about justice online, you show up, they log you in and then you sit. And wait. And wait.

Around 10:30 they called one jury panel and sent them up to department 117. Then nothing until just before noon, when we were released for lunch. I went directly down to the cafeteria, since I don't feel like going down to the L.A. center across from the federal courts building and fighting the hords at the various fast-food places there. And, too, it's amazing that a cafeteria can cook turkey and make it come out looking like pulled pork and tasting like nothing much other than edible. The corn was even less tasty ... or more tasteless, I'm not sure which.

So I'm secretly hoping that I'll just spend the rest of the afternoon here, not get called out, and have my jury duty done with. Part of me would like to be empaneled and sit on a jury, now that I have the time to, but I also feel like I should get back to my studies and job search.

Speaking of studies, Steve and I went down to Vroman's Books (our local nonfranchise book store) and I picked up a book on ActionScript 3.0, since I wasn't having too much success with the online tutorials alone. It is obviously one of those subjects that has an "aha" factor to it: You kind of go along, not really understanding the meat of the subject, and then -- AHA -- things gel and you understand what's going on.

That's about it. Lunch break is almost over and they might be asking me to go do something semiproductive, so I should sign off. I think I have just enough time to upload the picture I took this morning with my iPhone, showing the enthusiastic citizen-jurors waiting for their chance to take a role in this system we call judicial.