GO PLAY
After two quakes in Berkeley yesterday, and a rather chilly evening last night, I woke up to beautiful clear skies and sunshine this morning. Amen! Thankfully, my tennis partner James and I timed our match well to the week’s weather.
An interesting thing happened on my way to Golden Gate Park; I was happily jacked up on some Peet’s espresso as I practically flew out my front door, tennis bag slung around my shoulders anticipating a great match with James.
As I passed my neighbor, a middle aged man who lives in a beautiful Edwardian with his partner, we both said ‘Good Morning,’ and I was about to be on my way when I noticed an odd look on his face.
“Wow, you’re really dedicated, aren’t you?” he said.
“Yeah, with tennis you have to be…” I said.
“It’s not necessarily good for you,” he said, “A friend of mine really messed up his shoulder while playing. You might want to consider stopping .”
I was flummoxed. Really?
All I could muster was some quip about how I stretch a lot. But as I walked to Golden Gate Park, a nice two mile walk, all I could think about was how fearful he sounded. How afraid he sounded. How…cautious.
I play tennis once or twice a week and I have for twenty years. I know something about injuries, let me tell you. I’ve had a torn meniscus. I endure tendinitis here and there, on and off. Sometimes I hobble out of bed in the morning before I get down on the carpet with the cats and stretch it out. But I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to stop playing. Hell no.
When I don’t play, when I don’t exercise, I feel far worse than I ever have from any injury or weekly wear and tear. I feel like crap when I don’t exercise. I understand prevention and taking care of your body after vigorous exercise. I get that. But I don’t understand not getting out there if you’re blessed enough to have the opportunity.
And there’s no greater sight than Golden Gate Park on a sunny morning. Just ask the ‘diehards’ – the two dozen 60, 70, and 80 year-olds who play tennis five days a week in the park, first thing in the morning.
They inspire me because nothing stops them from getting out there.
I’m just happy yesterday’s earthquakes didn’t crack the courts.
Wars
October 19th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
Some wars touch you, some wars don’t. The war on Drugs didn’t touch me at all; it was just too vague. Actually it was a real piece of propaganda bullshit. The war on Terror touched me every time I flew to Chicago to see my father during his battle with liver and pancreatic cancer. All those security checks gave me too much time to think about what he was going through – the big ugly C word. The war on Cancer is a catastrophe. My dad had lung cancer first, got it cut out, five years later he got liver/pancreatic cancer, got that chemo’ed, twice, and still died overwhelmed by agony, pain, and confusion. Diagnosis, chemo, radiation, surgery, chemo, decline, death: Cancer is way, way ahead in that war.
The war on AIDS is a tricky one. It’s been going on in this country for 30 years and it’s kind of a draw. There were a huge number of casualties in the first ten or fifteen years, then the drugs got better, controlling the virus became more like managing a chronic disease than a killer. and people stopped talking about it as much. But it took its toll in lives and confusion and disillusion. I just read a review in the New York Times about a book called The Origins of AIDS. The author Dr. Jacques Pepin (not to be confused with the famous chef) traces the long history of the HIV viruses. Here’s the lead paragraph from the article written by Donald G. McNeil Jr.:
“Our story begins sometime close to 1921, somewhere between the Sanaga River in Cameroon and the Congo River in the former Belgian Congo. It involves chimps and monkeys, hunters and butchers, “free women” and prostitutes, syringes and plasma-sellers, evil colonial lawmakers and decent colonial doctors with the best of intentions. And a virus that, against all odds, appears to have made it from one ape in the central African jungle to one Haitian bureaucrat leaving Zaire for home and then to a few dozen men in California gay bars before it was even noticed — about 60 years after its journey began.”
This is one long war.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/18/health/18aids.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1&hpw
The Chef of Chefs October 17th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
The greatest Chef in the world, when annointed, will be raised in France, roll pastry in Switzerland, stir soups in Moscow, stuff sausages in Germany, arrange antipasti in Italy; and after all that come to America to watch a Southern grandmother fry chicken, an east coast Lady work a clambake, a Midwestern farmer’s daughter bake an apple pie, and the cart-pushing lady in the Mission district of San Francisco sell Empanada Mexacanas. Once he or she has disgested all of that; they will be recruited to Heaven so the angels above can sample the fare…all of it. Works for me.
American Horror Story
October 14th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
The first two episodes of American Horror Story on Fox aren’t exactly scary but they are definitely fun. Not unlike creator Ryan Murphy’s other show “Glee,” less is never more here. While I appreciate Glee’s ‘defend the gays and the geeks’ mentality, I’ve never been able to sit through more than one song; the show is just too overwrought with bitchy battle plans and twenty-something actors playing teenagers.Changed my mind after watching the 2nd episode again and the 3rd episode...this show is just
American Horror Story is set in Los Angeles, in a haunted house with an unlimited backlog of unfortunate incidents and grisly murders. Twin Peaks meets Amityville Horror meets a half dozen other twisted, familiar stories. Laying it on thick works in a series like this if only in hopes that the more interesting storylines will eventually rise to the occasion.
While the show is cast with several terrific actors, the standout, over the top performance comes from Jessica Lange. A toxic brew of Norma Desmond, Blanche Dubois and the Mother Alien in Aliens, Lange’s character knows every secret and every piece of history about the house next door and she’s willing to share – at her own pace. And no, she won’t knock before entering.
Again, the show isn’t exactly scary – jumpy is more like it: flickering images and hammering music are the main delivery methods for the intended frights. There’s an abundance of story in American Horror Story but restraint and suspense are what’s needed.
getting warmed up and I find myself eagerly looking forward to the next episode. 10/25/11
Rilke
October 14th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
“There exists only one aloneness, and it is great, and it is not easy to bear. To nearly everyone come those hours that we would gladly exchange for any cheap or even the most banal camaraderie, for even the slightest inclination to choose the second-best or the most unworthy thing.” From “Letters to A Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke.
Granola
October 13th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
Just discovered something called the KIND community through a bag of granola. I was getting a sandwich at Mollie Stone’s on California Street, not worrying much about my fiber intake (far more concerned about what potato chips to enjoy) and I saw these bags of granola hanging in the chocolate chip aisle. Instead of costing an insane eight or nine bucks, this bag was around $5. Still not exactly a deal but with a catchy line like “Ingredients you can see & pronounce” on the front of the bag, I was sold. Whole grains like Amaranth, Quinoa, Oats, Millet & Buckwheat plus flax seeds, chicory root fiber and several fruit purees. I chose Blueberry Vanilla and to be perfectly honest, since 3pm yesterday afternoon, I’ve had three bowls. One of those bowls accompanied my 3am reading session with the 3rd Dragon Tattoo book. I’m sure I’ll give the website a glance as well: http://www.KINDsnacks.com/world
Read It Again
October 13th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
I have a habit of re-reading books that I’ve only recently read. This weekend I started in on The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I finished the The Girl Who Played With Fire late last night. I’m starting the The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest as soon as I finish writing this. I’ve asked myself repeatedly why I’m reading them again when I read them all barely two years ago. I have other books to read, unread magazines, short story collections, etc. The best answer I can come up is that I’ve never been to Sweden. Politics and Finance and the inner workings of a character like Lisbeth Salander are completely foreign to me. I’m reading these books again because I love being taken away into new worlds especially worlds I don’t relate to and don’t fully understand. That’s why I’m aching to travel right now. I’ve been out of work for a month and the thought of starting another job irks me to no end. I want to travel and sit in cafes and ponder. Just like when I was 18, and 19, and 25, and 35, and…well you get the point. Either I haven’t grown up or I’m realizing that there’s no need to…
His Bliss
October 13th, 2011 by Bryan Stillman
On a day still memorable to me, I boarded a 24 Divisadero Bus to get over to Haight Street and met a new Driver. He sat on a big red cushion which kept him upright. He was short, squat and light brown, immaculate, and his eyes held the wisdom of the ages and peace with this world. As I paused to pay for my pass I said hello and noticed how clean and neat he kept his immediate surroundings. His steering wheel and equipment gleamed and sparkled; instead of soda cups and disheveled backpacks. I found some conscious order. When I asked the driver how he managed to make driving a bus seem so spectacular – I was feeling cheeky that day – he answered in easy words that made my day:
“Young Man,” he said (generously), sweeping his hand towards the riders behind and in front of me, “it’s like this: I found my Bliss.”
Giving bus rides full of peace and wonder was his glory in life, and in knowing this he had more than most.
Unfortunately, I’ve never seen him since.
