David Sedaris

Rick and I went to see 'An Evening with David Sedaris' on Wednesday night. Dave was disappointed that he didn't get to go, but since he's currently in Berlin, hanging out with our friends, shopping at our favorite stores, and eating at our favorite restaurants (Amrit, Monsieur Wong's, etc.), I don't feel too bad.

I've been a big fan of David Sedaris since I read Me Talk Pretty One Day sometime in 2001. I remember reading on a plane and laughing so much that the person next to me asked what I was reading (for those of you who know my normal plane mode - my vibe screams 'Get the heck away from me, don't talk to me, I don't have the time to be your friend' - this was a clear aberration). Since then I've read everything he's published, even went to a play in LA that he wrote with his sister, Amy (thanks, Marsha, for that one!). We have a little Sedaris section on our bookshelf in the hallway, with doubles of several books since I used to always give them to Dave as gifts before we started going out.

Wednesday night was no disappointment. He started off by reading a piece that was published in the New Yorker last week about undecided voters, the best line of which was posted by Kris on his blog. He then told the story of this line, and that he had originally intended to compare one of the dinner/election alternatives to human sh*t, but his editor thought that was going too far.

My favorite essays that he writes are about language, and his experiences learning French in Paris and Normandy, and learning Japanese in Tokyo. He captures perfectly what it's like as an adult learning a new language, and living abroad while encountering other Americans and trying to 'pass' as a local. I felt I understood Sedaris completely when I was told by a German that, to their ear, I sound like Yoda because my words are always so out of order. In Me Talk Pretty One Day, Sedaris similarly wrote:

"My only comfort was the knowledge that I was not alone. Huddled in the hallways and making the most of our pathetic French, my fellow students and I engaged in the sort of conversation commonly overheard in refugee camps.
"'Sometime me cry alone at night.'
"' That be common for I, also, by be more strong, you. Much work and someday you talk pretty. People start love you soon. Maybe tomorrow, okay.'"

That in a nutshell, is my entire German-speaking experience. And even better when Sedaris was the one reading it aloud.

CONGRATULATIONS, DAVE!!!

As many of you know, Dave is in Berlin this week to defend his MA thesis. I'll let him tell the whole story later, but his defense was today at 4:00, and he passed with flying colors!! Way to go, babe!!!

Please, please don't disenfranchise me

As planned, I went to cast my vote this morning. I rode my bike down to the Wellington Webb building on 14th street, went through the metal detector, showed my driver's license, and signed my voter card guaranteeing that I am who I claim to be. Everything was going smoothly until the man handed me my ballot.

I was a little dismayed to find that we use paper ballots in Denver, not the electronic computer-based ballots we used in California. Even worse, the ballots we used were not the famous hole-punch variety that caused so many problems in Florida eight years ago, but were a 'connect-the-arrow' variety I had never seen before, like this one I took from the internet below. Needless to say, they made me a little nervous.


The voter registration guy handed me a dull pencil with no eraser and told me to draw one line between the arrows to vote for the person I selected. Maybe I've taken a few too many standardized tests, but one measly line between the arrows didn't seem like enough to really make sure my vote was obvious enough, so I went back and forth between the lines a few times to make a darker line (which was made easier by my unsharpened pencil). But then I got worried that they would throw out my ballot for making my lines too dark, or too wiggly, or too whatever. We looked into this online and found out that this kind of ballot is especially hard for left-handers like Dave to use, since their hand completely covers the names of the people they're voting for while they're connecting their arrow. Dave, who is constantly pointing out how he lives in a right-handed world, was especially irritated by this.

After marking all of my lines darkly, I put my ballots (it was two pages long with all the judges and ballot initiatives we had to vote on in addition to the president, senator, state and local representatives, etc) in the 'secrecy sheath' (I swear I am not making this up). I walked over to the ballot box that had a huge lock on it and was guarded by two sweet old ladies, and waited in line behind a man who was obviously not so sure about sticking his ballots into this box. The ladies smiled and coaxed him into putting his ballot into the box, then handed him one of the "I Voted" stickers that everyone wears around this time of year (they serve a similar function to leaving the ashes on your forehead after going to Mass on Ash Wednesday - "I went to church, and so should you!!").

I just hope that this arrow business doesn't lead to any issues when it comes down to the count, which is predicted to be very close this year. The article from which I took the sample ballot above found that 12% if the voters involved in the study had worried before that their vote might not be counted as a result of the way they had responded on the ballot, and 26% had worried about figuring out the ballot technology when voting before. The arrow variety was not found to have a higher error rate, though, but the overall impression of voters was that they found it more 'satisfying' to fill in a bubble than to connect an arrow. Over 11% of all the ballots they used - regardless of type - included at least one error, which is certainly a cause for concern in tight elections like this one. You can read the complete, NSF-funded report here.

But I guess now all I can do - now that I've attempted to do my civic duty - is to keep my fingers crossed.

More Obama Rally Pictures

You may have noticed that Obama was missing from our rally pics, since we couldn't see him. Here are two from the New York Times and Denver Post that can giver you a better picture of what he looked like, and what he could see.



The story about his speech in the New York Times today also includes a video shot in Golden, my hometown, and center of the known universe.

Change we can believe in.

After several election cycles of being completely ignored, Colorado is an official 'swing state' this year, earning us repeat visits from all the candidates for President and VP. Everyone in town is all fired up about the election, and when we bike or drive around town, we see campaign signs in everyone's yard. Our estimate is that people in Denver put up signs for Obama at a 20:1 ratio vs. McCain, and where you do see a McCain sign, there's usually an Obama sign in the yard next door to cancel it out. For our part, we've got our Obama sign up in our bedroom window facing down on 16th Avenue, but it's pretty hard to see it all the way up here.

Our 'swing state' status fortunately means that Barack Obama came to town again to Civic Center Park, about 8 blocks away from our apartment. We didn't plan to go, but in the end didn't want to miss out on the action. We bundled up, hopped on our bikes, and rode down to check out the scene.



The Denver Post estimates that there were 100,000 people in Civic Center Park. We were too late to get into the park itself, so we stood on the outskirts surrounded by a very diverse crowd that had brought out kids, dogs, and horses with them.



Rick and mom went much earlier than we did, but it was still too late to get into the park, so they sat on the Capitol's west steps instead. When he came out, Obama gave them a 'shout out.'

The speech was great, as usua. (highlights: "98% of Americans, and 99.9% of plumbers, don't make more than a quarter million dollars a year" and "John McCain compared me last week to George Bush. I can't make this stuff up!"). When it was over, we met up with mom and Rick for a commemorative photo.

Dave already 'early voted' last week, and I'll go tomorrow to cast my vote. Just 9 days left! What an exciting time to be back in the US.

Nothing Like a Little (Drunken) Inspiration

In the last post, I forgot to mention some very important moments of ingenuity that occured while at the beer fest.

Namely, that Rob and John have decided to start their own brewing from John's garage. House it there serves two purposes:

1. "John's Garage Brews" serves as the name sake for their endeavor.
2. Storing the entire operation at John's is safer for Rob, considering his Chi-Town roots and propensity to crack one open when its within smelling distance.

Anyway, they need to work on some names for the varieties. Here are some of the most recent thoughts:

• Schwenlickler's Wiseass Weiss
• Slacker IPA
  
• Spanking Good Ale
• Suckling Spanferkel Brown

It's really amazing the great ideas that we can come ujp with when half-cocked.

Rob and John have notified me that they are starting the first brew today...god help us all.

In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus...

...Eins, zwei, g'suffa.

On October 9th the whirlwind tour of the country's best (and worst) beers began. This, of course meant that Rob and John had to rush in from sunny CA in order to get their fill.

Rather than completely retell the story, I'll simply post some pictures here and point you to Rob's posting about the trip.

October in Denver

Turning Over a New Leaf

It's been something like eight or nine years since I've been in Colorado and had enough free time to head up the hill and look at the changing of the leaves. This year, Erin forced the issue (granted, I was/am a willing participant) by booking a weekend in Avon so as to look at the aspen colors. It's more or less an extension of Erin's desire to do something ourdoorsy every weekend...her turning of a new leaf.

Here are the pictures, most of which were taken on the Lake Charles trail (1899), which is in the White River National Forest and begins just past Sylvan Lake (40 miles from Avon). The train leads about 6 miles into the forest and deposits you at Mystic Island Lake (11,800 feet) where you are surrounded by a couple of 13er's.

Tear You Down to Build You Up

Just a quick note that I have placed a link to This American Life's story this week. It a story that dumbs down the whole financial mess without talking down to you. Both correspondents make a point of introducing terms of the industry and then explaining them in a way that de-mystifies them.

So, if you're trying to make sense of the headlines this morning and the last month, take a listen.

Another Frightening Show About the Economy (web page)

Or

Click on the link just to the left here and the story will start to play.

What Goes Up, Must Come Down...the Mountain.

(Spelling errors are killing me,)

As promised, the story of my inept mountain biking skills.

The weekend after I turned in the thesis, I felt an overwhelming need to go outside again and do something truly "Colorado". Being as I hadn't been outside the flat except to occasionally check the mail or hit the Wendy's down the block, I wanted to do something strenuous, adventurous, and in the sun (dude, I so seriously pale...and in the middle of September).

So after having my steed repaired–a Cannondale F800 hardtail where the whole damn left crank arm fell off while my right shoes was still locked in that pedal–I decided it was time to take it on the hill. Erin's parents live in Golden and she needed to visit them for a bit, so I decided to go to an old favorite trail in Matthews Winter's Park, near Morrison.



OK, so the trail I remember rarely had hikers in the way or completely washed out trail. I also don't remember sucking so much air when riding it before. But all of this seems to have changed. I mean, the total elevation gain on the Red Rocks trail is just a measly +515 / -918 and the trailhead is at about 6300 feet. Worse still, it's not like I can claim, "I'm not used to the altitude."; I've been here for 8 weeks and should be fully acclimated! And now, there's a ton of hikers in the way...not to mention all the other bikes on trail–both providing witnesses for spectacular wipe outs. Nope, all signs point to me just sucking.

As if all this weren't enough to weigh on my mind and prove that I should have serious reservations about attacking the hill there, I now have the bruises and scabs as hard evidence that I should reconsider this hobby. I honestly lost track of how many times I couldn't get the pedals to release fast enough and fell, always to the left on my elbow and knee. Actually, there was one time I fell to the right, knocking my head against a rock. (All I could think is, "Well, at least I didn't fall on my left side again!!"). I swear, my left elbow still hurts to the touch now, two weeks later. Ugh!!

As it turns out, my only saving grace is that the trail is now rated as a "Most difficult and Technical", meaning that even if the entire left side of my body is bruised, at least my ego has been padded.

Bachelor Pad, (uh) Our Home

It is so sweet living downtown in proximity to a ton of bars, clubs, restaurants, and weirdos walking the streets. Even better living in the penthouse bachelor's sweet....uh, I mean our place. Oh, ya, and I don't actually have any cash to go out and do any of that stuff.

There are times when–because of my current unemployment–our new flat can feel like to best bachelor pad ever. The nice thing is that the place is so cool and that I'm not a single man anymore. (Trust me, this is also good for the pad since I would still have nothing on the wall or some pretty hideous dust bunnies crawling around your ankles upon entry).

Anyway, continuing the intro to our place, where we hope you all will crash at some point, here are some pictures...this time with our furniture. It's more or less a walking tour, though it doesn't do the place justice.

Walking in the door.

Looking into the great room.
Notice Erin on our favorite piece of furniture, a double sided chaise.

The kick-ass kitchen. You can actually fit more than two butts in here!

Eating area & small balcony.

Walking the hallway towards the 2nd bed and bathrooms.

Light a match!!

Second bedroom, er, office, er, workout room, er, catch-all.

The room I am most proud of...
Don't let the small semblance of organization fool you. We have no idea what's in here.

Master's bed.