Gism Butter

Well, Just how Oakland are you? Oakland Magazine asked me that question a few months back. I had forgotten about the piece until I saw it downtown the other day. And now, it’s even online!

The second episode of ACCRC silliness is now online.

So, yeah, I got a PSP. Funny, since Stefan got one the day it came out, and bragged up and down about how cool it was. Then, a year later, he dumped it in favor of a DS. I did the exact opposite, regaling Stefan with stories of Castlevania, then ultimately giving up on the thing in favor of a PSP last week.

Of course, there is absolutely no real reason to own a regular PSP. There is, however, every reason in the world to own a completely hacked PSP. Not that I hacked mine. Nope. Not at all.

I have run into three PSP users on the streets in SF, and all of them have hacked the living fuck out of their devices. One of these fellows was playing Super Metroid on BART, and we bonded over memories of that, the greatest of all 16-bit games.

Last Thursday at the Digg million user celebration, I got my PSP laser engraved with the Digg logo. I coulda done a pithy phrase, but opted to get the Digg logo done in the spirit of the evening. Photos from the event are Here.

Incidentally, V bough a laser disc copy of Star Wars Episode One two days ago. Oddly, it’s not as bad as I remember. Actually, all in all, a good movie. I think everyone’s expectations were imply too high.

We’re off to see their new digs in Novato. Should be a cool place. I think we’re going to bury Mr. Fatty up there, too. I’ve also set up an Upcoming event for Re-Make. The event isn’t entirely confirmed, but I bet that it happens. More on that later.

As everyone probably already knows, V is a great fan of the Beatles. Thus, as we went to New York last week, I thought that it was only natural to take her to all the Beatles-ish places that I could think of, and a couple that she could think of.

The first of these was Strawberry field, which is actually not really a field at all. The song is named after a place where a young John Lennon used to run and frolic. After he was shot in the early 80’s, the city of New York renamed this little chunk of Central Park in honor of John, and thus it has stayed a beacon to fans around the world. On the Tuesday afternoon in April when we stopped by, there were oodles of people here, and fresh flowers laid out in the sign of a peace symbol across the “Imagine” tiles.

This was the one location that V really wanted to see, but I think she was a little disapointed by the fact that it was a paved over space with benches, rather than an actual field.

Across the street from Strawberry Field is The Dakota. This is where John and Yoko lived and created their questionable “art.” Of course, John was an artist, and Yoko was before she met him, but lord knows what exactly the pair were after they got together. But whatever, I’m not the Beatles fan here, V is. And she hates Yoko too…

Reguardless, John was shot outside of his apartment in the Dakota. The building itself ifs very beautiful, and we have a photo of it inside the New York architecture book V bought at the Cooper Hewitt. Incidentally, said museum is the single best in the city, especially if you’re a nerd. It’s all about design, and they had an exhibit that showed off the kite-camera project from Make Magazine, issue 1. As they had a copy of said magazine on display as well, and as the Cooper Hewitt is part of the Smithsonian Institute, it is completely kosher for me to now say that my work is on display in the Smithsonian. Even if it is tucked away on a back page and not visible to anyone. It’s in there, god dammit!

Anyhoo, the Dakota still has gas lights and a large arched entryway, as though the building expected its residents to arrive on horseback and leave by carriage. The doorman obviously knows why everyone is there, gawking up. We were not the only ones taking pictures. The shot on the right, here, is my personal favorite of the shots I took of V in front of the Dakota.

Finally, on our whirlwind tour of NYC, we were wandering back towards the Hotel Pennsylvania, where we stayed, and we stumbled upon David Letterman’s studio. Whoop-de-do, who gives a shit about Letterman anymore, right? Well, Letterman took over Ed Sullivan’s old studio. CBS didn’t tear the bloody thing down in the 80’s, and when David got his new late night show there in the 90’s, he obviously asked specifically for the venue. Or perhaps they explicitly offered it. Either way, you can’t come to New York and look for Beatles-ish things without stopping by outside this place to take a picture.

And so, we did.

Our California Green Tree Frog, Mr. Fatty, passed away this morning. V had an incling this would happen last night, when she poked him gently and he didn’t hop away from her. This morning, she found him stretched out in the bottom of his terrarium, motionless.

We first found Mr. Fatty in 2002, when he was discovered hopping around the bed of the ACCRC’s truck. I’d just come back from the Crazy Horse land fill in Salinas county, where I’d picked up about 6 pallets of busted televisions for recycling. Mr. Fatty hopped a ride, and managed to survived the brutal unloading process, which involved numerous pallet jacks and a forklift.

Dave found the little guy hopping around inside the truck and scooped him up. I decided I’d give him to V, as she’s so good with animals.

Well, here we are, five years later, and the poor little guy’s passed on. I don’t know about you, but five years is a long time for an amphibian to live in captivity. He ate many a cricket, had many adventures (including a daring escape!). We’ll miss you Mr. Fatty. We loved you dearly.

As ever, YTMND is a delightful time waster. And it was unto him that the thing did spurt forth:

• Tubes!
• Jabba Channels Busta.
• Call her a whore, but she got her mount.
• Cuper cute cats.
• Pirate Versus Ninja.
• A bit late for Easter, but here’s Vader.

Yeah, It’s humble and small, and boring, and there’s nothing interesting, which is the same as boring, and fuck, I didn’t even write my own “Hello world!”

But, hell, it’s home.

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