I am not by nature what you would call a “new year’s resolution” type of a guy. I’m more of a “check yourself on a regular basis and make adjustments on the fly” type of guy. Not that there’s anything wrong with making new year’s resolutions, I’ll applaud anything that inspires reflection and then, in turn, change. I just don’t make them myself.

That said, given that I write a blog, January is just about over and the fact that I embrace contradiction with a Leo Buscaglia-like bear hug, I thought I’d share with you a little project I’m going to take on over the next 365 days. While it may not be a resolution exactly, for the sake of this week’s musings it’s close enough.

My project: A-side

As a musician, semiretired DJ, music fan and an internationally renowned maker of mixed CDs, I consume a lot of music. Countless dollars (and perhaps a lucrative retirement package) have been spent amassing what can only be described as an impressive collection of vinyl, tapes, CDs and DVDs filled with the miraculous sounds of pop, jazz, rock, hip-hop, dub, reggae, electronica, latin, Afro-pop, ska, classical, R&B and just about every subgenre in between. It is, to be sure, a dizzying volume of music.

Which brings me to the point of my project: I intend to listen to a different album every day for the next 365 days. And I’m not talking about as background music either. I’m talking about sitting down (or laying down as the case may be) and truly engaging in the experience of listening to an album from start to finish. Focusing on that album only and nothing else.

My reasons for doing this are threefold (outside of the obvious fact that I just plain love music):

1. Because I’ve got a ton of music that rarely gets listened to and I think it should be.
2. As I’ve gotten older (sort of) and more distractions have entered my life my relationship with music has undergone changes, which upon reflection, need some attention. Don’t get me wrong I’m as stoked as ever when I hear something dynamic, it’s just the quality of my engagement needs to be retooled.
3. It’s a great opportunity to make new discoveries and to share them with all of you.

B-side

This one hasn’t quite been figured out yet, but aside from giving you a simple rundown of what I’ve listened to at the end of each month, I thought it might be interesting to create a mix of some of my favorite songs from each album (that’s at least 29),and either post it here or send out a hardcopy to those who might be interested and are very, very nice (you know, for the low cost of a CD and postage). Let me know what you think.

It’s been several months since my post about my exercise routine and so I thought I’d fill you in on how things have been going since then. Great, is the best way to put it. I’m pushing anywhere from a mile to a mile and a half every other day (weather permitting. It may be California, but it’s Northern Cal and it’s winter). On the days that I’m not pushing I’m lifting weights. Pretty hardcore.

Burn baby burn

The distance I push isn’t so much a concern for me anymore, as I’ve discovered that if I have the time I can go the distance. 10 miles really wouldn’t be out of the question which is crazy considering where I was about six months ago. Speed and technique are more where I’m at now. The faster I go, the more winded I get and that seems to get the burn going in my arms. It’s that burn I’m looking for.

As for the weights; thanks to a Christmas present from my friend T I’m now lifting twice the weight I was before. These are free weight exercises and I’m doing multiple reps focusing on two different muscle groups. The first is on muscles that are unaffected by my level of injury; and the second, on muscles that are — the biceps and triceps respectively. The increased weight and adjusted repetitions should help with definition.

When I’m in my electric chair and don’t have anybody around to help me with the free weights, I’m able to use an exercise machine called The Uppertone which was designed by a quadriplegic for quadriplegics. The freedom this machine provides has allowed me to get a little extra workout in before or after my graphic design/web work.

Detouring the rationalization

To say I feel great would be an understatement. I haven’t felt this great in many years. In the “red shoe diary” post when I wrote about my workouts, I talked about my impatience and how I was looking for some very specific things. Well, those things have certainly come to fruition, but I’ve also seen some other interesting benefits as well.

For starters, I’m sleeping better, which isn’t a big surprise, but it’s certainly a pretty cool byproduct. What’s really great, however, is the benefit it’s having on my circulation. I’d read about this happening, but wasn’t sure what kind of results I’d see for myself. And while it’s difficult to quantify, I’d say I’m seeing anywhere between 15 to 20% more uptime and that’s nothing to complain about. Like an ex girlfriend of mine used to say, “a little better is better than a little worse”. Amen to that.

Still, it’s a shame it took all this time and this trip to motivate me to do what I should’ve been doing all along. But, hey, I’m doing it now and that’s all that matters.

For me, it was looking at my reasons for not doing it — no time — and coming to terms with what they actually were — excuses. I had plenty of time, but it was simply a matter of using it wisely and prioritizing. The fact is, it’s in our nature to avoid what’s difficult and to rationalize it in a way that makes us feel comfortable with living up to less than our fullest potential. Maybe exercise isn’t your bag — though I’d encourage you to do it anyway — but you should check yourself from time to time anyway to see what you’re avoiding out of discomfort alone. What you see may just surprise you.

Quien es mas macho?

If after reading all this you’re still doubting how hard-core I truly am, let me share with you a final anecdote and then tell me what you think.

Alright, so I just finished coming around on my last lap of a mile and a half push and I’m not quite feeling the burn yet so I decide to go around one more time. I look down at my right hand to see how the hole in my glove is doing (hard-core = holes in gloves) and I see that, not only has the hole gotten bigger, but my pinky has been worn raw and is now bleeding. At this point, I could’ve (should’ve) stopped — and certainly some of the less hard-core of my brethren would’ve — but one of the advantages (if you can call it an advantage) of being paralyzed from the neck down is a lack of sensation. Or more optimistically put, a built-in anesthetic. Sure, my finger is bleeding, but I can’t feel it so let’s go one more time around.

While I’m not going to argue there may be a fine line between hard-core and stupid, I believe the above anecdote illustrates — not my stupidity (though I can see where one might mistakenly draw that conclusion), but rather my commitment to my cause and my ability to go that extra proverbial mile.

Eye of the tiger, baby, eye of the tiger.

Because that pile of hats doesn’t quite seem big enough, I’m going to go ahead and toss in mine and give you yet another top 10 list of movies to close out 2007. The difference here is that while those other lists may require you to either gas up the car and head out to the cinema or do a little waiting on DVD release dates to play along, mine you can pretty much participate in right away with just a few clicks of your mouse (if you’re a Netflix subscriber; otherwise, yeah, you’re probably gonna have to make a run to the video store).

Another difference you’ll notice is this list isn’t bound to a 2007 release date restriction; these are simply the top 10 films I watched from Netflix this past year. Narrowing it down to just 10 was a bit of a challenge so I cheated in a couple of places (trust me — the cheats make sense). But given that I see close to six DVDs a week this had to be expected — there were a lot of great films to choose from.

My only real criteria for choosing the 10 films I did was how they made me feel while watching them and did they linger afterwards. Some of these films I may never watch again — and that’s fine — while others I may revisit on a regular basis. Either way, they were all rich cinematic experiences that evoked emotions ranging from heartbreak to jackpot style elation. Which, when I leave my critically thinking film theory brain back in its box, is really all I’m looking for.

Oh, one final thing. Not wanting to deprive you the joy of reading Netflix’s head scratching synopses of these films, I’ve refrained from writing my own. I’m sorry if this adds any confusion to the list below, but I’m certain you’ll thank me later.

Happy viewing.

1). This is England — A small masterpiece that took the air out of my lungs. Paradoxically sweet and brutal. A tough, truthful look at youth that broke my heart and gave it back to me, tattered, but with a hopeful glow. This is one of the best films I’ve seen in years.

2). The 400 Blows/Antoine & Colette/Stolen Kisses/Bed & Board/Love on the Run — This is the first of my cheats. It’s difficult not to consider Truffaut’s Antoine Doinel films as a singular piece, so this might not actually be considered a cheat. Either way, following a fictional character played by the same actor (Jean-Pierre Leaud) over five films and 20 years — especially in the hands of a master like Truffaut — is a cinematic experience like no other. Deeply rewarding. Stick with the Criterion Collection versions.

3). Red Beard — Being a huge Kurosawa fan, it’s odd how this one escaped me until this year, but, man, what a beautiful and life-affirming piece of cinema.

4). Deep Water – Following “weekend sailor” Donald Crowhurst’s ill-fated attempt at successfully completing a solo sailing race around the world, this documentary — through the use of amazing archival footage — had me riveted. It took me from one emotional place to the exact opposite on several occasions.

5). The Lives of Others — Well deserved winner of the best foreign film Oscar in 2006. This film looks at art as a transformative power and how doing the right thing — regardless of the costs — will make a difference. Inspires bravery.

6). Jean de Florette/Manon of the Spring — Originally released as two films back in the mid 80s, this is actually one film (you get both on the same disc. Jean is part one and Manon is part two). As good as they were when I saw them 20 years ago. Great performances by Yves Montand, Daniel Auteuil and Gerard Depardieu.

7). Jonestown: The Life and Death of People’s Temple — I was a kid when all of this happened, but I remember it having a profound impact on the adults around me. A fascinating documentary that shines a light on who Jim Jones was and how the tragedy came about. If you don’t know much about this history (or even if you do) this film will really surprise you.

8). A Broke Down Melody/Zen & Zero — I don’t know what kind of year it would be if a surf movie didn’t make it into the top 10, but this year I got two. Neither falling into the category of surf porn (wave after wave of stellar rides over a contemporary punk soundtrack), both are uniquely cinematic expressions of the surfing lifestyle. A Broke Down Melody feels a little like a dream; stylistically impressionistic with amazing surfing from some of the best surfers in the world. A great down-tempo soundtrack complements this globe trekking gem. Zen & Zero, while lacking the same quality surfing as Melody (it follows a bunch of amateur Austrian surfers from LA to Costa Rica), more than makes up for it in its style, philosophy, writing and original score. Both are modern surf classics.

9). Death Proof – Even though it’s Tarantino, this one really surprised me. Typically the horror/exploitation genre isn’t my cup of tea, but I gotta say, this one was a rockin’ good time. There’s love (and a bit of blood) all over this latest homage by Q and it shows. Welcome back Kurt.

10). Knocked Up/Superbad — What can I say, Judd Apatow has the Midas touch. These two films are hilariously funny. There’s no question this brand of humor isn’t for everybody, but if you let yourself go the pay off is tremendous. What makes these films truly enjoyable are their hearts… their big, vulgar sincere hearts.

Honorable mentions to add to your queue (no particular order): The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, Gates of Heaven, Don’t Look Back, Old Joy, Once in a Lifetime, O Lucky Man, The Fountain, Battlestar Galactica: Season 2.5, Talk to Me, Sierra Leone’s Refugee All-Stars, A Mighty Heart, Sherman’s March, After the Wedding, Mutual Appreciation, 49 Up, Scanner Darkly, Half Nelson, Weeds: Season 2, Marie Antoinette, La Vie en Rose.

My grandmother, Gee Gee, died yesterday from complications related to her Alzheimer’s disease, but instead of being sad (though there’s definitely some of that), I find myself overwhelmingly filled with love and a sense of understanding that makes me smile.

She was ready to go, there’s no doubt about it, but these feelings aren’t coming from a place of relief — for her or for those of us who imagined how she must’ve been suffering — no, they’re coming from the fact that in her death she is shining a huge, contrasting light on all the life that’s here before us.

At the most basic level this “life” is the family that exists because of her — my mother, my sisters, my aunt, my uncle, my cousins and nieces and nephews — all beautiful beyond words and all quite the legacy. However, the “life” I’m specifically referring to is this whole thing — the moment we’re living in now and sharing with everything — the “life” that, through the gift of her death, shines brightly waiting only to be celebrated and lived with love. Grateful for this, my smile continues to get bigger, and if I was my 91 year old grandmother, that’s the only way I’d want it to be.

If you want something, know who to ask..

It’s funny, but when I think of my grandmother, it’s difficult for me to think of her outside the shadow of my grandfather. They always seemed like the unlikeliest of pairs — like Laurel and Hardy or the Odd Couple. I guess that’s what made her so interesting to me, how she navigated their relationship with such patience and humor, and how at the oddest times she’d step out from under my grandfather’s large personality and steal the show.

As kids — and even as adults — if there was something we wanted from my grandparents, we knew exactly who to go to. My grandfather tended to be a stickler about things, but my grandmother — for whatever reason, maybe because she liked being contrary to my grandfather — would give us whatever we asked for. This worked out especially well, when, at an early age, I fell in love with my grandfather’s hawaiiana/tiki oddities. Whether it was in a box or tucked away in some corner, it made little difference, invariably if you asked my grandfather for it, he would say no. But, if you asked loud enough or if my grandmother was in the same room, then, well, you could be pretty sure you’d be going home with your object of desire. “He won’t even know it’s gone”, she’d say, as she handed it to you on your way out the door.

Sausage talk

To say my grandmother had some strong opinions about things, would be an understatement. Where they came from, God only knows, but more often than not, these opinions (in my opinion), would be downright ridiculous. Sometimes I would just laugh and roll my eyes, while other times my liberal Berkeley leanings would compel me to respond. I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, but if I could get her to that place where she’d had enough, then what’d come next would make it all worthwhile. Push her to that point where in her mind the conversation was over and you’d invariably hear, “Oh please, you’re talking like a sausage”.

Now, I’m not a linguist, but I have a fairly good understanding of the dynamics of language, and how you combine words is pretty important. For example, the following combination of words (expressions, if you will) — I love you; the tea is good; the hippo is fat; shut your mouth — regardless of how often you’ve heard them, or even if you haven’t, will always make sense. My grandmother, who was not a dadaist, somehow managed to come up with an expression, that while making absolutely no sense at all (unless, of course, you’re a dadaist, and even then, I’m not so sure), paradoxically — almost poetically — makes all the sense in the world.

Is that Griffith Park I taste?

It’s hard to say, but I think it’s an established fact that my grandmother was an excellent cook. Somewhat of a foodie myself (yeah, I said it) and knowing several chefs, I’ve learned it’s extremely beneficial to have an open mind where ingredients are concerned, as great things can often come from unexpected sources. My grandmother understood this and could be counted on to turn out some pretty interesting dishes.

When my sister M and I were very young, our grandfather taught us how to catch crawdads with just bacon tied to a string. For whatever reason, this method of fishing sparked our imaginations, and whenever we got near a lake or a stream (size and location weren’t an issue), we’d scour it for crawdads. Fortunately for us, my grandparents lived near Griffith Park in Los Angeles, and through Griffith Park ran a little stream and in that little stream were — you guessed it — crawdads (I’m not exactly sure why).

Catching these little creatures was a lot of fun, but what we really looked forward to was how my grandmother cooked them. What her recipe was precisely, I don’t really know, but I’m sure it began and ended with butter. Now, there are a lot of great chefs in the world and you can bow down before as many Rachael Ray’s, Emeril Lagasse’s or Wolfgang Puck’s on the Food Network as you like, but I’d like to see them make a tasty crustacean dish with the city-licious flavor of Griffith Park.

Behind door number one…

The truth is, we’re all so much more than our bodies. This thing that we flop around in is temporary; it’s going to get old, it’s going to get wrinkles, its breasts are going to sag, its neural pathways are going to become damaged and stop firing, it’ll suffer from erectile dysfunction; it’s going to get ugly, it’s going to poop on itself and, yeah, in the end, it’s going to die. But who we are — who we truly are — is beyond all that.

So, yeah, my grandmother’s body shut down and died, but to think she isn’t here anymore would be a lack of understanding. Just like I never doubted she was still in her home after we’d visit and say our goodbyes, I have no doubt she is with us now. Of course, my grandmother would probably say I’m talking like a sausage, but, hey, if the shoe fits…

I love you Gee Gee. Thanks for switching the light on.