And I walk right through the door

When the manager came around, I told him, “I came into your gym yesterday. When I was working out, someone popped the lock off my locker and took about two hundred dollars out of my wallet.”

The manager was round, with a tuft of brown hair. “Can I see the lock, sir?”

I got the lock out of my car and showed it to him. “There, you see? There’s a bunch of dents and scratches on the top that wasn’t there before. And the lock was closed yesterday when I got back to it. I’m guessing somebody pried or forced it, took my money out.”

“Something like this happened about a month ago,” said the manager. “The lock was bent in the same way. Are you going to use this lock again?”

“Hell no,” I said. “It’s yours.”

“You get a lot of stuff stolen?” asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes I do.”

I wish I could unzip my skin and take it off just to take a walk

I’m apparently speaking at the Alameda Literati Festival on November 3 (that’s this Saturday). I’m part of a panel at 10 a.m. and I’ll be doing a fun little presentation at 1:00 p.m. on the topic of “How To Write Your Script.” There’s no cost or anything. If you’ve got a story inside you that needs to come out, come around and I’ll tell you how to do it.

You’re the only one I wanna touch

Got new headshots, and I need to choose a handful of the best. If you have a few minutes, please take a look at them and let me know which ones are best. Thanks and I appreciate your help!

I’m driving in my car, I turn on the radio

The air’s a little worse out there today. It’s nine a.m. and normally we have bright blue skies by now — the sky is this sickly yellow. We left a window open in the bathroom last night, and now the bathroom smells like smoke. A handful of people left work yesterday when the spreading fire started to threaten their apartments and houses. Biggest concern for us in Costa Mesa is air quality — the Santa Ana winds blow east to west, and the Santiago Fire is vast and smoky. Here’s the map. For general reference, we’re approximately at the intersection of the 405 and 55.

Thanks to everyone for the concern and support — the wife and I are perfectly fine, and are similarly concerned about others.

To my surprise, yes, one hundred stories high

SoCal has little brush fires all the time, but this smattering represents the real deal. The wildfires down here are quite something. There’s a nasty orange veil of smoke on the horizon. About ten miles east of here is what they call the Santiago Fire, presumably started by humans. The fabled Santa Ana winds howl off the desert and whip the wind east to west, out over the ocean. There’s a sickly yellow veil of thin acrid smoke everywhere around Irvine and Costa Mesa. It gets worse the farther east you go. Schools are closing, or at least keeping the kids indoors. I went up to Los Angeles today to get headshots done, and the sunset was sinister.

I mean, ’cause hey, I’d like you anyway

The national press missed this last week. Jerry Sanders is the Republican mayor of San Diego:

Hello hello hello, is there anybody in there?

Perfect pitch is the ability some musicians have to perceive musical notes independent of any tonal reference.

Perfect pitch is used primarily to make other musicians without perfect pitch feel inferior. Typically, this is accomplished as follows. The musician with perfect pitch points at the musician without perfect pitch, and says something like, “You lack perfect pitch! Ha ha ha!” At this point, the musician without perfect pitch runs away crying.

However, I am here to tell you that the notion of perfect pitch is bunk. All humans have perfect pitch. You have perfect pitch already. Would you like me to prove it to you?

First, choose your favorite song by your favorite singer or band. Yes, you love lots of songs. Think of one that you would love to turn up if it came on the radio, because you’ve heard it like a hundred times and you still think the song is cool. Go ahead and choose the song. I’ll wait. While I’m waiting, I’m going to choose “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd. Note! You don’t have to choose “Comfortably Numb.” Any song will do, whether it’s by Pink Floyd or not.

Okay, now you have your song. What you’re going to do is play the opening section of it right in your mind. You’ll just close your eyes and think the song right now, like it’s playing on the radio. Dum dum dum dee dee dee… and you’re going to hear the singer start to sing the song. In my case, Roger Waters is going to go, “Hello hello hello…”

Now did you just hear the singer sing that note in your head? That note is, for you, an absolute pitch. You could, if you wanted to, hum that note very quietly. And you could do it today or a month from today, and you will always hum that note.

You could even walk over to a piano or a guitar, sing the note again, and futz around on the keys until you found the exact same note that Roger Waters was singing (F-sharp below middle C). From now on, if you want to know what an F-sharp sounds like, just play the opening sequence from “Comfortably Numb” in your head¹, and wait for Roger to sing an F-sharp for you.

If you did this for twelve songs all in different keys, you’d know all the notes of the scale. Poof! Perfect pitch for you!

—-

¹The original 1979 version, not the cheesy harmony version with post-Waters Floyd they did in the mid-80’s. That was a B-minor chord.

Which pets get to sleep on velvet mats?

[Laughing] I have a joke. It?s a good one. This joke is called “The Aristocrats,” okay? So the setup is, there?s this guy, and he runs a talent agency. He?s an agent. And a man comes into the agent?s office, says Have I Got An Act For You. And the agent says, We Don?t Take Family Acts. And so the guy says… no wait, the guy?s got his family with him. Yeah, the guy walks in to the talent agent?s office, he has a wife and a son… So the guy goes in, with his whole family, says to the talent agent, Have I Got an Act For You. Talent agent says, We Don’t Take Family Acts. And so the guy goes, You’ve Never Seen Anything Like This. And so the daughter… Wait a second, this is important. There’s a daughter there. So the guy has brought his wife, his son and his daughter. And he goes to the talent agent, Have I Got An Act For You, blah blah blah. And so the daughter takes out this big thing, it’s like about this long and like this. It’s some sort of sexual device. And the whole family is, like, “whoa!” … Let me see if I can remember how this goes. So the son takes the thing… I’m sorry, I’ve totally screwed this up. Wait, wait! There’s a pony. They’ve got a Shetland pony with a velvet collar covered with sleigh bells and blue ribbons. And the pony is pulling this sleigh, and the sleigh is full of toys and gifts and things… I always wanted a pony. It would be nice to pet one. They have those soft manes. [Make pony noises] The joke! So okay, we have a pony. And so the daughter, she has this sexual device, it?s like this big, and everybody’s like, “ohhhh!” And then… So maybe, the pony isn’t actually important to the story. I can’t remember. The pony comes in, and then… [Long pause] Knock knock. [Who?s there?] The Aristocrats! [The Aristocrats who?] Um… [Long pause, then cry quietly]

Your menstruating heart, it ain’t bleeding enough for two

You haven’t missed much. I tend to sleep poorly. Most days I wake up around five-thirty, doze for a few hours. Weekdays start at eight or so. I drag my sleepless butt out of bed, watch the coffee maker drip, and saunter into the office. I spend my days hunched over a computer, spinning out miles and miles of code. I’m writing audio rendering code, the auditory heart and soul of a new video game. If I do a good job, the game will be played by over a million people. If the game sounds bad, well, that’s my fault.

Producing, listening, testing. It must be perfect. I must be perfect. It’s music and art multiplied by all my programming and techie abilities. I argue with other engineers. I get frightened: am I too old? Too arrogant? Too sleepless? Am I wrong? Can I build what I can imagine?

Not enough time, never enough time.

I stop work usually around seven-thirty, my head still spinning from code and digital-signal algorithms. The global-positioning system in my Prius guides me home. I’ve driven this route for months, but occasionally I still get lost.

My head, you know.

Usually, the wife has made pasta and salmon, or maybe chicken. We watch the big-screen TV (nature documentaries from the BBC) and maybe talk for a little while. Usually, I don’t talk to her about work.

Lather, rinse, repeat. It?s been six weeks that I haven?t auditioned for anything, and only written one script. And here I am, in the shadow of L.A.

I think I’ve fallen into a pattern that I know too well.