Last Night I Bought Two Bibles

The names of these bibles are Master Audio: The Art and the Science and The Mixing Engineer's Handbook!!! I don't really know that these books could qualify as "bibles" per se, because I haven't read them yet, but they both have lots of great reviews, and I'm just incredibly excited.

"Frixan, baby, why you so excited?", I hear you asking. Because, my mixes can finally stop sucking! Up until now, I've known very little about the mixing and mastering processes, I have to admit. I know what all the damn plugins do in an abstract sense, and I know some of the basic mechanics of audio, but I don't know how to make things sound "bigger" or how to make my robot-voice bass track sound crisp when it's playing at the same time as two crunchy electric guitars. In a few weeks, hopefully I'll be on my way to mastering these techniques. Pun intended.

p.s. Autechre's coming to town! The new album is: dope.

Kickball

Today I played kickball for the first time in years. And, I've never played kickball like this. First of all, we played in Golden Gate Park, which is gorgeous... one of my favorite places in this city for sure. Second, there were about 15 people on each team, as well as about 20 people just there watching. Third, there was a small dog that kept interfering with our game, chasing the pitches as they were sent to the kickers, almost getting kicked quite a few times. Fourth, we were all drinking. Fifth, the drinking was an integral part of the game: you had to have a beer in your hand at all times. Granted, if you finished your beer, or didn't want to drink, that's fine, but you still had to have a can in your hand. This rule led to some fun times. You haven't played kickball until you've seen someone trying to catch a pop fly, only to have it bounce off of his arms/chest, simultaneously causing his beer to explode all over him. Or, seen a girl get pegged by a guy twice her size, getting hit hard enough that she falls down, and her beer explodes all over her, followed by the ref shouting "Oooooo, you are fuckin' OUT!" I got a few grass burns and green stains on my knees. Dropped a couple pop fly's myself. Scored once. Got to second once. Got out once. Some kid and his dad were riding by on their bikes, and stopped to sit in the distance and watch most of the game. Afterwards, I was helping a guy carrying a couple boxes full of beer cans to the trash cans, which we had trouble finding. Luckily, we saw a park ranger, and the guy I was with asked the ranger where the trash was. The ranger didn't look happy, but he didn't bother us either.

The next game is in two weeks.

In Caffe Roma

So far today, I've taken a good walk through Chinatown and North Beach.

The main thing that struck me on my walk through China town is that I was taller than the majority of people around me.

Beyond that, I noted this one square (forgive me for not finding out the name of it; I'm sure it's well-known) that was full of Asian men, most of them old, playing board games. I took a look at one of the games, and I think it was Chinese chess. I tried to play that a couple times a few years back, but I didn't really have the patience. From the sidewalk, I could see at least 8 games going on. Each game had its two players, and about ten spectators, all of whom were talking amongst each other while watching the game unfold. It led me to wish for some sort of Sunday-afternoon community activity of my own. Maybe I could get a bunch of people together with laptops and drum machines in Dolores Park on a weekly basis. More on that as it develops.

Most of the signs you see in Chinatown are not in English. I think they're in Chinese, but I don't know Chinese so I couldn't tell you. There's all sorts of cool cheap stuff and vegetables I've never seen around there.

Now, I'm in Caffe Roma, in North Beach. The cafe is a very clean place, with well-dressed attractive people in it. In the line at the counter, two men were speaking a mix of english and italian to each other. I came to this neighborhood hoping maybe I'd run into an older, slightly-insane beat poet. Instead I find myself looking at all the beautiful women, many of which are Italian. I'll compensate for my missed expectations by picking up a copy of "Howl" at City Lights, or something.

I passed by these two guys on the sidewalk who were sitting outside of a cafe, smoking cigars, and drinking espressos. They both had their hair well-groomed and slicked, and they wore suits. The word "mafia" was the first to come to mind.

Yesterday I bought my first pair of Nike Airs. They're white with a little gray. I absolutely love them.

After I finish learning Spanish, I think I'll pick up Italian. Then Chinese.