Well, it's the end of an era. Steve Jobs has resigned as CEO of Apple. I don't want to get into the history of apple on this blog.....there's really no need, you can easily google everything you want to know. We all know that Steve Jobs created Apple in the 1970's (the first home-made, wooden apple was priced at $666) and that he turned around the company in the late '90's when he took over as CEO. And I don't need to tell you what an impact his "i" products have made on the modern media culture. Luckily, he'll still be on board as the chairman, and I'm sure his influence will continue for years to come. It remains to be seen how the direction of the company will carry on.
Me and my latest purchase, the Air
I was first introduced to apple when I was a kid in the '80's. We lived in the bay area, in Los Gatos, and I remember my dad taking me to the apple store. Being a fan of Tron and War Games, I was in awe of the technology. The future was there right before my eyes. I was so excited when we took our first Apple IIe home. It instantly became a center piece of the household. There were no fancy graphics, no internet or email, just a green screen with contrasting white type face. That was our only computer for years.
The Apple IIe
I didn't think about apple again until I was buying my first computer in the late '90's. I was working at an architecture firm at the time and, although my office used PC's, my IT guy recommended I buy a Mac. I bought the last of the beige G3's. I immediately created my own website; a homepage for my band at the time. I got really into photoshop and html. I still don't have an iPhone, but I love my iMac and iPod nano. I'm definitely an apple user, through and through.
So good luck to you Steve, good luck apple. Safe journeys.
Love isn't something you feel for any one boy or girl. True love is felt for everyone.
Last weekend my friends and I saw at least 20 UFO's flying over Brooklyn. It was Saturday night and we were enjoying a BBQ on my friends rooftop when we spotted them coming from the south, flying steadily northwards. We couldn't for the life of us figure out what they were. They were flying too low to be meteors and they definitely weren't airplanes. It was clear that they were on fire, moving in an orderly direction, and totally freaking us out.
The next morning we learned that nobody else we knew had seen them and that the burning objects didn't make the local news. Perplexed, we studied the footage shot to see if we could figure the mystery out on our own. After blowing up some of the camera stills we think we've finally got it. See the video to find out what they were.
When I was a kid I was so obsessed with watching dominoes fall. Now I laugh at what a strange cult fascination this was for me and many others! Taking much painstaking time to set up each domino, careful to not let them fall during set up, only to tip the first one with a gentle touch and watch them knock each other down. One by one. They make that cool sounding "clickity-clickity" noise as they fall. It became such a popular past-time that network TV shows, like Ripley's Believe It Or Not, would actually air these falling dominoes as national entertainment! The insiders call them domino chains, domino rallies or domino runs. Bizarre.
I love this picture of my parents from the '60's. My dad with his buddy holly glasses and skinny tie, my mom with the houndstooth vest she made herself. This photo was taken shortly after they started dating. Looks like a beautiful day. They're still this in love.
As I ride the train through northern Jersey
I imagine myself within each crack and crevice of its used landscape
Abandoned parking lots, split with wild veins of grass
wrapped in chain link fence like industrial ribbons
Kearny, 99 cent stores, phone cards, baptist worship center; faded signs burnt from the sun
I picture myself seated at the weathered, makeshift bench parked on an asphalt lawn
Playing solitaire while drinking coffee, songs ringing loudly in my head
I am alone, but somehow see it all captured on film; images for future generations
The heat is bold as I sit and watch it roll on by
I am trying to think of a way to properly write about my travels to India, from which I only just returned. The place is mad chaos. And I loved it.
I was sent to Mumbai by my company for 8 days. It was an intense trip. As I stepped out of the airport I was immediately hit by a wave of thick humidity and heat out of which I could barely breathe. Stray dogs scurried around, people dodged the careening taxis, it was dark, lit by dim, yellow halogens. I commented on my driver's cap, "I'm completely charmed....drivers don't wear caps anymore in the US." He laughed.
I've never seen a city so crowded, so dense, so utterly lived in. There is never a calm moment during the night or day. Millions of people out and about, doing something, even if it looks inane. I once saw a man hammering a sheet of metal with a large sledge hammer on the street. He was a small, scrawny individual; could barely lift the over-sized tool. And yet he would swing it over his head and come crashing down on the aluminum, over and over again. Occasionally he would turn it over, to expose a fresh space in the alloy to bang away at. Everything here can be done on the streets.
Goats everywhere. People own them, but sometimes it's hard to tell since the animals wander around the streets, loosely tethered, eating lettuce. Seems a good, lazy life. They are a future meal.Driving around town is maddening. There is a hierarchy in place, similar to the caste system I suppose. Buses and trucks are on top of the chain, followed by cars, ceded by tuk-tuk's, trailed by motorcycles and ending with bicycles. Each vehicle cuts off the other, missing a head-on collision by mere inches. Horns blare constantly. There are different types of honks, that I think I could've translated had I stayed a few weeks more. But the beeping is pervasive, as if a part of the air.
The streets are filled with drama. I saw a man fly off his motorcycle, skid half a block down the street, get back up and re-mount, speeding away. A crazy-eyed old man threw a rock at our car and it slammed violently against the passenger door, thoroughly freaking us out. Beggar children would come and knock on the windows at traffic lights, "please sir, please sir, please sir." I could see entire families sleeping on the street, torn sheets barely covering their naked feet. Men get a shave on the sidewalk. One night I hopped into a tuk-tuk, asking the driver to take me to a restaurant that was only a few blocks away. Instead he drove up and down the crowded street in circles, laughing like a maniac. I jumped out of the moving vehicle for the relative safety of the sidewalk.
For the most part the people of India are very friendly. We would wave and smile at each other as I meandered down the crowded allies. They would ask me to take their picture, help me with directions, recommend their favorite place to grab a meal, and sometimes just approach me to shake my hand. Although the medieval looking streets and the sheer numbers of people felt intimidating at first, over time I felt quite comfortable and safe.
After a full week of adjusting to Mumbai's buzzing atmosphere, I was finally feeling more at home. I could discern true poverty from just the typical living standards. I could sense a motorcycle speeding my way before I could see it with my eyes, darting out of the way as if through premonition. I could see order in the chaos. That pile of trash isn't there randomly. The neighborhood has chosen that corner as their refuse deposit, for lack of garbage cans.
Sometimes I wished I could become invisible, so I could walk along these dense alley-ways unnoticed. See life without my presence known. On my last night I came about as close to my wish as possible. I walked along the beach at night with no moon in the sky. The people of India love walking the beaches after sunset, when the air is cooler, and the waters of the Arabian Sea froth about their feet. I was among my Indian brethren that night, in near blackness, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. They could not quite make out if I was a foreigner or not. I was a mere silhouette and felt more alive than ever. I walked down that beach happily; whistling a tune and feeling totally satisfied.
