the compartments of a diabolical mind:
stupid things i have done
strung out: my life as an
brush with greatness
spawn of '64
dolce vita, la dolce vota
i am naze
sf part 1 - no rice-a-roni
my old intro: an introduction
beware! the following link
reveals that christopher has sold his soul to e-commerce.
preserve your faith in him and turn back.
others may find tiny little stories
attached to each item. these stories must be viewed for what
they are: simply ploys to get stuff from nice readers. you will
be tempted to respond with generosity but you must resist.
in no way should this link be
considered a wish
list. i mean, can a company like amazon really fulfill
january 29, 2001
live from the house of pain
The good thing about having a scratched cornea is that the pain begins to subside after the first 18 hours. I woke up this morning with a t-shirt tied around my head looking like an extra from Les Miserables. It was a complete circus as Cathy juggled patient appointments on her cell, loaded me and the kids into the car as she drove me to Urgent Care.
I am happy to report that my injury did not impair my not-so-super super powers. With my eyes covered by the t-shirt, I calculated both the speed at which my wife was hurtling through the city streets and then later the exact time. If my life is a movie, those skills will save somebody's life someday. But until then they are simply amusing and/or annoying, depending on who you are. (The opthamologist nurse reports 20/15 vision in the unpoked eye. Whee!)
Adding insult to injury (literally), later that afternoon when Cathy brought Elizabeth home my little girl took one look at my scary eye and recoiled.
january 28, 2001
Back in August, when I told you about my lame application to Survivor 2, I estimated that 20,000 people would apply compared to 6,000 for the original show. I was a little off. About 30,000 off. I believe that my assumption that 1 out of a thousand viewers would apply was accurate, but I must have been loaded when I guessed viewership at 20 million. Fifty million is probably more like it, and that would have put me right on the mark.
I'm trying to figure out who got my spot. In terms of age and occupation, Jeff and I are close. Personality-wise, Mitchell resembles me a bit. Bastards.
It's been an hour and a half since Elizabeth accidentally gouged my eye with her finger, but the lachrymal has not stopped flowing since. The inconvenient thing (besides the pain) is that your nose knows not the difference between emotion tears and eye-trying-to-repair-itself tears, so it has to join in on the flow. God, I hope the cornea's not scratched. I've had my fill of doctor's offices...
january 25, 2001
Jack brought home a wonderful book from school yesterday. Momotaro is a Japanese folktale about an elderly childless couple that retrieve a giant peach from the river. The peach splits open to reveal a baby boy, Momotaro -- literally Peach Boy. He grows up to be a great hero who saves the village.
I love that sense of the fantastic merged with the traditional. George Suyeoka's Momotaro with it's classic illustrations is unfortunately out of print. But this Momotaro site tells the story featuring simple, sincere drawings plus if you click on the peach it will read the story to you.
january 23, 2001
happy 150th birthday to the rose city
It is not a city of gloss. It is not a city that struts. It is not manic. And it is not a city that wants to be like another. Portland is a city that loves books, movies, old houses, parks, and making art. It is a city of balance and pragmatism. It invites you to become a part of it.
Kick the Autumn leaves walking under the great oaks of the Laurelhurst neighborhood, cruise across the Burnside Bridge at night under the neon rain with your stash of take-out Chinese food, stand on the Moon Bridge in the Japanese Gardens in Spring and breath in the scent of cherry blossoms, or walk straight into the Salmon Street Springs on a rare Summer heat wave. Do these things and you will know what this city means.
The Oregonian features a decent Portland birthday article including some thoughts on the character of the city and the famous city naming coin flip. [In general, our newsweekly, Willamette Week has a much keener insight into what makes Portland tick than the big daily.]
january 22, 2001
Regal Cinemas has come to dominate the movie theater market in Portland. Before every single film, they run an abomination of a Pepsi commercial featuring Hallie Eisenberg in an Old West saloon lip-synching the theater rules to the voice of Jack Palance. It is foul.
Yesterday, when the commercial came up the packed audience booed, hissed and heckled. It sort of restores your faith in humanity. Ironically, the commercial asks the audience to let them know if there is anything they can do to make their visit more enjoyable. That made for a very satisfying e-mail.
january 21, 2001
crouching tiger, hidden dragon
Oh. My. God. We are lucky to be living in a time when Chinese film has begun to blossom. I am certain that you have heard the raves about this movie, so rather than shower you with adjectives, I'll tell you why I think it is having such an extraordinary impact.
Witnessing combat engages us at a very basic and fundamental level. But in a modern world in which most of us will never be called upon to defend ourselves or our families, stories of battle may take on an even greater significance. Oddly, all great conflicts serve to tighten the bonds between the protagonist and the foe. It is an intimacy of sorts. As the relationship deepens, discoveries are made of the other and often the two develop a respect and appreciation.
Crouching Tiger is unique in that it weaves the intimacy of combat between and amongst true equals (of opposite sexes) with the potent elixir of romance. Battle is a dance. And this dance is unrivalled. It generates heat in varying degrees of anger, competition and passion. And in the few scenes where this passion leads to lovemaking, it is a hot fiery encounter, not weak and watered down as we have come to expect from so many bland Hollywood productions.
In this movie, the people are the special effects, which serves to underscore rather than distract from their characters. One other thing to note is that throughout much of these battles, no words are spoken. You are presented with the poetry of motion. It reminds you of the beauty that is the human body. The tensions here between honor and love, love and duty, duty and freedom are played out thoughtfully and intelligently. No easy answers are offered, only difficult choices, the prices of which are paid in a devastating climax.
january 18, 2001
end of the innocence
I never understood why everyone seems to hate Network Solutions. Until just now.
I intended to give my renewal business to my domain host, DreamHost, who I have been quite happy with. (You may be an even better judge of their performance.) The multi-step process DreamHost outlined to enable them to perform the renewal was just not worth the hassle.
On to Network Solutions. I followed the convenient link from their e-mail invoice. Error locating the page. Go to the front door. Hmm. Looks simple, but where is the renewal link? Nowhere to be found. Finally resort to search engine. Renewal. O.k. the top result looks fine. Aha. Fill out form. Submit. Domain name must have suffix. Double check my form. The damn suffix is .net and it's right there! Submit 3 more times. Same error. Refill out form. Submit. Same error. Refill again. Same error. AAAAGGGHHH!!!
So I called their phone service and entered the damn renewal by the 35 year old touchtone technology. The phone renewal seemed to work after only 3 minutes. Total time investment: 30 minutes for what should have been a 5 minute web deal. Thank you, Network Solutions!
january 17, 2001
Mighty Girl is mighty sassy plus she posted a poem on January 16 (sorry, no permalink) that got me in the Dad soft spot. David still reaches up for my hand every day when I walk him into his preschool...
Anagram for Christopher Naze: He no czar hipster. (Chris Naze: Ranch size)
january 15, 2001
I suppose I'm like most Americans. We treat holidays generically as days off or markings on the calendar, instead of contemplating their stated purpose. We allow our recollections of Martin Luther King to be suffused with collective guilt and shame, which really does no one any good. So instead we avert our mind's gaze.
However, this final passage from Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man suggests that maybe we're all stuck in the same boat:
"Ah", I can hear you say,..."He only wanted us to listen to him rave!" But only partially true: Being invisible and without substance, a disembodied voice, as it were, what else could I do? What else but try to tell you what was really happening when your eyes were looking through? And it is this which frightens me:
Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?
january 14, 2001
I hate it when people talk through the opening credits of a movie. I even hate it when people talk through the previews. People have all of their lives to talk. The theater is a special place where people pay their money to hear talking from actors and music from composers and explosions from pyrotechnics guys and sometimes to hear the spaces in between all those sounds. If the couple next to me are talking, I damn well can't hear the sounds I paid to hear. I used to go to a movie every week or so. Now, I'm lucking if I get to the theater once a month. You can see how the aggravation would intensify.
I just got back from seeing the new Mamet movie, State & Main. On IMDB I gave it a 6, which meant I liked it. I'm a pretty hard grader. I really wanted to see Crouching Tiger, but the schedule did not permit.
january 13, 2001
While I was working out today, I saw one of those Behind the Scenes deals on VH-1. It was actually an excellent story on the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Every time Flea (the bass player) comes up during the interview, I can't help but hear the radio promo he did for us when I ran KLC Radio my senior year of college. (I'll find it soon and post it.) This was when Freakey Styley was just released in 1985, eons before anyone had heard of them. The 85-86 school year was an amazing and difficult time for me. Every time I get the notion to write about it, the Codger Alarm goes off. I suppose I'll ignore the Alarm sometime soon...
january 11, 2001
Reflections on the Bloggification of days of naze
For those of you counting, Tuesday was the 30th day of my 30 day commitment to daily updates. In that time you've been treated to political commentary, a haiku, sleep deprivation reports, a critique of a French emperor, Christmas tradition, my kids say the darndest things, my annual foray back into music making, perhaps more than you wanted to know about Oregon football, and links to some seriously talented web people.
This is really working for me. The work/emotion/health/psychic/spirit load has been heavy as of late. No essay would have been forthcoming during this stretch. It's funny, but my time investment over the last 30 days has been about equal to what I spent on a typical essay. The ability to stretch it out equally over such a long period of time made it feel substantially lighter. Granted, it's not the same end product. But it's working for me on more than just a schedule level. The freedom to express or share something when it is still fresh in the mind is liberating.
Thank you for staying tuned to days of naze. It's satisfying to know that there is a nice little band of you out there who find this engaging enough to pop in regularly. May the road rise to meet you / May the wind be always at your back...
january 10, 2001
My drivers license is going to be suspended on January 19. Because as you know, I am a badazz criminal.
Evidently the state of Oregon has become much more intense about filing reports with the DMV whenever you have a fender bender. No report, no license. Filing that report has now been elevated on the 'to do' list.
january 9, 2001
I'm still groggy from a punishing overnight with Elizabeth. I don't believe I slept more than 30 consecutive minutes. I'm gonna crash if I don't get a car nap at lunch...
january 8, 2001
Jazz is getting mixed reviews. I'm bummed. Most of you are already aware that Ken Burn's Baseball is one of my 7 favorite films. The consensus on Jazz seems to be that: a) it's too long, b) it tells instead of shows, and c) not enough musicians from the eras discussed are interviewed. I'll still be watching tonight.
january 7, 2001
From the Too Much Information Department
Percentage of Elizabeth's food that is bacon or bacon-derived: 0.
Percentage of Elizabeth's pee diapers that smell like bacon: 90.
january 6, 2001
Devious links to addictive games. "Ontology recapitulates philology." Emmylou Harris & Beck MP3's. The 5k Contest.
Stewart Butterfield of sylloge.com is my kind of guy.
january 5, 2001
Over a 7 hour period, first Blogger's performance woes, then my DSL provider, Qwest, combined to undermine my commitment to post once per day for 30 days in my 25th day. I was really pissed off yesterday. Today I am more sanguine.
Blogger provides a cool service for free and shows creativity in solving problems. On the DSL side, I'm not so sure I shouldn't have chosen cable instead. I live very close to a Qwest central office but have had 2 separate significant incidents. The upside is that Qwest support is actually quite good. I had only a 2 minute wait and Nick was helpful and friendly. We did a lot of the standard stuff which took nearly an hour. It still wouldn't connect. He opened a ticket to have a guy come check the line. Thirty minutes later I tried again and got in. I was pleased to have access again but frustrated that I have spent so much time just to get a damn connection and that there doesn't seem to be a clear time correlation between corrective action and functional DSL.
january 3, 2001
"Imagine if President Clinton had done something similar -- choosing, say, Barney Frank to head Justice and Ralph Nader to run Interior." Bad faith nominations should be whacked. Hard.
january 2, 2001
You're dead. No time to try to fix things. No chance to do stuff you left undone. All you have are your last words and that's it.
The premise of The Dead Letter Office has been haunting my spare thoughts since Lance launched it a few days ago.
january 1, 2001
Unless you've lived here, you probably have no idea how unbelievable the Oregon State football turnaround is. OSU completely embarrassed Notre Dame tonight at the Fiesta Bowl. "Brash and belligerent" is about right. The Beavers are the real deal. In fact, they knocked us out of the Rose Bowl. But c'mon, how did the Irish ever get a #10 ranking coming into this game. When you live in the West, you simply have to deal with an East-centric bias in sports and the news media.
All 3 of the Pac-10 co-champions, Oregon, Washington, and Oregon State, won top bowls this year. And both Oregon and Oregon State are returning most of their key players on offense. Pacific Northwest ascendant, baby! [Those of you who hate football can rest assured that football talk will fall precipitously over the next week.]
May you never be more active than when you are
forget what you said, but they will never forget how you
made them feel.
-Carl W. Buehner