Banned Beer Commercials

h/t: leenellmills

Single Awareness Sunday

Unattached Ernesto calls Valentine's Day the above. He's headed to a bar tonight night filled with singles, gathered there by gregarious, romantic bartender C.J., for the express purpose of switching over to couple status. Best wishes to all. And Happy Valentine's Day!

TNT Reunion of Sorts and Chi Walking

Before meeting Ernesto for breakfast over at the Rose Bowl clubhouse, I decided to get in my 2-mile walk. (He was running 10 in preparation for the L.A. Marathon.) A host of Team in Training coaches and mentors and honcho Lindsey were hanging around Lot K, busy awaiting the return of the team from their 3-mile assessment run. Very nostalgic.

My knee hurt a bit at first, then settled down quietly. This is now the first week I've completed 3 walks since I've been cleared to walk for exercise - unofficially - back in October. Because of the excitement of running into old friends, I probably started too fast but settled down and did my pace.

I need to be around people walking Chi style, preferably experienced ones who can correct me and guide my progress. Alas, the only group I know of is way down in Long Beach - a heck of a drive even on a Saturday morning. But strange things happen, often good things and, perhaps, a cadre will form around the Rose Bowl in time. Until then, it's watch the chi running DVD and practice every time I get up and walk to the refrigerator, which should give me plenty of practice.

Cavalcade of Therapy

My excellent Motion Picture Industry health benefits run out in March. Thus I'm on a health binge to use up certain services. I had physical therapy this morning for my shoulder, then rushed over to the chiro's for a tune-up. I've had the same chiro for 15 years. Eric's a good guy, former marathon runner like me, but getting tired of cracking backs. Possessing an undergrad degree in chemistry, he's been putting it to use studying nights to be a crime scene technician. It sounds like a Discovery Channel show: Forensic Chiropractor. In any case, we swapped tales of mayhem. I told Eric about my recent exposure to bridge jumpers, mentioning a SF Chronicle story on how physically unpleasant it is to jump 250 feet into the sea. He countered with a description of a body found recently on the 5 Freeway, so flattened by truck traffic cops couldn't identify it. After our pleasant exchange, we agreed to meet again next week. I left, my back refreshed, glad to be alive and unmangled.

Walking and Writing Fiction

And I'll have walked 3x this week, slightly over 2 miles per outing. So far, no soreness. I'm slowly losing weight and hope to intro a little running into my walks next month.

Another story politely rejected. The editor made a few reserved comments, one of which I thought had merit. So I tweaked the story slightly, cut a few sentences, and sent it out again. Eventually, I'll wear these editors down like water on stone. Of course, that can take thousands of years, but I'm hoping for less.

Thoughts on The Bridge

A filmmaker spent 2004 with cameras trained on the Golden Gate Bridge, recording a goodly number of the 24 people who leaped to their deaths that year.

Falling from the bridge takes around 4 seconds.

The Bridge wove those grim scenes into a documentary film, surrounding them with witness interviews and talks with the jumpers' family and friends. Mental illness, a diet of drugs, or overwhelmed by life seemed the most common reasons for taking the literal plunge.

The body reaches a velocity of 75 mph before hitting the water.

Most suicides weren't a surprise to those nearest the deceased, but shock and grief were a parting gift that kept on giving.

One person survived the jump. Others have lived through similar or worse falls, but the odds favor a terminal outcome.

A most disturbing film.

Like Fine Wine

No one has the numbers on old animation writers, but sci-fi scribes seem to improve with years. i09 does the math.

Lord of the Surf

Emil spins an epic race report from Surf City.

Super Bowl

is over. Physical therapy for my shoulder continues tomorrow with more pulling and prodding and kneading. Can't seem to get untracked and write anything as I chew on sunflower seeds ala Fox Mulder and wait for a spacecraft to come collect me. If one does, I'll be upset and want to go back to my favorite chair. And the whole probing thing...without even dinner and a show!

A Link to Morose Author Facts

My friend (and fellow writer) Bernadette sent me this dour essay on writing that tells me little that I didn't already know, but tells it well.

Stormy Weather

Or the aftermath. A view yesterday evening from our church parking lot as mud slides have already done their damage and the storm departs to the east.