Keep Chasen.

Photography Series: Up Above

2011-11-28T22:08:00.000-08:00

Our surroundings so rarely change. The buildings, the cars, the people – they all remain largely the same as they were yesterday, the week or month prior. I think that's why when I've been shooting photographs lately so little of the frame actually focuses on buildings, highways, people, mountains or any other type of stationary object. When I'm shooting wide-angle, most of my photos are focused on what's above us. It's not necessarily something I do deliberately, but when I'm looking through the viewfinder, and tilt my camera ever so slightly upward, I end up liking what I see more than whatever may have been the intended subject. It's something about the colors, the changing cloud patterns, or even cloudless skies, and the idea that there's so much out there above and beyond our daily existence. There's a daily interaction between the land and the sky, turning similar images into entirely different ones depending on the lighting, the clouds, or with the presence of an awe-inspiring sunset.

It all makes me want to take flight, or at least snap another photo.

Los Angeles, from The Getty. November 2011.

The Jesus, from Taco Surf, Baja California. November 2011.

Oil Platforms off Newport Beach. July 2011.

East Village, Manhattan from Williamsburg. November 2011.

Dana Point Harbor. November 2010.

Huntington Beach Pier. January 2010.

Catalina and the Pacific, from Strands Vista. October 2011.

Sunset over Salt Creek Beach. March 2011.

Californication

2011-11-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

Hank Moody has the life I could fantasize about having, but know I would be miserable in if it were my reality. I think. (Forgive me for my pause and assessment. Yep, it's official: forgive me Father, for I have sinned...)

His constant boozing and womanizing with model-types and cougars is exciting. Forgive me as I try to dive far too deep into the psyche of a f*cking TV show. But let's be real: amidst the hangovers and the debauchery and the threesomes, there's certainly something depressing about Hank and his life and his career and his living of the American Frat Boy Dream. Ok, so I write that and find myself second-guessing my own analysis. Drinking top shelf at swanky bars and stacks of gorgeous women who present themselves in the most desirable of ways and positions and negligee – it's compelling stuff. Sure, he has that troubled soul and a family and a soft side that he so desperately wants to embrace, the happy life with his stunning wife and rebel daughter, but he can't find it in himself to change his teenage ways. Yeah, there's that conundrum. Yada, yada, yada.

It's a f*cked up and thrilling series all in one. It's a portrayal of Los Angeles as it could be, when it's not perpetually over-capacity and smoggy and pretentious. It's the LA 99 percent of us could never be a part of unless we're studio heads, best-selling pop-culture novelists or the real life version of the "Entourage" crew.

As a writer and lover of women, Californication captures my attention, imagination, and guilt. I couldn't and wouldn't live that life, but I can surely watch and wonder. The fifth season needs to begin. Yesterday.

Driving the CA-1 and the Memories That Come

2011-08-16T00:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's easy to forget that there's more to California than densely-populated cities, filled with jam-packed superhighways and a never-ending stream of billboards. Make your way north of Los Angeles County and suddenly there are miles and miles of rural and mountainous terrain that is not covered in concrete grey. The Pacific is a deeper, more natural shade of blue, the presence of nature isn't artificial. It's refreshing.

When my lady and I opted to drive to the Bay Area as opposed to flying, I decided we should retrace a familiar path from my childhood. My parents had quasi-hippie friends who lived beneath a bridge in Big Sur. No, not like hermits. Just a young family that had a house on stilts, surrounded by trees and nature and located nowhere near a strip mall. When we made trips to visit, my parents would load my brother, sister and me into the VW Vanagon before sunrise and we'd wake just in time for breakfast near "the big rock" in Morro Bay. I have vivid memories from many of those trips, including the time I caught my first garden snake, approached a baby seal on the beach, and the time we were grilling on the beach, only to witness a base jumper leap from Bixby Bridge, all those thousands of feet above us, and then we hid his parachute in our cooler and lied to police.

This road trip was, in a way, a trip down memory lane. We passed "the big rock," we drove the curvey CA-1, swerving along the deep bluish-green Pacific, and came around a bend to see Bixby Bridge in the distance. That family is no longer there and I hadn't been back to Big Sur in over a decade. It was a fun place to spend parts of my childhood. I can't help but laugh thinking of my dad wearing his short-shorts and lugging around that massive video camera on his shoulder, only to turn it on himself and offer commentary. Some things never change.

Here's some moments from our trip up CA-1. Enjoy.

It's All Over For Harry Potter and Crew — and Me

2011-07-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it: I'm a bit obsessed with the Harry Potter series. Not in a I'll-dress-as-my-favorite-character-for-a-midnight-screening kind of way, but I've counted down the days, with a sense of sorrow, to the release of the final movie in the series.

Other than the books, I don't own any Harry Potter memorabilia. I can't quote the books, nor do I know any oddball trivia about the characters. But I read every book. I watched every movie. And I nearly teared up a bit during the final installment.

Yes, I finally saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part II. I thought about seeing a midnight screening when it came out a few days ago, but I'm several years older than when I first began with the Harry Potter series, and staying up that late doesn't go over that well come the next morning. Besides, I wanted my senses to be sharp in order to soak in and appreciate everything that was happening in this final film of an incredibly epic series.

I can appreciate the Harry Potter series on a number of levels (I may get into that in a future post). What J.K. Rowling created on a host of napkins all those years ago is something to admire. Now, to have it all come to an end is, I'll admit, saddening. I remember when the seventh book arrived in the mail. I had pre-ordered it. I'd never pre-ordered anything in my life. I had re-read the previous six books in anticipation of diving into the final book of the series. As the pages stacked from right to left, I grew reluctant. I didn't want to finish. I knew there was nothing more. What's most surprising about these feelings is that I was adamantly opposed to even trying to read the first book for nearly 6 years. I didn't think a children's story included magic and wizards was anything I'd be remotely interested in.

How very wrong my assumptions proved to be.

I know there are people who may laugh at my fondness for the series. I'm 28, so I shouldn't be gushing about a piece of children's literature. But those who laugh probably haven't read the books. That's part of why I have such respect for Rowling and world she created: it speaks to and entertains a broad audience. There's a reason why she's sold millions of copies of each book and why it's the highest-grossing movie series ever. That's not by accident or genius marketing. It's by one person convincing another person and that person passing it on to someone else and so on. I, too, was once a doubter. Now I can't wait to have my children read and watch Harry Potter some day.

Oh, and I'm considering naming my first dog Potter. (Seriously.)

Women's World Cup: We Can't Not Watch

2011-07-17T10:09:00.001-07:00

At 11am, Pacific Standard Time, we'll gather around our plasma screens or our computers and cue ESPN. Some of us will chant "U-S-A". Some of us may be wearing jerseys, others may have been so festive as to paint our faces. Collectively, we'll be rooting for a team that two months ago, the majority of us hardly knew existed. The names were foreign then; they're celebrities now. All it took was one Hail Mary cross into history.

Hope Solo. Abby Wambach. Megan Rapinoe. Ali Krieger.

These are names that are inspiring a new generation of soccer players, male and female. They are taking the places of the Mia Hamms, Brandi Chastains, and Julie Foudys. These are the names that are making a country care about a tournament in Germany that they otherwise wouldn't even had known was ongoing. This is mostly a country of baseball lovers and NASCAR addicts. (Soccer hardly has a pulse beyond AYSO.) But we're a country that loves drama. A final second goal by Landon Donovan made us care about the men two years ago. This year, it took an improbable comeback against a chippy rival to stir interest. That happened against Brazil and the world's best player, Marta. Fortunately, the Hail Mary cross found its target. Wambach did the rest. And a country had the Cinderella Story it needed in order to care.

The tournament in Germany comes to a close today: USA vs. Japan in the World Cup Final. Thank you, ladies, for making us care.

The Superbank Comes to OC (Not Exactly)

2011-06-28T23:36:00.000-07:00

The swell in the water had all the beachbreaks from T-Street to Cottons working.

The North Shore's Mason Ho launching backside at T-Street.

A Bit of Recent Surf Imagery

2011-05-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

Though my blog may indicate otherwise, it's actually been a while since I last shot surfing. True, I've done a few casual shoots with afternoon light at the various breaks near my place in Dana Point. But the past two weeks were the first time I'd spent consecutive hours on the sand, documenting a surf contest ongoing in the water.

Two weeks ago I was at Trestles, in San Onofre State Park, for the Nike 6.0 Lowers Pro. Pretty much every up-and-coming name in surfing was on hand, along with a swath of the top international competitors. By the final days of competition, it was down to a pair of local talents and a bunch of Brazilians. The Brazilians overcame.

A few days after the contest, a one-day event went off at 54th Street in Newport Beach, the Ghetto Juice Airshow. A number of the young flyers from the contest had hung around and decided to take part in this unique airs-only event. Great for shooting and people on the beach. Not so great when the surf doesn't cooperate. Didn't seem to bother the competitors much, who found plenty of launch ramps.

Fun few days. Now back to shooting anything and everything else.

Kelly Slater Invented (Modern) Surfing

2011-04-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Photo: ASP/Robertson

The man should have his own holiday. And a postage stamp. A beach named after him. Maybe a KS clothing line. A reality TV show that follows him through his day. Better yet, his own station, a 24-hour program, a la The Truman Show. A podcast. A shrine at every break the ASP World Tour frequents over the course of a season. He should be carried to the water line and fanned with palm fronds every time he surfs. Surfers should part the line-up and he should be allowed to catch any and every wave he paddles for. The days of the surfing calendar (if one existed) should be adjusted for B.K. (Before Kelly) and A.K. (After Kelly). The sport itself should be renamed: Slatering.

Kelly Slater has had that sort of impact. No, he didn't literally invent the sport. And everyone knows Duke Kahanamoku is the "father of modern surfing." But "modern" is a relative term. Duke's surfing was nothing like it is today. Surfing today isn't what it was when KS appeared on the scene as a blue-eyed, squeaky-voiced prodigy in Florida. If Duke is the father, perhaps that makes KS surfing's Jesus or Muhammad or some other divine spirit essential for the betterment of surfing, someone better than anyone before him, year after year after year after year, and so on. In surfing so well, making the once counter-culture sport so appealing to a wider marketplace, he single-handedly transformed surfing into the financial enterprise that it is today. It didn't hurt that he made some well-publicized mistakes (Baywatch, dating Pamela Anderson) along the way. Or that he's a good looking guy. Or that he can string together a couple sentences in post-heat interviews that doesn't contain the typical substance-free surfer-speak. He's exactly what surfing wanted, but never knew it needed.

The media and the critics like to try to hurl barbs. It's what the media does. It feasts on controversy and nay-saying. And yet, every time the critics, the magazines or the announcers think they've identified a weakness, a kink in the armor, something that will allow the next generation or the next big name to finally unseat the king from his throne, he responds. He improves. He gets stronger or more flexible or faster. The man is on the wrong end of his 30s from where most athletes hit their performance peak and, yet, it may be safe to say that Kelly Slater is a better, more dynamic surfer at 39 than he was at 29. That's not natural.

He's got 10 world titles. Mark Richards, the next closest, has four. He's Michael Jordan, without the guidance of Phil Jackson or help of Scottie Pippen. He's Lance Armstrong, minus the performance enhancing drugs (come on, the truth will come out soon enough). He's Tiger Woods (sans bushel of mistresses), without the helicopter parents and in a sport that is far more physically demanding. Kelly Slater should be considered one of the greatest athletes of all time. But he won't, because surfing is still on the outside of mainstream sports, looking in. One day sports fans will realize.

As for the New York Times article by Matt Warshaw calling for KS to walk away, along with the various bloggers and media folk echoing the same belief: back off and let the once-in-a-lifetime athlete do his thing. Maybe he has another title or two in him. Maybe he'll step away slowly, competing in (and occasionally winning) a handful of contests a year. He's earned the right to dictate the remainder of his competitive career. Dane Reynolds, Jordy Smith, Owen Wright, Julian Wilson—all the young guns can wait. Or they can try to usher KS into retirement. But it doesn't seem to be working so far.

Quite a bit of the reason why anyone really gives a damn about surfing is because of the contributions of this one man. He's helped the sport to advance. He made being a professional surfer a viable career choice (sure, the Australians busted down the door, but KS made it so that drug-running wasn't a part of the gig). He's inspired legions of groms. He gave surfing a face. He invented surfing as we know it.

Reason No. 473...

2011-03-31T21:31:00.000-07:00

...for why it's quite nice to live along the coast in Southern California. Sunsets are not created equal, and this one from March 30, overlooking Salt Creek, was spectacular. Saw quite a few people scrambling for their iPhones and cameras to capture the sight.

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ASP World Tour Back in a Minute

2011-02-23T08:00:00.000-08:00

It seems just days ago that Kelly Slater was crowned world champ for the tenth time in his career and the Triple Crown wrapped up the compeittive season in Hawaii.

And yet, here it goes again. The 2011 season is just days away, kicking off with the Quiksilver Pro on Australia's Gold Coast. The slate is wiped clean, and once again, everyone is a contender.

Okay, enough with the blowing of the smoke. As it goes with the men, there are only a handful of realistic contenders: Jordy, Mick, Parko, Taj and, until he officially announces he's done, Kelly. With as well as he was surfing last year, it doesn't make sense that Kelly Slater will gracefully fade into the retirement abyss. He'll come out firing at Snapper Rocks, and depending on his result, the remainder of the season will be dictated.

Dane Reynolds would be the other realistic contender, but he's withdrawn from the first event, supposedly due to a knee injury. That's not good for the World Tour. No other surfer not named Kelly draws a crowd and webcast viewers quite like Dane. Kelly can't carry the Tour forever. Jordy is said to be the heir apparent, but even Jordy doesn't excite quite like Dane does. My concern is that the deficit from the gate will discourage Dane from seeing the season through. The Tour needs his flair and excitement from contest to contest. They need his weird post-heat interviews and his unorthodox heat strategy (Read: No strategy). Competitive surfing needs its mad scientist.

That said, I'm hoping Joel Parkinson, aka Parko, wins this one. I'm not much of a Mick fan and Taj just doesn't seem as committed as some of his fellow uber-fit Aussies. Parko is one of the smoothest surfers and one of the classiest chaps on Tour. He's had a few bad breaks the past couple seasons, but that time off last season should hopefully have him amped to keep his mind focused for all 10 events.

Here we go.

Photo: ASP/Cestari

A Few Moments of South County Surfing

2011-02-22T08:30:00.000-08:00

Salt Creek. Strands. Beachbreaks. The occasional rock reef. Crowds. Seperation. Sponsored talent. Unknown shredders. Fish. Shortboards. SUPs. Barrels. Launch ramps. Lefts. Rights. Groms. Oldies. Punks. Hippies. It's very much a different world from surfing Newport and Huntington, sometimes for better, other times for worse. But the water looks cleaner and usually the crowds are fewer. Maybe it's the having to walk down a hill thing that keeps more at bay. Thank goodness for people being lazy.

Beginning of My OC Portfolio

2011-02-21T21:36:00.000-08:00

Finding and telling good stories is rarely easy. First finding a story that readers will want to invest their time in reading, with compelling characters who are willing to open up their world to a complete stranger. It's more difficult than it sounds.

After three months in CA, I've completed three cover stories for OC Weekly. Each has been interesting and fun to work on in their own ways, but I've really been happy with the way only one has turned out. It was a story I found with characters I was able to spend ample time around. That wasn't the case with my first two stories.

The first was a look into 50 years of surfing's best known and most read magazine, SURFER. Having previously worked in the surf industry, I had the distinct pleasure of speaking to some of the key media players from throughout the years, including the magazine's founder and the father of surf media, John Severson. These days he's retired and living on Maui, mainly painting and still surfing when the waves are there. I also had the opportunity to chat with the magazine's first influential editor after JS, Drew Kampion; Steve Pezman, the one-time editor and publisher; the editor who was at the helm during the magazine's most competitive and evolutionary period, Paul Holmes; and Matt Warshaw, who had a short stint as editor, but has evolved into surfing's foremost historian; along with a few other players and current staff. It's amazing just how comprehensive one publication can be, but seeing as how they started the industry, it's understandable that they would be the ones to contribute some of the most significant work to date. It's been the media face of the sport since its inception into the media business in the '60s. Quite a wild and impactful 50-plus years.

Weeks later, I had the opportunity to shoot from the photo pit at KROQ's Almost Acoustic Christmas, standing in the shadow of OC punk-rock's godfather, Mike Ness of Social Distortion. With over 30 years of music behind them and a new album set to release, they were part of the conversation once again. It was my first celebrity profile of sorts, and it showed in the amount of time I was given with the band: one 30 minute sit-down with Ness, phone interviews with the guitarist and bassist, and lingering during the cover photo shoot. Just to get to that point took significant time. There were multiple emails and phone calls to the record label publicist and band manager, mostly to no avail. Eventually, with only days to meet my deadline, the meetings came together. It wasn't an ideal situation for putting together a 3,500-plus word profile, but with the help of some peers who were more involved in the music scene, it came together. The piece turned out fairly well, but, no doubt, would have been much better if given substantial time to hang around the guys more in their element.

The third and most recent piece, which I found the most fulfilling and which turned out the best (in my opinion), was the story of a group of unknown, underground big-wave surfers from OC. Though they're known to surf at various big-wave outposts around the globe, they tend to stick to Baja California and Mainland Mexico, and most often frequent their favorite spot, a wave called Killers off that breaks off Todos Santos, a small, uninhabited island. They welcomed me along on one of their attempts to track a swell out to Killers, after days of hype and hope. I sat on a boat in the channel out in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but open seas to the west, while they paddled into and towed into some good size waves. Being big-wave surfers, I expected ego-driven hardheads. The guys I met were quite the opposite. They were welcoming and funny, articulate and laid-back. They've already invited me to tag along when the next substantial swell rolls through and they return to Todos Santos.

The next piece will be my first foray into investigative journalism, but I'm pretty confident I can put together something I'll be proud of and that readers will enjoy. Thanks for reading.

Cheeseheads Rejoice

2011-02-06T21:24:00.000-08:00

From ESPN.com

Aaron Rodgers officially steps out from No. 4's shadow. Packers injuries continue; Packers continue to perform despite them. Packers defense keeps Steelers in check, forcing game-deciding turnovers. Hyped Steelers D has no answer for Rodgers arm; best D is WRs dropping passes. Big Ben's karma. Packers win fourth Super Bowl. Cheeseheads across the country rejoice.

There Be Waves In Those Waters

2011-01-19T14:48:00.000-08:00

Been talk for a while now about the coming set of swells. They were said to be coming in three and would be rolling through back-to-back-to-back. The third (the one somewhat documented below) is beginning to show and is expected to generate waves in the the stunning-size-range, so much so that The Eddie big-wave event at Waimea Bay on Oahu may run tomorrow (Thursday). If you have a few extra minutes, head for the coast and see if you can catch or view a few. Below is the view looking south toward Strands from the lifeguard tower near the point at Salt Creek.

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Mike Ness: Composure & Flow

2011-01-06T10:34:00.000-08:00

Copy in final edits. Photo shoot done, complete with a 1968 Buick Riviera. Be on the lookout, cover story coming soon.

This Boy Likes Mex-i-co!

2010-12-29T01:40:00.001-08:00

Back To OC: For Starters, Beaches and Music

2010-12-20T00:51:00.000-08:00

There's a reason it took me 25 years to finally move away from CA. There are times I miss the energy and people of New York and Houston, but there's a lot about CA that has me happy to be back. It's been a weird transition. Not bad, but not great. I went from quasi-suburbia to the big city circuit, back to the quasi-suburbia. Getting away was good for me. It made me appreciate what I had and also made me realize there was more going on in OC than I was taking advantage of. My new gig with OC Weekly has been helpful, as it demands that I'm more aware of what's going on in the 34 cities that fall within the counties' border. Been spending a lot of time at the beach, trying to make up for my mostly surf-less year and a half away. The following photos aren't waves or surfing, but they're back on familiar territory.

Up close and personal. Close enough to gather the spit that misses the microphone. I'm not not the agro, overly-obsessive with a band type, so this was pretty gross. Even the saliva flying from the perfect glands of Minka Kelly would make me cringe. Nonetheless, with my photo and VIP pass for KROQ's Almost Acoustic Christmas show at Gibson Ampitheatere near the Universal City Walk, I was close enough to reach out and touch Mike Ness' shoe. I was inches from Jimmy Eat World, then My Chemical Romance (not my kind of music, but the lead singer with the burning red hair was engaging) and, finally, Social Distortion. I missed Bad Religion (blame LA traffic!) and The Smashing Pumpkins had some weird rule against photogs in the pit. Was part of a feature I'm working on for OC Weekly. First time shooting a big concert. Fun experience. Lessons learned. A few goods images found in the bunch. Music fans are crazy, and some scary.

Burly Man Known as 'The White Buffalo' Fills the House at Detroit Bar

2010-12-16T12:50:00.000-08:00

The White Buffalo • Dec. 14, 2010

Detroit Bar (Costa Mesa, CA)

Not much is known or written about singer-songwriter, The White Buffalo. Just finding his real name is difficult.

But to those who know his music or have heard him play, they're sold. The following isn't great, but it's growing. It's how the elusive figure likes it; an organic, word-of-mouth happening.

There was enough talk to fill Detroit Bar on Tuesday night, a venue usually reserved for the punk and indie scene, not a country-rocker built like a mountain man.

He stepped onto the low-light stage, two beers in hand: "Alright mother fuckers, I'm going to do a few by myself and then bring the boys up."

His look is striking, like a man who stumbled out of the deepest reaches of the backwoods, with a guitar in hand. He's tall and burly, with long, greasy, brown hair and an unkempt, grizzly beard. He wore plaid, keeping with the dress code of the opening acts.

With his Eddie Vedder-like vocals, he sang of the "madman," a man who "descended from hell"; he then dropped into his deepest baritone to tell of falling in love with his wife in "Love Song #1," or lauded the merits of the "Bar and the Beer," serving as salvation and therapy. The substance of his songs was varied, but struck a pleasant balance. Some were were ideal for a listen just before bed ("10 'til 2"), others better for whiskey nights when trouble is likely to ensue ("Oh Darlin' What Have I Done," about going on a killing spree to win the affection of a woman).

While his look is indeed striking, his voice is compelling. Very much Vedder: pitch-perfect, but with range. From singing the deepest, darkest blues, to an Alice Cooper screetching scream to a drawn-out, melodious hymn. All this from a man who's music has yet to even appear on radio.

The White Buffalo (aka Jake Smith) is Oregon-born, but Orange County-raised; the majority of his upbringing coming in Huntington Beach. Despite his OC roots, he grew up listening to country (Merle Haggard and George Jones), which is apparent in the majority of his music. In high school, he was drawn to the punk scene, listening to The Descendants, Circle Jerks and Bad Religion: "I think that's where the aggressive side [in my music] comes from," he explains--a la the racing guitar pace in "Devil is a Woman."

"The boys" he alluded to were a bassist (Tommy Andrews) and drummer (Matt Lynott, "The Machine"), who he supposedly "found in a pawn shop," for a bargain price. With the threesome on stage, the music took on a different layer; Lynott's Ska-like chops raising the energy, and enticing several in the crowd out of their head-swaying funk, into a foot-stomp, hand-clapping, hip-swaying swing. Even White Buffalo added a jive between lyrics and riffs.

The mysterious man known simply as "Buffalo" – which was shouted out by males in the crowd with varying degrees of emphasis put on the "o" – is no stranger to Detroit. He's played the venue on multiple occasions. The stop last night was the first on a mini California tour, promoting his new EP, "Prepare For Black & Blue," which is his first with Ruff Shaw Records.

He'll be heading back into the studio in January to work on his second full-length album, which he expects to be out next summer.

After his set, he hung around the merchandise booth, signing CDs and the set list one of his female fans stole off the stage, and took a photo with a guy who wanted a side-by-side beard comparison.

I wasn't there when White Buffalo finally departed, but we imagine him driving off on a Harley or in an old pick-up. Either would have been fitting for the man who's far from fame, but slowly creeping toward the limelight.

Personal Bias: In this era of a cookie-cutter music scene, nice to see a different look and sound. Could probably walk into any bar or venue across the U.S. and convert a few listeners into fans within two songs.

The Crowd: In very un-Detroit Bar-like fashion, especially for a lesser-known show, it was packed early.

Overheard in the crowd: "I think the bassist works at my Vons," referring to the bassist playing behind The White Buffalo.

Random Notebook Dump: The White Buffalo thanked the "Tuesday night drinkers" for coming out, "the working class." He does know he's in Orange County and those are all designer hipster jeans, right?

Set List:
"The Madman"
"Into the Sun"
"Where Dirt and Water Collide"
"Oh Darlin' What Have I Done"
"10 'til 2"
"Devil Is a Woman"
"Stuntdriver"
"Good Ol' Day To Die"
"Damned"
"Hold the Line"
"Bar and the Beer"
"Love Song #1"
"Pilot"

Touching Surfer Poll Andy Irons Tribute

2010-12-13T23:59:00.000-08:00

I've written a good amount about Andy Irons in this space lately. Details of the true nature of his tragic passing are yet to be determined (though theories have been shared), but the shared memories, photo slideshows and video tributes (like the one below) continue to pour out. Regardless of the nature of his passing, the truth is that it came far too early.

Members of the surfing community – whether a fellow WCT competitor, a sponsor or some grom who once got an autograph – have been hurt. I still feel hurt, especially after watching the video. If you know anything about Andy Irons and surfing and the community around him, you can't help but be moved by the images and words from those who knew, loved and respected him. Dustin Barca, a guy who strikes me as a straight-up heartless, badass, is moved to tears when asked what he'll miss most about AI. Mark Occhilupo, one of AI's closest friends, and a man who's expressed many heartfelt thoughts and memories about AI during his commentating at the Billabong Pipe Masters, offered some insight to his surfing: "How do you explain Andy? I mean, he surfed like a cat on acid."

At the annual Surfer Poll awards Andy Irons was voted the No. 6 surfer. The crew over at the magazine put together the following video tribute. His brother, Bruce, accepted the award on his behalf. If you have the chance, it's worth checking out some of the acceptance speeches from the night, which all make mention of AI.

Take care of your loved ones, and make sure they know how you feel about them.

Newport (Well, Blackies) Has Waves, And We All Rejoice

2010-12-09T14:27:00.001-08:00

Surf conditions have been pretty dismal since I've returned to CA. Had one fun morning session in Huntington last week, but the rest has been pretty unfulfilling (look at me, already a cynic – while in NY and TX, I would have sacrificed a liver for even small surfable waves!). Today I awoke to an early text from my brother: "Blackies is firing!" Of course, the day the waves come up, I need to work. I raced through finishing up my feature, then literally threw my wetsuit and towel into my car, grabbed two boards and raced down to the water around 11 a.m. Photos below are a little of what was out there. Didn't want to spend much time finding the right angles or peak action – I was too anxious to get a few of my own.

Blackies & Seagull Yoga

2010-11-23T21:41:00.000-08:00

Had my first surf back at Blackies in Newport Beach, the spot I learned to surf and one that served as my home break for so many years. It had been raining the previous few days and there was some wind on it, but there appeared to be a few little fun bumps by the pier. Some older couple sitting in their minivan warned me they had heard about a strong current in the water, but I dismissed it as out-of-towner nonsense. But I was friendly about it: "I'm on my surfboard, I should be fine." Went out and was almost immediately washed through the pier, with tourists on the pier watching. Had a good laugh. Composed myself and caught a few, while dodging whatever had washed out of the Santa Ana River mouth and into the lineup. So far, from what I can tell, no diseases. Didn't last too long out there. But good to be back. Shot a few photos of the scenery — low tide, kids playing, seagulls lounging. This photo struck me as funny. More to come in another post.

28 Hours and 1,600 Miles Later...

2010-11-19T13:43:00.000-08:00

...I'm back in California. Driving a U-Haul and dragging a trailer with my car on it, it was a long, long journey. Shared driving duties with my dad, who I picked up in San Antonio, and we powered through. The most brutal shifts were from 11pm to 3:30am and 3:30am to sunrise. He took the latter. My part took me near Juarez in the middle of the night. Kind of creepy. We both survived. No major problems, except for my indigestion from consuming less-than-healthy snacks and fastfood. After it all was said and done, I'm happy not to live in New Mexico or Arizona. Quite content to be pack in the Golden State.

KS10: Surfing's Poster Boy, Kelly Slater, Gets 10

2010-11-09T13:14:00.000-08:00

Days after the passing of Andy Irons, Kelly Slater did what everyone expected he would do when the world title race came down to he and Jordy Smith – he went superhuman and locked down No. 10.

Upon emerging from the surf, he was boosted onto the shoulders of the awaiting entourage and shuttled through the packed-beach crowd to the podium. I'm not certain when the first tears came, but the early interviews showed Slater puffy-eyed and glazed. An emotional week, to say the least.

As I mentioned in the previous post, when AI was in his competitive prime, he and Slater were the closest thing to enemies that existed on Tour in the last two decades. They engaged in arguments and fights on various occasions, mostly stemming from the heated rivalry. But they'd made amends in recent years, even becoming friends. Which is why, in his first interviews post-victory, Slater dedicated the win to Andy Irons.

Beyond the touching condolences and vulnerable moment, Kelly Slater managed to package 20 years of competition and personal growth into the last months of the pursuit for 10. Slater has had a bit of a checkered past – being a bit over-confident early on, the Baywatch era, dating Pamela Anderson, being the loner on Tour – but nothing like a Tiger Woods (ultra-adultery), Barry Bonds (cheating/PEDs), Lance Armstrong (it's only a matter of time before the truth comes out) or even Michael Jordan (gambling, womanizing). Slater has long been the toughest and smartest competitor, articulate and sometimes puzzling in interviews, respectable toward his fans, innovative with his surfing, proof that age doesn't much matter – and an inspiration to two decades of surfers, both young and old.

In the following interview, from ESPN, you get a glimpse of the psyche of Kelly Slater. It's been one hell of a run from surfing's greatest athlete. And it may not yet be over.

Photo: Ellis/SURFER

The Tragic Death of Andy Irons

2010-11-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

The news of 3-times surfing world champ Andy Irons' untimely passing came up mid-day yesterday. I found out through a simple text from my brother, "Andy Irons dead." I didn't immediately believe it. I scoured the internet, but this was before reports had really been confirmed. A co-worker of his at Toddland had a contact within the surf industry, but I was still unbelieving. It seemed too odd. I never met Andy Irons. I never had a reason to feel anything more than respect for the man's phenomenal surfing ability. But when I saw on SurferMag.com and then on the ASP website that the rumors were in fact true, it hurt. For some reason, this season, I found myself rooting for AI. In the past, he'd always struck me as an arrogant asshole that took surf contests far too personally. In his heyday, he was Yang to Kelly Slater's Yin. Kelly the white knight, Andy the black knight. Or however you want to put it. But then he took a year off. He got married. And returned to the Dream Tour, seemingly a new man. I noticed it in his interviews during the Tahiti contest. Teahupoo was a place he'd had some success, but Teahupoo wasn't itself. Waves were small and the contest was hardly one meant for barrel-riding. But with each heat win, he'd do the post-heat chat for the webcam and he seemed so genuinely excited and was constantly sending love and good thoughts to his wife, Lyndie, who was back in Hawaii, pregnant with the couples first child.

Like I said, I never knew AI, so I can only make assumptions. But that year off changed him. Getting married changed him. Knowing he was going to be a father changed him. And for the first time, I hoped he could pull out a win. I realize how inconsequential this may be, considering people much closer to him must be in the worst kind of pain, but he struck me as someone who had finally gotten his priorities in order and was so happy and stoked on life. And then for this to happen, it just struck me as so very unfair. Unfair to his wife, his family, his friends, his unborn child and all of the people that supported him through the years. But in some twisted way, it was almost appropriate that it happened during this contest, when both the men and women were at the same spot -- and with Kelly Slater, his arch-rival for all those years, on the cusp of yet another world title. Coincidence, certainly.

One thing I've always respected about the surfing community is its sense of family. Paddle-outs are relatively common when a surfing legend or just some lifelong surfer dies, but they're always touching. They follow tradition and it's a way for people to come together in a way that celebrates that particular person in an environment that somewhat defined them. In a couple days time, the passing of Andy Irons will barely be on my mind, but for the past 24 hours and until that does happen, it makes me vastly aware of my own mortality. You never know how or when, just that it will happen. My heartfelt condolences to AI's loved ones.

Aloha and mahalo, AI.

Below are two videos that serve as celebrations of AI and his surfing life. The first was put together by Surfing Life Magazine about the memorial paddleout in Puerto Rico, the day after AI's death. A number of fellow Dream Tour competitors offer there thoughts about AI and what his passing means to them. The second is a video produced by Billabong as part of its "I surf because" campaign. From what I know, the video came out during the Tahiti contest, AI's last tour win. Enjoy.

Journalism & Three Amazing Shows

2010-10-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

Journalism pay is crap. As journalists, we work long hours, grind out work we can be proud of, and more often than not, there's always someone that hates what we do. None of these things are secrets. However, there are reasons I love what I do. Every day is something different and new. My job doesn't start at 9am or end at 5pm; my hours depend on what I may be working on. Some weeks I work right around 40 hours, other weeks I'm reporting or writing or taking photos later than usual, and I'll be on the job for almost 60 hours. I actually prefer the longer hours because it typically means I'm working on something I'm excited about. This profession also enables me to meet new and exciting or unique or troublesome people. You never know which it will be. And, lastly, you see the results of your work. They show up on websites or in print and you can point to it and say, "Yeah, I did that, that's my name right there." It's fulfilling in that way.

What exactly does any of that have to do with two pictures of concerts? Occasionally there are perks. Travel, swag, event access, etc. And, for instance, one of the perks of working for an Alt. Weekly is that a big part of its coverage has to do with happenings around whatever town it covers. And music is a major one of those happenings. And because venues know we cover their stuff, they thank us by providing tickets to shows and events and whatever else. Which is how I ended up with three consecutive, amazing days of music in early October: Local Natives (top left), LCD Soundsystem (top right), and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zer0s (video below).

Each show was passing through Houston on its way to Austin for a huge yearly show, ACL. I got to see some of the biggest name bands for the festival, without having to endure the heat, the lack of sanitation or the long, soul-sucking days that do come with those settings (they can be fun, I know). I was a fan of each of the bands before I went to see them. It'd been a while since I'd last attended a live show, and in that time, I had managed to forget why I ever enjoyed them. Between Local Natives' energy, LCD Soundsystems' unique light-strobe presentation and unconventional vocalist (James Murphy), and the free-love, hippydom of the Edward Sharpe audience, I've been reawakened to my enjoyment of attending concerts.

For your viewing pleasure, below is a brief video of Edward Sharpe vocalist Alex Ebert's I'm-trapped-in-a-box-and-must-get-out dance moves. As if the hairdo and attire weren't enough, the dance moves seriously odd. And entertaining. The moves start up at 0:22 and he seems fit for a straight-jacket right around 0:38. (NOTE: Apologies for the poor sound quality; it was recorded on a little point-and-shoot Canon.)

Houston's Sunset Skyline and a Light Post

2010-10-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

On my way home from a photo shoot last night, saw this while semi-lost finding my way back to the freeway. Would have preferred some of the clutter in the foreground was gone, but with the silhouetting, it produces somewhat of an interesting image. I was mostly attracted to the colors in the sky, but it all came together pretty well.

The Facts of Prop 19 - Legalizing Cannabis (VIDEO)

2010-10-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

As anyone who lives in the great state of California right now knows, the place has got some major issues. The education system is failing, the deficit is rising, jobs are few and the sun never really came out this summer (or so I heard, not that we can blame that on the gov't). In the upcoming Nov. 2 election, Proposition 19 will be on the ballot. A vote FOR Prop 19 is a vote for legalizing cannabis/marijuana/weed, whatever one may care to call it. By legalizing it, the state can tax its sales and help cut away at the deficit. There are a number of other big-picture benefits to the legalization and regulation, and the video covers most all of 'em. And it's animated. Rad. Enjoy.

Proposition 19 - The New Leaf from ISHOTHIM on Vimeo.

MGMT's "Kids" by PS22, As Good or Better Than the Original

2010-10-21T09:21:00.001-07:00

Stumbled on this video courtesy of a friend on Twitter. I retweeted it, but I also wanted to post it on here for future viewing purposes. As fine arts departments in school districts are facing dwindling funding and interest, implementing modern music seems like a great way to enthuse the young. PS22 is a glowing example. Enjoy.

Miniature Marching Band

2010-10-13T13:19:00.001-07:00

Since it had a link to a cover story ("Battle of the Bands," Aug. 18) I wrote weeks prior, I went out to Delmar Stadium in northwest Houston to cover the Houston ISD Marching Band Festival this past weekend. Seventeen high school and five middle schools came out to perform for a panel of volunteer adjudicators, as a lead up to some big competitions coming in a few weeks time. Temps were in the low 90s, so I felt for these kids in their canvas, full-length uniforms. Range of big and smaller bands, and quite a variety of music. After growing up in Southern California, where marching bands weren't given much attention, I've come to appreciate what these groups of students put together. They work hard to produce a quality product -- both sight and sound.

This was one of the photos I got, and our art director used a bit of tilk-shift magic in Photoshop to give it the toy set appearance. More images in the slideshow for the Houston Press.

Guilty by Association: Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera & PEDs

2010-10-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera are certainly two of the finest baseball players of the modern era. Especially Rivera. As far as closers go, the guy is untouchable. Greatest ever, no question. And Jeter, well, he's Jeter. He's Captain Clutch and the longtime shortstop for the much vaunted New York Yankees. Jeter and Rivera: certainly, special players.

But I think they may be closet-case Performance Enhancing Drugs (PED) users. I have no scientific proof, but let me explain.

I was listening to a Bill Simmons "BS Report" podcast recently, while at the gym (Ok, the fact that I was at the gym is irrelevant, but it's just where I always listen to podcasts. Wanna see my muscles?). The guest was Buster Olney, one of the finest sportswriters alive and currently a senior writer with ESPN. They'd been discussing the 2010 playoffs, before moving on to the baseball topic that ESPN loves to talk about: the New York Yankees (unless they're talking the Boston Red Sox).

Specifically, they were talking about Rivera's late-career success and his unique training regime and level of fitness. Fair enough. A closer in his 40s still blowing fastballs by hitters this late in his career, surely he must train hard.

In the midst of discussing in athleticism and presence around the locker room, Olney made the comment that struck me: "He really loves the game."

I know, I know. The comment wasn't about expanding head size or back zits or shrinking testicles, just, "He really loves the game." That was part of Olney's validation for why Rivera can do what he does and why he may well continue to do so for a few more years.

Heard those five words and immediately red flags started waving.

Why those five words and why red flags? The same things used to be said about Alex Rodriguez and Roger Clemens.

When A-Rod was with the Mariners and later with the Rangers (pre-scandal), with his flashy numbers and defense, he was touted as a natural. Just a freak of nature who loved the game and was simply so much better than his contemporaries. No way he was using.

And Clemens, well, he just worked so much harder than the average pitcher and had this unique intensity. In a Sports Illustrated cover story from June 2003, Tom Verducci compared Clemens' ability on a mound to legends of the game, crediting his brutal workout regime.

"He really loves the game," in my mind, is code for we think something's up, but we have no proof and want to ride this gravy train. Come on. I really loved the game of soccer. I'm sure Ryan Leaf loved football and Mark Madsen loves basketball (just coincidence that I chose three white guys who can't dance) -- but loving the game isn't enough to make one great.

So how could I not be skeptical? I'm skeptical with nearly every great baseball player (and in other sports as well) out there today: Albert Pujols, Hanley Ramirez, Joe Mauer and even the soon-to-be star Bryce Harper. Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Andy Pettitte, Nomar Garciaparra, Edgar Martinez, Manny Ramirez, David Ortiz, A-Rod, Clemens and certainly many more were using -- why would I assume the athletes of today aren't?

Testing, you say. Players are still failing tests. Who's to say that the new drugs players are using aren't going unnoticed in urine samples? (Hint: Don't raise your hand.)

I hope I'm wrong about Jeter and Rivera. I'd like to believe there is still some class and integrity left in baseball.

Sadly, these days, in my mind, if you're a great player and not built like David Eckstein, you're guilty until proven innocent.

Note: Photo ripped off from ESPN. I promise, no money is made by this blog.

"Religion Is Like A Penis"

2010-10-04T13:47:00.000-07:00

Agreed.

(Except for the part about children, because I don't have any. But if I did, agreed again.)

Found on ffffound.com

Next Feature Sneak Peak: 5th Ward Football

2010-10-02T11:04:00.001-07:00

Been reporting this for a few weeks now, while finishing up the piece on the woman who resigned from NASA because of primate testing (cover story this week). That was a fun one to report and write, but this next one, about a youth football league in the 5th Ward, one of the roughest and most poverty-stricken neighborhoods in Houston is something I'm really looking forward to. The coaches and kids are engaging and inspiring, and the story of this league is something that makes me seriously question how much good I'm actually putting into this world. The kids love football, even if all the equipment they have is used and doesn't fit right. The team only exists because of the goodwill and good intentions of a single family – and it's not because this family is well-to-do, because they're absolutely not. They just see football as the sort of outlet that these kids need in order to keep them in school and out of trouble. Extraordinary people. Been great for photos. Should have this one done for a mid- to late October publish date.

Team Pride and Tailgating

2010-09-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

I'd say this is a bit excessive when it comes to supporting a professional sports team. But hey, it's his tainted skin.

This weekend I made my way into Tailgate City outside Reliant Stadium, prior to kickoff for the heated Texans-Cowboys game. Much more civil than I anticipated. But still quite a scene. I imagine had the game held a 4pm kickoff, things would have been different. A write-up and more photos are on the Houston Press Hairballs blog.

A Search For Waves: A Travelogue

2010-09-26T22:20:00.000-07:00

It had simply been too long. More than two months, and the last time had hardly qualified. It was so unfulfilling, that day in early July at the Rockaways in New York.

I had dreamed about it. I'd looked at photos and watched videos. I'd talked to my dad and brother about it; they only made me feel worse because they were getting it all the time. I needed to get back in the saddle.

I needed to go surfing.

Forecasts had called for some howling winds on the Gulf courtesy of Hurricane Karl, which would be sending pulses toward the Texas coastline. I decided I needed to be there to greet them.

After a late workday on Friday, I raced home, grabbed my board (only a 5'10" fish, would have preferred a longboard), sleeping bag, threw a few extra clothes in a backpack and headed south on 288. An hour later, I cleared the bridge over the canal and descended into Surfside Beach, which, according to a sign, was voted "Best Gulf Coast Beach Town." By whom? I don't know. Don't care. Don't even know if I buy it. Doesn't matter. I was there. And I could drive on the beach. Amazing.

I pulled past the unmanned pay booth and got my first sight of the water: Victory at Sea. Whitewater as far down the coast as my eye could see. Fortunately, it's what I expected. I was more concerned with my race against nightfall. And whether or not there were sharks in the Gulf and whether they, like their California cousins, treated dusk as feeding time. Again, didn't matter to me. I was here.

Pulled my board out of my bag, and Damn! it wasn't even waxed. Sign of my waveless times. Thin layer of basecoat applied, followed by a bit thicker layer of warm water wax and I was set. Though mid-September and around 7pm, only a pair of trunks would be necessary.

I did the stingray shuffle out until I was waist-deep and hopped on my board. A few paddles and I already had a goofy smile. Just to be coasting across the water, duck-diving under waves, feeling the ocean beneath me, smelling the saltwater and surf wax was enough to make the hour-long commute and 20-minute session worthwhile. At that moment, I didn't even care if I caught a single wave.

Deciding to make a trip of it, I went into the small town and found the one business that had more than three cars parked out front. Castaways Bar & Grill and it was karaoke night – score! Cheap beers, fried shrimp, interesting choice of clothing, husky locals welcoming me to the neighborhood and some halfway decent singing followed. I got out before it got too weird.

Slept in the car on a dark sidestreet, with hopes of an early morning session. Dealt with mosquitos, a midnight downpour through an open sunroof and constantly waking thinking some unhappy, burly local was shining a flashlight in my face.

The morning was worth the sleepless night. Beautiful sunrise, though over continued stormy seas. Paddled out with some of the locals, finding the occasional short ride on a unexpected wedge, popping out from amongst the chaos. Had to avoid a pair of houses sitting out in the waterline, abandoned and dilapidated after erosion had set in.

Stopped in for breakfast, just in time for gale-force winds and a brutal downpour that made it impossible to see out the windows of the restaurant. I was a little concerned because the restaurant was up on stilts and the place was shaking. No one else seemed to notice.

After another short surf, made the drive from Surfside to Galveston, after hearing that the conditions were cleaner over that way. "My buddy says it's tubing over near the pass," a guy told Bingo (seriously, that was the guy's name), over at the Bingo Surfboards shop.

It absolutely was not. But it was scenic drive through mostly nature preserves. Upon arriving in Galveston, and seeing that the black clouds had swung my way, I decided I'd had enough of the rain, the stormy seas and the film that was caking my skin.

I never did figure out if that was just business as usual when it comes to chasing storm surf on the Gulf. Maybe I was there too early or too late. Or maybe the Gulf just isn't meant for surfing. Eh, it'll do for now.

Anxious To Read: "The Wave" by Susan Casey

2010-09-24T14:31:00.000-07:00

My copy came in the mail yesterday. I knew what was in the Amazon box, but still ripped it open with the same sort of enthusiasm and anticipation as when I got a G.I. Joe army base all those Christmas' ago. While reading her first book, "The Devil's Teeth," I found out somewhere that the author, Susan Casey (right), was in the process of finishing up another book. "The Devil's Teeth" was about sharks, the new book was about waves. I got the feeling she was writing books with my personal interests in mind.

Casey, an award-winning journalist and author, has a knack for picking interesting subjects and finding the characters and stories to make them even more interesting. In TDT, her subjects (the scientists and what they study) are fascinating. Instead of circling the globe talking to a range of scientists and going on dives, she found what sounded like one of the most bleak and nightmare-worthy places in the world, the Farallon Islands. Located just 25 miles off the coast of San Francisco, the island was the laboratory to a few fortunate (or unfortunate) scientists, along with hundreds of dive-bombing, cannibalistic birds, massive elephant seals and a fantastic surf break that frequently tempted one of the scientists. The primary reason, though, that the island had any human interested in spending months at a time on it was for what was found in the surrounding deep blue waters: one of the strongest, fastest and most terrifying predators on the plant – great white sharks. On top of what makes them so intimidating, they're also a species that is not well understood. Hence, the scientists risking their lives and riding their little dingy boat out to the plumes of seal blood. And Casey tagging along.

"The Wave" talks about the presence of 100-foot rogue waves at various spots in the ocean that devour men and supertankers. It also talks about the men who try to harness this power by riding them on surfboards. She talked to Laird Hamilton, of course. Just read the synopsis. Even if you aren't a surfer or ocean-lover, the book must intrigue.

It had been some time between finding books I couldn't put down. But "The Devil's Teeth" was another of those books. Both intriguing and educational. Well-researched and well-written. And reason why I think "The Wave" is going to be just as good, if not better.

Both images stolen from somewhere on the web. Apologies.

Movers & Shakers: Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart

2010-09-17T08:51:00.000-07:00

How is it that, at times, a pair of Comedy Central talk show hosts seem to be the most sensible individuals when it comes to social and political issues in this country? Does anyone else find that disturbing? Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly a fan of Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart, but sometimes it seems they're the strongest and most outspoken of the liberal, left-wing party/movement. And that just isn't right. Sure, they can poke fun and saw the sort of outlandish things that a politician would certainly be reamed for, but it does some refreshing to have such articulate and intelligent individuals lay out what's really going on, without seeming to convolute the truth of the matter. Cutting through the BS, I love it.

Curious to see how the "March to Keep Fear Alive" and "Rally to Restore Sanity" on the Mall in Washington, D.C. will go over.

A Weekend in the Adirondacks: Photos

2010-09-07T06:39:00.000-07:00

Hawking Says: The Future of Humanity is in Space

2010-09-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

Sure, we've survived on Earth for all these years, but that can only last so long. We're doing out best to sap all of the planets natural resources, we have the threat of nuclear warfare and we are just running out of habitable space. Plus, taking trips between planets would be pretty sweet. Stephen Hawking explains it better:

"My Faith My Voice" PSA

2010-09-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

There's been quite a lot of backlash directed at the Muslim community following the news of a mosque (which actually isn't a mosque, but a sort of Islamic community center) moving in just two blocks from Ground Zero in New York City. The hateful uproar has just been sad to hear and see. There have been reports of hate crimes in and around the area, and the right wing media (mainly the ignorant, racist hacks at Fox News) has just had a field-day, doing everything possible to ensure the highest possible TV ratings.

In response, a group called My Faith My Voice put together this public service announcement. I think it was the right thing to do, but it's so very sad that in 2010 such a thing is even necessary.

Plethora

2010-08-30T09:20:00.000-07:00

Dude1: Would you say I have a plethora of waves?
Dude2: A what?
Dude1: A "plethora."
Dude2: Oh yes, you have a plethora.
Dude1: Dude2, what is a plethora?
Dude2: Why, Dude1?
Dude1: Well, you told me I have a plethora. And I just would like to know if you know what a plethora is. I would not like to think that a person would tell someone he has a plethora, and then find out that that person has no idea what it means to have a plethora.
Dude2: Forgive me, Dude1. I know that I, Dude2, do not have your superior intellect and education. But could it be that once again, you are angry at something else, and are looking to take it out on me?

It seems the East and West coast have a plethora of waves, and I, while stranded on the shores of the Gulf, have none. The image above is from the recent swell that smacked the West Coast. Meanwhile, I'm praying for hurricanes – though just enough of one to generate swell, and preferably one that doesn't make landfall anywhere near Houston. Too much to ask?

Photo: Joli/SURFER

Neighborhood Diamond

2010-08-26T08:37:00.000-07:00

WORLDS APART

After spending an afternoon sorting through my photo files, I started noticing similarities in what I was shooting in New York and what I've shot here in Houston. I figure it could be an interesting occasional topic to revisit when I find images that strike me as similar, though separated by over 1,500 miles. (Unfortunately, I didn't do as much walking around and shooting while in CA – though when I find an opportunity for three images, I'll include those.)

First up, unused baseball backstops at nearby parks. With these two images, I was surprised by the number of similarities: center-weighted, horizontal framing (trees in the first, light poles in the second), presence of nature. The first is in NY, obviously during winter. This was after the second major snow storm to hit the city (I was gone for the first). This was a baseball field in Central Park that is in frequent use during the fall and spring, with adult softball leagues and youth baseball. The second image is a field right by my apartment in Houston. The field doesn't get a whole lot of use, since the temps are constantly in the mid- to high-90s, and breaking triple figures during the day. Every now and then there will be a game, mostly Hispanic players, in full uniform – meaning long pants and cotton jerseys. I don't know how they bear it.

Both remind me of my youth – baseball practice and games. I don't know how my parents put up with it, because it must have been so very boring. But, they were supportive. Fortunately, I was hit in the face with a pitch at a young age and quit the sport soon after. Soccer balls hurt less than baseballs.

What Goes Up...

2010-08-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

PHOTO OF NOTE

Stumbled upon a skatepark (Lee and Joe Jamail Skatepark) in my quadrant of Houston. Easily the most extensive open-air park I've ever come across. Rockstar-sponsored Chris Gentry was in one of the pools going for big airs and tricks. Not sure who this guy was, but he was trying to follow form. Didn't see him land any of these, but he made for good photo fodder.

Beautiful Stop-motion Project

2010-08-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

My brother and sister have messed with stop-motion a bit, which is how I know how complex an undertaking this sort of project can be. This one, which is actually an Olympus Cameras ad, is so very well done and actually quite touching. Enjoy.

Via Celeste Hoang of Koralosophy.

Spending Time at Band Camp

2010-08-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

My first cover story/feature for the Houston Press was one that was assigned to me. All I knew coming in was it was something that would have a strong photography element to it. I figured something with the oil spill or maybe a profile with some local celebrity. I don't know, it could have been a number of things. Which was why I was damn surprised when I was told my feature was on band camp – but pleasantly surprised.

Initially, it struck me as sort of lame topic. When I was in high school, the band was not much to talk about. Just playing the "Star Spangled Banner" was an undertaking beyond its talent level. But once I started doing some research on the Houston HS band scene, I came to realize there was something to this.

While football is king on high school campuses, band is pretty high up in the royal court. Bands are talented out here. They play a range of music, including a good amount of modern stuff (Lady Gaga, Usher and Trey Songz, among others). And band directors are quite the characters.

There's also the education storyline, which, in Houston, is severe. High schools in the area are troubled. Students drop out at disturbing rates, test scores are among the lowest in the state, and yet, there are these high school bands that manage to flourish.

It was a fun story to report, and quite educational; I knew nothing about marching bands before this assignment. I still can't read music, but I have a much deeper appreciation and respect for what band directors and their students go through.

You can find the story on the Houston Press website, along with a number of the photos I shot (the cover image above is one of my photos), and videos. Feel free to leave any feedback you may have about the story.

Goodbye New York, Hello Houston

2010-08-18T08:47:00.000-07:00

I left New York City for Houston, Texas. It is a move based on what is best for my career, not some untold desire to be a Texan.

It is a move meant to be temporary, one that will (hopefully) open doors that would otherwise (likely) remain closed.

It is an opportunity to explore a new city, new part of the country, new part of the world, to which I have not previously come.

For those reasons, I’m excited to be in Houston and to see what the next six months (well, now closer to five) bring.

But I do and will miss my experience of the last (almost) year of my life. I drank the Kool-Aid and now believe that everyone should live in New York once, even if only for a short while. I know, I know – I should be struck down by the Houston METRO train for such talk.

Looking back, it is an ideal city for when you’re in your 20s. All that talk about it being a place like no other, well, to my dismay, it proved true – for better and worse. Prior to living in NY, I never had a desire to move there. I’d visited once, seen some of the sights, even saw Columbia. I knew the reputation of the grad program for journalism and I knew what everyone said about New York, but I always figured it wasn’t for me. I was a surfer. I liked to drive. I liked having a front yard. I liked being around nature. My friends and (most of my) family were in CA. And I couldn’t imagine spending $8 on a Corona.

Then the unexpected happened: I was accepted to Columbia. Soon enough, spending some time in New York didn't seem quite so bad. Sure, I was apprehensive. But it was an opportunity that I felt I couldn't pass on. So I went.

I arrived and instantly felt out of my element. I sweat more than I ever had, and fire hydrants spewed water into the streets. But I began to like that there was so much to do – bars were open later, there were always bands in town, and odd, but interesting happenings went down daily. Then I began to hate feeling constantly claustrophobic, always spending money, and the homeless people always asking me for money … and those damn $8 Coronas.

Over time, I began to find my stride. I started to find my way. I settled into big city living. I could hop on the subway without looking at the maps. At Jschool, I liked that I was surrounded by people with a shared interest in a profession I was passionate about. New York was full of odd stories and strange people, ripe for accumulating a few student clips. (It did prove trying being part of the 10,000th class of Columbia Jchool’rs roaming the streets of NY, looking for those unique stories, facing frustration and rolling eyes from store owners and policeman who’d endured the same questions year after year.)

All those things I initially hated about the city – even all the rats scurrying about, though the one in my apartment was unwelcome – they just became part of the character. Just imperfections that added to the charm, like on an antique piece of furniture.

Now I’m in Houston. Texas, like New York, was never on my list of places to live. But I’m here. And just like in those early days in NY, I fluctuate between enjoying and regretting my time here. But I plan to be patient (I don’t really have a choice, I’m committed to a six month fellowship) and letting the city unveil itself to me.

Houston is no New York, and New York is no California. But that’s what I love about them, and why I’m content to accept these days as they come. And I’ll enjoy the $2.50 Lone Stars in the process.

So That's How It Started...

2010-08-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

Found on ffffound.com

NYC Leftovers: Washington Square

2010-08-16T22:25:00.000-07:00

Finding old photos on a memory card is better than finding money in a pair of pants. Money can always be found, memories and images aren't quite as easy to recapture. There were a number of other photos on this card, but this is the one that stood out. The exposure isn't perfect and the dude on the right is a bit chubbier than I'd prefer for my shot, but this struck me as so Summer in New York. This was one of my last days in the city before leaving for Houston. I was staying with my sister and it was uncomfortably warm in her apartment, so I grabbed my camera and took a stroll. While passing through Washington Square, I came upon this scene. It was so very hot on this day, and with few refuges in the city, numerous people congregated within spraying distance of the fountain. Technically it's illegal to be splashing around in the fountain, but only the adults were being ticketed for breaking that rule. And I even saw one cop let someone off the hook after a few kind, apologetic words.

Channeling Huck Finn

2010-08-16T12:25:00.000-07:00

Well, Huck Finn minus the mighty Mississippi, the wooden raft, the slave companion and the illiteracy. Instead, I had a small creek in Wimberley, Texas, a pair of Target-bought innertubes, my favorite lady and a rope swing.

We made the nearly four hour commute from Houston with hopes of a unique adventure, of sorts. Originally we were thinking Galveston for a day on the beach, but being CA born and raised, we realized we'd likely be disappointed. My sister, who's become a bit of a swimming hole seeker, told us about this spot somewhere in Texas, and the rest was left to us.

The drive alone proved worth our time. After getting away from the 10 Freeway, we were on one-lane highways passing through small towns the rest of the way. Between the endless acres of farmland and the clear blue skies, it was exactly the sort of separation from city living that we'd been hoping for. We stopped and had breakfast tacos from a small trailer in one town, and then passed through what seemed liked the watermelon capitol of the world, Luling. Nearly every vendor along the road seemed to be selling them and the water tower identifying the town was even painted like one.

Located just outside Austin, the "Blue Hole" is actually a State Park, though, aside from charging access, I'm not certain what else the state does. But $7 was well worth it for hours of enjoyment. We went on Saturday and were hoping for a less than chaotic gathering. Maybe the 90-plus degree heat would be more than most would be willing to endure? Yeah, right.

There was a bit of a crowd, mostly families, but the kids stuck to the rope swings. Which allowed us some peaceful floating and sunbathing a bit further down the way. Direct sun was hard to come by with the huge trees hanging over the water, but that was hardly a reason to complain. It was a very serene setting. The water was a bit murky, but for the most part, clean. It has a nice greenish-blue color and was the perfect temperature – not too warm, not too cold.

My lady and I did eventually try to fight back the devil children for a chance on the rope swing, which proved more enjoyable to me than to her. It wasn't quite as easy as the kids made it out to be.

Overall, it was a fun afternoon; something different from the norm. Though my lady is now back in CA, I'm hoping I'll find similar ways to spend my time over the coming months. Hopefully it doesn't include white picket fences.

Coffee Done Right

2010-08-13T06:40:00.000-07:00

A cup of Cafe Au Lait from Cafe du Monde. Absolutely amazing. Plus the beignets. My lady and I had them both mornings we were in New Orleans – and she doesn't even drink coffee. If you make to N'Awlins, you must make a stop. There may be a line, but it's well worth the wait. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

A Weekend Trip to the Swimmin' Hole

2010-07-30T09:42:00.000-07:00

SPACE CITY OUTINGS

True, I've been in Houston for only about three weeks, but the lady and I are already anxious to get out. Not that we're spent by what the "Space City" (because NASA is here – "Houston, we have a problem" – get it?) has to offer; we just feel it's time to venture out. First we were thinking Galveston, the closest beach to us. But a former Californian who lives in our apt complex said we'd be disappointed. Then my sister sent an email with a link to "America's Best Swimming Holes." Tomorrow we're headed to the last one on the list: The Blue Hole in Wimberley, Texas. Three hours from Houston. Photos and stories should follow.

While Sharing The Field With Man United, MLS Should Be Keeping Notes

2010-07-28T10:51:00.000-07:00

For so many different reasons, Americans just don’t like soccer. It’s thought to be too dainty, too low scoring, and the flopping sends people into fits. Regardless, it’s still viewed as the worlds’ game; for whatever reason, we Americans just haven’t figured that out yet.

It probably doesn’t help that our professional sports league, Major League Soccer, is the infant in the global game, and so, the quality of the stock is still developing. But with time, it will come.

Tonight, we get a glimpse of a professional sports franchise that has done things right. If there is one thing we as fans and supporters of the MLS should take from the match tonight over at Reliant Stadium, it is that Manchester United is the type of franchise Commissioner Don Garber and the heads of the respective MLS clubs should look to replicate.

True, Manchester United outdates every MLS club by nearly 120 years (dating back to when they were founded as the Newton Health LYR F.C. in 1978), so they’ve had the benefit of time. In just 14 years of existence (the league was founded in 1993, but didn’t play its first game until 1996), the league has expanded from 10 to 16 teams (with plans for further expansion), soccer-specific stadiums have popped up and the league has caught the attention of the top players, managers and scouts from other leagues around the world.

But there is a ways to go. Following are four reasons why Manchester United deserves respect, regardless of your thoughts on soccer or pre-existing team allegiances (this comes from a Liverpool fan):

1) Sir Alex Ferguson
He’s been at the helm of the club since 1986, an impressive feat in professional sports, where managers/head coaches are usually cycled through in two or three year spans. Also rare among pro sports, Sir Alex is actually liked by his players, and he has been known to pay special attention to young players learning to adjust to the bright lights of stardom. Plus, the guy is a flippin’ knight! Badass by any measure.

2) Old Trafford
If you look across the American sports landscape, fans love new shiny things, namely stadiums with waterfalls and fake pirate ships and pools and an over-over-priced restaurant. Old Trafford has none of those things; they are hallowed grounds. The closest thing we have stateside would be Fenway Park in Boston. But even the Red Sox ownership has done its part to bedazzle the place. Old Trafford is part of the clubs’ identity. It has undergone renovations over the years, adding seats and updating the aesthetics, but for the most part, the stadium is very much the fortress for supporters that it has been since 1910.

3) Finding and Sticking With Talent
Unlike Chelsea or Inter Milan or the Yankees, who are known to buy the brightest stars once they’ve matured elsewhere, Man U has a reputation for identifying and improving young, quality players. Paul Scholes, Ryan Giggs and Gary Neville all came up within Man U’s academy. Both Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo (now with Real Madrid) were purchased at 18, years before they became the megastars they are now. Even George Best, one of the greatest to wear the kit of Man U, was discovered at 15. Javier “El Chicharito” Hernandez may be next.

4) The History
The 59 trophies, Sir Bobby Charlton (another badass knight!), The Treble in 1998-1999 (winning the EPL, FA Cup and UEFA Champions League), Old Trafford, Bryan Robson, Sir Alex Ferguson, the 1999 UEFA Champions League final injury time comeback against Bayern Munich, Eric Cantona, George Best, Denis Law and David Beckham. The list certainly goes on and on (just ask a true Manchester United fan).

The Big Saffa Finally Gets His

2010-07-23T07:39:00.001-07:00

When Jordy Smith came onto the World Tour last year, he was being hailed as the second-coming of Kelly Slater. Sort of. That title was partly shared with Dane Reynolds. From what we learned, it would seem Dane has the innovation of Sl8r, but Jordy has the competitive drive. Maybe combined they're Kelly 2.0.

In 10 contests last year, neither Dane nor Jordy finished first; Dane finished second (Trestles) and equal-third (Jeffreys Bay), and Jordy once finished equal-third (Bells). Nonetheless, both held their share of the spotlight, though with no wins.

Well, Jordy finally broke through. And he did so in impressive fashion, in his home country, at one of his favorite spots in the world – Jeffreys Bay. Aside from a controversial last-minute come-from-behind semifinal win over Bede Durbidge, Jordy was easily the surfer of the contest. He's so composed, yet creative. His turns are crisp and his snaps powerful. And he boosts good-sized airs, despite that 6'2", 190 pound frame.

As he took the shoulder ride from the water to the podium, he broke down. His mom greeted him and he broke down again. He did a live interviews, and the tears were streaming. It's not easy to be annointed; it's a hell of a lot of pressure.

It's going to be interesting to see if people look back and point to the 2010 J-Bay contest as the moment the old guard passed the torch onto the new generation. Kelly and Mick Fanning went out early, and along with Jordy, a couple young guns advanced late into the contest. That said, Kelly and Mick (and Joel Parkinson, who was out due to injury) could easily bounce back and win at Tahiti. But it's looking like the new class is mounting an offensive to say "Enjoy retirement," to the older guys.

On to Tahiti and Teahupoo we go.

Photo: SURFER/Ellis

Down Go the Yanks, But Thanks For Trying

2010-06-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

Hey boys, thanks for the effort – it was a thrilling ride while it lasted. But let's be real, soccer isn't really our sport and just the fact that you bested England to come out of the group in first was quite a feat. Yeah, you had the semifinals in your sight, with only Ghana and the winner of Uruguay/South Korea to beat, but hey, for being the country's sixth most popular sport (behind football, basketball, baseball, hockey and hotdog eating), what could you have really expected? You showed incredible heart and late-game discipline, but in the end you only had so many miracles at your disposal. Plus, with only three days rest, you'll have the exhaustion excuse (though you are professional athletes and it's your profession to be fit and prepared), as well as being forced to play without one of your best defenders (Oguchi Onyewu, slowed by injury). Hopefully the media will take it easy on you.

All sarcasm aside, it really was one of the more entertaining and engaging World Cup showings this country has had in some time. The 2002 quarterfinal aside, where we were a mediocre team that managed to beat our hated rivals, Mexico, this 2010 squad shows real promise looking forward. The core of Bradley (our most consistent player), Feilhaber (who should have been starting all tournament), Altidore (who needs to work on his dribbling and finishing and fitness – which are all reasons why he gets no time in Europe), Edu (who also should have been starting), Dempsey (who had a hell of a showing, despite only a fluke goal against England; but the guy was a human punching bag, and did not ease up) and, of course, Donovan (who finally lived up to his best-American-player reputation), bodes well for future successes at the international level. Each proved that he can play with the best on the biggest stage, which will hopefully translate into a few transfers to new, more prestigious clubs – which, in turn, will also grow the talent of the group.

For nearly two weeks, the US men's national team made soccer headline news. Sure, some bitched about the ties and the purpose of offsides, but the last-minute comebacks were thrilling (even though they were against Slovenia and Algeria) for the lovers and haters of the beautiful game, alike. It's just too bad that now any of the new fans of the game will have to watch the MLS, which is almost worse than a Royals-Brewers game.

BP Also Kicks Puppies

2010-06-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or does it seem like everyone is talking about the oil spill, but not really doing anything? I mean, they're bringing in experts, and this guy, and that guys, and my uncle Peter – and President Obama even leaned over and touched the stuff for a photo op. But is progress even being made? It's really quite sad. All of the PR moves asise, I can't stand to see another oil-drenched pelican or dead dolphin on the cover of a newspaper – it's sickening.

Then there's all the demonstrations: people splattering themselves with black paint and behaving dead on the pavement (yeah, but you're not dead, you just have paint on yourself and dirty clothes and you're not making an impact!), while others are throwing black paintballs at BP gas station signs. (Insert unenthusiastic thumbs-up here.) Ugh.

Let's just be supportive of trying to get through this disaster and do what we can to get that hover-car technology up and going ASAP. Thanks.

"Yes We Can" Musical Collage

2010-06-14T21:07:00.000-07:00

This is an old video, but I hadn't seen it. There's a lot of negative talk about President Barack Obama's first term in office swirling about the media, but there really has been a lot of oversight on what he has accomplished. Let us not forget the shitstorm he walked into courtesy of George W. Anyway, the video reminded me why his becoming president inspired a lot of hope in me and millions across the country and world. Enjoy.

"Steak with Whiz, please."

2010-06-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

I was in Philadelphia visiting a buddy a few weeks back; I hadn't been to City of Brotherly Love (based on its sports fan, I don't know how this city keeps that title) for nearly 10 years, but the one thing I remembered vividly was the mean cheesesteak I had.

Upon meeting up with my buddy my one request was that we had the best cheesesteak in town that he knew of. Agreed. We cruised the downtown area for a while and then headed for South Philly to a place called Jim's Steaks off South Street. We got there and the line was out the door and around the corner. It started to rain, and yet, the line persisted. There was a place across the street that also served cheesesteaks and for cheaper, but the place was empty. Apparently there was no competition for Jim's. The worst part of the wait was that the corner window was all glass, looking in at the guy behind the grill, working on onions, peppers and steak. It was a brutal wait – but it was well worth it.

I was educated by a woman behind me in line that "steak with Whiz," as in Cheez Whiz, was the way to go. But you didn't call it Cheez Whiz, simply Whiz. I was also informed that you approach the counter with your order ready and that you speak with clarity. There's no second-guessing or rereading the menu. Apparently they run that place with Soup Nazi-like diligence.

I'd sacrifice a cab driver for a Jim's cheesesteak right now.

Day at the Belmont Stakes

2010-06-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

Went and covered the third stop on the Triple Crown out at Belmont Park in Hempstead, N.Y. Over 45,000 attended the day of horse races. Lots of beer, bowties, hot dogs, glamorous hats, sunburns and lost hopes of bettors hoping to hit it big. Here is the day chronicled in images. Yes, that's Sarah Palin in column 3, row 3. Yes, she was really dressed like that.

Derek Fisher to the Rescue

2010-06-09T07:16:00.000-07:00

Kobe Bryant wasn't getting it done, so one of his key running mates from his rookie year (minus a few seasons) had to step in on the biggest stage and save the Lakers from what very likely would have been a death knoll. Derek Fisher has never been the star of the Lakers lineup, but he's always been sturdy when his team and city needed him. He did it against the San Antonio Spurs in 2006 with the 0.4 shot and his team needed him again last night when no one else –not even the team's go-to closer, Kobe – could. And so DFish did. Key shot after key shot, with the highlight coming in the last minute of the game – a coast-to-coast drive that had all 6-1, 210lbs of Fisher courageously take on nearly 700lbs of Celtics defense (Garnett, Davis and Allen) and come out the victor. Forget all that Rajon Rondo overhype (courtesy of ESPN), it was the 35-year-old Fisher who helped turn the series. Hell of a showing. Hell of a game. Game 4 on Thursday.

Photo: Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times

Old California in Orange County

2010-06-03T00:03:00.000-07:00

It's hard to come by, what with all the housing developments and superhighways, but around the occasional turn in the road is a bit of a reminder of an older, slower pace in Southern California. After taking a scenic drive in Orange County, the lady and I stumbled across the following scene and felt compelled to shoot a few photos.

Jozy Altidore ESPN Commercial

2010-05-21T15:49:00.000-07:00

Found this pretty funny. Met the ESPN guy, Josh Elliot, when he came in to speak to our Sports Journalism class at Columbia JSchool.ESPN is going big on its World Cup coverage this year. Will be curious to see if it translates to a high profile for the sport of soccer/football in the States. I'll also be curious to see if Jozy can finally deliver on all the hype that has accompanied his career.

We Are All Witnesses – To LeBron's Next Move

2010-05-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

We are all witnesses ... (potentially) of the end of Cleveland's best chance to bring home its first NBA championship.

We may have just witnessed the last home game with LeBron James wearing a maroon Cleveland Cavaliers jersey.

Cleveland fans may soon become witnesses of watching one of the all-time greatest players – and by the end of his career, I have no doubts that he will be – leave town.

Heading into the playoffs, my gut feeling was that LeBron was staying in Cleveland. And why wouldn't he? The team was winning, finishing the season with the best record. The franchise had done what it could to build a championship-contending team around him, bringing in big piece (Shaquille O'Neal) after big piece (Antawn Jamison). I figured it was just a matter of time before he brought a couple championship rings to his home state (though not this year).

Then the series with the Boston Celtics happened. It's not yet over, but that blowout Game 5 loss on Cleveland's home floor, with fans booing and leaving early ... that's not the statement to be made possibly one game before LeBron enters free agency. That kind of statement is the kind of thing that makes someone like LeBron rethink his future, even if he already had it figured out. Maybe he's starting to realize that no matter what the Cavs management does, he's just not meant to win in Cleveland. Maybe he should start again in New Jersey (soon to be Brooklyn) or New York.

It's still possible for the Cavs to fall back into form, the type of form that had made them the favorites to win the championship. But they're up against a veteran-savvy team in Boston. You know the Big Three (Paul Piece, Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett) would like nothing more than to prove they're not an "old" team and that the young hyped-up stars of tomorrow aren't yet ready to steal their stage.

If you're not yet a witness, consider tuning in for Game 6, because you may just be witness to the end of a fruitless (LeBron wants championships, not MVP trophies) run in Cleveland and the birth of a new beginning elsewhere, which would mean a drastically different NBA landscape.

Don't Let This Happen To You

2010-05-10T07:10:00.000-07:00

It was obvious from the moment I saw this man in the bar he'd had a few too many or his tolerance was far lower than he knew. He was stumbling, stepping on toes and spilling his drink. At one point, he bought a round for his group and then walked away from the bar without his drinks. He returned five minutes later to order another round, before I pointed out that the three drinks already sitting on the bar were the ones he'd already purchased. Ugh.

I just so happened to come across him in his final resting place of the evening (he was breathing, I checked – then I took photos) on my way to another bar.

On These Warm Spring Days...

2010-05-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

It's hot and humid in NYC today. I'm stuck at school working on various projects, but the only place I want to be is at the beach on a surfboard, legs in the chilly spring waters and my gaze out toward sea in hopes of spotting an oncoming swell. I picture myself at 58th Street in Newport Beach, because the waves are a bit faster and crowds thinner (in numbers, not weight - though that also applies). A day at Malibu aboard a log would also be acceptable, except that the crowds border on hysteria. The numbers, the characters, the egos, the newbees. It doesn't matter if it's 1 to 2 feet or 5 to 6, for some reason the crowds flock regardless. It such a pristine, simple-looking wave, but when the size gets up there, it really is a place only for the experienced – though that will never be the case. Anyhow, as I sit in an air conditioned room, overlooking the mass of undergrads shirtless and pale in the quad area at Columbia University, know I'd rather be sunscreen'd and maybe a bit sunburned, with sand in my hair and the smell of salt on my skin.

I need some waves.

Image from ffffound.com

Borel Makes It Three Derby Wins in Four Years

2010-05-01T17:00:00.000-07:00

I should have known better. With all the variables in play at the 136th running of the Kentucky Derby, I should have gone with the jockey who never wavered. Calvin Borel followed the riding manual this year, just as he’d done in two Derby wins in the previous three years – get to the rail and stay there – and it worked yet again. Borel guided Super Saver along the muddy-soaked rail and into Derby history.

Coming down the homestretch, no horse was distinguishable. Each appeared splattered with peanut butter from the sloppy track. Mother Nature had made life difficult for the 20 horses in the race, dropping several inches of rain the previous evening. The weather combined with the poor post positions of the favorites had all the pundits calling it a wide-open affair. And so it was. Super Saver took the rose blanket, followed by Ice Box and Paddy O’Prado.

Whatever lingering frustration and depression trainer Todd Pletcher had after having to scratch the odds-on favorite, Eskendereya, a week before the race, were likely erased when Borel guided Super Saver across the wire first in 2:04.45. At least that’s the feeling I got after seeing Pletcher’s double-fisted arm pump and awkward grin on the television set at Dive Bar. It was a very similar reaction to the one after Eskendereya won the Wood Memorial back in early April, cementing that colt as the Derby favorite.

It was a different jockey and different horse that delivered Pletcher from his PESD (post-Eskendereya stress disorder). Super Saver’s win took Pletcher out from behind the reputation that had been haunting his career: the big-money trainer who could never win the Derby. He was 0 for 24 coming into this race. He had believed Eskendereya, that “special horse,” would be the one to break the curse. Even with the special horse out of the race, Pletcher still had four others to look to for potential glory.

Borel and Super Saver ran the race everyone should have expected a Borel mount would ride. Starting from the No. 4 post, he went straight to the rail, among a group of three horses that pinched off the racing space for the favorite, Lookin At Lucky. Just as he’d done in his previous Derby wins, Borel got the rail and kept it. Even as Super Saver slipped from second back to seventh, the two stayed on the rail. They reclaimed the lead on the homestretch, nearly 300 yards from the wire and didn’t let it go. Borel’s trip proved a simple one. Off the rail, moves were being made in the traffic jam that was the pack. Garrett Gomez got Lookin At Lucky to make a push from the back of the pack up to the leaders, but the colt had to work hard every step of the way, draining precious speed and energy. The pair ended up sixth.

After the race, Borel bounced along on the back of Super Saver, his grin, even during an interview, never ceased. He waved to the crowd, stoop in his stirrups and held three fingers high into the sunny sky. His feat was an impressive one. His three Kentucky Derby wins places him in good company, with the likes of Angel Cordero, Jr. and Gary Stevens. Only three jockeys have won the Derby more than three times: Eddie Arcaro (5), Bill Hartack (5) and Bill Shoemaker (4).

On this day in Kentucky, the history didn’t really matter. It was one race with one winner. Any of the 20 could have had its day and its glory. Borel doing what Borel has done proved the best bet.

Magazine Ad Campaign: Save our publications!

2010-04-22T10:56:00.000-07:00

I've now come across this ad in New York Magazine and Esquire. Are they a plea for support? I found them interesting. But they seem to be preaching to the choir. If someone is seeing the ad, they are already thumbing through a magazine. The target audience are the readers who've turned to the web to get their content.

The impact of the ad campaign also makes me wonder if anyone even notices the ads. I stopped because the photo of Michael Phelps seemed completely out of place in New York, so it worked. For many other readers, not sure if that would be the case.

The second one is the second phase of the ad campaign, which will debut in June issues.

For the sake of my career and the continued presence of outlets for my work, I hope they work.

Images taken from the Hearst Corporation website. They were available for download.

Eskendereya is the Horse to Beat; Wins Wood Memorial

2010-04-06T12:21:00.000-07:00

(This was recently posted on The Huffington Post)

Todd Pletcher has 20 horses on the nomination list for the Kentucky Derby, the most of any trainer. But it’s his 3-year-old chestnut colt Eskendereya, out of Zayat Stables, who shows the most promise. And that colt was the reason why he was at Aqueduct in Queens, N.Y. on Saturday, April 3.

Six horses were in the $750,000 Wood Memorial field, the 9th race of the afternoon, but Eskendereya (pronounced “S-ken-dRAY-uh”) was the horse the majority of the crowd of 8,553 and the throng of media came to see. The Wood was the last major prep race before the qualifying horses headed to Churchill Downs for the May 1 date in the Kentucky Derby. Eskendereya left no doubt that he was, in fact, the favorite for the Derby, and potentially the Triple Crown.

Pletcher had a horse in the 8th race, the $200,000 Excelsior Stake. He spent the minutes leading up to post time in the shadows of the No. 3 paddock stall, among the horse grooms and excrement. He was wearing a pressed grey pinstripe suit with a bluish-grey tie that complimented his blue eyes. His gray-white hair was manicured, his face clean-shaven and his hands were clasped behind his back. His gaze was focused on his horse, Nite Light; his appearance was all business.

Pletcher watched the race from Box B18, with his wife and three kids around him. He stood throughout the race, occasionally peering through his large set of binoculars for a closer look at his horse and jockey, John Velazquez. The horse came in second, and there was 23 minutes to post for the Wood.

As the six horses for the Wood made their way from the backstretch to the paddock, anyone and everyone associated with one of the horses poured into the area as well. The men wore suits and the women wore colorful dresses. Most of the women also wore goosebumps and had the shivers, since the forecasted warm weather was replaced with a brisk ocean breeze.

The railing overlooking the paddock was lined three-deep with spectators trying to get a glimpse of the contending horses, like they were leaning in to see Alex Rodriguez in the on-deck circle. One group even had an “ESKENDEREYA” sign, the letters colored turquoise and yellow – the color scheme of the Zayat Stables silks. Pletcher again watched from his position in the No. 3 stall, among the grooms and the excrement, with his hands clasped behind his back.

He did emerge in time to greet Velazquez, as the horses circled the paddock. He helped boost the jockey onto the back of the colt, raising him by the left boot. The trumpet tune played, calling the horses to post, and the six contenders emerged onto the track.

Minutes later, when the gates sprang open to start the race, Eskendereya broke with the pack, settling into third around the clubhouse turn. At this point, Pletcher was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t trackside or in the box with his family. Instead, he was in a tiny office beside the scales in the paddock area watching the Wood Memorial on a 17-inch television. He sat in a chair with his elbows on his knees, the race program rolled up and held tight in his hands, and his eyes on the TV set. He looked like a kid in a trance watching Saturday morning cartoons.

If there was any speculation whether Eskendereya would live up the hype that has surrounded his Derby chase, it was squashed by the time he completed the final turn. After sitting comfortably in third throughout the backstretch, he made his move in the final turn. From the outside position, the powerful colt made spectators out of Most Happy Fella and Jackson Bend, as he moved to the lead by the top of the homestretch. He went from head-to-head with two horses to his tremendous 9 3/4-length cushion in the final 1/8 mile. Velazquez never had to use his whip: “I was just a passenger in that one,” he would say later.

It wasn’t until he saw Eskendereya pass the wire victoriously, that Pletcher rose from his seat and emerged from the small room. He adjusted his tie, then his coat and ascended the stairs to the track. He was greeted with handshakes and pats on the back. Pletcher didn’t crack his first smile until his feet were buried in the track dirt, while shaking another hand.

In post-race interviews, Pletcher admitted that the performance of the colt surpassed even his own expectations, and that he’d be anxious to see the outcome of a similar Stake race going on across the country at Santa Anita, the Santa Anita Derby. Lookin At Lucky, the other serious contender for the Kentucky Derby, was set to run. Pletcher would save those concerns for a later time.

Nearly a half hour after Eskendereya’s win, the Santa Anita Derby ran. Lookin At Lucky would be pinched in the race and wind up third.

Let the Kentucky Derby countdown begin. My money is on Eskendereya.

SW's Wise Words

2010-03-29T22:02:00.000-07:00

These words were shared with me the day before the Career Expo I attended this past weekend. I was a bit nervous and having some doubts about myself, so my lady shared these yoga-inspired thoughts to help me calm myself:

"Remember to remain grounded. When your feet are rooted on the ground, you are always supported in your efforts."

"The earth will embrace you and allow you to take the risks and be as open as you can."

"You must seek to open you heart. This will allow your unique light/beauty to enter the universe."

They helped. Thanks SW.

Street Art By the Plenty

2010-03-23T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's everywhere in this city, and I love seeing it.

SPiN: Where Ping Pong is King

2010-03-22T20:17:00.000-07:00

Yes, that guy is playing ping pong with his shirt off. Yes, he does proceed to take off his shorts and play in his briefs before the end of the match. No, this isn't some twisted ping pong inspired burlesque show, this is just an average Friday night at SPiN in the Flatiron District. These two were playing in the semis of the Dirty Dozen tournament that goes on every Friday at the club. SPiN is where a children's game becomes hip. The place is frequented by guys in suits, professional table tennis players, and just about every notable ping pong personality comes through. Oh, and sometimes Susan Sarandon is there, since she's a part owner.

I've been spending a good amount of time there lately for a story I'm pursuing, and like my previous reporting out at the racetrack, I'm fascinated by the culture of the place. The people are friendly and interesting, there's a bar at one end, a restaurant with a gourmet menu, and the tunes are always something poppy and upbeat. Great spot for a group of friends who want to do something different than go to a bar on a Friday night.

And so you know, the guy who stripped during his match won. Sex sells, even in ping pong.

Madness, Madness, Madness (Day 1)

2010-03-19T07:45:00.000-07:00

Holy Dick Enberg's lack of a tupay, what a first day!

I tried to convince myself to steer clear of the NCAA tournament this year because I know what a distraction it can so easily become. Despite not watching a single college basketball game this season (mainly because I didn't have a TV) – well I did attend a St. John's/Louisville game, so that, I guess, counts – I found myself sending out the mass email trying to set up a last-second (in memory of a great Christian Laettner last-second effort) bracket pool.

Despite my initial hopes to avoid the distractions, I fell full force into unproductivity (not a word, I know). I blame the internet. Really. Without a TV, there wasn't much I could do but check scores, but no, the NCAA decided to throw a poor grad student a much un-needed life ring in the form of live feeds through its website. I now had EVERY game available to me. I could switch from one game to the next with ease. My day was done. I did make efforts to pull myself away, but every thought of another Robert Morris-like effort lured me back. BTW, did anyone else see that Robert Morris-Villanova game? Holy Holy Cross! Easily the game of the day for me. That miniscule freshman PG from Robert Morris was unbelievable – he didn't do a single thing wrong! He hit big 3s, he was ferocious when driving to the basket and he was a pest on defense. In fact, the whole RM team put on a clinic in bother D. Villanova was lucky that the officials handed them that game (every time Scotty Reynolds touched the ball, he was given two shots).

Every year when I fill out my bracket, I always try to call the upsets. Too many, in fact, which is why I never win my brackets. But hey, I can take pride in the fact that I called the No. 13 Murray State over No. 4 Vanderbilt upset (but never saw the No. 14 Ohio over No. 3 Georgetown beatdown coming!). The upsets and down-to-the-wire finishes are what make the tournament what it is. As I said, I didn't watch any (OK, sorry, St. John's/Louisville counts for something) college basketball this season, but the tournament can still lure the fair-weather fan in with an indistinguishable abandon. Even with the two teams I feel some connection to (UCLA and UNC) not being in the tournament, I'm still insanely invested.

So the distractions will go on. Though I have so many other things to be doing this weekend, I will continue to have the live feeds lingering on the corner of my monitor, as though I am intrinsically linked to the fate of No. 12 Cornell (since I'm a part of the Ivy League ... and because I so unwisely believe its ability to shoot the 3 could lead to its being the 2010 Cinderella story). It borders on addiction. It's that exciting. Most people don't care because, well, they have jobs and can't watch basketball all day on a Thursday. But I'm on Spring Break ... so don't judge me! In fact, it's Friday, and I plan on spending another day watching nearly every breath-taking moment, so, take that employment!

Forever "The Dude"

2010-03-09T16:56:00.001-08:00

I'll admit that I'm happy for Jeff Bridges. After all these years and all those movies, he did deserve to finally win an Academy Award. I didn't see the movie, but I've read that the award can be looked at as more of a Lifetime Achievement honor than actually being the best lead actor. He played an aging country singer in the movie, Crazy Heart, that landed him the hardware – but he will forever be associated with El Duderino. The Big Lebowski made him someone of notoriety in my movie-watching mind. And he'll be remembered for much longer into the future for that role than the one that got the golden naked guy. To this day I can't understand my obsession with The Big Lebowski (future blog entry?), but it's obviously a movie of great popularity, witnessed through its cult-like following (see Lebowski Fest, which is next in Los Angeles, April 2-3). For now, I'll just continue to enjoy the hijinks of The Dude, Walter and Donnie with the fandamonium.

Who's to Blame? Mixed feelings about this one...

2010-03-08T20:41:00.000-08:00

All the Jschool students get emails from DCPI (Deputy Commissioner for Public Information), announcing crimes in the city. Seems like a lot of young black kids get shot. That aside, this one came through recently and was particularly disturbing:

"On Monday March 8, 2010 at approximately 1510 hours, in the rear of 3117 Avenue W (P.S. 194), in the confines of the 61 Precinct, police received a 911 call of a man with a gun. Upon arrival, a uniformed police officer encountered a M/W/22 who pointed what appeared to be a silver handgun at the officer. The officer discharged three (3) rounds, striking the suspect. EMS transported the suspect to Coney Island Hospital where he is pronounced dead at 1611 hours. The Investigation is ongoing."

This is the photo that accompanied the report.

I'm Not Right

2010-03-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

My body isn't right. At first I thought it was a reaction to the constant cold or an overdose of coffee. The weather has warmed a bit and I've cut down on the caffeine intake. And yet my symptoms persist. I've tried to work out more, read more and spend less time with my eyes glued to the 13-inch screen of my laptop, which serves as a workstation and TV. And yet, I continued to feel ... weird. I even considered going in for a physical.

But a few days ago, I think I succeeded in self diagnosing. I was in Williamsburg to check out this surf shop that I'd heard about. I know, a surf shop in Hipsterville just a block from the river – sounded like a joke to me as well. The shop was very much not what you'd find in a beach town. The exterior was used as a canvas, blending several different styles of art into one mish-mash of so-called decoration. The sign looked like the one on the Radio City Music Hall, long and vertical. But this one read "MOLLUSK." The shop was small, maybe 20x12, but every square-inch was maximized. A rack from wall to wall had an array of surfboards, both long and short with colors bland and vibrant. Another wall was all neoprene all the time. Wetsuits beyond a thickness I'd ever touched. A floor to ceiling rack of surf videos, another shelf of surf reading material (books, not magazines) and a table of shop t-shirts. Behind the counter sat a guy that looked like he belonged on the walkway of the Hipsters, Bedford Ave. But he knew his stuff. We talked surf for nearly 45 minutes – the shop, the East Coast scene, the water temps, the waves in the area, the personalities and so on.

I walked out and felt worse than I had before my various attempts to rectify whatever it was that was bothering me. That's when I realized the problem: I'm just extremely anxious to go surfing again.

It's been nearly two months since my feet touched salt water and I'm pretty certain that my body is going through withdrawals. Not that I'm helping myself. I've watched every surf video I brought out to NY (some, like Picaresque and New Emissions of Light and Sound, twice), I'm constantly checking Surfline, and my dad and brother are oh-so-kind and provide me regular updates of the fantastic El Nino winter they're having out West.

I don't have the rubber to protect me from the bitter winter weather. So I wait (not so patiently) and watch (Surfline, the Quik Pro in Australia, the cams). I'm going back to California in a week. Guess where one of my first stops will be? I'm thinking Church (if there is a God, he'll deliver waves) or the Newport river jetties.

And, hopefully, I'll be well again. And can get back to consuming coffee at an unhealthy click.

The Hat Chase + Baby Bird

2010-03-01T21:34:00.001-08:00

A couple pieces of video magic courtesy of my uber-talented siblings ... who had too much time on their hands over winter break. My little brother, Garett, is the actor on screen – critics have said he reminds them of a young James Dean. My sis, McCall, is working the camera and sites Jerry Bruckheimer among her influences.

The Hat Chase from McCall Marshall on Vimeo.

Baby Bird from McCall Marshall on Vimeo.

Project 365: Weeks IV - VII

2010-02-27T18:13:00.000-08:00

Living in New York has given me my first exposure to real winter weather. Well, my first exposure to the seasons actually changing. It's been refreshing, but for the purpose of photography, on days when the weather is just a bit too brutal, it becomes a bit dull to shoot photos in the apartment over and over. I've also been stuck in small, drab rooms writing for hours on end; another not so aesthetically pleasing sight. That said, some days have been amazing for shooting. I try to have my camera on me whenever possible and sometimes it pays off, sometimes it's quite cumbersome. That said, as adorable as my cat may be ("FAIL Cat-In-The-Box"), she shouldn't be making too may more appearance. I need to get back on pace to shooting rather regularly. Here's the past few weeks. Enjoy folks.

Day 30 – "Notes"

Day 31 – "Fragile Ocean"

Day 32 (Feb. 1) – "Cluttered Work Space"

Day 33 – "Snowed Out"

Day 34 – "Pick Your Weapon"

Day 35 – "Subway Spin"

Day 36 – "Graffiti Lines"

Day 37 – "Entertaining Trash"

Day 38 – "Shaka"

Day 39 – "FAIL Cat-In-The-Box" (Better than the Twitter Fail Whale)

-No photo taken this day-

Day 40 – "Jumbo Patriotism"

Day 41 – "No Game Today"

Day 42 – "Where the Work Happens"

Day 43 – "Snow Tracks"

Day 44 – "Three Men in Black"

Day 45 – "Shrimp(s)(?)"

Day 46 – "FAIL Cat-In-The-Box"

Day 47 – "Snow Walk"

Day 48 – "In Transit"

Day 49 – "FAIL Cat-In-The-Box"

Day 50 – "Pure Excitement"

Day 51 – "Prayer Candles"

Day 52 – "From Brooklyn Bridge"

Day 53 – "The City That Never Sleeps"

Day 54 – "Three Layer Art"

Day 55 – "FAIL Cat-In-The-Box"

Day 56 – "Kitchenware"

Day 57 – "Snowy Branches"

What a Difference 4 Months Make

2010-02-23T22:45:00.000-08:00

Wait, you're telling me seasons actually do change? What? This is madness! I'm from California and I always thought winter simply meant there was going to be a handful of days were sandals weren't going to cut it?! Wow. I never knew. That in mind, how do you East Coasters, well, all non-Californian'rs handle all this cold weather? No wonder the population of Southern California is what it is. I will admit, I was overjoyed when I first saw snowfall in NY, but two days later, that black crap on the side of the road that had turned into a paste of some sort and accumulated all the runoff just wasn't as pleasing on the eye or the senses as it was when fresh, delicate and stark white. Hmm, pretty sure I'm okay with taking travel time to experience the seasons from here on out.

A Winter In White

2010-02-14T22:48:00.001-08:00

New York got a lot of snow last Wednesday. I got a whole lot of giddy. I put on boots, my snowboard jacket and jeans (so very appropriate, I know), grabbed my camera and went for an afternoon tour of Central Park. Here's some of what I saw.

My Photography on NYTimes.com

2010-02-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

It's a small image and there was no money exchanged, but it's still a pretty cool deal to see your name on the homepage of NYTimes.com ... thanks to my photo professor Rob Bennett for the heads up to submit something.

Someone Please Tell Me Palin is a Puppet

2010-02-08T18:01:00.001-08:00

If somewhere Will Farrell and Tina Fey are controlling a walking-talking supposedly presidential candidate dumb-dumb former governor of Alaska, I won't be surprised. I will laugh though. Her behavior is rather entertaining. If not, well...

Really, Republicans, really?! She's the best you have to contend in the next election? Seriously, you can't find anyone better? You do recognize how this reflects on you, don't you? It's not pretty. Pretty sad and embarrassing really. But if you believe in her wishy-washy mumbo-jumbo (that's my best Palin-speak impersonation), I cry for you. Well, not really. I just hope you don't brainwash too many more voters. But if one of your conservative types does win, I'm definitely leaving for Canada ... well, Eastern Canada, don't want to be too close to Alaska, seeing as how they thought she was ideal to govern.

Seriously, what the F? She's up there using every back-handed comment she can find (that weren't even all that witty, and chances are, she didn't write them) to bash the president, and she's got penned notes on her hand! One positive probably came out of this: a whole host of middle school kids who cheat on their tests just found their intellectual equal.

Well played, Ms. Palin.

Oh, and cheers to you Mr. Farrell and Ms. Fey (I seriously hope for my continued respect for my fellow countrymen that you are in fact playing a prank).

Images borrowed from HuffPo post HERE.

And so He said, "Let There Be Life Without Facebook!"

2010-02-08T10:25:00.000-08:00

I went two weeks without Facebook. It's true. No cheating, no peaking, no looking at a friends computer to see their profile to see what was going on in the world (since FB is my source for world news ... if FB fails then I go to Twitter).

No daily (unnecessary) updates, no new friend requests, no wall comments, no pokes, no 'If I Were A Child Actor Turned Pedophile Who Would I Be?' surveys, no red flags of joy, no tagged photos, and lastly, no endless number of hours wasted. That was the point of the experiment – could I still function without it? I wouldn't say I was addicted, not in the same way that I am to coffee, sports and cocaine (just making sure you're paying attention and not just cursing my absurdity in your head!). It was just that Facebook was becoming a constant source of distraction. I'd open up Safari to double-check some factoid for a story or to research a topic, and inevitably, I'd end up on Facebook. For what, you ask? Who the fuck knows. I guess is was to make sure I hadn't missed the invitation for an event across the country or to become a fan of something I'm not particularly a fan of, like a certain photographers website (who I've denied at least 15 times - get a clue!). In the end, nothing mainly. My time on there was worthless. So, I said goodbye. It wasn't painful. No harsh words were said. I went my separate way and we've both been fine without the other. I just needed my space so that I could focus on work without Facebook as a distraction.

I found other distractions.

Point still made. I succeeded. No Facebook. Yeah, I still wasted time. Whatever. I'm not addicted to Facebook. Glory to me.

Colts/Saints: Someone Had to Fail Eventually

2010-02-07T20:31:00.000-08:00

Someone had to make a mistake. That was the only way this game was going to end. The simple question was just who: Colts' Peyton Manning or Saints' Drew Brees? Both were incredibly solid. From kickoff to final kneel – interception aside – they put on independent clinics on how a quarterback is supposed to handle oneself in the pocket, find the open man and make the wise throw. It got to the point where I wasn't even impressed by the thread-the-needle completions, on the numbers passes, and the unworldly touch when dropping a pass over a receivers shoulder. What got my attention was when a poor throw was made (very few) or a receiver dropped a practically perfect pass.

Sixty-three completions between the two of them. Brees tied the Super Bowl record with 32 (tying Tom Brady) and Manning fell one short.

Both defenses knew what was coming. Both teams brought prolific offenses to Miami. Both were powered by the pass. Whatever they got on the ground was a bonus. In the end the Colts had a pretty decent showing by RB Joseph Addai (13 carries, 77 yards), but this was a game played through the air. The respective defensive coordinators did what they could to harness the nearly unstoppable star quarterback leading the attack on the opposing sideline, and to an extent they succeeded. If you noticed, there were no electric long plays from scrimmage, mainly a lot of screens, dumps over the middle, and check-backs by receivers. These defenses were as prepared as they could be after two weeks of preparation for two QBs of destiny. Just so turns out that Brees outlasted Manning in the turnover department. And Manning's single un-Manning moment of weakness was the deciding moment. Manning had seven fourth quarter comebacks this season. The way this came was going, it looked like he was on his way to eight ... until Tracy Porter stepped in line with that poorly-placed (inside shoulder) pass, which he returned 74 yards for the final cushion.

This game was everything that it was supposed to be: Two deserving contenders who brought passionate fan bases to Miami (NO gets the nod for most energetic – did you see the images of the French Quarter after the clock hit zeroes?); two quarterbacks who played as close to perfect games as possible on the grandest stage; Dwight Freeney battling through injury to make an impact (at least in the first half); Saints' coach Sean Payton opting not to take the safe route in hopes of getting the win (that onside kick to start the 2nd half took all of America by surprise); two teams that had legitimate shots at the title late into the fourth quarter; and classy post-game behavior by both teams.

I thought the Saints would crumble under the bright lights. I was wrong. I didn't sense a single moment of trepidation from anyone in gold and black. The Colts, however, lost their swagger early in the second half. Coach Jim Caldwell probably gave a nice halftime speech about coming out and establishing themselves early in the half and deflating the Saints energy. Onside kick. The Colts weren't entirely themselves after that.

Enough for now. That was a hell of a game. I think the city of New Orleans needed this more than the legacy of Peyton Manning needed the extra boost into super-duper-extraordinary. Enjoy the moment.

And please, no more of the 'Who dat?' stuff after Tuesday.

Google before you Tweet

2010-02-07T10:18:00.000-08:00

Sad but true.

Found at ffffound.com.

SATURDAYS – Surf NYC

2010-02-02T18:06:00.000-08:00

Located at 31 Crosby.

Stopped by the shop today for a cup of coffee, to snap some photos for a few projects and to say 'hey' to the guys. Co-owner Morgan is fresh off his modeling debut in Esquire Magazine and is the face for the SoHo surf/coffee shop in a new TV piece, which is going to be appearing in NY cabs, according to their blog (check it HERE!). Josh was behind the coffee bar, and it so turns out that we had both been at musician Matt Costa's wedding reception last summer in CA (he as a guest, me as the photographer). Small world – but irrelevant, sorry. The other owner is Colin, but he wasn't there. He's cool too.

Every time I go by the place it has new product, a new piece of art on the wall, or something funky-cool to see. The location is a bit off the beaten Broadway path (like two streets to the East), which is nice when you don't have to fight the tourist crowd. If you're in NY, stop by and say hello. They're all nice guys with a good thing going. Be sure to enjoy your caffeinated drink of choice on the back patio. Yes, patio – it's what makes the location gold.

What's for Breakfast?

2010-02-02T17:32:00.001-08:00

I wish. I haven't had pancakes in ages. Even when I go out for breakfast, I always think I should eat something heartier. But they're just oh-so-good (as long as there's enough butter)! I'm usually just a bagel and/or eggs with coffee guy, but one of these upcoming weekends, I need to pull out the griddle, grab some maple syrup from the Northeast and make circular, doughy magic happen!

I don't know why I wrote this.

Image found on ffffound.com.

The Meatiest, Cheesiest Necessary Evil of All: In-N-Out

2010-02-01T22:03:00.000-08:00

The source of my burger rant. Found on ffffound.com.

My final proper meal in California before returning to New York after Christmas break was In-N-Out. It was absolutely delightful – a Double-Double animal-style, a Cheeseburger animal-style, fries and a pink lemonade (the salivary glands are fully functional).

There are a few burger joints in NY that I'm told rival In-N-Out's meaty, cheesy, secret saucey goodness but I remain skeptical. I tried Shake Shack's (Upper West Side, 366 Columbus Avenue @ 77th Street) best burger, and it was pretty damn good. It even had a similar presentation with a thin patty and golden-brown bun. Was was it In-N-Out quality? Hell no. Corner Bistro (West Village, 331 W. 4th Street) also served up a hearty medium-rare contender, but it couldn't touch the yellow left turn arrow logos' price. And most recently I put a burger from Bill's Bar and Burger (West Village, 22 9th Avenue) to the taste-test, and though I left satisfied, it wasn't the same sense of burger-dining nirvana that you-know-who serves up.

Oh, Lord of Sirloin Beef and Condiments, how I would sacrifice for a No. 1 with a chocolate shake sometime in the near future! East Coasters, if you're wise, you'll lobby for the In-N-Out franchise to go bi-coastal. Or you can just continue to wallow in your second-rate burger eating experience (ok, I apologize, that was a bit rude and over the top ... but seriously, In-N-Out is F'n amazing!).

Call it West Coast bias, but I remain a staunch In-N-Out for burger-serving President supporter (whatever that means) – but the challenge continues. If you've got a true contender within the five boroughs in mind, let me know, and I'll give it a go. Just make sure it's not Papaya Dog, that place gave me indigestion for a week.

The Last Meal in CA.

Project 365: Week IV

2010-01-30T16:40:00.000-08:00

I've made it a habit of having my camera on me practically everywhere I'm going – as long as I know I'll be keeping my senses (if you know what I mean). That made this week a bit easier to complete. Some days that meant shooting my walk to campus or the surrounding area after interviewing a source for a story. Whatever the case, I'm happy to report that there were no close calls. So, be prepared to be wowed! Or bored. Or move on to the next blog. Whatever. See if I care. Pssssh!

Day 24 - "Off the Yellow Line"

Day 25 - "Double Take, Double Flake"

Day 26 - "Squirrel Run"

Day 27 - "No Title"

Day 28 - "Brick Talk"

Day 29 - "Framed"

To see all my progress on Project 365, go to my Flickr account HERE.

One Must Learn

2010-01-27T23:55:00.000-08:00

"Do not brood over your past mistakes and failures as this will only fill your mind with grief, regret and depression. Do not repeat them in the future."

–Swami Sivananda (Indian Yoga master, Physician, Monk)

Project 365: Week III (1/2)

2010-01-25T16:49:00.000-08:00

This last week was a tough go for staying on course for the 365 straight days of taking a photo each and every day. The first draft of my Master's project was due and then school started up, which left little time for wandering about in hopes of finding something worthwhile to shoot. Instead, I just documented when and where I spent my time in most cases, which I presume, is part of what the project becomes anyhow. Some days I've had more photos than just one, but I'll only be picking one per day to feature on here. You can see all of my Project 365 photos on my Flickr account HERE.

And so, the last nine days of my life in photos:

Day 15 - "Weekend Home" - As you'll see with the next few photos, lots of time on the campus of Columbia University, most of which was spent in the Journalism school.

Day 16 - "Twelve Straight Hours" - What this doesn't say, is twelve straight hours for five straight days. Transcribing, organizing, re-organizing, procrastinating and writing. (Taken with my Blackberry.)

Day 17 - "Rain Drops on Low Memorial" - I came back wanting to see snow, and rain is the best we've got. I like the blurred effect the rain gives the building.

Day 18 - "No Title" - This figurine is in a garden right next to the St. John the Devine Cathedral, and is only about 9 inches tall. I liked the simplistic approach the artist took.

Day 19 - "Card Catalogs" - When I wasn't in the JSchool, I was in the library. There hasn't been much work done since it was built, so the rooms have so much character.

Day 20 - "The Parker Report - Haiti" - First day of Spring Semester, and M.A. student Eric Parker was on hand to give us his first-hand account of the Haiti earthquake.

Day 21 - "Self Portrait" - On the days when there isn't enough time to shoot, this is what you get.

Day 22 - "Katie Couric" - Ms. Couric was at the JSchool to accept the DuPont award for her tremendous journalistic work. Most interesting during her time at the podium was her detailed description of the Sarah Palin interviews.

Day 23 - "Patriotic Footwear" - All sorts of vintage, interesting items to shoot at the Brooklyn Flea Market. Everywhere you look you want to snap off a few frames.

In Favre We Risk

2010-01-24T22:45:00.000-08:00

Though the majority of the Vikings-Saints game was a demonstration of playoff fragility in the form of butterfingers (well, mostly for the Vikes RBs), that was a hell of a game. Tough to watch at times, tense beyond belief at others, but in the end, the type of hair-pulling, heart-breaking, down-to-the-wire game you want to see this late in the football season.

This was my immediate post-game thought posted on Facebook: "Rough loss for Viking-nation. Granted, I was just pulling for them because of Favre, but that was just one of those games where the gods of football just didn't want a team to win. Truly, that should have been a blowout. Without the TOs, the Vikes roll. But the defense kept them in it and proved that the Saints get too much credit. The Vikes lost that game, the Saints didn't win it."

The Saints, for all their pre-game-offensive-juggernaut-hype were playing scared. That and they were matched up with a superior, more confident opponent in the Vikings. I'm not rah-rahing for the Vikings here, just look at the final numbers: Total Yards - Saints, 257 to the Vikings, 475. The story was in the turnovers: Saints, 1 to the Vikings, 5. Granted, the turnover factor is huge in deciding an outcome and proving a teams composure. But come on, something wasn't kosher with what was happening with the Vikings' RBs – 6 fumbles! Ridiculous. Adrian Peterson has a fumbling problem, but he doesn't send the football afoot as often as what happened Sunday night.

And that last Favre interception, well, that was the gunslinger in him trying to make something happen late in a game when he should have played it safe. I've always known this about No. 4, and it's why I love the guy – he goes for it. He doesn't settle for playing it safe, and at times, that's definitely to his detriment. But don't hate on the guy too quickly. He's the catalyst for making that Vikings offense go. He played the same crucial role with the Packers and Jets in his previous seasons. And this much is certainly true: without Favre behind the O-line for the Vikings this year, that team doesn't even make the playoffs. Tavaris Jackson and Sage Rosenfels would have played them into an early offseason. Favre made that team what it was. My friend Sean Spencer put it well: You live by the Favre, you die by the Favre.

You know what this means though, don't you? Favre is going to seriously consider playing another season because there's no way in hell he's going to meander peacefully into the NFL afterlife (retirement) with his last throw being an interception that blew his chance to go back to the Super Bowl. Favre Watch 3.0 starts now.

Oh, the frustration of coughing up yet another NFC Championship game. Photo: NY Times.

NFL Playoffs: the Good, the Bad and the Cowboys

2010-01-17T18:41:00.000-08:00

I always enjoy the quick thoughts from the various Sports Illustrated columnists on the ongoings of the weekend football games. After watching a good bit of three of the four games, I figured I'd try to throw out some of my own:

Arizona Cardinals, 14 – New Orleans Saints, 45

• The Cardinals just didn't have the same execution from the week before when they lit up the Packers, but they did bring the same defense that was in turn lit up by the Packers. And then the Saints just took the invitation and Drew Brees had a pleasant warm-up for the next round.

• Say goodbye to Kurt Warner. After that brutal hit he took and all the concussions he's had in his career, he'll probably call it quits and keep what's left of the brain cells.

• Nice to see Reggie Bush actually prove himself a contributor to the Saints prolific offense (if only to watch his ultra-talented girlfriend Kim Kardashian celebrate). I was starting to think that every big name offensive player to come out of the Pete Carroll USC era was destined for flopdom (see Leinert, Matt; Palmer, Carson; Jarrett, Dwayne).

Baltimore Ravens, 3 – Indianapolis Colts, 20

• This was the one of four games that I didn't watch much of mainly because I never gave the Ravens a chance. Peyton Manning simply had too much riding on this game to allow his team to be shown up by one driven offensively by absolutely-average Joe Flacco.

• Peyton Manning needed this win. If he would have had yet another early elimination from the playoffs, forget the record 4 MVP awards, the guy would be a choker in my mind. If you want to be a premiere quarterback, one of the ones who goes down in history as one of the best, you NEED to deliver in the playoffs.

Dallas Cowboys, 3 – Minnesota Vikings, 34

• The Favre and Vikings domination aside, the main story that stuck in my mind from this game was the late-game bitching by the Cowboys. Come on now, try being a bit of a professional. This isn't peewee's where everyone is a winner and you're trying to learn lessons about life. These guys make a heap of money to play football, a game children can play, mind you. I don't believe in going easy or letting up. If you can pound and embarrass a team – especially one led by the George Steinbrenner of the NFL, Jerry Jones – it should happen. "Hey, Keith Brooking, don't complain to the Vikings coaching staff just because your defense was pitiful!"

• Back to Favre and that Vikings offense: remember when the offense was dink & dump passes and give the ball to Adrian Peterson? When the goal was for Brett Favre to take a Sanchezian or Flacconian approach and just not cause too many turnovers? Well, now he's back to doing what he does best, driving the offense as the gunslinger that he is, with a wee bit more of a calculated approach. The guy is 40, has been in the playoffs nearly every year, and just set a career high for TDs in a playoff game. Incredible.

• What happened to Adrian Peterson?

• That Vikings defensive line is ferocious. There isn't a single weak link. Six sacks on the night.

• I guess they don't teach objectivity at the NFL school for broadcasting. Both Troy Aikman and Joe Buck were all but begging for the Cowboys to win this game. At least Aikman has that he used to play for them, but Buck and his goofy haircut and vanilla delivery had no excuse.

• Tony Romo gets too much credit. The guy is not a premiere quarterback, deal with it Fox.

• Brett Favre's postgame celebration was so not him acting his age.

N.Y. Jets, 17 – San Diego Chargers, 14

• It's always nice to see Chargers Nation weep. There is no bigger bandwagon franchise than the Chargers. I would have to say Chargers fans give Oakland Raiders fans serious competition for being the most obnoxious.

• Nate Kaeding is the most un-clutch kicker I've ever seen in the NFL. "Hey Nate, you're paid millions to do one thing, kick the ball between posts. And you went 0-for-3. Imagine if anyone in any other profession was as ineffective in their position as you are? You know what, they'd get fired. Here's hoping upper management gives you and Norv Turner pink slips by Monday morning."

• Mark Sanchez, way not to blow it. You've saved yourself from the NY media feeding frenzy for at least a week. But though they may anoint you the second-coming of Broadway Joe today, they'll be quick to throw you to the beggars and thieves after a loss to the Colts next week. Just ask Eli Manning about it.

• After two weekends of football, there's no doubt that Darrelle Revis deserved the Defensive Player of the Year award over Charles Woodson. Revis shut down Chad Ochocinco and Vincent Jackson in back-to-back games, whereas Woodson just got lit up by Kurt Warner and overpowered by Larry Fitzgerald.

• Is Rex Ryan the second-coming of the Joe Namath guarantee?

Photo taken from NYTimes.com. Photo by Larry. W. Smith/European Pressphoto Agency.

Project 365: Week II - Horses & Skyscapes

2010-01-15T13:49:00.000-08:00

My one wish in pursuing this project is that I had a backup point-and-shoot because lugging the SLR around proves a bit difficult on a day-to-day basis. But I'm still going strong. I had to resort to the Blackberry one day, but it's a photo all the same. Some days it's been bliss to shoot away, others it's been a last minute scramble to ensure that I stay on track. Below are the results of the past 8 days, and from here on out I'll be providing Friday rundowns of that weeks results.

You'll notice there are recurring themes in my photos of the past week – horse racing and skyscapes. With my Master's project hitting the homestretch (I have a draft due on Tuesday), I've been spending a lot of time out at the horse racing tracks. And in regard to the skyscapes, we've had mostly clear skies since I've been back, which has led to some dramatic late afternoon lighting. Enjoy. (You can see all the photos on my Flickr page.)

Day 8 - "Last Race at Aqueduct" - I'm new to racetracks. Before my time in New York, my knowledge of horse racing was what I took from 'Seabiscuit.' Now the track is a favorite spot in NY. (Taken with my Blackberry.)

Day 9 - "Into the Paddock" - Thoroughbreds are truly magnificent creatures and incredible athletes. For the first several years of their lives, if they have a lick of speed, racing is all they know.

Day 10 - "Dusk in the Square" - My goal on this evening was to go somewhere new. I'd been in the area around Washington Square, but never in the park. Nice lighting. (Note: Apparently WS is the place to score weed. I was approached twice in 10 minutes.)

Day 11 - "Tree of Lights" - College Walk on the campus of Columbia University has it's trees dressed for the holidays.

Day 12 - "Joe Pulitzer" - He's the reason the Jschool exists. So he gets a bust and quotes all over the building.

Day 13 - "Three Years" - Somethings from the lady. It's true 3 years together on Jan. 12. The painting was by her hand and a reminder for me of home.

Day 14 - "In Flight, In Pursuit" - It's because I'm still so new to the sport, but every horse race blows my mind. The creatures are an example of poor anatomical contruction, but damn, they can move. And no wonder making a career as a jock is so brutal; I've heard the war stories and every stumble or crash has the power to alter someone's life forever.

Day 15 - "The Mig" - Mr. New York Racing. Not only is Mig, Richard Migliore, one of the winningest jockeys in NY, but in the top 20 in history. He's been the reason I'm at the track week after week and he's got quite the store to tell.

Change Is Good

2010-01-09T12:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the "same ol' thang" just gets dull. Same scenery, same set-up, same foods, same clothes, same room configuration, same place for writing, so on and so forth. Maybe it's just me and the fact that I'm "compulsively unsatisfied with predictability" (which I've written on here before, but may just be doublespeak for "I do whatever I can to procrastinate"), but mixing it up is sometimes just what the Writer's Block Fairy asked for. So, new year, new city, new approach, new outlook on getting-my-shit-done-when-I-say-it-needs-to-get-done-instead-of-finding-excuses-to-put-getting-the-shit-done-off (oh yeah, and new minimal approach to the blog head, exciting, right?). Ready, go.

Project 365: Here I Go...

2010-01-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

PROJECT 365. I'm doing it. Intend to make it happen. Though my motivation is a bit unoriginal, the simple hope was a bit more creativity and photo activity in the new year. I stole the idea from my friend Jackie Jones. I am going to put my photography skills to use at least once every day in 2010. I'm not calling it a New Year's resolution, instead, just a project to give me a bit of discipline and motivation to put my creative side to use. The idea is simple: take and post at least one photo per day for each of the 365 days of the year. Sounds easy enough, but by Day 6 I was already scrambling to put my Canon 40D to use. Not only will this make sure my camera gear doesn't gather dust, but it will also serve as a reminder of what all I was doing throughout the year (if, in fact, I complete the project). I'll be posting my photos daily (hopefully) on my Flickr account, and will try to do a weekly recap with descriptions on here. Most of the photos will be taken with the Canon, but in some instances, I may be forced to turn to the Blackberry built-in camera.

That all in mind, here are the results of the first six days of my attempt at Project 365:

Day 1 - I decided on the eve of Jan. 1 that I wanted to try Project 365 out, so I pulled out the camera and this line of fake Wayfarers on my desk caught my eye. Not staged, I promise.

Day 2 - First and only day surfing Blackies while home for break. A west swell in the water and high tide made for some waves throughout the morning. Young local perched.

Day 3 - Mother Nature makes a photographers job easy. She does her thing, we document. Clouds building over Catalina, shot from Newport Beach.

Day 4 - Same deal, different day. Mother Nature paints the sky and my wide angle lens does the rest. Mid-morning on the south side of Huntington Beach Pier.

Day 5 - Almost got myself shipped to Guantanamo Bay (well, Thomson, Illinois now) for this one. Was in line for the restroom a bit before landing in NY when I noticed the illuminating effect from the screens on the back of each seat. Went back and grabbed my camera and snapped a few photos before the flight attendant asked my intentions. Luckily, no sky marshal or handcuffs were necessary.

Day 6 - I came out to NY with few books in tow to avoid the weight they added to my luggage. Before I returned to CA for winter break, I realized I had accrued quite a few books and they were starting to stack up around my room. I needed a bookshelf. My Craigslist scavenge concluded yesterday and my books and magazines sit neatly upon its shelves.

Twenty-Ten

2010-01-04T01:48:00.000-08:00

New year, new approach, new project, new blog head photo. More to come. Good wishes for 2010.

Photo No. 3 for Project 365

Back Home For the Holidays

2009-12-23T10:24:00.000-08:00

In the past, I usually distanced myself from as much of the holiday hoopla as possible. I watched the boat parade, wrote the family holiday letter, did my gift shopping, and helped with the clean-up, but the rest of it wasn't my cup of egg nog. But coming home for the holidays has made the experience a bit different. Spending as much time as possible with family and loved ones is the goal, so the holiday routine has changed a bit: helping with decorations, (still) gift shopping (though on a budget), making baked goods (see photo above), gift exchanges, helping dad find gifts for mom, watching holiday movies ("Christmas Vacation" is gold), making more baked goods and passing out gifts to the neighbors. It's really been a different type of holiday season for me. Christmas in New York is fantastic and all, but home really is where the heart is (aaaaaaaaw!). Now, if I could just come to my senses and learn the value of gift shopping early.

Let There Be Waves

2009-12-14T14:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Neptune,

I've been stuck in a concrete cavern for the past 4 months. I've seen glimpses of your magnificent blue (actually, it was a bit more greenish-brown) abyss, but have yet to partake in sliding along your moving mounds of water. Come Friday I'm going to be in California for a tad longer than two weeks, and it'd be greatly appreciated if you can poke and prod whomever has control over Senor El Nino and have him put the Pacific into action. All I ask are a handful of fun mornings and early evenings (I've included examples below) before I board a plane back to the barbarically cold climate they have going along the Right Coast. We'll call it an even trade: you give me waves, I continue to scold litterers and plastic bottle users to help keep you semi-healthy. Get on it.

Hugs & High-fives,

Gay Talese

2009-12-14T00:00:00.001-08:00

I'll admit, prior to J-School (super hip journo lingo for Graduate School of Journalism), I didn't know his work, or even his name. Being a writer, that's sad, I know. But during my time here I've had a number of his works assigned as readings, and I've tracked down some of his other work on my own as well. The guy is the master of long-form features. He sees and notices things most wouldn't pinpoint. Minute details that seem irrelevant, but that add so much to his work. He's written about some of the premiere celebrities of his day, people who had been under the spotlight for years, and yet, he writes his stories in a way that conveys a different side of them. A side no one knew or had taken notice of. He had an eye for what mattered in a scene and a sense of how to effectively select the necessary pieces to convey the most accurate account of those he wrote on.

I've got a ways to go before I'm a quarter of the writer Mr. Talese was, but it's certainly something to strive for. I could start by increasing the artistic merit of my outlines. Below is Telese's outline for one of his greatest pieces, "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold." He wrote it in 1966 for Esquire, and just recently the magazine named it the finest piece that had ever run in its pages. That's saying quite a lot considering the who's-who list of writers who've had their bylines appear in the editorial well.

Tripe: Could I Stomach It?

2009-12-13T11:14:00.000-08:00

Wouldn't have figured, but goat and pig tripe (or stomach lining) is delicious! Especially when seasoned, mixed with onions and cilantro, doused with Cholula and wrapped in a flour tortilla! Had to write a brief "weird food" piece for my Reporting & Writing class and opted for tripe. I figured I'm a willing carnivore, so trying a new bit of an animal couldn't be all that bad.

A simple Google search led me to Tehuitzingo Deli & Grocery in Hell's Kitchen. From the sidewalk it's not much to look at. In fact, were I walking down the street I probably wouldn't even give it a second thought. But I read the reviews and supposedly this place was a hidden gem for authentic Mexican food in NYC. Along with being a carnivore, I consider myself a Mexican food aficionado of sorts. Between jaunts south of the border and the occasional meal in Santa Ana or San Juan Capistrano, Calif., I've had exposure to some fine Mexican cuisine. Over nearly four months in New York, I'd been greatly disappointed in the so-called Mexican offerings. I mean, come on, in a city that boasts of being a cultural melting pot, how is it that Chipotle offers the best burrito in town?

So, to Tehuitzingo and the small window in the back of the grocery slash restaurant. The small dark-skinned woman taking my order from the kitchen didn't seem to understand a word of English. In the world of Mexican food, that's usually a damn good sign. And it was. I ordered a Tripa (pork tripe) and Sangre (goat tripe) taco, popped a Negro Modelo and grabbed a stool. If not for Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" music video on the TV, I would have declared it to be among the anticipatory high points of my time in NYC. Ricky ruins everything.

A matter of minutes later my order was ready. From afar, the twin tacos looked and smelled amazing. Upon closer inspection the meats were glaringly different in appearance: the goat tripe looked like charred ground beef and the pork tripe resembled half-cooked calamari. Before the first bite my stomach did give me a smidgen of second-thought, but I opted to continue in my taste-testing. And I was well-rewarded. Both were a tad on the salty side, but quite good. During my post meal reflection, I had to admit that, surprisingly, I preferred the goat tripe.

I'm hoping to make another trip down to Tehuitzingo again soon for my weekly Mexican fix. Maybe next time I'll go for the Oreja and Lengua (pork ear and beef tongue).

Spineless NY Senators Vote Down Same-Sex Marriage Bill

2009-12-02T21:16:00.000-08:00

The NY Senate has spoken. And it did so in disappointing fashion. It's not so much the decision. If California won't legalize gay marriage, it doesn't surprise me when any other state follows suit. The disappointment is in the shameless behavior of the Democratic senators who voted 'No' after leaning 'Yes'.

A change of mind happens. Disagreement happens. But voting one way to save one's political hide because he or she didn't have the fortitude to face his or her constituents is downright vomitous.

The final vote was 38 to 24. It was expected by proponents of the bill and lobbyists to be much closer. But once it became apparent that the bill wasn't going to pass – which there was a good chance it wouldn't since the 30 Republicans took a unified anti approach – supposed Democratic supporters of the bill opted to change their vote. Talk about cheapening the power of politics.

If you're going to be a talking head and a coward, get your ass out of political power. While a loss is one thing, the manner of the loss is another. A close vote signals growing support for a long overdue change to government policy. Instead, a step has been taken in the wrong direction for the wrong reasons. What I learned from this vote: there are a handful of spineless Senators sitting in Albany who don't stand for shit and are an embarrassment to the democratic process.