Consultants lecturing a group of combined citizens, pols, staff and developers apropos what happens in Ventura when developers flip the land like Monopoly chits, then Lobby staff and Council to create a “special” district. In 2014 or so I raised the point that we are behind our parks dictum and maybe 7 acre major park would serve us better than more housing. Tim Steele of Sobrato and Lund Smith son of the former site owner are the wolves
edit to add: 1, this started in 2011; Mike Cobb, a former mayor posted on PAW urging caution on development and housing (see graphic); I posted similarly but pro “Park” per se, in 2014, while running for office (see below); I also spoke to Tim Steele of Sobrato; I was trying to reach Chase Lyman, the former NFL player, about building a football field there. I joked somewhere, maybe here, in Plasty, that the Raiders could move here.
Bubba Smith, National champ and inspiration to furry animal born
I like your way (Clemson)
I like your way (Notre Dame)
I like your way (Michigan — although still not sure, after 37 years, about Harbaugh)
The Posers that Be, um, Powers announce a group of concerts, under a cool alliterative moniker, regarding the college football final four, or whatever, that apparently will be right in our backyards, come January or thereabouts. Leon Bridges I like, at least the first song or two I could identify and sort of hum — ear-worms — though I did not make it out to his breakthru show at The Greek.
I’m kind of joking that the top four on November 15 will compete as final four come January. Actually, Leon’s home team — i guess that would be Texas Longhorns — have an outside change, I reckon. My team, Dartmouth has a record to match Notre Dame or Michigan, but our record includes 41-0 over Georgetown (football, not basketball) and 38-0 against Sacred Heart (not the prep school).
I don’t recall off hand who won the football college championships the year, 1989, that Bridges was borned. (Let me guess: Miami of Florida, with Bernie Kossar?). I was born in 1964: let me guess that Michigan State with Bubba Smith anchoring the nose tackle and legendary coach Duffy Daugherty won twice when I was a crawler. The pub across the street has a Roger Staubach / Soupie Jim Campbell shrine so I’m thinking Navy was in the mix about that time. (Weird digression — I noticed last week that Navy’s option quarterback is named Abey, which was my dad’s unfortunate nickname during his WWII LCF-FF days).
I’m actually 5-for-5 going to Niners games this year –after a years-long boycott — and twice I went down there preparing to merely wonder the parking lots discussing Lott, Montana and Young with fellow travellers.
I am wondering if it was Another Planet, Goldenvoice or the fomer Bill Graham Presents that is producing the San Jo festival. (I hope it’s Chris Ezparza, but what do I know).
I’d like to see something like Notre Dame and Alabama, just for the regional and philosophical rivalry. Who outside of a 500-mile radius incircling Huntsville and Greenville would care about the current 1 and 2 bumping bellies? (Huntsville and Greenville are two towns I’ve worked as small music biz functionary; with Henry Butler for the former circa 2003, and Michelle Malone scouting her circa 2009 for the latter),
In a somewhat related matter, Barry Simons and I agreed that Coldplay was a lame choice for a Super Bowl halftime a few years back, and the “Dig” movie featuring colorful losers Brianjonestown Massacre and Dandy Warhols was probably a better doc than the Coldplay thing that played one night only in SF (and my new friend or associate Mary White of Menlo Park — whose daughter I think Emily once played Glastonbury opening for Coldplay with The Franklys said she was going — it was on her behalf that I started a post yesterday that should have ended thusly: the closest my world comes to Coldplay is that I booked a couple times as a buyer Bill Frisell and he and Petra Haden — Charlie’s girl — covered “Yellow”; and, I visited Little Big Man agency when it was in Gramercy Park to visit Steve Ferguson who I knew as Frank Black’s agent, and met briefly Larry Webman and Marty Diamond — both, like Dustin Hoffman, about 5’5″ — actually the first time I tried, neither Larry nor Marty would bother to see me; the second time Steve gave me the pass word -“Slinky winkie”- and actually I was shopping a Kevin Cadogan leaving member of 3EB solo demo — “Surfacing Submarine”, “Calidonia”. I think the Wiki nailed it when it said that Coldplay picked up the early Radiohead fans who wanted everything spoon fed and palid.
Texas beat Navy in 1964 Cotton Bowl
edita a week later: Harbaugh-Vows sink like stone:
edit to add: I was reading deeper into the New York Times expose about Facebook hiring opposition research to bad mouth other tech firms, to deflect attention to their flubs regarding true fact of Russians hacking our elections … Continue reading →
Clifford Styll, fried chicken, Broncos line coach, Blue Mustang – don’t call him ‘blucipher’
Outro by Denver son but world traveler, who I once rode a tour bus with from San Diego to Maine, Corey “Roar He” Harris
edit to add, later that day: this was based on an NYT feature, “36 Hours in Denver”. Another thing, and apropos of my friend Chris Strausser, I added Royce Freeman the former Oregon star, to my fantasy football team; he’s on the mend from an ankle injury.
And regarding Clifford Styll Museum, I noticed an early work, here; he is not nose for representational work or Americana. He is also better nosed as Clyfford Still. Snory. (Not that his work is boring, I am playing on the word ‘nose”).
And if I didn’t already Spain this fifty times: Corey Harris is from Denver before Maine, West Africa, New Orleans and Virginia, or Italy.
(I have a headline, a screen capture and 34 tags so if I don’t get back to this – circulocuting but not overlapping with the popular and large rock band Coldplay, just read my list — “drawn a line” as Chris might say — and write own story)
tk
Movie screening one night only SF Embarcadero at 7 pm or six hours by the clocks, were there world enough and time, lord willing and the creeks don’t rise
Sitting on the dock of the bay, the Maggie actually trying to dude where’s my car
There’s a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was
Great coffee table book about Joel and Ethan Coen I saw it at Butt Sink Palo Alto and randomly shot a shot I think it’s from burn after readingB/w page 67 of recent Zoe kravitz rolling stone where rich silverstain once gathered no moss:
(
Two hours later, wife he calls to tell me that my capture that was printed in the Cohen brothers coffee table book and is the basic Nightes for this post is obscene it as a dildo so I’ve added that and less it existed some kind a ghost or whatever they call that CACHE
Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.
This morning, before everyone got up, I went on a run with Artemis and then made breakfast. Scones, German pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some bread that Jim and Christine brought by last night with butter and jam on it. Some coffee from beans that a friend in Austin sent to us last week. It’s not Whataburger, but…
After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.
Listening to the war cries and shots firing from the TV speaker in the other room, I’m smiling because we are all together again. Doing something — just hanging out, just being around, just being — that I haven’t done in almost two years.
Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.
I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!”
And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing.
Already miss the road. Miss our team and the volunteers we’d see in every city, every town. Miss the energy and smiles and joy that I found all over Texas. Miss the purpose, the goal. Miss being part of something so much bigger than me or my life. Organized for a common cause and end. We were all together, really together. Never felt anything like that.
While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing?
I can close my eyes and see so many faces and smiles. Hear the laughing and the cheering. I can see us hopeful and connecting as we shook one another’s hand, looking at each other and nodding, knowing. All the stories that have been shared with me, all part of me. Every gift and kindness, every word of encouragement. Every bit of faith in what we had set ourselves to.
We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.
The loss is bitter, and I don’t know that I’ve been able to fully understand it. I try not to ask what I could have done differently because I don’t know that there is an end to those questions or thoughts. There are a million different decisions I could have made, paths I could have taken, things I could have said or not said, said better or differently. I did my best, everyone did. For our democracy to work, for us to be able to continue to work together, it’s important to be at peace with the outcome.
But what remains is this: I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have had the chance to do this with you. To bring power and joy to politics. People instead of PACs. Communities instead of corporations. Polls and consultants left to the wind and hopefully to the past. To have the confidence to move with the courage of our convictions. To open our hearts to one another. To not allow our differences (of party, of geography, of race or anything else) to divide us. To not know how it would end but to know that we had to give it everything.
I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had.
Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.
Future campaigns will be won, influenced by the one we built. Candidates will run who otherwise wouldn’t have. Some will take heart in knowing that you don’t have to accept PAC money, you don’t have to hire a pollster to know how you think or what you want to say. They will have seen in our campaign that there is real joy and power in being with people, all people. Republicans, Democrats, Independents. People who’ve never voted and never will. People who will vote for you, people who won’t. People who live in the forgotten neighborhoods of the biggest cities. People who live in small towns that no Senate candidate has been to in 70 years.
I am grateful that you gave me a chance to be part of this. I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night. Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history.
Just know that I want to be part of the best way forward for this country — whatever way I can help in whatever form that takes. Know that I am honored to have run this campaign with you and that I want to continue to honor and be honest to what was powerful about it.
For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months.
Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.
Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this.
See you down the road,
Beto
and1: Hey, Beto: next time hire Kent Lockhart, not as muscle but as art direction:
Outro by Denver son but world traveler, who I once rode a tour bus with from San Diego to Maine, Corey “Roar He” Harris
Plastic Alto with Mark Weiss 