welcome.
crazyknee.com is:
a personal Web page launched Nov. 1, 2000,
the day Leanne had ACL/meniscus repair performed
on her right leg. Hence the "crazy knee."
This page will be updated in some weekly way.

23 february 2003 . 09:58 pm PT
Want a random photographic collection of strange road signs? Here you go, from 3BP.com. You're welcome.

If you need help constructing signs for your next peace march, here's 101 slogans, take your pick.

Here's my family dog, Buffy, in the Maryland snow:

Here's some girls (doing unremarkable things) on Stinson Beach, circa this afternoon:

Notice the fog setting in? Yup, the price we have to pay.

As I sign off, here's a semi-ridiculous (and old) interview with Michael Showalter and David Wain (from MTV's "The State"!). I dunno. Somehow, I found this.

This Wednesday, February 26, there will be a virtual march on DC. People (like you and me!) are signing up for a specific time to call their Senate offices with an antiwar message. I have to call Senator Feinstein, Senator Boxer, and The White House between 11:48 and 11:58 am PT. Whew, I'm tired already.

17 february 2003 . 11:22 pm PT
I just watched the "Joe Millionaire" finale (congrats to Zora, who conquered "extreme extreme poverty" and fell for doltish Evan in front of a zillion prying prime-time eyes. The couple gets to split a million bucks now that it's over. And that's another six hours that I will NEVER get back), only to follow-up with a strong dose of Michael Jackson "Unmasked." Holy weirdo. I used to think he was just bad, so bad, you know it.

To help prepare for next month's Academy Award ceremony, I present you with two reviews:

"The Hours": I'm realizing now that all my film-loving friends say they want to see this film ... but no one's actually done it. Well, I did it, alone, for you. And I loved it, especially since it incorporates many of my favorite themes: insanity, women, suicide, literature, death, love, and the pain of living. Ahhhhh. Virginia Woolf fans are all upset at Nicole Kidman's portrayal of the writer (the link is worth clicking on just for the pic comparing the two women); I say she deserves the Oscar. She was entirely someone disturbed, tortured, strange. It's a difficult film, you know -- I saw two men walk out of the screening not to return. And someone behind me was snoring, loudly. (Nominated for Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, Best Supporting Actor, and probably more.)

"About Schmidt": Jack Nicholson's evocation of a newly retired and severely depressed man is Oscar worthy. Painful and true. The film made me laugh, cry, and hope to live a better life. Oh the cinematography! Even Omaha, Nebraska looks stunning. (Nominated for Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress (Kathy Bates! Gets naked!).

What, you want more? Wanna know the history of personal ads, which sprung into matchmaking action when newspapers became big 300 years ago?

Happy President's Day, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy After-the-Peace-Marching Day (but please, let's keep the looting to a minimum) ... and here's wishing a loud and happy Ton of Snow on the Streets Week to my East Coast readers (snowed in with only duct tape and candles? read about the Literature of Snow). Mmmmmmmwwwwha!

11 february 2003 . 07:32 pm PT
I'm currently gathering an emergency pile of scissors, blankets, flashlights, radios, batteries, and manual can openers. My roommates and I can't agree on which room to seal off as our "safe room" in case of biochemical attack. The bathroom, perhaps? We can fill the tub with water to last us (for a few days at least), and there's the convenience of a working toilet. The pantry? There's only one small window in there, so it shouldn't be difficult to duct tape plastic sheeting over the opening. Plus there are cans of beans. Lots of refried beans. In a very small room with no ventilation. Sounds secure to me. Here's the Red Cross Disaster Guide on Terrorism for you to review -- includes helpful hints on keeping children away from the television ("unedited footage of terrorism events can be very upsetting") and warns that "clean-up may take many months." People have been saying the same thing all week about the Michael Jackson interview!

In very related news, FOX will air Jackson's "counterattack" on journalist Martin Bashir (includes a "revealing" interview with Jackson's "ex-wife" Debbie Rowe!) on Feb. 20 at 8 p.m. Must-see TV indeed.

When I'm not planning for earthquakes or dirty bombs, I'm feeling concerned about Dr. W. David Hager heading the FDA panel on women's health policy. Holy hell, this guy has published his belief that reading Scripture and praying can ease headaches and PMS. This guy will not prescribe birth control to his patients; he wrote a book called "As Jesus Cared for Women."

If you just want to escape from the madness of it all, why not try and score a dream date with Yanni? Yanni?! Enter daily for more chances to win! Brought to you by Lifetime Television for Women. Yes, they know what women really want.

Early on in this in-depth Dave Eggers article you'll find out how his older sister Beth died two years ago -- she overdosed on antidepressants and over-the-counter pain killers. Yikes. The story goes on to note how Eggers/ McSweeney's is showing off a more political bent, which bodes well for his/its historical importance, literary and otherwise. Also, the writer describes Eggers as "vitamin deficient."

In a semi-related link , here's McSweeney's glorious analysis of the fun, rock, and roll of "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window" by the Beatles ... "a song that can be heard and loved in the pure, agendaless way one loves music and writing before one develops that thing called 'taste.'"

After meeting the author, receiving a pickle bookmark, and drinking a lot of sangria, my roommate came home and purchased "Deli Life" by Jami Attenberg (photos by Catwoman). Yes, yes, yes, we support independent publishing by kickass women! Go buy it.

I bought and now wear this shirt which makes me oh-so effortlessly cool. Ah, heh. Joke. But, thanks to Kempa for leading me to errorwear.com.

Holy! Check this -- Invisible Ink, a radio zine, hosted by Roman Mars, new shows every Sunday at 2pm on KALW.org. Why wasn't I told about this, CONTOIS? Good good times there. I only found out about it because I'm on a mailing list for International Quirkyalone Day (It's Feb. 14, with events in NY and SF to celebrate that unique urban tribe of I'm-always-single-and-alones); IQD creator Sasha Cagen graced the Invisible Ink airwaves just last week.

02 february 2003 . 11:07 pm PT
This was a lazy weekend. I think there was food eaten and movies watched (oh, horrible: Christina Ricci in "Pumpkin." AWFUL.), and friends visited but ... I have nothing to show for it. Nothing that you'll see, anyway.

But last weekend was a long drive north. California! Driving north of here, past the vineyards and up 101, you'll notice less and less -- less people, towns, chain restaurants, light. And then there are huge redwood trees towering over the highway. Then there will be 50 hairpin turns on a beaten road to the coast, where 25-foot waves tear at the uninhabited black pebble shore. Amazing! Fog, trees, hippies, and loggers. And cows grazing out your window: on one side of Rt. 1 is a small field and a cow, on the other is a towering drop to the rocky shore below.

I would like to take a moment to comment on my appearance last week at the Hot Hot Heat/Walkmen show at the Bottom of the Hill. It was a Tuesday night, see, and I was tired. I could barely stand. We in SF do not really "party" on week nights. We listen to live music and observe the antics of the musicians from a distance. Then we yawn, cross our arms, and go home to bed. I used to know how to rock out any day of the week. But this town has made me weak. Ah, remember those Delaware days? Anyone? Of kicking and screaming and drinking and drooling? Well, hell, now I'm TOO OLD TO CARE.

In other overdue news, the lovely Lora has retired from San Fran after five+ years. She, like many before her, now lives and dies in New Yawk City. We wish her luck.

Bonnie, visiting from her NYC home earlier in the month, packed me in her car for a drive along the coast, telling secrets and sharing snacks just like the old days. Always a pleasure, B!

And in case you didn't know, Wendy recently celebrated the dawn of her 27th birthday. Ah, 27. The age of many a rock star death. Make it a good one, roommate. Yes, that is a very nice blender.