welcome.
If you're curious, crazyknee.com is:
a personal Web page (a blog, even) created by Leanne H. Milway. The page was launched Nov. 1, 2000, the day she had ACL/meniscus repair performed on her right leg.
Hence the "crazy knee."
This page will be updated in some weekly way.

28 march 2001 . 10:27 pm PT
Tom Waits moans on the stereo in the other room. Candles are lit, everywhere, and I left the white lantern lights on outside, the ones we strung up with duct tape for the party, because they make a dotted line across the kitchen, as they shine there, from the dusty space between our apartment and the next. Finally, finally, finally, I have a direct Internet connection from my computer, set up as before in my room. Oh, computer! Sometimes I forget how important you are to me! Kristina's laptop can stay zipped up in her room, because mine is back to humming, working smooth. I might have to give Carlo from the Helpdesk at work (I can't begin to go into how many "reports" I had to file to get this thing fixed) an extra large smile when I see him next. Which won't be for days. Yes! Four-day weekend! I always have a four-day weekend. At least from now on. Quite a change from my recent bout of six-day weekends. Imagine that: this is the first time since I was laid off on October whenever that I've spent more than two days in the office. Three days a week now, man. They've put my name on the door; I have regular dudes to see in the kitchen, shoot the shit. Should I worry? Am I going to get sucked in? Will I let them give me more responsibility? Nah. Uh-huh. Not a chance.

Glass of cheap red wine, a vicodin, a cigarette. Thank you.

Full disclosure: I've been drinking Pepsi now, ever since Britney did the bah-ba-bah-ba-bah on Oscar night. Yes, I turned aside the Diet Coke after 10 faithful years. And you know what happened today, my punishment? As I pulled a free pepsi out of the cases in the "campus" cafeteria, it busted loose, crashed to the floor, began squirting in my face. Hands out in front of me, I attempt to plug the geyser while not staining my clothes. And the manager of the place, tie and all, jumps to my aid, his arms wide and waving. Together, we wrap the can in newspaper (like, huh? but the guy came at me with the paper in hand), and transport the can to the sink. The manager won't let me apologize and happily starts wiping up the river of spilt soda, one foot on a napkin. Eyewitness next to me, ID badge swinging, assures me: "Nice recovery."

Nice recovery.

p.s. Shout out to Kelly Lomasney! I see you! I think of you. And Cormier? I know you're there. Why don't you send me some two-line half-assed email, eh?

27 march 2001 . 08:37 am PT
Hello! I'm on the Caltrain, heading down the pennisula to the office. And I'm updating this little neglected page, even though I still won't be able to transport these words out into the cyber ether until much much later tonight. And for this I blame Microsoft. Oh, ha. See, they blame my computer for it's frequent and, as of late, debilitating problems. I, however, know that this little machine tries to do good work, tires just so hard, but . . . things fall apart. No matter how passionately we ache to make it right.

Riiiiiight.

All day yesterday, while at work, I listened to the Broadway channel on radio.sonicnet. Do you think this is a problem? Maybe. But I did not let myself watch ABC's 3-hour verision of Rogers & Hammerstein's "South Pacific" last night. I mean, Glenn Close is gonna wash that man right out of her hair? It's just wrong. WRONG.

What else to report from the past few days? Frisbee-throwing in the park, hot new sneakers (bought with the visiting Betsy. Her shoes are reddish leather, mine are red-bronze. Way!), a laughter-filled party (we have lots of leftover crappy beer! Come by and take it from us!), and the naked-woman-covered-in-honey-and-barking-like-a-dog performance art piece. First time for everything!

22 march 2001 . 11:18 am PT
Not so much information in that last entry, huh? Well, I have been plagued by network connectivity issues (sounds nice, yes?) and it's still driving me wild. Why can't computers and the like just fix themselves? Damn. So. I'm just doing a quick update now to let you know I'm here, I'm working it out, I've got lots of new pictures to share and books to discuss. Hasta! Ole!

19 march 2001 . 02:06 pm PT
It's been a mad, mad couple of days. Most of this madness was inspired by the too-lovely-for-words weather.

15 march 2001 . 02:06 pm PT
Former film critic Janet Maslin is all over the NYTimes these days writing book reviews. Which is fine by me. This story about Stephen King's new book "Dreamcatcher" makes me think things like: Man, I really dig Stephen King. I don't care if people think he writes pulp fiction, because I love it. I mean, I really love it. And this new book sounds very "It"-ish, which is good thing if you ask me. Maybe King's more recent books have missed the mark ("Bag of Bones" was same-old same-old), but "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" was an incredibly quick, satisfying read. Very "Survivor"-like, actually, and "Blair Witch"-y, before either of those names meant anything. And can anyone deny the worth of "Firestarter" and "The Shining" in the literary canon? I mean, those books rock! Jack Nicholson and Stanley Kubrick's visual waterfalls of blood have nothing on King's suspense-filled writing. And the "Dark Tower" series?! Oh, and did you read King's recent short story in The New Yorker? It was good! And it was about suicide! [takes time to look for the story online, comes up short]

Yo: I did discover a short story by Haruki Murakami. Must read this now. Or maybe I should read more about the new film "Memento." (The story also talks about Francois Truffaut, and do you all know I wrote a 10-page paper about his first film "The 400 Blows"?) Or maybe I have to read this Q&A with Mark Borchardt, the totally baked guy who made "American Movie." [via Whitney's Hip Clicks] {editor's note: I just read that New Yorker piece on the movies, right? Ignore it. Move along. There's nothing to see here. . . .}

Oh, and this came out a while ago but you should still read it: how all us youngsters are getting kicked out of our dot-com jobbies. Bill Werde reports.

Free music alert: Guided by Voices plays at Amoeba Records on April 3rd. More details to come. FYI: On that very same day Dave Eggers will hang at the Booksmith, just down the street. Killer! [editor's note: Oh GOD. Now Neal Pollack is picking fights with the NYTimes. Wait, maybe it's all funny or something. *feels very tired*]

14 march 2001 . 06:15 pm PT
Well, uh, do you want to see a picture of our living room?

Or how about the Golden Gate at night?

Can you tell that I'm at a loss for words? Perhaps it's because Bonnie Burke is finally back in town! Yes! She says hi.

13 march 2001 . 10:49 am PT
Dreams come true: Now we can lick Beck! [via Yuppie Slayer]

09 march 2001 . 05:52 pm PT
It doesn't look like I'll be able to score Jeff Tweedy tickets for tonight, even though I think I desperately love him, as one can love an incredible musician with a scraggly new beard. I watched him last night, jammed as close as I could and fighting intense waves of painful nausea (brought on by lunch from McDonalds. Can this mean I must never eat fast food again??). I wasn't quite close enough to attract his attention, and I am very jealous of the girl who complimented his new lyrics . . . she said it was poetry (and it is) . . . and he said "Oh I like you." Not me, though. Not me. The nausea-fighting also hindered my photography skills, so no pictures. Damn.

08 march 2001 . 04:29 pm PT
A brief look at life on the Microsoft "campus" up North. Me, I once-weekly work on the Microsoft "campus" in Silicon Valley (aka Mountain View, CA). My "campus" has only five buildings, one beach volleyball court, one basketball court, and two scenic jogging paths.

06 march 2001 . 08:08 pm PT
"Buffy" is almost on, people are heading to my little-white-light lit room, and I just had to tell you about this (snotty) article about all the classic books the critics admit they haven't read. . . . agh, it's a "Buffy" repeat. Damn damn dammit. I missed most of last week's amazing her-mom-dies episode. Anyway . . . uh, books. Yeah.

05 march 2001 . 06:47 pm PT
The Knee has been lax on updates, yes. Probably because I've been buying too much music and listening to it, while swallowing painkillers. Ha. No, really. So tomorrow night is another show of way-cool (in my book) Calif.-based bands (Mates of State; C.O.C.O.) and I meant to pitch a story to someone about just such a thing today, but oh my, carrying loads of laundry up hilly streets slows a girl down. I'll try tomorrow. If I don't write about this music I pretend to be passionate about, what else can I do? Write more poems? Get a part-time job at Amoeba Records? Shit, man.

And Thursday is Jeff Tweedy on his solo tour. I promise you I will be up front, and I'm going to request "Kingpin" and I might just throw a love note at him, especially if he wears that ratty jean jacket. Ah, Jeff. And the following Monday? The Old 97s. Yep. All you East Coasters get to do this stuff before me, and yes, I'm jealous. But there is no snow in SF! And it was a light-jacket kind of day today! [editor's note: okay, now I check, and the site says monday's show is SOLD OUT, but I never ever EVER saw a way to get tickets, and I'm usually good at such things . . . oh . . . grrrrrrrrr.]

More things that make me happy:

1) Former roommate Bonnie (below, in the sun) returns to the Bay Area! *dances jig of joy* Like Dave Eggers before her (heh), she decided the grayness of NYC was not her cup of soy milk. And in not-really-related news, B. does not appreciate Dave (like this Ironminds dude). Can you believe it??

2) Wendy (below, with John and bubbles) hacked her way out of the Costa Rican jungle (after 5 weeks!) to bring us rum! Wooo!

3) I have clean jeans (no picture available) to wear!

Oh, and I'm working on updating the books page. If you are curious (eh), I did NOT start reading "Shutterbabe," mostly b/c Catherine gave me crap about it, but I AM reading N.Baker's "Fermata" and nearing completion. It's all very pornographic, in a weird & funny way.

01 march 2001 . 01:21 pm PT
Happy birthday, Dad!