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.

31 may 2001 . 07:07 pm PT
I'm off to see DAVID BYRNE this eve, and how excited am I. Excited enough to wear a skirt with a picture of two snails kissing.

Even more excitement brews about where I'll be tomorrow,

up in the sky, flying toward New Yawk City. I can't wait to see the people, smell the streets! Damn this Western sunshine! I need East Coast flavah, yo. YO!

Oh before that (I'm still waiting for my partner in crime to arrive), why don't I show you a visual reason why California is a bit frightening. Look:

This was next to the Caltrain station, down in Hayward Park. Is that strange to only me, bored girl with a camera? Probably. Prolly so.

Alright, Im kicking it East ...

29 may 2001 . 11:18 pm PT
Post Memorial Day weekend, and what did we do? Well, we hiked a 3-mile loop on one side of Mnt Tam and found this view:

Then we ate some food, drank some beers, and someone did a keg stand (not me!). The next day, we ate some food and put on wigs and glitter for a rock star photo shoot. A brief taste of our efforts look like this (and remember, this is only a _taste_. A photo shoot-lite, if you will):

Then we drank several beers and ate food. Show tunes were sung, off and on, both days. By now it's, what, Monday? I think I decided to take a break on that day, and I ate salad-like food and drank water.

Now I need to find a new box of checks. The entire apartment smells like freshly ground coffee. Tomorrow I will write copy for an "interstitial" ad page. I promise to report more after that's all squared away. Heh.

Oh, and WHERE IS THE WITHERS BABY? We want to meet you!

24 may 2001 . 10:47 pm PT
I've not been keeping up too well on this page, now have I? It's thursday night again, and this time I just came from the spring show at the Academy of Art college. Perhaps that's all I need: art school. People who force me to be creative, instead of corporate people who expect me to write simple swill for senior citizens. But, ah, banish the downward thoughts! *shakes head, clears it*

Also today I explored this part of town:

where fat animated children vomit and swear. Oh, no, that's Comedy Central! Ha, so funny. Eh. Anyway, South Park is in the South of Market section of SF, down by the ball park. Less than a year ago the neighborhood was jamming with trendy dotcommers. Now the cafes and boutiques are so NOT bustling. It's a virtual ghost town. But there were still good salads and lattes to be had. For the time being at least.

This is the back porch view of John/Kevin/ Bonnie's home. Notice the (used?) underwear perched on the piping:

And, just for fun, here are three girls in a convertible (did I post this one before? If I did, that's too damn bad):

Hooray California!

18 may 2001 . 12:43 am PT
Thursday night, after drinking in the bars, I'm still home before 1 am. What is it with this town? Everyone turns in early, gets up early, over and over again. Where are the half-remembered nights, the struggle to find a night's shelter? Now you just hop in a cab, get home and drink some water, move the clothes off your bed and into the chair, fall asleep reading. It doesn't seem right. Then again, maybe it does.

G'd night, mate.

17 may 2001 . 08:42 pm PT
I lived alone for about 1.5 years, on the outskirts of the district of columbia. I think I'm much better off with roommates. And what wonderful people I've found to share my life with! In this great essay the washington post looks at life living alone (thank you catwoman).

I'm still slowly reading "Angle of Repose." Anyone have words of encouragement?

I'm also curious to find out what you think about "Moulin Rouge." I mean, Ewan McGregor? Singing, dancing, as a lovesick poet? And Beck sings on the soundtrack! Yup, download "Diamond Dogs" asap.

Among my many (not yet started) photo slideshows is one on Sights of San Francisco. Kinda like this swell sight:

I admit to being v.pleased with the Rhett photos. Here's one you haven't seen, me trying to be all arty (but it's too blurry to see his sweat *sigh*):

And, if you're interested, here's a nice article on Bob Dylan, examining his lyrics, his talent, the generation of New Dylans he's spawned (ahem, nice pic of Beck in there), etc. Bob turns 60 on Thursday.

13 may 2001 . 11:57 pm PT
Friday night I witnessed firsthand the power in Rhett Miller's hips. This skinny little fine-featured floppy-haired guitar player can move. Rhett is the lead singer of the Old 97s. He plays so hard, at such high energy, that you're afraid he is going to break apart up on the stage. There haven't been musical pelvic thrusts like this since Elvis. I kid you not. And guess who went the next morning to Amoeba Records, and weasled into a spot as close as humanly possible to the pop-country band? Click the picture below for more visual treats. (and, yes, Catherine: I did it all for you. yeeeHAW!)

Overdue: pictures from last weekend's birthday binge for Bonnie & Brooke. View some half-assed photos here.

What else? Ah: Happy Mother's Day, there, Mom. I'm trying.

11 may 2001 . 01:27 am PT
It's late, and I've been shopping and taking pictures (!) all day. Then I ate a lot. Whew, hard work, this life.

Important (Scott, take note!): everyone everyone should print up and read the recent essay called "Taking Stock of Gen X: It's Fallen Sharply." This guy nails it. Stephen Lynch eloquently and fittingly defines all of us, the children of the baby boom. It's fascinating, really, I promise. I also found it v.interesting that he quotes a man named Dan Egger. Says this Mr. Egger:

The Internet is ours -- it's dedicated to all the geeky, weird, goofy stuff that we like. ... When we're gone, all that will be left is the Internet, to our eternal embarrassment.

Also of note: tickets to the Radiohead show at Shoreline on June 27 are already on sale, only online.

And: log on to musiccity.com and download the file-sharing app (!) Morpheus. I would swear it's waaay better than Napster. Faster, smarter search, not yet banned!

09 may 2001 . 12:02 am PT
I've talked up Malcolm Gladwell before. He's an excellent reporter (most often for The New Yorker) who almost always surprises and informs. Today I printed up and read his March piece on "The Trouble with Fries." Apparently, fast food is killing us (well, duh). But, if you listen to Gladwell, it shouldn't be too hard to change that -- without sacrificing that fat-induced rush of greasy goodness. He admits that his story overlaps Eric Schlosser's book "Fast Food Nation." So, read that too, if you want the A+.

California does not have enough power. Doesn't it seem like the people out here are smarter than that? With all their windmills on the green hills and all those technological advances? The traditional push West always meant smarts and daring ... and air-conditioning on hot hot days.

I met and fell for this poem today.

Remember I was called into jury duty last week? Story: I went to the fancy white court house downtown, followed the signs to the "jury assembly room" by 10am. I sat in the well-lit and crowded room, in a second-row seat that had this view:

After an hour of sitting, we got a 20-min. break. Then we sat again. Then they called most of our names (including mine), and said over the intercom: "If your name was on that list, we are so sorry but the trial you have been scheduled for was canceled. Your jury duty has been completed for the year." We cheered. We left quickly.

If you want to know what it feels like to have super glue spread across the fingers of your right hand, just ask me.

05 may 2001 . 10:42 am PT
I actually went into the office yesterday, a friday. Would you believe that a good 2/3 of the staff does NOT enter the building on fridays? Craziness. And boy was it hot hot hot in the south bay. Hot in a way that never occurs in San Francisco proper. Which is lucky, because the state obviously doesn't have enough resources to power our air-conditioners, if we had them. I talked with a tall graphic designer girl at lunch. She's from Seattle and speaks soooo slooow, in a cool is-she-stoned? way, which I find employed by many West Coast natives. What happend to us in the East, that we think we need to speak fast, move fast, climb the career ladder fast? Well, maybe you can find that everywhere. But I don't need it.

We're heading to the park today, for an illegal gathering (we couldn't reserve an official spot, b/c some of us are never as much on the ball as we would hope). There will be a pinata, beer, birthday girls and chips.

If I had time, I would talk about Jury Duty. Instead, I will post two pictures of buildings:

02 may 2001 . 05:27 pm PT
Happy Bithday to BONNIE! Damn, now I have to go pick up her car and find her at the train station. Some people! Heh. I will return to share the short (but sweet) saga of Jury Duty.

01 may 2001 . 12:55 am PT
Just got back from Bimbo's swanky club, where sweaty (smelly) people waved arms for St. Germain. Sweeeeet! House beats under live jazz improv. Check it out.

Now, more importantly: we at the Knee want you to check out Jeremy Clark's premiere Internet radio broadcast, today at noonish (that's pacific coast time). Go to Commuting101.com, follow the link (make sure you've got Quick Time player) and listen in. Jeremy will listen to your problems -- via instant messenger -- and perform live songs about your so-called problems on the guitar. Or maybe he'll just throw some house beats up there. Who knows. But it will be fun.

In other news, I have been called for jury duty. All this means, so far, is that I have to ring a certain telephone number after 6pm each night to find out if I'm due at the court house the next day. Kind of a pain, if you ask me. But if you did ask me, I'd plead the fifth. Or I'd make up some much more witty response than that, and post it online so you had to read it.

What else, what else? It's almost Bonnie's birthday and we will be playing whiffle ball in the park. You are invited.