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.

22 september 2002 . 11:43 pm PT

In a ploy to impress the visiting east coasters, John pretended he was James Dean before inviting us all to his company's party at PacBell Park. I mean, they rented the stadium so we could drink beer in plastic bottles, throw Frisbees in right field, and take pictures of ourselves in the Giants dugout. How do you finish off an afternoon like that, you ask? Play Taboo for three hours.

Horrifying: More woman than ever are getting breast implants. According to this report, the implants are bigger than ever, many of the patients are younger than ever, and the health risks are stunning. "Instead of putting their money into a 401(k) or going on a vacation, many women see this kind of surgery as an investment in themselves."

In a break from that dose of reality, here is me entertaining New Yorkers Michael and Betsy (can you imagine a more fun day than walking around talking on cell phones? uh.):

Bright Eyes, "Lifted": I am very into this album, right this minute. It frightens me, how it came out of nowhere and sank its claws deep into my gut. If you're a fan of any of the other music I write about, check it out. But that's all I'm going to say because my dad told me I was spending too much time writing about music. That I needed to focus more on ... San Francisco.

That may be, but get this: we watched the "Woodstock" documentary last night. My! god! I had no idea. Awe-inspiring musical performances, beautiful camera choreography, and hundreds and thousands of groovy cats rallying for peace. Play track 22 on Side A of the DVD ... or track 11 on Side B ... here's why the Taliban (and that town in "Footloose") outlawed music ... oh the power and the joy ... glory glory be.

And: Beck is no fun when he's miserable, says the Voice. I'm afraid I might agree.

Joss Whedon on his new Fox drama "Firefly": "It's about the search for meaning. And did I mention there's a whore?" If you don't know, Whedon created "Buffy" (one of the best shows on television, ever). Find out more in this great article.

A picture from San Francisco, California. This one's for you, Dad!:

15 september 2002 . 10:08 pm PT
I am *barely* adhering to the "update once a week" rule. I can't believe any of you still check this page. Of course I adore it, how you care; otherwise I wouldn't have a thing to brag about at parties.*

My roommate was trying to explain to an out-of-town visitor what an "art car" entailed. Here is a visual example of a typical Bay Area Art Car. Take note, Betsy. Art car-sightings earn you a free trip to 826 Valencia.

This was a splendid weekend of food, reading, guitar playing, dancing around, and cable TV. Yesterday I decided to document the messages written in the sidewalk. Behold:

Yeah, something like that. As far as links-to-sap-your-valuable-time, why not devote your energy to Malcolm Gladwell's expose on the fine art of face-reading. You, too, can decipher people's hidden motives. One of his most interesting points is how a person's emotion (heart rate and breathing being the physiological factors involved) is affected by different movements of the face. If you arrange your face into a scowl, you will feel a twinge of anger. Which is why everyone should SMILE more -- it is not a lame hippy we're-all-so-happy-together philosophy. If you smile and laugh, you will feel better. Scientific fact. I also highly recommend dancing. No one has to see you; no one should see you. Turn on the radio and shake your hips. Everything will work out fine.

08 september 2002 . 11:33 pm PT
Saturday we witnessed Wilco at the Warfield. Tweedy finished the second encore with a whole lot of rock: "Casino Queen," "Outtasite" and "Monday." Earlier in the concert, longtime fans were yelling at them to cut the contemplative crap and RAAAWK. So they did. And it was great, even if going to that theater means you won't be able to see shit, you will be squashed, and you will be surrounded by idiots. I mean, two-thirds of the people there had no idea how to sing "Passenger Side." Of the two (maybe three?) new songs they played, one was stand-out. There were also a couple of times when old songs ended in a truly impressive swelling/release of musical tension. Which I like. Also, Glenn can drum.

I have seen the future: and it is a digital jukebox. Touch-screen scroll through a vast selection of albums, and pay with coins, bills, or plastic. It's 50 cents per play, but with $1.50, you guarantee that your song is next. Wow.

My favorite sequence in "Baraka" (now playing at the Castro Theater): thousands of fluffy yellow chicks winding along a conveyor belt, getting inspected, getting branded, crying out in shock. In this film, you will witness things you had no idea about. (There is also a tendency for the mind to wander since there's no plot or dialogue.)

I cried today in 9/11's honor. The washingtonpost.com has these great streaming video shorts documenting an astonishing array of story angles. I also cried at a "Buffy" re-run I caught on FX, so, who knows. Hormones I guess.

One of the best things about San Francisco is how you can climb a rock-strewn and twisty little path in your neighborhood to discover the entire city draped before you.

04 september 2002 . 11:59 pm PT
Is now the time to talk about last week's very funny Beck concert? Somehow I don't think I have the time. Ha, you hate me, right? I'm such a tease. I also don't have time to tell you how a recent SF visitor -- a woman who has held hands with Mick Jagger and David Lee Roth -- knows for a _fact_ that Ryan Adams is very "sensitive." And that Rivers Cuomo is without a doubt crazy.

Instead I'll say: Why not look at these pictures from last weekend's Burning Man festival. I missed it, yes. Couldn't be helped. But it hurts it hurts it hurts. Can't really explain why, it won't make sense.

Only an hour ago: I was watching "Underground Zero." After 9/11, two indie filmmakers (who also happen to be locals), asked 150 indie film people to submit a short piece (10 minutes tops) in response to the tragedy. They had a 3 months. Tonight at the Red Vic we saw 13 of the shorts. Pretty unbelievable. So many different, and very powerful, voices. (If you're off work next Wednesday, you can catch a free screening at the Exploratorium.) I suppose I'm trying to prep up for the guaranteed sad/madness of next week's anniversary. I can't believe it's been a year. 365 days. Where did you go, what did you do.

03 september 2002 . 12:29 am PT
Happy End of Labor Day, kids. I have many glorious things to report, and rock-star-related secrets to share, but all the hiking and biking this weekend has made me sore. My shoulders want me to stop typing and to go back and lie on the couch some more. I'm not sure The Knee will let me limp all that way, down the hall to the couch, so I might have to make a pit-stop in my bed for the next several hours.

To tide you over until I recover (I must tell you all about the fabulous solo acoustic BECK-in-a-tiny-theater show I saw last week. Yeow!!), visit DateCam. It's a dating site based on Webcam interaction. This is the FUTURE. Ha. But it's fun to watch people stare into their computer screens, picking their noses and whatnot -- there's a featured video stream on the homepage (if it's not there, click around a bit). You don't have to sign up or anything to watch. Kinky, huh?

And: Yes, I am very very sad I didn't make it out there. But ... next year. Yes!

Also: Go A's! You can do it!

*There was a "bon voyage Christa" bbq today, on her roof deck, complete with a French toddler chasing a cat with salad tongs and jokes about terrorisam and teeth-activated cell phones. Christa is heading to South America for yoga and study and amazing adventures. You, however, are going to continue checking this page EVERY WEEK. Sometimes twice a week, for kicks.