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.

30 september 2001 . 10:56 pm PT
It's Sunday night, I'm exhausted, I still have pages and pages of newspaper to read. Must educate self, constantly. We are at war, this country is, there's no way around it, and I wish it would stop. I'm looking for some good WTC jokes because laughter helps. Remember back in the good old days, one kid on the school bus says to the other: "You know what NASA stands for, right? Need Another Seven Astronauts." I mean, I just want to go to concerts and read books, maybe drink some coffee and hang out with the people I love. Tell jokes. Act all worried about my ill-defined goals for life. And ... right there I just remembered I haven't yet read The Onion. On quick skim, I see hope! Shining rays of fun! Okay, so, like, ignore me when I get all must-save-world-now on you. It'll pass.

And I have some good pictures. I do. Today was the Folsom Street Fair. Thousands and thousands of people in leather chaps. I saw a man in a huge (scary leather with bells and metal and weird) horse head, clomping down the street in high hoof heels, on a leash. And it was hot in the city today. Summer does visit San Fran, and everything blooms bright. So I'm not putting any new pictures up. I'm too tired and the Classic Arts Showcase is on PBS. But you should read the newspaper. Read about the smell in NYC, or the "Crush America" spirit of Pakistan. Read all of it. Talk about it at parties. Learn some new jokes.

27 september 2001 . 11:27 am PT
Reporter-extraordinaire Malcolm Gladwell puts his unique filled-with-fact spin on Safety in the Skies. It's a really short piece for him (only five pages printed) and, sadly, very sobering. Our attempts at heightening airline security are only going to make the criminals that much craftier.

I'm not sure if anyone out there is interested in reality TV, but let me just share: "The Amazing Race" on CBS Wednesday nights (produced by Jerry "The Rock" Bruckheimer) gets a big thumbs-up from me and my roommate. Teams of two -- a mother/daughter, male "life partners", a set of grandparents, young couples, fraternity brothers from Brooklyn, etc. -- are racing around foreign countries, looking for yellow flags. Every week, the team in last place gets booted off. It's very intense! Let me warn you, though, that the gay guys are quite EVIL, pretending to be helpful but really steering bickering young couples off the right path. But they got their prissy asses kicked in Paris. Tune in next week!

Meat Loaf turns 54 today. In case you were wondering.

And right now I'm listening to "The Best of the Vanguard Years" performed by John Fahey. It's straight-up acoustic guitar. I think I have a serious addiction to music. I'm waiting for the negative consequences to catch up with me. It can't be healthy to constantly buy new CDs. Like, six to eight albums a week. Every week. *looks imploringly at empty wallet*

25 september 2001 . 01:02 pm PT
This is great: Are you smarter than Miss America? Take the quiz! If you must know, I am not smart enough to win the pageant. Please hold your applause [via Plastic.com].

I would also encourage everyone to regularly check in on the blogdex (thanks to Kevin, who reminded me). It calculates the most-linked links throughout the entire weblogging universe. Hoo! It can save energy, see, when you just want to waste time, like, right now and don't feel like surfing from page to page. Yesterday I found this great page of Attack on America rumors, both true and false.

24 september 2001 . 10:17 pm PT
I don't think I have anything to share at this moment. I've been wrestling with the blues the past few days. Hate that. But, we are winning. We are winning.

I'll have some links tomorrow morning. For now, here's a picture of my crying eyes:

21 september 2001 . 10:57 am PT
Spotted: In a throwaway cut between scenes on a "Friends" rerun, the camera pans down the length of the World Trade Center towers. I would have never noticed it before, it's on screen for a two-second blip. But there they are, the towers, and then back to the Friends drinking coffee, oblivious. PS: one of my California-born comrades claims to have never registered the existence of those towers before last week. Whaaaaa?! We've got to help the kids out here. Somehow, someday. Heh.

Poor Mariah Carey. Her star turn is making people laugh. DUH!

20 september 2001 . 07:11 pm PT
I just watched George W. give his speech to Congress (and us). Couldn't his aides have coached him a bit on the pronunciation of the word "terror"? He kept saying "tara" this and "tara" that and I felt like I was back South, with Scarlett O'Hara .... Also, I would like to see the man in some EYEGLASSES. He must have the beadiest eyes ever. But, ah well, he said some good things. I did like when he clutched that dead police man's badge, a gift from the victim's mother that Bush now carries as a reminder. Cheap trick, sure. But effective. And no one bombed the Capitol, which might have been a decent plan since all the world's leaders were gathered there. Thank god for small favors. Oh, and *gives a standing ovation* let's hear it for Giuliani! We do, we do love New York.

If you're looking for one last cry for terrorism, I have witnessed tears on others reading this sweeping report from That Horrible Day, written by the fabulous W.Post (and brought to my attention by Angela). I haven't read it yet. I'm taking a break. But maybe you could print it out; study it before bed.

In my life: I'm not doing much except sticking my nose deep into Michael Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay." It is absolutely fantastic. Fantastic.

18 september 2001 . 10:10 pm PT
Hard to believe: Here's a collection of mp3s featuring "appropriate" songs (well, that could be argued) re-mixed with sound effects from Tuesday's tragedy. I suppose radio stations played this crap? I only downloaded the first song and listened ("The World I Know" by Collective Soul, with audio of a man in near-tears). And that was enough. You're free to try out Enya's "Only Time" or Neil Diamond's "America" and see how they fare. [via Plastic.com] Also: the list of 150 songs that someone (who? who??) doesn't think should be played at this unstable time, for fear of offending someone (who? who??). I mean, Jerry Lee Lewis' "Great Balls of Fire" has NOTHING to do with DEATH and DESTRUCTION. People!

Cool: Wired.com reports on "marsupial machines that spit smaller robots out of their "stomachs"' and other neat contraptions being used in the search for survivors. Too bad the pictures of these machines are nowhere near as impressive as one might hope.

Where have all the jokes gone? Old men are crying on "Late Night" and Dave Barry gets serious.

And who came up with that half-assed "Operation Noble Eagle" code name? Find out.

Now go out and buy some American merchandise! We must do our part!

16 september 2001 . 11:17 pm PT
I had really hoped to be done with all this crying and carrying on. But here comes the Sunday New York Times ... and there goes another two hours of my life spent behind red puffy eyes. I will point you to this short report from the Ground Zero Bar. Yes, they serve beers in hell (but there's never Guinness on tap).

FYI: if you're looking for one of the most horrific cinematic experiences available, try Takishimi Miike's "Audition" (now showing at the Castro Theater). Not recommenced for those with weak stomachs or unstable sexual politics.

15 september 2001 . 08:28 pm PT
And:

NYC prepares to perform 700 DNA tests a day. This is another heartbreaking story (aren't they all), with gruesomely exact scientific details. You'll also find out how different religions handle burial rites. I mean, how do we deal with thousands of funerals without bodies?

Wait: this event might actually help the economy?

Poignant personal stories from 9/11, collected by the fray.com.

This Salon writer explains why she is more of an atheist than ever before. Some say there's been too much God going on. Personally? I don't rely on a god; I don't think there's any kind of higher power out there. But sometimes I pray. I sat in a beautiful marble hall on Friday afternoon, in the second pew, and I cried hot tears with strangers. I don't usually have emotional breakdowns in front of people. But I think it helps. It helps. God bless America, don't you see?

After church, I ate loads of glorious food and went to see "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back," slapping my leg in laughter. Life!

14 september 2001 . 09:31 am PT
More:

A photo that says so much (taken by Tom Franklin).

Roger Ebert doesn't just know movies, he knows what we should do with the destruction sight.

Thoughtful look at life in NYC, after the fact.

"Did any more castles fall down?" What kids are thinking in this sunny city, far away.

When my D.C. apartment caught on fire that one New Year's Eve, it was the firefighters who made the most difference. They rescue you, they joke with you, they try to save the jewelry you left on the dresser. Here's why the New York firefighters are equally incredible.

I'm going to church today. Cheers.

13 september 2001 . 11:06 am PT
Hello. We're still here. I'm working on a plan to take care of the evil people who did this. While that's in negotiations, here are some choice reading selections:

Can you believe that the people responsible for finding knives in our luggage earn only $16,700 a year, with no sick pay or health insurance? Security breaches at airports are easy, agents found, only one year ago.

It's chilling to find out just how impossible it is to penetrate a clique of Islamic radicals (this story was published in The Atlantic's July/August issue. In 1990, they published a piece on The Roots of Muslim Rage.).

I didn't think I wanted to know, but maybe I do: why people jump out of windows 100 stories high.

The story of Kenneth Foster searching for his wife in the rubble of the Pentagon.

Driving north on 101 toward San Francisco, we passed a lone guy on an overpass, waving a huge American flag. The city skyline is dotted with flags at half-mast, on the very tops of buildings, in places where flags have never flown before.

Me, I am so relieved that my circle of friends is safe and cared for. We are all so very lucky; I am deeply pained at our overwhelming loss.

*sadly waves her little American flag*

a few more things:

• evhead's great picture, pre-9/11.
• Paul Fain reports from D.C.
• it's so very easy to help out.
• and, on a lighter note: Bill Werde's excellent report from Burning Man.

11 september 2001 . 10:24 am PT
I'm sorry. It gets worse. I know we're fine over here, far away, but cell phones aren't working even in this non-bombed city. I'm shaken. Upset. I do NOT want to hear G.W.Bush tell me to pray. NPR reports people standing in shocked groups around cars on NY streets, listening to the radio. We're getting all-employee emails accounting for team members across the country. All mail packages are receiving extra attention. Walt Disney World is closed.

11 september 2001 . 08:40 am PT
My contacts in the heart of New York City report chaos in the streets. Everything -- subways, delis, glossy fashion magazines -- is shut down. My roommate is refusing to leave our house and head downtown (would they bomb the TransAmerica Building? The Golden Gate Bridge?). She's even making back-up plans with loved ones about what to do if there's a problem with our phone lines and things get "crazy." It's already pretty crazy, if you ask me. They're saying that one lost plane was heading to San Francisco at last report ... and now it's crashed outside of Pittsburgh.

And I finally managed 10 hours of sleep in one thick chunk last night. This past weekend, the last of the "we were at Burning Man and we NEVER SLEEP!" feeling was emptied from me. My knees are still aching and I haven't washed my clothes clean of dust, but there's work to do.

07 september 2001 . 12:00 pm PT
It is a far far better thing that I do, than I have ever done. . . .

Hoo boy. I'm readjusting to civilization. And I can't stop telling stories about Burning Man. I told myself -- we all told ourselves -- it's too hard to explain. It's impossible to convey to the uninitiated how glorious amazing impossible hot dusty awesome this event is. Twenty-two thousand people converge in the desert, they make art, they mix drinks, they turn up the dance music, they burn things. You wear hot pink and dust masks. You get lost and let strangers sing to you in the middle of a vicious sand storm. That, and much much much more. You can't take pictures because it's beyond film (I did try, you'll see, but it's a weak representation). You must come next year. Otherwise, you'll never understand. And that would be tragic.

Oh! and if you want a semi-coherent account of Burning Man, please read Mark Morford's story (he's my most favorite ever. I'm starting a stalking campaign this week.).

Did I do the parenthetical periods correctly? Whatever. Forgive me.

And now I'm off, to purchase some mass market goods (like, uh, CDs) and play them on the unnecessary electrical gadgets that clutter my existence.