Author: fifteenkey (Page 81 of 95)

Contrary to what I wrote Saturday, it seems we don’t have enough time in today’s hyper business environment to think on much of anything. It is very rare today to find the time to consciously think. I recall a conversation a couple years ago with my pal Norm about how we had lost the time to talk and collaborate on business issues; to connect and learn from each others perspectives. We have much less time today. Norm is one of the smartest guys I know, but it seems I never have the time to have a conversation with him. We’re too busy. John Old, knowledge manager at Texaco, comments on the phenomena, “It’s hard to share knowledge if you don’t have enough time to reflect on what you know or what you need to learn. Most companies have squeezed almost all of the reflection time out of their business processes.”

I do trust my instincts, but some of my best ideas come at time when I’m just, um, thinking. At the gym with blood rushing through the brain. In the car with no music or talk radio. In the shower… Yeah, creepy perhaps, but there’s no distraction in there but the soothing sound of running water. A little research turned up this article from the September 2004 HR Magazine. Here’s an excerpt:

“Managers often come back from development programs energized, not from what they learned in the classes–all those lectures and case studies–but from what they learned from their colleagues at coffee breaks and after hours. What an awful waste of opportunity. Why can’t the class time be as energizing as the time out of class, we asked ourselves, and we found the answer–significantly–in reflection.”

It’s worth the read. Hopefully it’ll make you stop and think.

I finally got around to refreshing the playlist on my 60 minute MP3 player for the gym. Included in the list is a sample of the Pernice Brothers live “Nobody’s Watching/Nobody’s Listening.” This band has produced some of the most beautifully lush pop sounds I’ve ever heard (link to their stuff on Amazon below). On this record though, they plug in and rock.

1. Sweet Illusions – Ryan Adams
2. Indian Summer Takedown – Varnaline
3. Meet Me on the Ledge – Varnaline
4. Land of Hopes and Dreams – Bruce
5. Darkness on the Edge of Town – Bruce
6. Money City Maniacs – Sloan
7. I’ll Be Comin’ Around – Bottle Rockets
8. I’ve Been Dying – Bottle Rockets
9. Backstreets – Bruce
10. Flaming Wreck (Live) – Pernice Brothers
11. Going Under – Evanescence
12. All Used Up – Sloan
13. If It Feels Good Do It – Sloan

I’ve been whining incessantly to anyone who’ll listen, but not here until now. See, CBS broke up with “Love Monkey.” The show was smartly written with great musical references and sports analogies, plus the dialogue had a snappy, well timed pace. The NYC visuals were also very cool, including one memorable shot of the building from Physical Graffiti.

It’s ironic that the show, like the music central to its storyline, was critically praised, but lacked the raw audience numbers to be considered successful. “Wife Swap” lives and “Love Monkey” dies. Sadly, people with gray matter don’t matter to networks driven by ratings that they need to fuel their ad revenues.

Rumors on the web are that the Monkey may not be dead yet, and is being shopped to the WB. Unfortunately, I can’t see the show working with their young demographic. How about Bravo? If you actually saw and liked the show, you can sign an online petition (for whatever that’s worth) to keep it alive. I hope somebody picks it up. Until then I’ll keep watching that final DVR’d episode every Tuesday at 10:00.

A recent study reported in London’s Guardian suggests over thinking leads to bad decisions, and that our most important choices may be better left to our raw instincts. The issue seems to be that our minds can only focus on a few things at once, and when we obsess over a decision, the few areas we focus on may be unduly weighted one way or the other.

Obviously, important considerations require some thought, but the reflection needs to be objective. In “Blink,” author Malcolm Gladwell’s research on numerous cases of decision making, shows that in many instances of complex decision making, less input is better than more, as long as the input is balanced.

I also think that anxiety over decisions involving personal risk contributes to bad decisions or indecision, simply because the anxiety over the decision becomes associated with the subject of the decision itself. Of course, then there’s fear…

Oh, and “Honey Don’t Think” is a great little tune by Grant Lee Buffalo from their record, “Mighty Joe Moon.”

I’ve hesitated in criticizing on the veep over his gun going off prematurely. C’mon, it happens to the best of us. I just don’t want to pile on Dick. I do have a few questions, though. Was this poor guy who got blasted a Democrat? Ever? Does he look anything like Hilary Clinton from behind? Does he bear any resemblance to Teddy Kennedy? How do you not see when innocents are in the line of fire? Oh, Dick Cheney. Nevermind.

In other news…
Megan went with Super-Cinnamon toasted with butter chased by a Gatorade Rain Berry flavored water, sport, whatever, drink. She had a good day…

I received some feedback on my Hallmark Day celebration. Now, I’m a glass half-full kinda guy, so “dark” and “depressing” really hurt. Now I’m all sad ‘n stuff…

It’s 7:07am and Megan is up! My guess is that she’s really digging her ipod Nano, since she had it surgically attached. She also equipped her bedroom with her PC speakers and subwoofer so she can crank the tunes while she flings clean clothes on and off in search of just the right look for any particular day. She’s got pretty diverse taste in music, but most mornings the monotonous thump of hip-hop bangs down the door. This morning’s first selection was “My Favorite Mistake,” by Lance Armstrong’s ex-chick. I wonder if he’s hers? Anyway, either the music we play has a real effect on how we feel or how we feel effects the music we play. In High Fidelity, Rob, played by John Cusak, ponders, “What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?” Will Megan’s day be different today based on hearing Sheryl Crow instead of Em? A telltale sign will be her bagel selection… Super-Cinnamon with butter or Plain with scallion-bacon cream cheese? We’ll see. At least this morning she’s up in time to get one.

Today’s Boston Globe has an article on a rock poster exhibit at the MFA. The show focuses on the psychedelic art from the late 60’s San Francisco music scene. One collector suggests the level of creativity during the period had something to do with LSD. Hmmm…

I own this poster from the late 90’s San Francisco music scene. The show was at the historic Fillmore and documents the July night I froze my ass off in the freakish summer bay weather waiting in line to see Son Volt and discover Varnaline. It’s cool. It’s art. Of course not on the same artistic level as my KISS poster from a few years earlier…

Yeah, I’m a little cynical, but Valentine’s Day is just so contrived. The cheesy cards. The overpriced flowers. The once a year overture that simply doesn’t make up for sleepwalking through the other 364. Last night I took Kyle shopping so he could get his Mom and sister something, but with this young man, he loves them like every day is Valentine’s Day. He’s a 24/7 lover boy. Isn’t that how it should be? Unconditional? The way it used to be before the pain, regrets and burns… Sometimes I wonder if I can ever again risk enough to shed my jaded skin and get there. To a place where I relate as much to a love song as I do to this one:

PS – As I wrote this, the sweet sound of Megan reading to Kyle softly carried through the house. Moments like these confirm my heart still beats.

• The SuperBowl was just bad all around. It was especially frustrating to watch those two teams stumble about for 4 quarters knowing the Patriots would have slapped the shit out of either one of them.
• I read that Sir Mick was “outraged” over the NFL/ABC “censorship” of lyrics to “Start Me Up.” Dude, no one wants to drop the pork rinds at halftime and explain to little Suzie or Johnny what, “you made a dead man come” means, OK?
• Two words: Spring Training
• Barry from Jordan’s Furniture called me today to let me know Megan’s new dresser will arrive tomorrow between 7am and 11am. Yeah, it’s mass market stuff and all, but they really know how to serve customers.
• I’m moving offices for the 4th time in a little over a year. This time though, I’m getting four walls and a door. That’s going to feel good.
• Yesterday I had lunch with a “wicked smaht” guy who attended a Stanford Executive Training Course with Barb over the summer. It was a great lunch and we had fun. I’m very fortunate to be able to hang with people like them.
• Did U2 win those Grammy’s last night because of the music or Bono’s humanitarian politics?
• It’s no wonder “consultants” have a bad name. They act just like consultants.
• DVR’s are pretty cool. I’m going to watch Tuesday night’s 10pm episode of “Love Monkey” right now…

As we approached Stubb’s it was clear, even through a Maker’s Mark haze, that getting into this show would be our greatest challenge to date. In the Spring of 2000, there was quite a buzz surrounding Hank Williams III. The hope was that the talent of his grandfather had simply skipped a generation and that the kid “had it.” It was one of the shows we really wanted to see, but the line around Stubb’s and the packed outdoor venue just bummed me out. Shut out? We’d never been shut out of a show at SXSW and we’d seen some barnburners. This time, things looked bleak. “Follow me,” barked Dave and suddenly I was chasing him as he ducked into the restaurant entrance, about 100’ beyond the concert entrance. In 2000, Dave was pretty damn quick, and he was on a mission. He approached a management type who attempted to intervene, but Dave threw a pomp head-fake and left the poor guy grasping at air like some poor Packer linebacker trying to tackle Barry Sanders. After the whiff, the would-be stopper fell into a waiter and the resulting slow-motion splattering of marinara across a patrons white shirt looked like it came right out of a Mario Puzo novel. Not pausing to admire the Tarantino-esque artistic carnage, Dave quickly darted down a short set of stairs and then cut left as he led an out pattern through the kitchen. I could have sworn I saw Andy Warhol chatting with a busboy as we dashed past the dishwasher, but I’m sure it was just the excitement of the moment. Suddenly there was darkness, but only briefly before the light… The beautiful light of the Stubb’s stage!

We hurriedly moved into the crowd and took a position center-stage, just behind what became the mosh-pit. Just in front of us was this guy who was pretty big, especially in the cranial region. We didn’t realize it at the time, but he’s in a band with Jack Black called Tenatious D…We didn’t see Jack, especially with that big dude in our field of vision.

Anyway… Hank III, or “Hank Tree” as we were calling him finally hit the stage and acted all punk until he blew out his bass amp. Then he threw a hissy-fit and walked off the stage. Dave speculated at the time that we may have witnessed a classic moment in rock history when “Hank III walked off stage at SXSW.” Um, not so much. I don’t think “Tree” has lived up to the hype of those early years. Hey, maybe there’s hope for Hank IV.

I turned around to head out, but Dave suggested we stick around to see the next band. I completely trust Dave’s musical instincts, so stay we did. About ten minutes later Eddie Spaghetti and the Supersuckers emerged looking and sounding something like this.