Supercross in Anaheim. Carol poses with the boys (Jamey and my bro, Tom).

It was loud, fun, smelled of gasoline and motorcycle fumes, and there was lots of beer served.

Saturday, January 23, 2005 – Angels StadiumPosted by Hello

Near-Earth Asteroid 2004 MN4 Reaches Highest Score To Date On Hazard Scale

Don Yeomans, Steve Chesley and Paul Chodas

NASA’s Near Earth Object Program Office

December 23, 2004

A recently rediscovered 400-meter Near-Earth Asteroid (NEA) is predicted to pass near the Earth on 13 April 2029. The flyby distance is uncertain and an Earth impact cannot yet be ruled out. The odds of impact, presently around 1 in 300, are unusual enough to merit special monitoring by astronomers, but should not be of public concern. These odds are likely to change on a day-to-day basis as new data are received. In all likelihood, the possibility of impact will eventually be eliminated as the asteroid continues to be tracked by astronomers around the world.

If you think that the tsunami from the 9.0 quake was bad, wait until the half-kilometer asteroid hits the earth in a mere 24 years. Note to self: consider moving inland before then.

From the New York Times:

2 Subway Lines Crippled by Fire; Long Repair Seen


Published: January 25, 2005

Two of the city’s subway lines – the A and the C – have been crippled and may not return to normal capacity for three to five years after a fire Sunday afternoon in a Lower Manhattan transit control room that was started by a homeless person trying to keep warm, officials said yesterday

I’m not one for conspiracy theories, but then again, I am smart enough not to believe everything I read: for one thing, how do you know it was a homeless guy. Maybe it was a bad guy. And even if it weren’t, there’s enough intel in the New York Times for any would-be terrorist to realize that you can cripple the New York City subway system by setting the relay stations on fire. If it really were a fire started by a homeless person, that just points to the obvious: how hard could it be to get in there and start a fire if that was your intention? Not very difficult, I imagine.

I pretty much haven’t left the sofa all day, with the football that was offered up for the viewing.

That Ty guy from Trading Spaces should be banned from all commercial advertising, at least anything aired during sporting events are ESPN for always and all time.

Driving over to Silver Lake tonight for dinner. In the driving rain.

The rain continues. Los Angeles drivers continue to not know how to drive in water that comes out of the sky.

Had to go to a client sales meeting in Anaheim this morning. At the Disneyland Hotel. At one point I’m in the exhibit hall in a two foot wide gap between the convention booth wall and the buidling wall, praying that an earthquake didn’t suddenly hit as no one knew where I was and there was nowhere for me to go, and it would have taken days to find my body. I’m not sure why i’m thinking up such things. The combination of the tsunami and the rain. The constant rain that seems to have been around here for weeks.

Marcus Allen was at the sales meeting, signing footballs and taking photos with the sales guys. TR knows him, but I didn’t get a chance to insert myself into the line and drop his name.

I feel like I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. Once this NFL game is over I’m going to pass out to whatever movie we have laying around on DVD. C had to cancel attending a dinner party she was invited to. I think it’s just one of those nights where the post-holiday blahs have kicked in, and neither one of us feel motivated to do anything much on the weekends.

I really don’t have much of anything to say tonight. Man, plain Hershey’s chocolate is so damn good.

Ersatz Nostalgia – I need to spend some more time doing some thought around that concept.

Driving back from Anaheim, I had the radio off, and the thwimp-thwump of the wiper blades, the shhh-hiss of the tires on the wet pavement, both combined to hypnotize me, and sudddenly I got lost in one of those non-time specific nostalgic moments. Out of nowhere I was in the nowhere, feeling a melancholy glow like a tiny ember of sadness. Suddenly all the memories of all the people and moments you’ve ever known all seem to converge at once and form a grey knot of rememberance, indistinct and compact, like an imploding star heavy with gravity. Then it diffuses through you and is gone, your eyes focus back on the red flickerings of auto brake lights in the mist ahead. The trees all bend in a wind, a seagull flies over, and the towers of the city rise up ahead of you. Then you’re home.

A famous wife of a famous producer/director, who had a former assistant who was in development at Paramount, once tried to set me up on a date with this former assistant now movie studio executive. Well she was at Paramount then. Today, I hear she’s over at Warner Bros. Anyway, she’s a cute girl with that deep dark brooding Eastern European hotness about her. We never hit it off outside of work, but it was always a bonus to run into her in Hollywood or at some art opening.

We once went to a screening of some crap Paramount movie towards the time when I knew I was leaving soon, of my own volition, and she probably knew she was on the outs because development execs always feel like they’re about to get booted and change was coming to Paramount anyway. Due to the fact that Sherry Lansing and her minions were going to be there, it was all-you-can-eat buffet at the candy counter. We decided to go for every single bag of Harry Potter Bertie Botts jelly beans or whatever the hell they’re called. You know, the ones that have the mysterious flavors like vomit and earwax. We took turns, sitting in the dark theater in the middle of all the studio execs, laughing at all the wrong moments at stuff that wasn’t even meant to be funny in the first place and trying to find all the jelly beans that tasted like ass puke. I think it may have been some Katie Holmes piece-o-shit. It was a hot date, though, as far as work dates go. Good to be back in touch with her.

The hinge on my laptop is fucked up. The good news is, I’m going to fix it with duct tape. It’s sorta like when you used to put duct tape on your weejuns, for those of you who remember Lisa Birnbach’s “The Preppy Handbook.”

Dinner tonight with TR and Spud somewhere in Brentwood. It’s always fun to cruise up the beach from work and through that dark, tree-lined corridor of San Vincente. You can make out the botox paralysis in the faces of the joggers in the grassy media, in the garish glow of the car’s headlights.