Studio Gangster

What a wonderful summer day we're having here in the City of Oak, and it's only April 12. There's not a cloud in the sky and the breeze is as subtle as a nervous adolescent grabbing for your hand on a first date. Just another one of your basic "This is why we live in California" type spring days, if I may quote myself. So why am I sitting here writing to you? It's not like I'm sitting poolside somewhere with my laptop like Carrie Bradshaw or something. I'm not sipping umbrella laden drinks or enjoying any fabulous people watching. I'm not even on the very urban-chic rooftop terrace of my building, looking out over the Bay as if I'm Puff Daddy in a Black Rob video. Like, Whoa! You didn't expect me to bring back that flash from the past did you? Well, since I'm giving you my impression of the veritable Way-Back machine...

The temperature's about 88, Hop in the water plug just for old times sake
Break to ya crib change your clothes once more
Cause youre invited to a barbeque thats starting at 4 -- Will Smith, Summertime

I'm sitting in my room, looking out the window the same way I do when the temperature is, say, 48. Waterplug? No. Barbeque? Well, I'm sure somebody's Q'ing today, but I'm not there. I'm at home. Chillin', but at home nonetheless. On Monday, some co-worker will undoubtedly sound off about how fabulous it was to ride their touring bike down the coast on Highway 1, or what a nice day it was in Santa Cruz, or brag about how they watched the Giants get 5 innings of no-hit ball from Matt Cain only to see a 5-run lead evaporate and the bullpen implode in the 10th, all while wearing short sleeved shirts and shorts. (No small feat for a Giants game...the shorts and t-shirts, that is). "I went through a whole tube of sunscreen," I can hear them saying. Not me, I'm just relaxing for a hot minute.

What's my excuse? Well, there wasn't alot of free time. As usual, one of my kids had a game in the middle of the day and it took awhile and I had to go to a workshop this morning, and I'm going to the Warriors game in a few hours so there's not enough time for me to do anything but chill here. Are you buying that? Yes? Well, I've got some beachfront property in which you might be interested. No? Why not? So what if I'm the same guy that got up early to run on the beach and swim in the bathtub-like waters of Turks and Caicos' Grace Bay. Nevermind that I once took in the Van Gogh museum, the Heineken Brewery and lunched at a sidewalk cafe after dashing out of Amsterdam's Schipol Airport during a lengthy layover or routinely dip out of Chicago's busy O'hare Airport to enjoy a pie from Giordano's with considerably tighter time constraints.

You must think I'm an impostor. I'm so ashamed of myself. I feel like Herman Smith from Cleveland in the Wiz. Sure, you remember Herman? Don't you? He was Richard Pryor's character in the movie. What's that? The Wiz? Yeah, some people called him the Wiz, but he turned out to be some cat that had a cool light show and spun some records on the 1's and 2's while taking advantage of the larger than life persona that he took on when sending his booming voice out over the amplified sound system. No special powers. Just a man.

I'm no impostor. I'm just tired. I can see Oakland anytime. My motivation to take it all in during every single spare block of time is very, very low here at home. I live here. Don't be mad at me because you're in Winona, Indiana.