So how does one know when summer actually arrives?

Well, I suppose you could look at the calendar and go with the whole June 21st summer equinox thing. It’s not very romantic, but it’s certainly accurate and official. Or I suppose you could make the observation that the days are getting longer and — depending on where you live — warmer. The qualification of that last bit being, here in Berkeley/San Francisco, at least, summer doesn’t always guarantee warmer (hence that dubious Mark Twain quote: “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco”). Or you could note that baseball season has begun and you suddenly have an irrational itch for eternally long sporting events. Or you might find yourself spending increasing amounts of time in front of the Otter Pop section of the frozen food aisle, mesmerized by the bright colors and — depending on your age — awash in warm, fuzzy nostalgic feelings for the sugary goodness of Alexander the Grape, Sir Isaac Lime and Strawberry Short Kook.

All these are prognosticators, to be sure, and won’t let you down with their accuracy, but for me it all begins with the music. Summer music. When I was a kid, it was the crackly tones of “pop goes the weasel” pied-pipering their way out of an ice cream truck, lulling my suburban friends and I into such somnambulistic states that our allowance money was easily handed over for half melted ice cream sandwiches, cinnamon toothpicks and astro pops. Later it was the outdoor music festivals and early Sunday morning lines at ticket master for shows at the Irvine Meadows amphitheater. And while neither of these particular portends have completely disappeared — I still go all Pavlovian when I hear “pop goes the weasel” — I now gauge the arrival of summer by the sickly sweet sounds of Hong Kong pop songs.

For good or for bad, I live four floors above the back entrance to the “Great China” restaurant here in Berkeley. Architecturally, it doesn’t look anything like your normal Chinese eatery, it’s more of a small Victorian house sandwiched between the massive brick California Theatre on the one side, an apartment construction site on the other and my complex to the back. A worn wooden staircase lines the side of the restaurant just outside the kitchen door and rises up to a level of no consequence or purpose (think the Winchester House and you’ll probably get my meaning). There’s a door at the top of the stairs — half as narrow as a normal door — but as far as I can tell it’s never used. Basically it seems these stairs serve two functions only; a place to store crates of green onions and the raw dough for dumplings and a place where the staff of middle-aged Chinese women sit sleepy eyed in the morning listening to pop music on a boombox while they wait for their bosses to arrive to let them in.

In the wintertime, I barely notice this life at all — my double pane window sadly blocks out all the sound below. The drowsy, singsongy conversations of these women and the cheap radio are no match for my modern glass. Come the end of spring, however, when the weather starts to warm up and I open my windows 24/7, the Cantopop once again rises from below, swirls into my room and like the swallows returning home to San Juan Capistrano signals the change of the season.

Summertime.

It’s my birthday today and I’ll tell ya straight up, I love it. Truth is, I love anything that celebrates life, especially when it has a party in tow. It’s cool to be here another year; to look back and to look forward and be grateful for the moment that’s happening right now — it’s a gift.

And speaking of gifts, I’ve got one to pass on to all of you. A heads up more than anything else, but a good heads up. It’s time sensitive, though — today only (kind of like a birthday) — so if you’re interested ya need to act quickly. I’m giving you a late start, I know, and I apologize — I only just discovered it myself.

Amazon’s MP3 Album of the Day is the latest release from Erykah Badu, New Amerykah: Part One (4th World War), and at $2.99 it’s quite the deal (I paid $8.99 yesterday).

It’s been eight years since her last studio album and the time off seems to have stimulated something interesting within her. It’s a challenging album, to be sure. Not perfect, but inspired and never dull. Equal parts 60s style psychedelic funk, neo-soul, modern hip-hop and political commentary, it’s an album — after only one listen — that’ll probably be in my top 10 at the end of the year.

If you think contemporary R&B has gotten a little stale and formulaic, then check this out — you won’t be disappointed. And if you don’t know anything about Miss Badu’s music but are feeling a little experimental, then for $2.99 here’s your chance to funk up your iPod playlist and impress your friends with how hip you are the next time you make them a mix CD.

Oh, and if you happen to be reading this after midnight the 23rd, the album is still worth it at $8.99. Let me know what you think.

This post was originally intended to go up the last week in March, but life — being what it is — had other plans.

Every time I sail I discover something new about this sport I’ve quickly fallen in love with and how it’ll all play out in this dream of mine. Last Thursday evening I went out again with B and my friend S on B’s J35, and while it was pretty cold (San Francisco definitely ain’t Fiji) — especially on our way back into the harbor with the wind and the setting sun chasing us down — it was the best time I’ve had sailing yet.

It’s interesting, but I’ve noticed that if it’s the least bit chilly Bay Area sailors don’t seem to want any part of it. Don’t get me wrong, as a quadriplegic I don’t dig the cold either — my lack of circulation is not adept at keeping me warm. But it was a spectacularly clear evening with the wind blowing stiffly at around 12 kn, and so cold or no cold as far as I was concerned there was no better place to be.

The weather, however, being what it was brought up some valuable questions about my comfort. Not just in regards to the temperature, but what that means for me as a disabled passenger on a boat. As I’ve mentioned before, how comfortable I am is largely determined by how I’m sitting. This really can’t be overstated. Proper seating is the central preoccupation of my disabled life. It needs solving in my wheelchair and now it needs solving when I sail. It all springs from there. If this problem can’t be solved a long-distance sail is out of the question.

Try and try again

The last time I sailed in this J I stayed in my acoustic chair which in this particular boat fits perfectly in the cockpit. Again, this worked great and was rather comfortable while the boat was level, but if the boat was to heel for any extended period of time (which is normal over a long distance tack) the lack of upper back support of this chair would lend to some pretty severe neck pain. Not cool.

My idea this time was to ditch the chair altogether and put my cushion on the floor of the cockpit and use the side of the boat as back support. Because I was sitting so low my back was supported up to the top of my shoulders and this was perfect for keeping me comfortable and secure. For added safety we tied down the cushions so they wouldn’t slide and fashioned me a chest strap to keep me from falling over when we heeled.

While this method is better than sitting in the wheelchair if the boat is steeply heeling, it’s not the answer for any trip over an hour and a half. The main issue with this J is the width of the cockpit. I’m 6′2″ and the only way for me to fit properly in this space is to keep my legs bent at about a 45° angle. Sitting like this puts a lot of pressure on my butt (in particular my problematic left ischial bone) and makes it impossible for me to do any weight shifts. These shifts are absolutely crucial if I want to avoid pressure sores. Going too much beyond an hour without doing any can create lasting problems, and I want to spend time sailing not recovering from pressure sores.

It’s obvious that with my disability my mobility on a boat is limited; I’m not going to be able to move around like the rest of the crew and I can accept this. On a boat large enough, however, I imagine my mobility would be freed up dramatically and that’s certainly something to keep in mind where the trip is concerned.

I’m all about being flexible and adapting myself to a world where things aren’t designed with my particular needs in mind — this is something one must do when they want to push themselves beyond the ordinary. But what I don’t want to sacrifice, though, is my comfort as that’s directly related to my enjoyment of both the process and the outcome of a voyage. I expect my butt will take some hits and there will be significant recovery time to follow, but that’s always been part of the game and the collateral damage I’m willing to accept if it gets me something greater.

That said, I do believe in workarounds and that’s what all this sailing is about — discovering what works and doesn’t work and developing solutions to those that don’t. It’s also about having a great time, but as far as I can tell that seems to be a given and not much work to be done there.

At long last, here it is, volume 1 of the 365 albums a day experiment. It’s a list of what I’ve listened to so far and some of the songs that sparkled during the experience. You’ll notice some albums have two songs listed, while others have five or more. This doesn’t mean the albums where I only noted two were any less of an overall experience, it only means those were the songs that grabbed me at the time. Another listen might garner different results.

In any event, part of the idea was to function as a filter and give you suggestions you might like to download in advance of getting the whole album. It’s a great time to be a music lover; sites like iTunes and Amazon allow you to purchase individual songs instead of whole CDs or record company determined singles, and that’s a pretty inexpensive way to get your feet wet with a new artist. For myself, I’m still an album type of guy, but I’ve found from time to time it’s nice to sit with something before you dive all the way in.

Below are some links to some new discoveries and a couple of “classics” that were a joy to revisit. If you don’t have any of these in your iPod or record collection already, you might think about adding them.

For a PDF of the complete list click here: 365 albums volume 1

Aside from it being International Worker’s Day and a day where some folks may want to dance around a Maypole (our European brethren mostly), it’s also my dog Shadow’s birthday. She’s 14 years old today; getting up there by golden retriever standards, not so much by tortoises’.

She’s in great shape and as bighearted and goofy as ever. She’s less fond of rock ‘n roll and hip-hop shows, but still retains an enthusiastic interest in catered events and Mexican restaurants with mariachis and cascading bowls of chips. Her hearing has diminished some (selectively and otherwise), but her bark is as efficient as ever. Tennis balls still hold a significant place in her heart, but her nose to the ground and knowing every other dog’s business seems much more a priority now. And while I’d hoped her ever evolving dog breath might’ve reached a critical mass by this point, I’ll gladly endure its further evolution in exchange for many more years together.

It’s only fitting Shadow’s birthday is on May 1st — the day of the worker and the day of the May Queen — given she’s both, it’s the only one that would do.

Those who know Shadow, know this about her — she is a lover beyond words and a wondrous spirit. Every day she’s in my life is another day to be thankful for. May the years continue to be kind.

The biscuits flow tonight!