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March 30, 1997

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March 30, 1997
Watched Becket, a 1964 film starring Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole. The movie, not a horrid way to spend 2 and a half hours, was nominated for 12 Academy Awards but was blanked in all major categories. Worth seeing? One thumb up, one thumb down. There's better stuff out there, surely. Still, good performances by Burton, O'Toole and Gielgud, and now I can say I've seen it.

Bruce, a friend from Erin's college days, visited and spent the night. Great—if not better—to see him. He now joins a distinguished list of our California overnight visitors who include Bret, Amy, Matt, Ginger, Ian, Randy, and various members of the Flying Burrito Brothers.

March 29, 1997
Erin's birthday, and why not? Everybody's got one. This year's big gift will be an acoustic guitar which, God willing, she will use to pass her spare time in a more relaxing fashion than her normal stress-a-holic manner. She took guitar lessons in college on a borrowed instrument, and since she expressed an interest in playing again, we thought it was time to get her her very own axe. Finally, Clapton and Page get the competition they deserve.

March 28, 1997
Been working with a couple of friends to get Pretty Good Privacy (PGP), the world-class encryption program, running on our e-mail systems. So far I've received one Public Key which I've used to successfully send encrypted e-mail. Still having problems with my Public Key, though. The PGP AppleScripts aren't working 100 percent of the time, either, probably because I'm doing something wrong or because I don't know how to modify AppleScript code to make the necessary changes. I'll bet the three of us get everything figured out soon though, and then we'll be flinging around secret messages and code and stuff just like cool people we are. It'll be great!

March 27, 1997
The debut of Claris Organizer 2.0 on my system. Wow! This is one amazing piece of software and not only for fact that it runs well on my terribly-outdated Mac IIci. Look for a Technological Review coming soon! In fact, many of you can look for me to be begging you for updated contact info, since I've just realized how little information I have on some of you. Promise I won't ask for your social security number, despite the temptation.

March 24, 1997
Billy Crystal is incredible as host of the Academy Awards. Ceremonies ran, as usual, long enough to bore even the most interested among us, and, once again, I've not seen even one of the nominated films. Seeing real-life Shine pianist David Helfgott was interesting; I didn't think he was nearly as bad as the classical music critics claim, all of which goes to show that I'm no classical music critic.

March 23, 1997
Finally, some good news: I am able to walk without overwhelming pain! I can even sit down for limited periods as long as I list to the left so as to keep the pressure off the sciatic nerve on the right side. Won't be doing Jazzercise any time soon, but at least the prospect of recovery is out there.

Watched the U.S. National Team lose 3-2 down in Costa Rica. Will somebody please convince Alexi Lalas and Cobi Jones to renounce their citizenship and go play for somebody else? My man Keller played a typically terrific game, but with defense like Lalas' it wasn't enough. Alexi got juked so badly on the third goal, I swear I could see his jock hanging around his ankles after the play was over.

March 22, 1997
Still laying around, I decide to focus my energies on the album I'm trying to record. Listened to hours of my tapes, sorted through lyrics, mixed and matched songs with album concepts. With 40-some songs written, I started pondering the idea of a double-album. Might actually work, but I don't know that family/friends/strangers/anyone will be inclined to shell out $20 for a double CD vs. $10 for a single, no matter how great I think it is. Won't be recording any time soon, of course, but timeline of late 1998 or early 1999 seems reasonable. Lot work—fun, really—to do between now and then.

March 21, 1997
Am seriously concerned about prospect of lower back surgery. Can't tell if I'm getting better or not. Spent most of morning doing federal taxes to take my mind off it. Only owe $750 or so this year. Guess I'll have to sell the cattle ranch.

Watched A Chorus of Disapproval, a older British "comedy." Didn't realize title referred the critics and audience. Shooting leg pains continue, though lower back feels fairly good. Willing to try folk remedies if anyone cares to write in.

March 19, 1997
Report from the doctor is not promising: two weeks of bedrest and if it's not better then we'll do the MRI. Followed by back surgery. Can't recall who the patron saint of blithering basketball-playing back-injured idiots is, so I'm settling for the scattershot approach and praying to Allah, Jesus, the Virgin Mary and Kali the Goddess of Death. I'll let you know what works.

March 18, 1997
Walked three uneven blocks to Kaiser's medical center only to be told that only one doctor was available and it'd be a substantial wait before I could see him. Walked three uneven blocks back home. Will find out tomorrow about MRI thingy.

March 16, 1997
Through a force of will unmatched since Hugh Hefner first published Playboy, I courageously drag my leg a good quarter mile from our parking spot to Stanford Stadium to watch the U.S. National Team thump Canada 3-0. My favorite (and ex-schoolmate), Kasey Keller, tended goal for the U.S. and was his normal, usual, spectacular self. Back feels slightly better, likely due to a combination of the therapies I mentioned yesterday.

March 15, 1997
A visit to the lovely Dr. Kimberly reveals that I may have a herniated disc in my lower back. "So, Doc," I asked, "What's the worst case scenario?"

"Back surgery," she replied sweetly.

It took smelling salts and five minutes of slapping to get me up off the floor. Apparently I'll need an MRI to be certain, but in the meantime, I'm consigned to a steady routine of applying ice to my back, swallowing horse-sized Ibuprofen pills and screaming a Kirk-like "Kaaaahn!" whenever I decide to make a pain-filled and rather futile attempt to stand up. I've decided this might be a good time to try that experiment on the effectiveness of prayer that I've always wanted to run. Interested parties should e-mail me.

March 13, 1997
Another day of pain and misery. If I were a horse, I'm sure they would've shot me long ago. God, I'm pathetic. In an effort to boost my flagging spirits, I spent the evening watching It's a Wonderful Life for the ump-teenth time. Seems like I cry easier and earlier every time I see the movie. This showing I was wailing and sobbing before the opening credits were done. I may have peaked.

March 11, 1997
My brother returns from Costa Rica. Don't even want to begin to think about how much better his Spanish is than mine now. Maybe I'll learn a new language to off-set these feelings of inadequacy. I wonder if there's any primers available on Pig Latin.

March 9, 1997
Had strange dream last night involving naked friends and an old white-colored Ford Falcon. These Codeine pills may not help my back pain, but they sure are doing wonders for my subconscious. In case anyone's wondering, it wasn't a lucid dream.

March 7, 1997
Threw out my back again picking up a small pile of notebook paper. At this point, my chances of making the Olympic Weight lifting Team appear severely compromised. If word leaks, I'll be laughed out of the sport for certain.


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