Frek was picked as a “perfect ten” book by VOYA (Voice of Youth Advocate), a magazine for librarians.

“Frek’s mythic adolescent odyssey to explore his roots and find his self is told with enchanting ingenuity and brilliantly conceived new creatures and characters—some elfin, some gross, and others just funny.”

We saw the Pixies in San Jose last night. It was so great. I’ve always thought Kim Deal was one of the coolest women in the world. I love her voice. I lifted this picture of her from a fan site. There is no “official” Pixies site. Kim looked so happy. Like a goofy friend you have who’s always grinning. Musicians are such different people. And where to begin talking about Black Francis?

Somehow he reminded me of a Francis Bacon painting ( image source). So oddly-shaped, and his joints swiveling in strange higher-dimensional ways, his head sliding onto his stomach as he leans back. What a voice.

They did “Wave of Mutilation” twice. I assume they’re referring to cattle mutilation — though with Black Francis, you never know. The first time he sang it alone, and the second time Kim sang along. How beautiful his voice is.

The final encore was “Debaser.” Kim crooning singing the word “Debaser” just a bit off the beat. The crowd cheering and pumping fists on the “Chien Andalou” chorus. That’s an old Dada movie by Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel, you wave. What a combo. Great, strange art.

Check it out, an altered McDonald's billboard in the Haight, including an actual moving animatronic Ronald McD. The tagline is from a Golden Age (1953) SF story by Damon Knight (later adapted for The Twilight Zone) where some aliens arrive and say they're here to serve man, and they're herding people into the giant mothership to go to a better world, and they have this special alien guidebook called To Serve Man and then someone figures out that it's a … cookbook.

Details at Laughing Squid.

Here’s the cute glasses case that one of my daughters knit for me years ago. Glasses are alive, they have legs so they can run and hide. [New info: It was Georgia who knit it, it was the first thing she ever knit, she made at “Big Three Days” at Seven Hills School in Lynchburg, Virginia, in the 7th grade.]

Yesterday we went to a party to celebrate Rudy and Penny’s engagement at this great people’s park called the “Albany Bulb”.

This is a spot in the SF Bay behind the Golden Gate Fields racetrack. It was once a dump, but now hipsters assemble art there, people walk dogs, and wild vegetation rules.

A bunch of Rudy and Penny’s colorful friends were there; we carried in loads of food and beer.

August and Laird have banana-shaped cell-phone holders that Laird invented.

And I think Rose said she’s a belly-dancer.

I gave Penny a plastic jellyfish that bounces on a string.

The dogs were retrieving sticks from the water. I love how the one on shore is being a spectator.

Mighty Slug was there, and I got a great little 1 Meg MPEG movie of him shaking. Click here to view movie.

I’ve always been fascinated with Diane Arbus’s pictures, of how the subjects are always kind of looking askance at Diane as she takes the picture. I managed to get a photo somewhat in this style of Shannon and her tattoo; I put it in black and white to enhance the Arbus look.

It was a great party. Yay Rudy and Penny.

My better half and I spent the night in San Francisco the other day. In the morning we walked down California Street to the Ferry Building. The hills of SF always give you such nice views.

There’s a lot of great old buildings on lower California. The Union Bank Building near Battery Street has some cool stone walruses set into its wall, remnants of the Alaska Commercial Bank.

All these complicated machineries. Vaguely like the cityscapes in Star Wars III, which I just saw. That traffic in the sky in Star Wars really bothered me. Who’d want to live under that? Terrible to see, also. Like having dinner in a restaurant next to a freeway with the headlights streaming by. You feel temporary and rushed. Not that I felt rushed in the spot behind the Ferry Building where I took this picture. Calm there.

And here’s an elephant graveyard of dead mufflers. Let’s suppose that Yoda the green attack-chihuahua is hiding underneath. I used to like to hate Yoda, but now I give up, I love him. His ears are so beautiful in the new movie. Like segments of conch shells. Slightly twitching. Remember in one of the old Star Wars when Yoda rises up from near a swamp and you just see his ears? I used to tie my handkerchief around my hand with the ends pulled out to make two Yoda ears for the kids.

Cameras and bots are everywhere, lurking. But where's Jar Jar Binks? I love him even more than Yoda. I never understood the public vitriol against the fellow. He got like one second in Padme's funeral this time out.

I picked up a bit of an anti-Patriot-Act message in Star Wars III, which was good to hear. But Lucas wrote the script? He can't afford to hire a professional SF writer? What is this with writer-directors? They don't try and create their own computer graphics, do they? Or build their own sets, or sew the costumes. But, hey, anyone can write…