Sunday, February 10, 2008

Crushing on Bobby Fischer

Hey good lookin', come here often?

If you haven't read Dick Cavett's essay/obituary about chess great Bobby Fischer, published yesterday in his Times blog, go there now. (Or rather, go there after you've read every scintillating word of this blog.)

Cavett tells a poignant story about being one of the only people ever to show the world a relaxed, almost jocular side of the notoriously intense and prickly Fischer. Fisher appeared three times on Cavett's show, both just before and just after his legendary match with Boris Spassky in '72. Cavett's account of that time is very moving--I can't do it justice describing it here, just go read it.

On the video clip of Fischer's first appearance, you see a young man who is clearly brilliant, clearly dead serious about his vocation. But behind those eyes you catch a glimmer of humor and even a bit of longing for a chance to step away from his obligations as the world's greatest chess player. To my untrained eye, there's no hint of the raving, paranoid self-hating wack job who came later. In that clip, you almost see a 25-year-old guy like any other. Almost.

What I didn't expect to see is this: In his heyday, Bobby Fischer was a stone fox. I always assumed he was your garden-variety greasy nerd, straight from central casting. But oh, no no. In the Cavett clip he's tall. Broad-shouldered. Wavy hair. Soulful eyes. Full lips. Excuse me, I need to go fan myself.

What can I say, I'm a sucker for tall handsome guys with an IQ of 200.

I feel completely weird crushing out on someone who, in later years, resembled that homeless guy ranting loudly to himself up and down Market Street. In other words, it wouldn't have worked out between us. But if I were an 18-year-old girl in 1971, for two and a half minutes it would have been magic.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


There's only one picture on this blog right now--it might as well be of puppies

Picasa is a wonderful thing. You can catalog your photos! Create albums! And share them! Wow.

But you know what it's not great for? Telling you that that album of old blog pictures is not just a repository, it's a link to all the photos on your blog. So when you decide that people viewing your public Picasa gallery probably don't want to sift through old photos of a donuts and Japanese pencils, you inadvertently delete all of the pictures in your blog.

This is what we geniuses refer to as a Design Flaw. Whether the flaw is in Picasa or my own brain, that's still up for debate.

Bottom line: can't see the pictures on my blog? Neither can anyone else. The IT staff is working furiously to resolve the issue. Soon, my lovelies, you will once again be able to enjoy such wonders of the world as trucknuts and a squirrel playing a banjo.
The Management

Friday, February 01, 2008


Oh my god, they found my wallet. The Franklin Covey store called this morning to say that they found it in the parking lot in front of the building and they now have it tucked safely into their safe. Franklin Covey is next to Wahoo's, where I had lunch. I crawled around in that parking lot for at least 20 minutes. And the Franklin Covey store was the only place I didn't check. Go figure.

Maybe it's just a bait and switch. "We don't actually have your wallet, but would you like to buy this lovely wallet/day planner in hand-tooled leather, featuring the inspirational thought of the day? It will make you a better person."

If it makes me a person who doesn't stupidly drop her wallet in the strip mall parking lot and pays her cable bill on time, I may just bite.

I'm off to retrieve my beloved wallet and ask Chris at Franklin Covey how the hell they got my home phone number. Loss of privacy is a small price to pay for becoming a functioning human again.