Probably eating a sandwich

Doctors doctors everywhere

2006-01-16T20:43:00.000-05:00

Thank god Mel Brooks is still alive.

Somewhere around the border between the 80s and the 90s, Hakim Bey wrote this. I wasn't watching enough grownup TV in the 80s to be able to say much about agreeing or disagreeing with it, but it's nevertheless an essay I've been familiar with for a little while, and I think it's a worthwhile piece. I do agree that what we choose to entertain us says more than we usually acknowledge about who we are and how we encounter the world.

So it's probably worth noticing when three of the five Golden Globe nominees in the category of Best Actor - TV Drama are nominated for their roles as doctors. In the 80s, it seems, we were fascinated by cops. Now, it's doctors that hold our attention.

Like police, doctors occupy one side of a continual battle between good and evil, and like police, doctors do battle on our behalf: the patients, the victims, the helpless. Perhaps even more than cop shows, doctor shows lead us to understand ourselves as furniture rather than participants, as the battlefield on which the drama gets played out.

The striking difference between doctors and cops, then, isn't in who they are or what they fight for, but in what they fight against. Criminals are visible; pathogens aren't. Criminals have human motives, childhoods, and stories; pathogens don't.

I'm kind of boring myself here, it turns out. Any thoughts? Maybe we can rescue this train of thought together.

Wanna make a million?

2005-12-23T04:55:00.000-05:00

Crop circle bread.

Word.

2005-11-30T17:51:00.000-05:00

Forgive the recent blogging slowdown

2005-11-06T23:18:00.000-05:00

but don't expect it to end till December.

So I'm writing madly away for NaNoWriMo. I'm holding myself to 2,000 words a day, which will keep me slightly ahead of the pace I need to finish 50,000 words by month's end. A little ahead of schedule = a little padding in case the going gets rough. So far, though, I'm on track. I just hit 12,081 words (81 over what I need by day's end), and I may even write some more tonight.

If any of y'all are interested, you can track my progress on my NaNoWriMo profile. You can also read an excerpt there. I'll probably be changing the excerpt now and again as more gets written, too.

Happy Halloween

2005-10-31T16:54:00.000-05:00

and NaNoWriMo

No trick-or-treaters yet, but we're ready for them, by Jove, and then we're ready for the Great Candy Shortage of 2005 if they don't show up en masse.

What we are not so ready for (by design) is the start of National Novel Writing Month at midnight tonight. Not so much as a title or a character's name. No outline, no themes, no nothing. About all I'm letting myself do to prepare is building up a satisfactory iTunes library so I can just hit shuffle and go. I'm sure I'll be posting something about the novel as it develops, but for now your guess is as good as. And my right arm is asleep, which has made typing this fun.

This is just stupid

2005-10-27T21:50:00.000-04:00

but it's kinda neat.

Here's a link to a website that features--wait for it--your driver's license in .jpg form, including photo and license number, vital data, etc. Which is stupid, when you think about it (ID theft, anyone?), even though I usually like the FOIA.

You can submit an online request to have yours removed, which is probably a good idea. I know I did. (And don't worry, folks I know; I already looked yours up and laughed at the photo. It's too late now.)

What's heaven like?

2005-10-22T12:03:00.000-04:00

Steve Reich and the Ice Hotel

I caught a show on the Discovery Channel the other day about the Ice Hotel. Apparently, these folks in Sweden build a luxury hotel entirely out of ice and snow every year. Like for real. The halls and rooms and furniture are all made completely of ice. It's amazing. The year the show was made, the bar had vaulted gothic arch snow ceilings, supported by pillars of clear polished ice. The glasses were made of ice.

Each suite is designed and constructed by a different artist, so there's plenty of variety room-to-room. One of the artists startled me; she said something like: "I've always thought that heaven would be very cold. When you think about the colors of hell, they're red and orange and yellow and black, but heaven is white and blue". That struck me--we think of hell as unbearably hot, so why not think of heaven as shockingly cold? Makes sense to me.

So I was listening to a bunch of Steve Reich the other day: his early phase process music, and his later only-slightly-less-strictly-predetermined stuff, and what the ice artist said came back to me. What's the music of hell like? In my head, it's lots of wailing guitars and sloppy improvisation. Remember the devil's fiddle solo in The Devil Went Down to Georgia? Like that--wild and expressive.

Well, what's the opposite of that? Quite possibly process music. In this essay, Reich explicitly contrasts process music with improvised music. The contrast isn't unexpected: process music is strict and orderly, while improvised music can often be just the opposite.

So now I've got this picture of heaven: made of ice and snow, and full of process music. But this isn't a fetishization of the boring sort of order, as it might seem: the order in process music is often fine enough to produce wild, disorienting, and unexpected effects.

Hell, on the other hand, probably has buildings made of fire? I'm not too clear on how that might work. But I bet the music there is also awesome.

Music as a Gradual Process

2005-10-21T13:47:00.000-04:00

1968, by Steve Reich

I do not mean the process of composition, but rather pieces of music that are, literally, processes.

The distinctive thing about musical processes is that they determine all the note-to-note (sound-to-sound) details and the over all form simultaneously. (Think of a round or infinite canon.)

I am interested in perceptible processes. I want to be able to hear the process happening throughout the sounding music.

To facilitate closely detailed listening a musical process should happen extremely gradually.

Performing and listening to a gradual musical process resembles: pulling back a swing, releasing it, and observing it gradually come to rest; turning over an hourglass and watching the sand slowly run through to the bottom; placing your feet in the sand by the ocean’s edge and watching, feeling, and listening to the waves gradually bury them.

Though I may have the pleasure of discovering musical processes and composing the musical material to run through them, once the process is set up and loaded it runs by itself.

Material may suggest what sort of process it should be run through (content suggests form), and processes may suggest what sort of material should be run through them (form suggests content). If the shoe fits, wear it.

As to whether a musical process is realized through live human performance or through some electromechanical means is not finally the main issue. One of the most beautiful concerts I ever heard consisted of four composers playing their tapes in a dark hall, (A tape is interesting when it’s an interesting tape.)

It is quite natural to think about musical processes if one is frequently working with electro-mechanical sound equipment. All music turns out to be ethnic music.

Musical processes can give one a direct contact with the impersonal and also a kind of complete control, and one doesn’t always think of the impersonal and complete control as going together. By “a kind” of complete control I mean that by running this material through this process I completely control all that results, but also that I accept all that results without changes.

John Cage has used processes and has certainly accepted their results, but the processes he used were compositional ones that could not be heard when the piece was performed. The process of using the I Ching or imperfections in a sheet of paper to determine musical parameters can’t be heard when listening to music composed that way. The compositional processes and the sounding music have no audible connection. Similarly, in serial music, the series itself is seldom audible. (This is a basic difference between serial (basically European) music and serial (basically American) art, where the perceived series is usually the focal point of the work.)

What I’m interested in is a compositional process and a sounding music that are one and the same thing.

James Tenney said in conversation, “then the composer isn’t privy to anything”. I don’t know any secrets of structure that you can’t hear. We all listen to the process together since it’s quite audible, and one of the reasons it’s quite audible is, because it’s happening extremely gradually.

The use of hidden structural devices in music never appealed to me. Even when all the cards are on the table and everyone hears what is gradually happening in a musical process, there are still enough mysteries to satisfy all. These mysteries are the impersonal, unintended, psycho-acoustic by-products of the intended process. These might include sub-melodies heard within repeated melodic patterns, stereophonic effects due to listener location, slight irregularities in performance, harmonies, difference tones, etc.

Listening to an extremely gradual musical process opens my ears to it. but it always extends farther than I can hear, and that makes it interesting to listen to that musical process again. That area of every gradual (completely controlled) musical process, where one hears the details of the sound moving out away from Intentions, occurring for their own acoustic reasons, is it.

I begin to perceive these minute details when I can sustain close attention and a gradual process invites my sustained attention. By “gradual” I mean extremely gradual; a process happening so slowly and gradually that listening to it resembles watching a minute hand on a watch – you can perceive it moving after you stay with it a little while.

Several currently popular modal musics like Indian classical and drug-oriented rock and roll may make us aware of minute sound details because in being modal (constant key center, hypnotically droning and repetitious) they naturally focus on these details rather than on key modulation, counterpoint and other peculiarly Western devices. Nevertheless, these modal musics remain more or less strict frameworks for improvisation. They are not processes.

The distinctive thing about musical processes is that they determine all the note-to-note details and the over all form simultaneously. One can’t improvise in a musical process – the concepts are mutually exclusive.

While performing and listening to gradual musical processes one can participate in a particular liberating and impersonal kind of ritual. Focusing in on the musical process makes possible that shift of attention away from he and she and you and me outwards towards it.

What a day!

2005-10-16T21:08:00.000-04:00

Yowza.

This has been a phenomenal birthday. It started right at midnight, with LJ showing me the incredibly sweet birthday post she put up for me. She is tremendous.

After just a couple hours of sleep, it was time to wake up and get to band practice. And what a practice! Everyone was on in a big way this morning; Sean and Matt are sounding more and more like one four-handed musician who can play two guitars at once, Eric plays the congas so they sound like blood, and I was pretty much at my limit just trying to take it all in.

Then it was off to the shore, to help some friends take in their dock for the winter. Most of the work had been done by the time Lauren and I arrived, but we got to help a bit with the hard part (hauling the wood up a steep rocky slope). Got to do the family celebration with my folks afterwards; there was delicious casserole and key lime pie (my favorite!) and cribbage and wonderful gifts and great company.

To top it off, today has been the first day we've seen so much sun in about a week and a half, and the wind was howling all day. The clouds were motley and complex and layered, too. This is my kind of weather. THANK YOU EVERYONE for a wonderful day!

NaNoWriMo, and LJ!

2005-10-15T00:52:00.000-04:00

plus another redesign

So it's a bit over two weeks until National Novel Writing Month, and in preparation, I've been downloading some software intended to make the writing go smoothlier. The best piece of the bunch, I think, is Jer's Novel Writer, a word processor designed for, well, novel writing, complete with built-in character database, margin notes, and plenty of other nifty features that should help me focus on meeting the insane writing pace it'll take to write a 50,000-word piece in 30 days. It's Mac-only, though, suckers.

In addition, this here site has been significantly redesigned, and for the first time, it's from scratch! No more only-slightly-tweaked Blogger templates for me.

Lauren has a hard time keeping secrets, so she gave me my birthday presents tonight! There's some fantastic dollar-store fare, a bag of those strawberry hard candies with the delicious strawberry goop inside, and a beautiful framed painting she did. The painting is called "David's Autumn", and it's an abstract oil in reds, oranges, yellows, and browns. It's gorgeous, and I'm still seeing more and more in it. It feels very grounded. I'll probably post a picture of it when I'm not feeling quite so lazy. I'm so blessed to have Lauren in my life.

Monkey stows away with alien.

2005-09-30T15:45:00.000-04:00

Nuke, Bowl, and Devil

Turns out we-all may be less original than we thought. The famed and fabled Rock paper scissors badger lobster magnet radish turns out to be a variant on RPS-7, the simplest of five variations of the classic that can be found here. RPS-25, the most complex, is quite a doozy!

Reredesign

2005-09-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

Getting closer to what I want. I'm also getting more comfy with CSS and HTML; I think next time I might cut the cord completely and do my first from-scratch template. This one's somewhat customized, but you can still see much of the original in it.

For real.

2005-09-21T18:25:00.000-04:00

National Novel Writing Month. 30 days. 50,000 words. Just shy of 70 words per hour. Gleeful edited-on-the-fly-and-not-too-carefully-either prose. Are you up to the challenge?

WHAT IS GOOD TO DO

2005-09-17T14:05:00.000-04:00

IS TO PICK A STRANGER AT RANDOM AND PLAY LIKE 11 PRACTICAL JOKES ON THAT STRANGER.

Let's bee serious.

2005-09-08T23:19:00.000-04:00

I saw a wasp today with only one wing. It looked pitiful; a walking wasp is an awkward thing. This one was walking around the perimeter of a garbage can. When it tried to fly off the side, it fell a few feet to the ground and kept walking. I thought about killing it to "put it out of...", but I decided to let it live. I don't think it was in any pain, but even if it was I wanted to give it at least a shot at living. It would be dead soon enough, regardless of whether I intervened or not, regardless really even of how many wings it had--no need to rush things. As I watched it walk away, it seemed less pitiful and more brave. Go wasp!

Linking

2005-09-03T23:46:00.000-04:00

I thought it might be fun to make a post where every word brings you some quasi-relevant page or other .

Happy Birthday Lauren!!

2005-09-02T00:00:00.000-04:00

Today is Lauren's 22th! Although she's got to be in at work and school today, I'll get to take her out to dinner tonight. Then we're going to see an acappella show in the new Student Union theater. I'm excited to see what I hear is wild architecture. Here's a tune I put together for LJ, by way of celebration: Happy Birthday!! (1,503K MP3 1:36) Happy Birthday, darlin'!

Da Band

2005-08-31T16:54:00.000-04:00

So da band exists. Congas and 2? guitars and trombone/oval vocals and assorted winds and me on the flounder. It should rock. I'm betting on some sort of funk/rock influenced thing, but we'll see. It's going to be odd joining a band again after 2+ years of working solo. On the plus side, I've definitely added dimensions to my ears that weren't there a while ago. On the down side, I've gotten comfortable with absolute control, and I'm certainly putting that aside now. Regardless, we need a name. I think my favorite suggestion so far is `God'. It's great as art, it's great as marketing. It's a killer art brand. The only downside: it would be fiendishly hard to Google. And that might be enough to make it not work. Any good ideas out there in blog land? Or bad ideas? Or non-ideas? Let me know.

More 3D goo.

2005-08-30T09:27:00.000-04:00

Although I loved my last therapist, the commute from CT to NC seems a bit extensive, and so I've got to find a new one. I called a bunch of 'em on Friday and left messages, but LJ pointed out that I left them all the wrong phone number to call me back at. (Hmmm) But one guy called me back (caller ID) Friday night at like quarter of 10. He's odd and awkward over the phone. I'm intrigued.

Extra credit

2005-07-29T00:16:00.000-04:00

Today I gave a final exam for the logic course I've been teaching. When I arrived, one of my students asked me why I'm "Porcupine Dave". I thought that would make a nifty extra credit question, so I told them, for 5 extra points, to write an interesting story explaining the name. Wow. I knew my students were sharp and creative people, but I was not prepared for the awesomeness that ensued. Some out-of-context selections:

All of a sudden a deer-elk thing burst out of the brush.
Obviously Dave was mistaken. This was no mouse.
With his trusty map and compass by his side, he set off in search of the hairy booty.
Then, you will lead all the mutant porcupines, such as myself, to the Promised Land.
The porcupine picked up the straw from the cup and began using it as a blowgun, shooting its spears of death in Dave's direction.
Dave, with his gentle heart and benevolent soul, was unperturbed by this change of routine and handled it with insurmountable grace and unmatched dignity.
His nickname was confirmed years later when he was found drinking vodka from the skull of a porcupine.
So as Dave lifted up the tuba-esque porcupine to clean out the dirt he received a faceful of urine and prickles.
Neither pork or pine cones are better because I'm an atheist.
Dave felt a surge of pain across his chest because the porcupine had bitten off his nipple.

Plus, two stories were so good that Lauren and I photocopied them in their entirety and may use them in decorating the new place. You see why I'm going to miss these kids. It's been a hell of a class.

Cherries galore!

2005-07-25T13:53:00.000-04:00

I'm eating so many cherries! I'm going to turn into a cherry!

What's wrong with this picture?

2005-07-21T19:37:00.000-04:00

It's just an empty can of delicious strawberry soda. What's wrong is that it was in a 12-pack we bought the other day. Already empty in a sealed 12-pack.

People are weirder than we give them credit for.

2005-07-19T23:07:00.000-04:00

As proof, I submit: O Brother, Where Art Thou?, which I saw for the first time yesterday. This is a straaange movie, and yet just about everybody who's seen it loves it. And rightfully so: the movie is touching and funny and beautiful and all that. It's just weird as all get-out. If you need further proof: Radiohead. Once again: very strange, everybody loves 'em. Everyone is a closet weirdo. Of course, if you don't like either of these things, that makes you weird, too, since everybody seems to like them.

Today's class

2005-07-18T23:05:00.000-04:00

I'm teaching a class here at UNC, and today LJ came to sit in and watch. I've been working these kids hard for two and a half weeks, and Lauren had no trouble at all picking up right where they were. I'm so proud of my smart baby! Three cheers for the budding logician: Hip! Hip! Hooray! Hip! Hip! Hooray! Hip! Hip! Hooray!

Oh my.

2005-07-17T21:09:00.000-04:00

Hey! The people at www.archive.org are nifty people. Among other things, they've archived a big library of audio recordings of classes and readings given at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics. (The JKSoDP was founded by Allen Ginsberg and Anne Waldman, and is the Writing Dept. at Naropa University (that semi-Buddhist university in Boulder).) So the archive is a bit heavy on the Ginsberg, which doesn't particularly blow up my skirt, although it may well blow up yours. On the other hand, there's a bunch of stuff there that I'm looking forward to hearing: several lectures by Peter Lamborn Wilson, some William Burroughs lectures, and a few on interesting topics (eg the relation between animal sounds and human poetry) by people I've never heard of. It's a big archive. Everybody go there now: while archive.org looks as solid as anything, you know how these things always end.

The lollipop stick thing.

2005-07-16T22:29:00.000-04:00

The legs met today! Next: a butt and a bulge, and then on up the torso!

These bugs must bee from Ansterdam, but termite be a way to beetle them.

2005-07-14T16:28:00.000-04:00

Q: How can you tell when a bug is from Ansterdam? A: When it gnaws a Holland the wall! We've declared war on the little black ants that plague our kitchen. We deployed nine evil-deadly-bait stations, of two varieties, to trick the ants into poisoning themselves, plus we hit what seemed to be their home base with a layer or two of Black Flag. The results so far: Ants prefer dollar-store evil-deadly-bait to Wal*Mart evil-deadly-bait. We set two of the dollar-store baits just inside the back door (where they come in), and lo! we've got the poison brigade at work full-time. So far, though, there's no indication that any are dying. I think they just like the poison. There is some success; they don't come any farther into the apartment. They're happy to have their evil food, and they turn around and cart it back out, leaving the rest of the kitchen more or less alone. When we run out of poison, maybe we should just smear jelly on the back door.

My stolen microwave

2005-07-13T16:06:00.000-04:00

So today was a longish day at work. Lots of teaching, lots of office hours, lots of tutoring, lots o' logic in the air. Then, just as I'm wrapping up, I hear thunder coming, so I hop on the moped and race the storm home. So I arrive, exhilarated from the ride and tired from all the teaching. I walk in through the back door, into the kitchen, and I see that the microwave's been stolen. In fact, it looks like the whole kitchen's been cleaned out. After I get my bearings, I see that the microwave's just been moved. It's still here. And the kitchen hasn't been cleaned out; it's been cleaned up. Spotless. All the dishes have been done, too, and the recycling's been taken out. Plus there are more groceries in the fridge. Plus there's a Jiffy Lube receipt in the living room (my car needed to see those folks). What an angel Lauren is! She did all this today while I was at work. (At least, I hope she did. Otherwise, something mighty weird is going down.) She is such a wonderful person, and she's an absolute pleasure to live with. Yay! (Vernon, here we come!)

Good news!

2005-07-13T00:07:00.000-04:00

The Mormon elders came back today to talk a bit more shop. Boy, if they're right, I'm all set. Check it out: they told me today that after we die, we're split into two groups--the Mormons get all the good, and everybody else wails and gnashes their teeth. So far so bad. But get this: that's just temporary, and while it's going on we get another chance to Mormonize. Then comes Judgement Day, when we're Judged and split into three groups for eternity. Even the worst off of these three groups, though, doesn't have it that bad--they're just not the best. So after J.D., we're all gonna ride crescent fresh. Before J.D. it might be no fun, but if you just hunker down and wait it'll end. So, put your worries aside, kiddies: if the Mormons are right, we'll all do at least OK eventually.

Some political advice from T.S. Eliot

2005-07-11T17:50:00.000-04:00

In .mp3 format: (22.16K 0:01)

No magic underwear for me, thanks.

2005-07-10T17:59:00.000-04:00

LJ and I were sitting around chatting this afternoon when we got four soft knocks on the door. Elder Preece and Elder Blakely had come to tell us about Mormonism! We invited them in, I got them some water, and we sat down for a chat. Their main focus was on telling us how much G-D loves us, while my main focus was on finding out just how they differ from other Christians, so we were at something of cross purposes, but I think it all worked out: they gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, so I was happy, and I agreed to pray on it, so they were happy. I like to read various religions' holy books, so I'm happy to have a new one. I haven't checked it out much yet, but from what I've gleaned so far (and from what Elders P. and B. told me), it seems that this book is going to claim that American Indian civilizations (all of 'em? I don't know yet) are descendants of a guy named Lehi, who was told by G-D to flee Jerusalem before the destruction of the Temple (half a millennium or so before JC). What's more, JC himself apparently visited the Indians after His death. That's more the part that interests me. Then there's a bunch about Joseph Smith (sounds like a fake name to me), who had some visions--whatever. Lots of folks have visions. Although finding a bunch of gold plates in the side of a mountain is cool. Anyway, the mythology doesn't sound any less wacky than Christian mythology in general. Of course the practice of Mormonism, or what I think I know of it, gets pretty wacky. No caffeine? That does it right there for me. Let alone the magical underwear. Remember, when a Mormon farts, it goes straight to G-D's Ears.

Did something happen in London?

2005-07-09T19:45:00.000-04:00

So I've been calling my two London buds for the last few days, and nothing. Usually they're pretty quick about calling me back. I know they read the blog, though, so I'll say it here: Hey, Phil and Eoin! Give a bro a ring! Lazy bums.

War of the Worlds

2005-07-09T15:23:00.000-04:00

Lauren and I went on an awesome date last night: out to dinner at the Spotted Dog, and then to War of the Worlds. (See her post about it, too.) The Neill's Taekwondo ad is supposed to show three times before every showing of every movie, but we were there maybe 15 minutes early and only saw it once. (By the way: Master Neill was wearing Snazziator gloves during class last night.) I wanted to see the movie because I remember liking the book, but Spielberg always makes me nervous. He shouldn't have. This was a well-directed movie. There are minor spoilers in this section on the movie:

There's a tight balance that any `versus impossible odds' movie has to walk: the more dramatic the situation looks up front (the more impossible the odds), the more implausible it has to be for any character facing that situation to survive more than ten minutes. War of the Worlds was able to wlk this balance ably; while there were a few moments of `wait a minute...', on the whole the odds looked darned impossible, while the characters' survival (those that survived) was more or less believable. The first `oh crap here's what we're up against scene' was probably the most exciting. It almost looked like it hadn't been to post: the bluescreen work was obvious, the explosions and buildings falling apart looked like they look on a Universal Studios ride, and there was no score. Not despite, but I think because of all this, the scene was terrifying. Later, more polished, scenes lacked some of the excitement that came through in this one. And the music, when it showed up, was uniformly awful. Not only was it not partiuclarly enjoyable on its own, it had a distinct `let me tell you how to feel' air about it throughout. The music was trying to be tour guide for the movie instead of part of it. It would have been a much better choice to leave the whole movie unscored. There are two ends to the movie, of course: a `what happens with the aliens' end and a `what happens with the characters' end. The alien end was OK; the character end was an inspired risk. If it had been directed one inch in either direction, it could have been awful, but it wasn't; it worked, and well.

Now the section on the movie is over. Once we came back here, I was too zonked to stay up much at all. I hate falling asleep like that when LJ's still up, but that's really all I wanted to do. Now it's 15:30, and I'm just waking. That means I'll be able to stay up a chunk tonight: good news.

Redesign is in the air.

2005-07-08T04:08:00.000-04:00

So this here blog's been undergoing some redesign lately. As a side effect, I'm getting way more comfy with CSS and HTML than I've been before. Which is nifty. If you want to see some sweet design work, though, swing by LJ's blog. She's done an awesome redesign.

New comments.

2005-07-06T16:51:00.000-04:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Happy 4th!

2005-07-05T02:40:00.000-04:00

Man has the right to live by his own Law. Man has the right to live in the way that he wills to do. Man has the right to dress as he wills to do. Man has the right to dwell where he wills to dwell. Man has the right to move as he will on the face of the earth. Man has the right to eat what he will. Man has the right to drink what he will. Man has the right to think as he will. Man has the right to speak as he will. Man has the right to mold as he will. Man has the right to paint as he will. Man has the right to carve as he will. Man has the right to work as he will. Man has the right to rest as he will. Man has the right to love as he will, when, where and whom he will. Man has the right to die when and how he will. Man has the right to kill those who would thwart these rights.

2005-06-30T22:29:00.000-04:00

Thanks, internet!

Lauren

2005-06-26T19:08:00.000-04:00

makes every day better. I love her hard.

Go see Bewitched

2005-06-26T18:58:00.000-04:00

because it's awesome. If you see it at the local Timberlyne theatre, show up early. You'll be treated to a movie-screen size ad for Neill's Taekwondo and Fitness, featuring this picture of Master Neill:

The magic of the intarweb.

2005-06-08T15:27:00.000-04:00

Some of you may recall an irreverant post a month or so ago, about a Hapkido seminar I attended in Greensboro. It seems that someone googling for this seminar found my blog of all places, and now the link has been passed around enough, for whatever reasons, that it's gotten back to NC, to the school that hosted the seminar, and to my own instructor, who mentioned this all to me last night. As far as I can tell, most everyone involved is amused, which I think is the appropriate response (and, honestly, if you had seen these guys). Remember, folks: the internet is magical.

A moving post.

2005-06-07T19:20:00.000-04:00

They're going to start showing this place immediately, which should mean plenty of excitement around here. The upside: we can stay a bit into August, which will make the move easier, since the new place probably won't open up until August 1. Tomorrow, we begin the process to nab the new spot: hopefully in Westview apartments, in Vernon. To be known as `The Larry Hole'. We throw down the doubles cribbage gauntlet. In the meantime, there's everything and nothing to do.

I'm one of those calls.

2005-05-31T23:37:00.000-04:00

So here we are, in a Comfort Inn in Cromwell, selected partially for its FREE HI-SPEED INTERNET! The magical internet box, though, appears to be dead. I call the front desk, only to be given a tech-support number. I call the tech-support number, and the woman asks me if I've had the front desk try a new box. I told her they told me to call her. Then she asks if the box is dead no matter which outlet it's plugged into. And--you guessed it--it was just plain unplugged. For the first time, I was one of those it's-not-plugged-in tech support calls. I told you everyone gets stupider and stupider past the age of 20.

What?

2005-05-21T01:13:00.000-04:00

So I'm at the Days Inn in Newark, Delaware (yay free wi-fi!), and I'm fairly tired. Obviously, things are set up perfectly for hilarity to descend upon me. I turned on the TV a moment ago, only to face one of those late-night get-rich-quick ads. But this isn't any usual l-n g-r-q ad; this one has midgets! The two dudes who run the seminar they're selling are wee folk. This is awesome. If you're interested in getting rich from midgets, swing by www.cashflowgenerator.com. You'll hear the midgets talk over porn music.

Happy Pentamonthiversary!

2005-05-17T12:53:00.000-04:00

When I think of her my toes flex because they want to squeeze her too. Happy five months to the one sharing this incredible trip with me. Shit is cool.

More Rumi

2005-05-17T11:14:00.000-04:00

Remmber the mouse on the riverbank? There's a love-string stretching into the water hoping for the frog. Suddenly a raven grips the mouse and flies off. The frog, too, from the riverbottom, with one foot tangled in invisible string, follows, suspended in the air. Amazed faces ask, "When did a raven ever go underwater and catch a frog?" The frog answers, This is the force of Friendship. What draws friends together does not conform to laws of nature. Form doesn't know about spiritual closeness. If a grain of barley approaches a grain of wheat, an ant must be carrying it. A black ant on black felt. You can't see it, but if grains go toward each other, it's there. A hand shifts our birdcages around. Some are brought closer. Some move apart. Do not try to reason it out. Be conscious of who draws you and who not.

Look out Minnesota.

2005-05-05T13:04:00.000-04:00

The lovely folks over at God Hates Fags have outdone themselves. God now also hates Sweden, they say, because of all the faggotry that goes on there. Because God so hates Sweden, He sent the Christmas tsunamis to Thailand, where there were (apparently) a lot of vacationing Swedes. And so they've designed a monument to commemorate the occasion. They want it 8 feet (!) by 6 feet by 2 feet, in pink salmon granite: Just about the only way to improve this monument would be to put a little chef's hat on one of the stick figures and have it saying `Bork! Bork! Bork!' Other than that, I think this one's ready for prime time.

Mystery package from Germany.

2005-05-04T16:53:00.000-04:00

I open the door to check my mail today, and I find a package from Germany. It's a cardboard square, about a foot on a side, with one side folded over and the other three taped with Scotch tape. Here it is:

There doesn't seem to be anything in it. So I cut the tape off carefully, and it turns out the package itself is what's being sent! It's a German cereal box:

Thanks, Alice!

Hapkido in Greensboro

2005-04-30T19:26:00.000-04:00

Cast of Characters: Mr. Scott: Second assistant to Grandmaster Bong. He's somewhere between 20 and 40, vaguely Asian, with friendly spiked hair. I keep expecting him to use `golly jeepers' and `20X6!' in the same sentence. He's Archie if Archie were a well-built anime character. My wrists are still happy from a couple locks he put on me. I don't think he stopped smiling both days. Master Friske: Pronounced `frisky'. He's a 7th dan; in 7-8 years of karate and now four months of TKD, I don't think I've been in the same room as a 7th dan more than once or twice before, and this dude is the assistant. He's 50ish, pure California surfer bum. Grandmaster Bong: Little ageless old Korean man, speaks softly and thickly accented, keeps saying `so eeeasy' and talking about ballroom dancing while severely throwing the other two around. The structure of the class: They demonstrate a technique a few times, we copy that technique many times with our partners. Unfortunately, there were so many people that if we didn't get the technique just right by watching, there was little chance of getting any correction. I still learned quite a bit, but I think I would've learned more by watching the three demonstrate over and over again than by doing so many bad reps myself. I'm glad I went, but I might skip it if they come around again. It is something to watch really good martial artists, though.

Sanitary

2005-04-27T16:24:00.000-04:00

Rent one today. ps. I dont think I would approve of this method.

"May a hundred thousand scales flourish."

2005-04-26T15:35:00.000-04:00

Kyle Gann is a composer who plays with microtonality and some pretty exciting rhythmic stuff, too. His site is neat, both for its brief and fun discussions of tuning (which is how I found it) and for its good-sized MP3 library. Three things worth checking out: Folk Dance for Henry Cowell, Bud Ran Back Out (both quick pieces for computer-driven piano), and my favorite so far, Time Does Not Exist (a bit longer, for human-driven piano).

The Achordants lay it down.

2005-04-15T23:21:00.000-04:00

In class today, one of my students announces that his a cappella group, The Achordants, is putting on a: choose-your-own-adventure-a-cappella-murder-mystery-show tonight. I'm curious, of course, so I swing by. The first thing I notice is that this show is standing-room only in a venue with a couple hundred seats. (Later investigation: 422 seats.) That seems odd for a college a cappella group, but I figure they just have a lot of friends or something. I lean on a pole in the back and prepare to hear some average singing. Holy shit. They weren't perfect--inveterate nitpickers like me had nits to pick--but they were solid. They had rich voices, tight intonation, interesting arrangements, and their dynamics! Their dynamics. What's more, they put on a hell of a show. The whole audience was throroughly amused from start to finish--two hours, minus a few minutes' intermission. Just fantastic. Turns out they're the South Regional ICCA champs, which puts them in the national finals on April 30. Rock my nads. Good luck, guys.

The Barnswoggle shuffles off to Buffalo.

2005-04-14T13:44:00.000-04:00

When I met him, he was six weeks old and I didn't know algebra. Last Thursday, Champion Lacey's Phineas T. Barnum died. He had just turned 13. He was a good boy.

My Maine Squeeze.

2005-04-14T13:23:00.000-04:00

Get it? This weekend was amazing. (For trip details, you can hit LJ's post.) We clambered together on amazing rocks. The ocean showed us how like a single living thing it is. Everybody's dogs were thrilled to meet us. Which reminds me of a story. In Boston, we stopped on the sidewalk to briefly chat with a basset hound named Elvis and his person. As we were saying goodbye to the two of them, Elvis sneezed and I said `Bless you'. Apparently, Elvis's person thought I was thanking her for her time in a religious fashion. Not everything's about you, lady. Yay! I don't think I've ever felt so loved as I do when I'm with Lauren. I'm unutterably thankful. She interrupts herself amazing me to amaze me further. I am ridonculously in love.

This afternoon.

2005-04-07T16:01:00.000-04:00

All the papers are graded, my thesis is submitted, it's thundering hard outside, and I'm packing to go camping--tomorrow--with LJ, whom I love harder than it's thundering. It doesn't get much better than this.

Go heels.

2005-04-05T01:45:00.000-04:00

Yee-ha. When UNC wins, they celebrate right around here. The main drag was shut down entirely so folks could burn and burn. Fireworks went into the air, my shirt went into the fire, etc. At least four or five of my students came up to scream in my face. Enough local roads were closed to force me to moped home (still shirtless) on the highway. Verizon is overloaded, and I can't place any calls. This is proper.

2005-04-05T01:39:00.001-04:00

Yuri demonstrates his New Zealand zeal.

2005-04-05T01:39:00.000-04:00

This ain't half of `em.

2005-04-05T01:38:00.000-04:00

Eric gets the spirit; Rod and Hagop take over the world.

2005-04-05T01:36:00.000-04:00

I need TP for my bunghole.

My Ancient prof's dealer.

2005-04-04T16:54:00.000-04:00

So I'm sitting in the hallway waiting for my meeting, and this guy, early 40sish, comes out of my Ancient professor's office with a backpack, a clipboard, and a Tupperware container lined with tinfoil. I figure drug dealer. I ask him how he is as he walks by; he says he's fine. A few steps later, he comes back and says, `You asked--and you care.' Thus begins a few minutes of meaningless small talk about how hoi polloi can't seem to rise above meaningless small talk. Then he says, `Want some chocolate?' and opens his foil-lined Tupperware to reveal chunks of chocolate. Now I know that (strangers x candy)/(your mom) = butt doctor, but I dig me some chocolate, so I accept. Just as I put it in my mouth, he asks, `So what do you think I do for a living?' I tell him: `I see the clipboard and the backpack; you're here at a professor's office mid-afternoon; you've got chocolate; I think you're a drug dealer.' He got a good laugh out of that. Turns out he buys "textbooks" from "professors" and sells "them" on "the" "internet". Yeah right.

Must I stay or can I go?

2005-04-03T19:10:00.000-04:00

The chair sez `Go ahead'. The director of graduate studies sez `We need to talk'. So I meet with him tomorrow. Fingers crossed, folks, but it's looking good. (Knock on your mom.)

Turning a corner

2005-04-02T22:43:00.000-05:00

I just sent an email asking for a year off. Although I'm holding my breath waiting for the answer, I still feel like a huge weight has been lifted. Now I just have to dig myself out from under all these papers... Here's some Rumi for y'all: When you feel gloomed over, it's your failure to praise. Irreverence and no discipline rob your soul of light. (trans. Coleman Barks)

Anybody

2005-03-28T23:20:00.000-05:00

wanna buy a tuba?

I sure do love NC, but...

2005-03-27T16:47:00.000-05:00

For the first time, I'm sincerely thinking about leaving. I'm down here so I can get a degree from a top school and have a better shot at pulling down a nifty job in the long run. But living in North Carolina may be too high a price to pay for that. Everyone I love is hundreds of miles away. I feel like I've gone into hibernation, like I've put my life largely on hold "just for a minute, while I do this one thing." But it's not just a minute; it's five years, to be followed by say fiveish worse years spent navigating the job market, if I'm lucky. (And then everything becomes perfect and great, right?) Outside of fantasy-world, I am as free now as I ever will be. I have practically nothing holding me here: a class I've contracted to teach in June, a lease that's up July 31, and my fear of deviating from Plan A. I could be out of here, brand-new MA in hand, by the beginning of August. Then what? I don't know yet. This is where I need to think more; just because Plan A isn't as good as it once seemed doesn't mean it's not still the best choice. We'll see.

I dig me some "next blog" button!

2005-03-24T01:13:00.000-05:00

From garyisanidiot.blogspot.com:

today went to gigi house do a facial demo on someone... not do la... i sit there and talk cock like clown let people suan my shiny forehead... the session was fun... our guests were very communicative and talkative ... had alot of fun in my first ever sharing session... gigi house very nice... go in straight away feel comfortable think cos alot of the furniture is wooden hahaha... like my house... but they have SOFA!!! and my stupid house is all China furniture... can see cannot sit ah... peh chek. looking forward to this thursday... do facial on myself loh!!!!!!! hopefully can use other people's stock instead of mine HAHAHAHAHAHA! cheapskate.

2005-03-23T15:05:00.000-05:00

Space ranger monkey toots.

In her surprise, Lisa put down her coffee mug, because of her surprise, without thinking.

2005-03-23T14:43:00.000-05:00

Lisa a small brown stain right up to the sky two white faces. With brown tongues interlocked in her brown surprise in her surprise brown Lisa forgot something in her surprise. Lisa forgot four forks forgot to clean a squirrel forgot the catbox. Lisa the squirrel has a big dick cums in all the neighborhoods mailboxes hoist the flag special delivery. When Lisa the squirrel has quick hunched intercourse with trees the trees they shiver.

640 miles in 10:20 = 62 mph

2005-03-21T04:14:00.000-05:00

Not a bad average. But my ass feels every second of the time, and my heart feels every inch of the distance. If there is a single prog bone in your body, immediately get the new Mars Volta album into your ears. If there is no prog bone in your body, steal a neighbor's prog bone and follow above instructions.

Lauren lands tomorrow.

2005-03-03T14:17:00.000-05:00

GIS for `happy'.

2005-03-01T14:23:00.000-05:00

Thank you Fuck.org

2005-02-26T13:50:00.000-05:00

that chick's got balls.

Wait, wwhat?

2005-02-23T12:15:00.000-05:00

I stopped grading for the night at about midnight last night. Ug. But then I settled in to reading Lauren's blog. (I started at the beginning a little while ago.) By 5:20, I was almost current, very conscious of how wickedly in love with her I am, and finally tired enough to sleep. I nestled in and slept, well enough, until about 8:30. When I woke up because of the smoke. The story's not terribly interesting. All's well now, as far as I can tell. Here are some favorite moments:

The apartment's at its smokiest, the Fire Department is on their way, and I've been instructed to wait outside. Instead, I'm inside, hunched over to keep my face under the smoke, picking up my scattered dirty clothes. Can't have the FD seeing what a slob I am, right?
All the windows and both doors are open, the eight or so firefolk (who didn't mean to let me see them raise any eyebrows about my awesome mural or Abe Lincoln bathroom) are waiting outside while the smoke clears, there's a big old exhaust fan on the stoop: the apartment has become a lethargic wind tunnel. I'm inside watching it all. My students' tests are quivering on the floor--occasionally, one of them peels up and blows over to the couch. Photocopied articles that were lying on the floor are up in the air, fluttering against each other. The `I Love You' balloon attached to the VD flowers Lauren sent me is dancing seductively in the kitchen. My hair is sweeping back and forth on top of my head as I turn slowly to watch it all. And the noises! All the rustling and crinkling is set against the whoosh of the air, the deep buzz of the fan, and the irregular clank of the fan's uneven metal leg on my brick steps. I can't hear anything else, and I don't want to.
One of the firefolk is filling out his report. He has three questions for me: `What's your name?', `What's your phone number?', and `What's the complete value of everything you own?'.
I'm waiting for the repair. I decide that I'm taking today off to write like I didn't do yesterday.

Now, the repair's been and gone, and everything seems to be working just as it should. I'm going to class tonight for the free pizza, but the rest of my day goes to my work. Summary: LJ is psychic, and I fucking love everything. 9 days until the part of everything that I particularly love is here with me.

The Tragedy That Shocked The Nation

2005-02-22T11:23:00.000-05:00

is a media fabrication. September 11 never happened. The Twin Towers are still standing. Don't believe everything you see on TV.

What party?

2005-02-20T12:18:00.000-05:00

Jason and I walked fully decked out from my apartment over to Amy's; while we were on our way, someone passed us on a bicycle and said, "We have enough tacky people around here already. Why don't you go back to New York or wherever you're from?" Then she rode straight off the end of a dead-end road into the woods. The party was a complete success. Amy was so worried about it! But it was a house party of the old school, complete with keg, lights too low, and music pumping. You should've been there. (In particular, LJ, you should've been there.)

Three lovely ladies.

2005-02-20T12:17:00.000-05:00

I Drew declare!

2005-02-20T12:16:00.000-05:00

Bruce is glowing on the couch.

2005-02-20T12:15:00.000-05:00

The other Dave with our gracious host.

Sometimes I forget

2005-02-17T13:31:00.000-05:00

how much fun my job is. For the first time in way too long, I'm writing philosophy today! Oh, it feels good to be back.

Personally, I'd eat them both

2005-02-16T16:58:00.000-05:00

You can Save Toby but Bernd's much cuter.

I love this one.

2005-02-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

That is all.

Vagina euphemisms

2005-02-13T19:21:00.000-05:00

Oh baby

How do they do that?!

2005-02-13T19:11:00.000-05:00

Ping pong

A moosic video

2005-02-13T18:53:00.000-05:00

Bovine Freedom - Join the Revolution

I am proud to be a human being.

2005-02-12T01:05:00.000-05:00

Holy shit.

YOU ARE THE MOST EVER FRIEND I HAVE IN LIFE,SINCE EVER I LOST MY FIRST WIFE I NEVER THINK MY HEART WILL FALL IN LOVE AGAIN NOT UNTIL I MET YOU.

2005-02-11T00:13:00.000-05:00

The Expression Sex Change has a new "Expression of the Week" every 15 seconds or so. But the real gems aren't on the front page. Selections:

"You are the one you just don't act like itsometime" (from Just Because>Friend - Out of Touch)
"This is the day that you were born. I gave you life but you gave me more. Now you're a man and oh, so much more, but in my eyes, this will always be the day you were born. Happy Birthday." (from Birthday>Daughter - Sentimental)
"Heart is tripping lightly Across the bluest field Love is interceding As Violets start to yield" (from Hard Times>Loss of Promotion)
"I'm sorry I left you, but I only did it so we could be together forever." (from Apology>Ex - Sentimental)

So what? Sew buttons!

2005-02-10T01:26:00.000-05:00

Dena Fishbein, host of the DIY Netowkr's hit show, Making Things Worse, destroyed the universe yesterday in a tragic mishap. Fishbein had spent the morning making buttons worse by gluing smaller buttons onto them, planning to spend the afternoon making her perfectly good purse worse by gluing the new button agglomerates all the fuck over it. When she broke for lunch, she moved the buttons to a cookie tray, planning to leave the tray in an open window to make sure the glue would dry completely. Sadly, Fishbein had already made the once perfectly good cookie tray worse by gluing buttons all the fuck over it. When she introduced the new buttons, the Planck Button Density was briefly exceeded. This created a tear, or "buttonhole", in the reality of the reality, destroying everything. The universe is survived by its twin sister Reginald and its three children: Lance Ito, Borth Poy Sippi, and Jack Nicholson. Calling hours are FRIDAY!!! from 6-6pm. Instead of flowers, the family requests that donations be sent to your mom.

2005-02-10T00:12:00.000-05:00

I am lazy

"You can pee in your cup and drink it, have it your way!"

2005-02-09T21:54:00.000-05:00

The Rope

2005-02-09T02:17:00.000-05:00

2005-02-09T01:55:00.000-05:00

2005-02-08T00:02:00.000-05:00

Pegacorn and crossdresser putting snow in asshole

Jesus and Fourrresht Succession

2005-02-03T14:58:00.000-05:00

What really happened

I believe in life

2005-02-02T07:50:00.000-05:00

This may change your mind, too.

The rapidly shifting Boohbah market.

2005-01-31T21:48:00.000-05:00

Boohbah investors should either get out of the market altogether, no doubt at a loss, or start thinking long-term: the local Wal*Mart has an endcap full of singy Boohbahs down to $15 each. This is down from $22.94 less than a month ago. (Click here to see Zing Zing Zingbah go on vacation.) On the other hand, Wal*Mart's web site quotes a slightly higher price ($19.76 at press, with or without CD), but note that every one is out of stock. (Rapidly dropping prices + endcap position in-store) x out of stock online = They're clearing out their warehouse! If you've waited this long to get yourself a Boohbah, you need to act now. The opportunity won't last. Consider yourselves warned.

Vote Now!

2005-01-30T22:49:00.000-05:00

Please vote, this is very important. &darr &darr &darr &darr

2005-01-30T19:00:00.000-05:00

If your mother only knew

The Superbowl is not tomorrow.

2005-01-30T02:21:00.000-05:00

Which makes tomorrow's Superbowl party (to be hosted by yours truly) something of an odd bird. Oops.

2005-01-29T14:53:00.000-05:00

You could also try looking in P-town MA for a lobster hat.

Taking my life into my hands

2005-01-29T13:27:00.000-05:00

It's sleeting out, but the sleet is too small to see or feel. The only evidence is that the dead leaves covering the ground sound like Pop Rocks as you walk past. The National Weather Service has warned me that `TRAVEL THIS AFTERNOON COULD BE LIFE-THREATENING'. (2"-4" of wintry mix'll kill ya.) So I'm going to the mall. If the roads get too crazy, I might be trapped there. All the mallgoers would form our own primitive society. We'd be forced to live off food court fare (thanks, Frank & Stein!) for a day or so at least, until the ice all melts and we can go home. In that time, I hope I'd befriend the charismatic but somehow strangely haunted leader who will surely arise from our midst. Because when it comes time to kill and eat our fellows, I bet he'll taste the best. I can see us now: all the strandees camped out in the Sears TV section watching the Superbowl, snacking on human remains we cooked with a fleet of George Foreman grills. One can only hope.

Thanks, random.org!

2005-01-28T01:40:00.000-05:00

59 79 92 55 36 84 41 54 85 55 56 10 9 7 66 71 54 29 78 79 54 42 55 91 11 75 57 62 14 1 84 37 15 26 60 35 25 86 57 68 73 82 2 26 15 23 72 42 21 84 27 86 60 54 29 21 55 82 18 98 87 99 47 61 38 30 41 10 70 33 25 35 16 92 49 34 47 37 60 72 96 97 83 13 79 19 89 3 74 19 61 83 52 87 63 99 85 72 59 97