Traveling Mattie

The Great Firewall and Dreaming of the Future

2009-10-09T04:31:00.001-07:00

I've been behind the Great Firewall for a while. Having just returned from a trip to Boracay, I probably ought to post some pictures. Right now, I'm in Hong Kong, where I still have access to unfiltered internet. That means, I can watch youtube for the first time in a while, and here's what I found:

I am dreaming of a trip to Portugal and Spain next summer. I wonder who would go with me.

Alexi Murdoch: All of My Days and another Joe Burton song

2009-07-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

All my days

Well I have been searching all of my days
All of my days
Many a road, you know
I've been walking on
All of my days
And I've been trying to find
What's been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well I have been quietly standing in the shade
All of my days
Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made
All of this rain
And I've been trying to find
What's been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it's just too bright
As the days keep turning into night
Now I see clearly
It's you I'm looking for
All of my days
Soon I'll smile
I know I'll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days
For I look around me
And it seems He found me
And it's coming into sight
As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
And even breathing feels all right
Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right
It's even breathing
Feels all right

Hazy Jane I (Nick Drake cover)

Do you curse where you come from,
Do you swear in the night
Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right.
Do you like what you're doing,
Would you do it some more
Or will you stop once and wonder
What you're doing it for.
Hey slow Jane, make sense
Slow, slow, Jane, cross the fence.

Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that's past
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast.
Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst,
Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst.
Hey slow Jane, let me prove
Slow, slow Jane, we're on the move.

Do it for you,
Sure that you would do the same for me one day.
So try to be true,
Even if it's only in your hazey way.

Can you tell if you're moving
With no mirror to see,
If you're just riding a new man
Looks a little like me.
Is it all so confusing,
Is it hard to believe
When the winter is coming
Can you sign up and leave.
Hey slow Jane, live your lie
Slow, slow jane, fly on by.

Having L'Chaim of my Life. Or, at least, Day.

2009-06-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

Because I love jokes with long setups,
Because my brother loves Jewish humor,
Because I found the link on Volokh,
Because my gf doesn't eat pork,
Because I am a fervent anti-dentite (well, not really),
And because my Grandpa belongs on a site like this:

Actually, this one's better:

Fado de Lisboa

2009-05-26T23:53:00.000-07:00

When do I get to go to Lisbon? Well, at least I can see Fados this week.

Interesting Article on Love and the Brain

2009-05-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

http://www.esquire.com/features/mri-of-love-0609

Phoenix Airport -- What to do?

2009-05-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm only in the airport -- but the obvious answer is to pick up the signal of the US Airways Lounge, which offers free internet. Well, free internet brought to me by a Verizon ad. Yes, I'm laying over here for a few hours and reflecting on the half-weekend in Austin.

The food at South Congress Cafe is still great. I just wish they were better on the service-end. Last time I was in Austin, the waiter dumped all of our food on the ground as he was setting up the serving stand. This morning, we had a 45 minute wait (no problem, cuz we just strolled around the neighborhood), that turned into a lot longer wait. That, of itself, isn't so much of a problem. I don't expect the greeter's estimate to be exact. But, when we came back and were assured that "you're up next" -- and 15 minutes later (after a few parties were seated) we were told that there were only 2 parties in front of us (later, when I looked at the list "2" actually meant "3"!) -- I was a bit frustrated. You see, we were already on a tight timeframe: I had to catch a flight. Saying "Up next" in this case really was the difference between staying and going. So, I bullied them about this little fact -- and they seated us immediately (i.e. "up next" -- sorry, other people) and had an awesome meal. The funny thing was, right before we were seated, and after her boss told us he'd fix the problem and seat us next -- the same greeter assured another party that they were "up next" -- then proceeded to seat not just us, but two other parties ahead of them. Maybe I need to learn to speak Texas if I want to move to Austin. Or maybe it's just a South Austin thing -- and I need to be more laid-back.

Other things I learned:

I would like to have attended the University of Texas.

The peach cobbler at Kerbey Lane is a good substitute for birthday cake. The Hole in the Wall is a cool place (as is probably any place with that name). The Red House has pretty good pizza. Veggie Chorizo can be pretty good.

One day I will go to Allen's and indulge in some cowboy boot super-consumerism. They had boots with a $1299.00 price tag -- and probably others that were more expensive if I had looked harder. But, boy oh boy, did I ever want to have some of those boots.

And Austin is a place I would love to live. I wonder how I could make that happen?

Also, and I didn't learn this first-hand, but it's still on my mind: if you must ride a motorcycle, do not ride it around well past midnight on graduation night in a college town in the area of a bunch of bars. Just not a good idea.

The rest are boys??

2009-05-13T21:20:00.000-07:00

I realize that "guy" can be used as a unisex pronoun, which is most often how I use it. Nevertheless, I loved reading this today in the Salt Lake Tribune:

"We've got a lot of construction jobs," Adams said, "and most of those guys are men."

Black-eyed Dog

2009-05-07T18:23:00.000-07:00

In Honor of My Visit to Shanghai: A Part-time Model

2009-05-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

A Flight of the Conchords (season 1, episode 1) video that J & J really like:

. . . and then, another hot one from Flight of the Conchords (beware: "it's not really intended for humans") . . .

But . . . Issues (Think About It) has got to be my current favorite. Yes, Technically, Yes.

Seriously, cannot stop laughing. Leave these poor sick monkeys alone, they're sick, they've got problems enough as it is.

How to top Canadian Burgers and Thai Hainan Chicken in Hong Kong

2009-04-29T06:21:00.000-07:00

*Sadly all the pictures in this post are not actual pictures that I took. My camera battery is dead, and I didn't plan ahead for HK outlets.

It's been three years or more since I had Triple O's -- but I tracked down the BC-based burger store here through some very foggy memory. Every bit as tasty as I remembered.

I've been staying with friends at Shiu Fai Terrace -- just down the street from where I stayed the first time I came to Hong Kong. The view looking out over Happy Valley toward Causeway Bay is amazing.

In the picture Shiu Fai Terrace is part of the small cluster of buildings on the bend in the road along the left side.

For dinner, I really lucked out: I just stumbled down the hill from J & D's place at Shiu Fai Terrace and found a great restaurant called Thai Hainan Chicken Rice -- or something like that. (Actually first I went up the hill as far as I could go on foot (before the sidewalke ended, then I turned around and walked back down toward Wanchai the way I have been walking to Central every day.) Now, searching for a picture for the restaurant, I see that it has received good reviews. But basically, I just went by the menu, the cool chairs and the fact that the place was mostly full. The restaurants namesake dish (Hainan Chicken Thai-style) notwithstanding, I got green curry (with those tasty little Thai eggplants), which was great.

Then, I followed it up with perhaps my favorite food of all time:

Well, mine had black AND white glutinous rice and the mango was cut differently. But you get the idea. Yum. And that's probably the only way to top Triple O's and good Green Curry.

George Will: Conservative Crusader Against . . . Jeans?!

2009-04-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

This guy is off his rocker: http://www.realclearpolitics.com/articles/2009/04/16/forever_in_blue_jeans_96002.html

And he wouldn't know a modern-day Fred Astaire or Grace Kelly if one was standing right in front of his coke-bottle-bottom glasses. Sheesh.

Step Aside, Paul Potts: Scotland's Got Talent

2009-04-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

No electric boots or mohair suit here. Quite the opposite. But, just in case, after Paul Potts, you still doubt that Britain's Got Talent is more . . . entertaining? inspirational? -- well, let me put it this way, a better talent search show -- than American Idol, do take a look at Susan Boyle.

(Embedding is disabled on all of the youtube.com clips that I have seen, so you'll need to follow the link)

She's Got Electric Boots, a Mohair Suit?

2009-04-09T23:05:00.001-07:00

So, this week I've been in New Orleans and Houston. When I told Jill that I was in the dirty South, she asked whether Houston counted. But after I told her I was in NOLA too, she agreed that New Orleans was both dirty and South enough.

In New Orleans I took out time for jazz, blues, po' boys (and several other shrimp dishes), gumbo, jumbalaya and lots of bread pudding. The chocolate bread pudding at Red Fish was almost too much to handle.

Now, in Houston, I've taken time for an Astros game, some good BBQ, pizza, a panini on Rice University's campus, the fine arts museum, the contemporary arts museum, another random art gallery, the hermann park, the theater district -- basically, I've seen a lot of downtown. And a lot of HBO, randomly. Yesterday, I watched What Happens in Vegas and then today I saw 27 Dresses, both of which I'm embarrassed to admit. Watching the second, I was reminded something that I learned last week: I'll explain. (It gets worses by the way, right now I'm watching some intolerable high school girl drama movie. Maybe I can watch the latest LOST instead.)

Last week, I was listening to the random 80s radio station that GF programmed into my car radio. Space Oddity came on. And, after listening to that song a thousand times -- knowing the tune for as long as I could remember -- I realized that I had never, ever listened to the lyrics. In fact, for that matter, I'd never even thought about the title.

Btw, the original video is really, really cool. Also, do compare DJ's teeth in that video to his present teeth:

Of course, the song on the radio was a later recording. But the lyrics remain the same:

Ground control to major tom
Ground control to major tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on

Ground control to major tom
Commencing countdown, engines on
Check ignition and may gods love be with you

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
Four, three, two, one, liftoff

This is ground control to major tom
Youve really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now its time to leave the capsule if you dare

This is major tom to ground control
Im stepping through the door
And Im floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet earth is blue
And theres nothing I can do

Though Im past one hundred thousand miles
Im feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell me wife I love her very much she knows

Ground control to major tom
Your circuits dead, theres something wrong
Can you hear me, major tom?
Can you hear me, major tom?
Can you hear me, major tom?
Can you....

Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the moon
Planet earth is blue
And theres nothing I can do.

In 27 Dresses, there is a scene involving Bennie and the Jets -- it's cheesy, but I realized this was another song that I really love yet hardly know the words to at all. Do I just not listen? Or I do I not have an ear for lyrics at all?

Bennie and the Jets lyrics:

Hey kids, shake it loose together
The spotlights hitting something
Thats been known to change the weather
Well kill the fatted calf tonight
So stick around
Youre gonna hear electric music
Solid walls of sound

Say, candy and ronnie, have you seen them yet
But theyre so spaced out, bennie and the jets
Oh but theyre weird and theyre wonderful
Oh bennie shes really keen
Shes got electric boots a mohair suit
You know I read it in a magazine
Bennie and the jets

Hey kids, plug into the faithless
Maybe theyre blinded
But bennie makes them ageless
We shall survive, let us take ourselves along
Where we fight our parents out in the streets
To find whos right and whos wrong

Lastly, was this song really written in German and I never realized it??? Seems like I must have known this before. It sounds so familiar -- but I was shocked to hear it in German again.

Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Denkst du vielleicht g'rad an mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Und dass so was von so was kommt

99 Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Hielt man für Ufos aus dem All
Darum schickte ein General
'ne Fliegerstaffel hinterher
Alarm zu geben, wenn es so wär
Dabei war'n da am Horizont
Nur 99 Luftballons

99 Düsenjäger
Jeder war ein großer Krieger
Hielten sich für Captain Kirk
Das gab ein großes Feuerwerk
Die Nachbarn haben nichts gerafft
Und fühlten sich gleich angemacht
Dabei schoss man am Horizont
Auf 99 Luftballons

99 Kriegsminister -
Streichholz und Benzinkanister -
Hielten sich für schlaue Leute
Witterten schon fette Beute
Riefen Krieg und wollten Macht
Mann, wer hätte das gedacht
Dass es einmal soweit kommt
Wegen 99 Luftballons

99 Jahre Krieg
Ließen keinen Platz für Sieger
Kriegsminister gibt's nicht mehr
Und auch keine Düsenflieger
Heute zieh' ich meine Runden
Seh' die Welt in Trümmern liegen
Hab' 'nen Luftballon gefunden
Denk' an dich und lass' ihn fliegen

Lately

2009-04-02T17:50:00.001-07:00

I really wish I could sing better . . .

This song always reminds me of a college friend, who sang it very well.

a new dawn

2009-01-22T17:55:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas.

2008-12-19T13:36:00.001-08:00

Housman (re-post from a long time ago)

2008-11-23T22:23:00.000-08:00

XXXVI
White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way.

The world is round, so travellers tell,
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,
The way will guide one back.

But ere the circle homeward hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

XL
Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.

On russet floors, by waters idle,
The pine lets fall its cone;
The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
In leafy dells alone;
And traveller's joy beguiles in autumn
Hearts that have lost their own.

On acres of the seeded grasses
The changing burnish heaves;
Or marshalled under moons of harvest
Stand still all night the sheaves;
Or beeches strip in storms for winter
And stain the wind with leaves.

Possess, as I possessed a season,
The countries I resign,
Where over elmy plains the highway
Would mount the hills and shine,
And full of shade the pillared forest
Would murmur and be mine.

For nature, heartless, witless nature,
Will neither care nor know
What stranger's feet may find the meadow
And trespass there and go,
Nor ask amid the dews of morning
If they are mine or no.

Garota de Ipanema

2008-11-17T22:27:00.001-08:00

Olha que coisa mais linda
Mais cheia de graça
É ela menina
Que vem e que passa
Num doce balanço
Caminho do mar
Moça do corpo dourado
Do sol de Ipanema
O seu balançado
É mais que um poema
É a coisa mais linda
Que eu já vi passar
Ah! porque estou tão sozinho
Ah! porque tudo é tão triste
Ah! a beleza que existe
A beleza que não é só minha
Que também passa sozinha
Ah! Se ela soubesse
Que quando ela passa
O mundo sorrindo
Se enche de graça
E fica mais lindo
Por causa do amor

I want to go to Coimbra.

2008-11-16T12:48:00.000-08:00

wow:

around town:

Plastic Jesus Cover

2008-11-16T12:38:00.000-08:00

Jack Johnson cover. (The one with Mason Jennings is better, but I can't find a good version.)

michael collins.

2008-10-27T22:26:00.000-07:00

very underrated soundtrack.

can i meet a woman who can sing like sinead o' connor?

what i've been up to.

2008-10-27T21:44:00.000-07:00

jose alfonso

the original four yorkshiremen.

another version i like.

star trek meets monty python

also interesting: the deleted scenes from robin hood prince of thieves. alan rickman truly speaks the best english on the planet.

Favorite Books

2008-10-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

My two favorite books that I've read in the last decade:
Blood Meridian
A River Runs Through It

It just struck me that both books tackle the idea that 'Man is a damn mess' but do so very differently.

Into this life we're born

2008-10-06T16:38:00.000-07:00

His origins are become remote as his destiny and not again in all the world's turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarous to try whether his own heart is not another kind of clay

Spectre horsemen, pale with dust, anonymous in the crenellated heat. Above all else they appeared wholly at venture, of the absolute rock and set nameless and at no remove from their own loomings to wander ravenous and doomed and mute as gorgons shambling the brutal wastes of Gondwanaland in times before nomenclature was and each was all.

Perhaps I too should buy a typewriter and disappear for years into motel rooms and desolation.

Two wild mules stamped testingly at the canyon rim and backed and fitted, their soft split forepads of hooves cracked and flaying under them as they scratched against the red-painted clifftops through the sand, peering over the rim for some sign of greenery to make sense of that abyss. One whinnied and reared at the staccato foreign sound chattering up out of the canyon, then whistling, then wailing, and the two animals backed away and plodded on as they had come, disappearing with the heat of the day driving them back downward along some rivulet or tributary of the river’s canyons through that bleak and predator-less sandscape which held only the twin fears of rattlesnakes and starvation for them. They followed forever a maze of antelope trails ascending and descending that terrain with a rhythm and direction whose migratory sense they could not fathom unto death.

Romeo and Juliet

2008-09-23T23:43:00.000-07:00

Oh, Juliet. Oh, Juliet.

Come up on differents streets they both were streets of shame
Both dirty both mean yes and the dream was just the same
And I dreamed your dream for you and your dream is real
How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals ?

Where you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold
You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold
You promised me everything you promised me think and thin
Now you just says oh romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him

Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I’ll love you till I die
There’s a place for us you know the movie song
When you gonna realise it was just that the time was wrong juliet ?

Oh, Claire Danes too.

Cormac Thoughts

2008-09-16T14:52:00.000-07:00

Years after All the Pretty Horses hit the big screen (somewhat ingloriously) and freshly on the heels of the Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy is vogue in Hollywood.

First up, The Road is set to come out Novermber 26. Then, Outer Dark, early Appalachian McCarthy, will follow soon after.

Cities of the Plain and Blood Meridian are also both in the works, although Blood Meridian just changed hands. Of all these, The Road probably sets up most easily for the box office, it would be the most difficult project:
Making Blood Meridian into a movie is like making Moby Dick into a filmstrip or making The Idiot into a Hallmark Special. But Todd Field will try.

After a trip to Barnes and Noble, I have lots of reading to do. But suddenly, I'd like to go back and re-read Blood Meridian.

My favorite commercials 11 years ago

2008-09-06T00:02:00.001-07:00

Loved this series by Levi's -- and this was my favorite:

But then again, I fell in love with this girl:

. . .

Now I'm watching Spike Jonze movies (from this decade):

What was a guy to wear in 1997?!

College Football!

2008-08-29T11:39:00.001-07:00

It's officially the best time of the year. Until the first week of January.

Sexy People

2008-08-22T15:39:00.000-07:00

sexy people.

amazing.

My New Crush is a . . . Javelin-a ?

2008-08-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

I love the Olympics. They bring the world to me . . .

. . . and make my heart go pitter-pat.

Of course, the Olympics are full of wonderful contrasts: victory/defeat, rich/poor, youth/age and, appropriately, there is ugliness to offset Ms. Franco's beauty.

That is to say, Bob Costas' hairpiece . . .

. . . which makes me throw up in my mouth.

However, please note: if you zoom in close enough, you can see that Bob's toupee is actually the inspiration behind . . .

. . . the Bird's Nest. I have yet to confirm my suspicion that the NBC nickname for the arena was actually an inside-joke about Bob's hair, another Olympic icon, which unfortunately has preceded him in retirement.

The best part about being grown-up?

2008-08-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

It may not be #1, but it's up there:

Being able to run and jump on the shopping cart without anyone telling me to stop.

Failed to find this in time.

2008-08-18T12:43:00.001-07:00

Re: the previous the post

It is possible to achieve the "failure to" effect without resorting to "failure to language." From Bill Kristol's Op-Ed in today's NYT:

Perhaps the most revealing moment was the two candidates’ response to a question about evil. Yes, evil — that negation of the good that, Friedrich Nietzsche to the contrary notwithstanding, we seem not to have moved beyond.

Um . . . what? "to-the-contrary-notwithstanding" ? have we "failed to" move beyond evil? Geez. Worst sentence ever. Or at least today.

I need to . . .

2008-08-18T10:35:00.001-07:00

1. Move into my new digs
2. Get things out my storage unit
3. Charge my camera battery and transfer photos to my computer so I can post them
4. (Get this:) Develop film (!)
5. Grocery shop . . .

and lots of other things.

But, let's be serious, none of that is more important than discussing poor syntax. Or in other words, I failed to work on my to-do list in order to discuss others' failure to write effectively.

Example #1, from CollegeFootballNews:

" . . . Last year he changed and became a dominant run blocker and was more consistent overall. Most importantly for this offense, he was fantastic in pass protection failing to allow a sack all year."

So, he failed to allow a sack? Or did he succeed in not allowing a sack? I thought that you weren't supposed to allow sacks as an offensive lineman.

Yes, this is just one example. No, I am not going to track down other examples. But lately I have seen this everywhere from Olympic broadcasts to the New York Times. The trend seems most prevalent among sportswriters -- or maybe it appears so to me merely because that's the sort of writing I read the most.

There are many related syntactical goofs. Basically, the author (or sportscaster) wants to sound more sophisticated. Somewhere (e.g. prep school, college, or the New York Times opinion page) the author ran across "failed to" / "failure to." It's abused as a fancy substitute for "did not," in the same way that "problematic" is abused as a fancy (but incorrect) adjectival susbtitute for "is bad."

One reason that the New York Times and professors are so fond of these bit of Academic Restrictive Code is that they are convenient means of injecting opinion in places where professors and journalists prefer to weigh in but still desire to preserve their aura of impartiality.

Consider:
"The Senator failure to acknowledge [X] is problematic."

Basically, the facts behind such a statement are usually: the Senator did not respond to questions, or has not taken a position, about X yet.

Certain stock phrases like "raises [more] questions [than it answers]" and "very troubling" are dressed-up ways to disagree -- saying nothing substantively more than "I disagree" but nonetheless trying to produce the impression "I am very erudite and disagree."

But "failed to" actually does say something substantive, namely, the "fail-er" had a responsibility to do something and failed. Never mind that the responsibility is often left unsaid (conveniently masking the injection of opinion). In the above example, the Senator may not agree that she has a responsibility to acknowledge X or that about X is actually the case. She would likely agree that she does not acknowledge X as being the case. The fact that she is not on-the-record acknowledging X is only a failure because of the journalist's word choice, and it is not problematic unless it poses particular difficulty (i.e. is problem-laden) or is debatable.

This is a similar, less subtle trick to using different (facially impartial) terms depending on the journalist's opinion of the subject: the _____ administration vs. junta/regime (the latter sounds more hostile, illegimate and foreign) and President ___ vs. Mr. (or even Ex-President) _____ (emphasizing the authority of the former and the lack of authority of the latter).

This is all nothing new: journalists and professors and even random bloggers like myself love to inject opinion without appearing to inject opinion. Think of doctored photos and carefully cropped headlines: "Governor Fails (line one) to discuss (line two) Allegations (line three)."

Back to sportswriting. One reason that all of this opinion-without-opinion writing is, er, problematic (sorry, couldn't resist) is that some writers and talking-heads start to think that "did not" is low-brow and "fails" is a more sophisticated way of saying the same thing.

But "fails" generally has certain normative ("should have but did not") or intentional ("wished to but did not") implications. Indeed, one reason it is employed so often by political talking heads and journalists: vagueness! A reader can read into "fails" implications of either sort. Besides, "did not" is not very newsworthy -- but "fails to" is:

Dog Fails to Bite Man! (versus, Dog did not Bite Man)

Not only is "failure to" wording capable of opinion-without-opinion, it can also achieve news-without-news! Indeed, it's particularly vague, and effective to those ends in the passive voice:

Man Fails to be Bitten by Dog! (versus, Man was not bitten by dog)

So why do sportswriters so commonly resort to "failure to" language? Simple. NYT reporter: "Their failure to write at the same standards as the rest of journalists is problematic due to their troubling lack of formal credentials." (i.e. they're dumb jocks). Actually, I think they are just mimicking other journalists but have exaggerated motives to appear impartial and sophisticated. I mean, ESPN guys call themselves "analysts" -- that's even more impartial and sophisticated than a journalist, right?

Sportswriters love to inject opinion without injecting opinion. Every one of them is a fan at heart. The more they get paid, the more they try to appear above-the-fray. ESPN game crews look down their noses at local homer radio announcers. But more the most part they are all former players and coaches or fans who have made the big-time. They have personality conflicts, alma maters, favorite teams and players and their own preseason predictions to defend. Then someone tells them to be journalists -- and they have to figure out how to play the game: opinion-without-opinion and news-without-news.

Quarterback fails to throw interception! Closer has failed to blow a single save! Point guard fails to be affected by injury!

There is a time and a place for "failure to" language:

Traveling Mattie failed to blog about Bali! -- True.

But:

Traveling Mattie failed to have any work to do for the last 45 minutes -- Not true . . . or is it?

Angry in Anchorage

2008-08-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

My boxes finally un-anchored themselves from Anchorage. The combination of FedEx and Customs has been ridiculous.

Genius

2008-08-05T16:25:00.000-07:00

Vanilla syrup intended for gourmet coffee(?) + [diet] Coke from the soda fountain = [Diet] Vanilla Coke.

I may not have had math since high school, but I still know a thing or two about addition.

This Office is Wild

2008-07-14T08:42:00.000-07:00

Killing time, punching the clock, thinking bout escaping for a moonlit nightwalk.

. . . This town was meant for passing through
Boy, it ain't nothin' new
Now go and show 'em that the world stayed round
But it's a long, long, long way down

You better run for the hills before they burn

. . . I've been trying hard to do what's right
But you know I could stay here
All night
And watch the clouds fall from the sky
This river is wild
This river is wild...

Oregoing?

2008-07-13T22:00:00.000-07:00

Okay, wait, why haven't I been to this place yet?

I mean, I understand why I haven't been to, say, Mississippi, North Dakota, Kansas or Kentucky. Someday I'll make it to all of those. But if my travels are a gaptooth smile, Oregon is the gap. Besides Alaska, it's the only Western (or far Western if you're back East) state I haven't visited.

I'll see what I can do.

Thy Thee Thine

2008-07-13T20:59:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'm not a little girl. Because of that, I can admit that, generally speaking, I prefer George songs to John or Paul ones.

With that outta the way: let's talk about Thou. And by that I clearly mean the Early Modern English pronoun, rather than wanting to talk about thee, the reader as an individual whom I wish to refer to very intimately (or potentially disrespectfully, if you are, e.g., my boss). Ah, Thy Thee Thine (which some grad student somewhere has doubtless made into a mournful song to the tune of I Me Mine in order to clarify proper usage). Now, ye (the readers as a group, not as individuals) fail to understandEarly Modern English and pronouns. In the last few weeks, I've had multiple occasions to explain the differences between the pronouns thou - ye - you and cringing when people mis-use thou and thee or misconjugate Early Modern English forms (e.g. "I loveth thou" "We askest that thee may"). I don't mean that I was needling people for poor usage; rather, distinctions between ye - thou and proper usage of thou have come up in conversation or discussion of the KJV.

This link (also, see here for context)isn't particularly scholarly, complete or definitive, but it is a nice shorthand treatment that I'm basically bookmarking with this post. I think that if you bother to spend three seconds understanding the differences between the pronouns, it unlocks quite a bit of meaning in Early Modern English (e.g. Shakespeare, the KJV).

An excerpt:

Generally speaking, the grammar of Early Modern English is identical to that of Modern English so there is little difficulty in that regard. There is one issue that seems to bother newcomers to Shakespeare, however. Teachers will often find students complaining: 'All those thees and thous . It's soooo old-fashioned and I can't be bothered with it.' Once again, this usage was in a state of transition and, as always, Shakespeare exploits that.

In Modern English we use the word "you" as both the singular and the plural form. In Old English, thou was used for addressing one person; ye for more than one. You was around then, and while thou and ye were used as a subject of a clause, you was used as the object. By the time of Early Modern English, the distinction between subject and object uses of ye and you had virtually disappeared, and you became the norm in all grammatical functions and social situations. Ye had become old-fashioned and so, when we see it in the Authorised Bible ('Oh ye of little faith') we are seeing that, in spite of the fact that you may think you understand the language in the Bible better than you do Shakespeare, Shakespeare is more modern!

By Shakespeare's time in Early Modern English you was being used for both singular and plural, but in the singular it also had a role as an alternative to thou and thee . You was used by people of lower status to those above them (such as ordinary people to nobles, children to parents, servants to masters), and was also the formal way for the upper classes to talk to each other. By contrast, thou and thee were used by people of higher rank to those beneath them, and by the lower classes to each other; also, strangely enough, in addressing God, and in talking to witches, ghosts, and other supernatural beings. As a refection of the higher status of males in the male/female context a husband might address his wife as thou , and she might reply respectfully with you .

The use of thou and you also had an emotional dimension. Thou commonly expressed special intimacy or affection; you , formality, politeness, and distance. That form is still used in French today in the use of vous and tu . Thou might also be used by an inferior to a superior, to express such feelings as anger and contempt or to be insulting and this is one of the areas where Shakespeare is able to get extra levels of meaning by showing disrespect by one character for another's status. The use of thou to a person of equal rank could be used as an insult. Sir Toby Belch advises Sir Andrew Aguecheek on how to write a challenge to the Count's youth, Viola: 'if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss' (Twelfth Night).

In addition, do follow the proper declension when, say, composing impromptu cheesy love poems, writing period screenplays (honestly, how do professional writers screw this up!?), trying to use thee/thou while praying in front of a crowd or otherwise attempting to speak like you're out of the 16th century. (Yeah, yeah, I know about the limitations of grammar and rules--viz. that grammar is never standardized across populations and, relevant to these rules, people from [wherever,] England, unlike their neighbors may very well have used ye as a singular pronoun or in both the nominative and accusative. But the point is, these simple rules will help you not sound dumb--and those people sounded dumb to more educated English speakers of their day, especially when trying woo upper class women by composing cheesy love poems).

Simple rules:
1. Thou ~ I. Roughly speaking, Thou , in the second person singular, is used as I would be in the first person singular.
2. Thee ~ me. They rhyme, if that helps.
3. Thy / thine ~ my / mine. They also rhyme!
4. Ye is for plural ("oh ye [as a group] of little faith"), thou is for singular ("thou [the individual] shalt not"). Ye might learn a lot by remembering this.

Speaking of "shalt" there is a short list of irregular verbs. But generally speaking, use "-est" or "-st" endings with thou. Save the "-eth/-th" for third person singular. (I run, Thou runnest and he/she/it runneth.)

Okay, I'm done being annoying for now. If you must, read this now.

Speaking of Ovens. . .

2008-07-13T01:55:00.000-07:00

After about 4 months of living in this apartment, I finally used mine today. Like the stove (when I first used it, before it was fixed), I couldn't use it without knocking out the power for the entire apartment.

Long story short, I now have a new oven. And it just made me a pizza. The pizza looks a bit overdone, though. Now back to watching Ice Road Truckers. (I've seen the season before, but I'm just glad I found this on TV over here.)

Happy Birthday!

2008-07-11T03:13:00.000-07:00

It's Grandma's Birthday and then Mom's, so I'm splitting the difference by posting this today. See you guys in Hawaii.

(yeah, yeah, I know: the song was about Martin Luther King--but it's Stevie Wonder, and I couldn't get him to record a new version. Mr. Chin wanted to be faithful to the original.)

Is the Oven half full?

2008-07-10T22:58:00.000-07:00

From today's headlines: Teen Pregnancy Up!

Of course, the better way to say this is that teen pregnancy rates in the United States fell for an astonishing 15 straight years, before rising slightly. However, I have no doubt that somewhere somebody's blood pressure is rising over today's troubled youth.

The headline news plays well to activists and Sunday School teachers who prefer to take a dim view of the rising generation. (Just like the well-documented emphasis on negative economic news over the last 7 years, even at times when by all (uh, informed) accounts the economic news was actually good.) Notably, teen pregnancy rates rose dramatically beginning in the 1970s and peaked 1991, before the recent, protracted decline.

Of course, even the 1991 rate did not approach the 20th-century peak in teen pregnancy in the 1950s. (Your grandma didn't tell you that, did she? And it certainly wasn't on Leave it to Beaver.)

I would say that despite all of the disintegration (tongue-in-cheek) of the moral fabric of society under the influence of TV shows like Murphy Brown (gasp!) and now movies like Juno and Knocked Up, today's kids are doing pretty well. Young women reach menarche 3-4 years yearlier than at the turn of the century, and get pregnant as teens at lower rates than their mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers. Not too shabby. But there WAS a rise this year. Shame, shame.

Arguably, the 1950s problem was only having crummy entertainment options like, uh, the radio and, um, Leave it Beaver (leaving it up to, well, never mind) that made kids go for switch blades, hot rods and high teen birth rates. Maybe if they had more entertaining TV and movies the moral fabric of society wouldn't have been so, er, loose.

In other news, rates of sexual activity among teenagers stayed at roughly the same level as . . . they've been for the last 200 years. But don't tell your Grandma that either.

Of course, the USA (being the backwoods cousins of the enlightened North) has a much higher teen pregnancy rate than most other "rich countries" (you know, Denmark, Sweden, Japan, etc.) according to a recent UN Report. That report points out the correlation of teen pregnancy with poverty rates and the US's embarrasingly high rates of poverty and disproporionate levels of teen pregnancy among its growing poor population. So we're still pretty degenerate and embarrassing to the other Northern Nations--but that's nothing new. We've been both of those things ever since the Mayflower set sail.

CFB: Strength of Schedule

2008-07-10T21:46:00.000-07:00

Very interesting information on out of conference scheduling in CFB.

Iz for good measure

2008-07-09T10:33:00.001-07:00

Somewhere over the Rainbow

2008-07-09T09:33:00.000-07:00

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

Speaking of Bob, I just downloaded this song and If I Only Had a Brain sung by Mr. Schneider. But then my Finnish friend just reminded me of another version:

Yeah, I'm excited about Bali, but even more excited about Hawaii.

By the way, the Wizard of Oz is very well written.

See, I can't scare anybody.
They come from miles around
To laugh in my face and eat in my field.

Said a scarecrow swinging on a pole,
To some blackbirds sittin' on a fence,
"Oh, the Lord gave me a soul,
But, forgot to give me common sense."

Said the blackbirds, "Well, well, well.
What the thunder would you do with common sense?"
Said the scarecrow,"Would be pleasin'
just to reason out the reason
of the wishes and the whyness and the whence"

If I had an once of common sense...
(If he had an ounce of common sense)

(Well, what would you do Scarecrow?")

I would while away the hours
Conferin' with the flowers
Consultin' with the rain
And my head I'd be scratchin'
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'
If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle,
For every individle,
In trouble or in pain.
With the thoughts I'd be thinkin',
I could be another Lincoln,
If I only had a brain.

Oh I-- could tell you why,
The ocean's near the shore.
I could think of things I never thought before,
Then I'd sit-- and think some more.

I would not be just a nothin',
my head all full of stuffin',
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry,
Life would be a dingle derry,
If I only had a brain.

If I only had a brain--
(If he only had a brain.)

I could tell you why
The ocean's near the shore.
I could think of things I never thought before
And then I'd sit-- and think some more.

Ya, it would be kind of pleasin'
To reason out the reason,
for the things I can't explain.
Then perhaps I'd deserve you,
and be even worthy of you,
If I only had a brain.

I could dance and by merry,
Life would be a dingle derry,
If I only had a brain.

If I only had a brain.
(If he only had a brain.)

Flowerparts

2008-07-06T19:51:00.000-07:00

And, in case that wasn't enough Bob for ya, here's another ditty.

Capn Kirk

2008-07-06T19:40:00.001-07:00

I think I can safely say that this is what we all want.

Homesick, for the first time . . . ever?

2008-06-24T19:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what that just was. An interesting take on flour tortillas, something made with black beans, tortilla chips, sour cream, awful but not unintelligible guacamole . . . what else? Some sort of Chinese-style rice, unseasoned cubed beef, chicken of the consistency of jerky drowned in oil, lime and orange juice with some vinegar, some sort of chinese inspired carrot, squash and onion stir fry . . . the list could go on.

It went under the name of Mexican food. And there were sour cream and tortilla chips and some hybrid between a tortilla and something else. But I'm just not sure exactly how these dishes were translated on their way to Singapore--or how to aptly describe them. Especially the salsa--of which there were 4 or five very mild, very vinegar-heavy versions--that, in one case at least, looked like salsa mexicana.

Maybe it's because I spent the morning booking a ticket to Hawaii and rearranging another ticket back to California. But, I blame it squarely on the bad Mexican food ordered for the meeting just now. Now I'm not the only Californian in the office--but I think that Chicago or Arkansas is probably the next closest home. Maybe no one else noticed: the Australians and English certainly didn't.

after the desert, a reminder

2008-06-24T06:54:00.000-07:00

of who i am--and who you probably are too, whoever you are. (no, i don't mean that we're all 'house').

and btw, the 'chard--glad you found me. i killed the other blog w/o much notice. it was fun catching up on yours today. maybe i'll see you back in socal soon.

Out on the desert now

2008-06-24T05:59:00.000-07:00

Some Josh Ritter

Radio waves are coming miles and miles
Bringing only empty boats
Whatever feeling they had when they sailed
Somehow slipped out between the notes

Out on the desert now and feeling lost
The bonnet wears a wire albatross
Monster ballads and the stations of the cross
Sighing just a little bit
Sighing just a little bit

And I was thinking 'bout what Katy done
Thinking 'bout what Katy did
The fairest daughter of the Pharaoh's son
Dressed in gold 'neath pyramids

Out on the desert now and feeling lost
The bonnet wears a wire albatross
Monster ballads and the stations of the cross
Sighing just a little bit
Sighing just a little bit

Ones and zeroes bleeding mesa noise
And when you're empty there's so much space for them
You turn it off but then a still small voice
Comes in blazing from some vast horizon

And I was thinking 'bout my river days
I was thinking 'bout me and Jim
Passing Cairo on a getaway
With every steamboat like a hymn

Out on the desert now I'm feeling lost
The bonnet wears a wire albatross
Monster ballads and the stations of the cross
Sighing just a little bit
Smiling just a little bit

Today the words have been floating through my head. Nothing religious, nothing meaningful. Just words. Out on the desert now and I'm feeling lost . . . monster ballads and the stations of the cross. When I do make it home, I may take a longer route back to Southern California. Nothing like long drives through the desert to rest your mind. Palm Desert? Monument Valley? Not sure which way I'd go. But gas prices be damned. I'll drive through the desert till I find the floods if I have to.

(a worthy cover, not quite on par with the original or joe burton's)

He evokes interesting image with this song, some dry desert longing--that image, and a long drive toward a flat horizon, juxtaposes nicely against a second sudden thought, the flooding upper missouri that currently would be the end of a desert drive over the high plains--that is right now the first thing that comes to mind when he reaches his memories of river days.

Somewhere in looking for desert photos of the stations of the cross, I found this one too:

Shirts vs. Skins

2008-06-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

What is the longing running game of shirts vs. skins in history? This article offers some insight into the (not-so-)age-old divide. I locates the origin of Shirts-skins in the 40s, but I think that Skins have been around since Adam, and Eve may have been first Shirt (in the ideological sense, since behaviorally the Shirts/Skins divide is really only something that plays out amongst men).

So what am I? It depends. If I must adopt the Author's linear view of history to be a Shirt, then count me as a Skin, please. At least ideologically.

Starkfield

2008-06-16T23:58:00.000-07:00

When I go to New Zealand, I'm going to visit this guy.

Someday I will write a story that will become a movie and in the movie there will be a girl who will hear this song sung by this guy and say "When he sings, I feel like my heart is talking."

. . .

2008-06-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Some Cormac stolen:

In two days they began to come upon bones and cast-off apparel. They saw halfburied skeletons of mules with the bones so white and polished they seemed incandescent even in that blazing heat and they saw panniers and packsaddles and the bones of men and they saw a mule entire, the dried and blackened carcass hard as iron. They rode on. The white noon saw them through the waste like a ghost army, so pale they were with dust, like shades of figures erased upon a board. The wolves loped paler yet and grouped and skittered and lifted their lean snouts on the air. At night the horses were fed by hand from sacks of meal and watered from buckets. There was no more sickness. The survivors lay quietly in that cratered void and watched the whitehot stars go rifling down the dark. Or slept with their alien hearts beating in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon the face of the planet Anareta, clutched to a namelessness wheeling in the night. They moved on and the iron of the wagon-tires grew polished bright as chrome in the pumice. To the south the blue cordilleras stood footed in their paler image on the sand like reflections in a lake and there were no wolves now.

They took to riding by night, silent jornadas save for the trundling of the wagons and the wheeze of the animals. Under the moonlight a strange party of elders with the white dust thick on their moustaches and their eyebrows. They moved on and the stars jostled and arced across the firmament and died beyond the inkblack mountains. They came to know the nightskies well. Western eyes that read more geometric constructions than those names given by the ancients. Tethered to the polestar they rode the Dipper round while Orion rose in the southwest like a great electric kite. The sand lay blue in the moonlight and the iron tires of the wagons rolled among the shapes of the riders in gleaming hoops that veered and wheeled woundedly and vaguely navigational like slender astrolabes and the polished shoes of the horses kept hasping up like a myriad of eyes winking across the desert floor. They watched storms out there so distant they could not be heard, the silent lightning flaring sheetwise and the thin black spine of the mountain chain fluttering and sucked away again in the dark. They saw wild horses racing on the plain, pounding their shadows down the night and leaving in the moonlight a vaporous dust like the palest stain of their passing.

All night the wind blew and the fine dust set their teeth on edge. Sand in everything, grit in all they ate. In the morning a urinecolored sun rose blearily through panes of dust on a dim world and without feature. The animals were failing. They halted and made a dry camp without wood or water and the wretched ponies huddled and whimpered like dogs.

That night they rode through a region electric and wild where strange shapes of soft blue fire ran over the metal of the horses' trappings and the wagonwheels rolled in hoops of fire and little shapes of pale blue light came to perch in the ears of the horses and in the beards of the men. All night sheetlighning quaked sourceless to the west beyond the midnight thunder-heads, making a bluish day of the distant desert, the mountains on the sudden skyline stark and black and livid like a land of some other order out there whose true geology was not stone but fear. The thunder moved up from the southwest and lightning lit the desert all about them, blue and barren, great clanging reaches ordered out of the absolute night like some demon kingdom summoned up or changeling land that come the day would leave them neither trace nor smoke nor ruin more than any troubling dream.

This time I took a camera

2008-06-08T06:47:00.000-07:00

The weekend trip to Malacca (Melaka), Malaysia was a great adventure.

Pineapple tarts. Mango with sticky rice. Ice cream cones. Dry curry crab, sweet and sour fish and butter garlic prawns at the Portuguese settlement. More mango with sticky rice. And we even saw the sights. Pictures to come.

Lebanoff

2008-05-29T02:30:00.000-07:00

This week I was talking to a man from Lebanon. To be honest (and to understate), he was a complete jerk. Now I don't assume jerks are any more common in Lebanon than anywhere else in the world (they could be, or they could be rarer). But this guy was a piece of work.

One of his least jerk-y moments, though, was when he asserted that Lebanon was the best country in the world in various areas, including its natural beauty and standard of living. As to the natural beauty, he supported his claim with, "ask all of the Germans that come."

When I was younger, I lived in a very beautiful part of the US. But I remember thinking to myself how much more beautiful the area must be, compared to the rest of the world, if so many tourists came all the way from Germany to visit. I mean, if the place I lived were not amazingly beautiful, why would anyone really come from so far away to see it?!

How much difference 15 years and few hundred thousand miles make in my evaluation of that sort of argument.

What I realize now is that Germans (Australians, Swedes, Japanese, and lots of other people) travel lots of places outside of their countries (to be fair to early teenage Uncle Mattie, Germans travel internationally much more frequently than most Americans and Lebanese do--hence my thinking that a trip to my state was some monumental event for them). The fact that thousands of Germans or Australians pass through your town might say something about Germans or Australians, but it really doesn't mean much about your town--except, in this case, that it's probably sunnier, warmer and cheaper than Germany at some point in the year.

I went to Malaysia, but forgot my Camera

2008-05-21T01:27:00.000-07:00

It was a good weekend escape. Maybe I can just steal some photos from friends or off facebook.

Gotta go?

2008-05-21T01:23:00.000-07:00

In Singapore (and Malaysia for that matter), it is customary to refer to WC's as "the gents" or the ladies", e.g.:
"where's the gents?" or "I must find the ladies"

The first time you hear this it is easy enough to process, but definitely sounds foreign, the same way that "having here, takeaway?" instead of "to stay or to go" sounds a bit odd at first.

But, for the avoidance of future confusion when you've gotta go, here is one useful resource: http://www.wackyarchives.com/featured/toilet-signs-across-the-world.html

Chairman Wow

2008-05-15T01:13:00.000-07:00

I found out how much my chair cost today. Wow. Of course, it's a fraction of my rent here--but, then again, more than the rent at my previous abode.

Firefly.

2008-05-11T03:09:00.000-07:00

If there is justice in the world--and there isn't--joe burton will be a household name. Instead, we are afflicted with idols.

Given the name of the blog. . .

2008-05-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about the future, and places to go. So here are some lists.

The Next 5 Countries I will visit (in no specific order)
1. Malaysia
2. Indonesia
3. Viet Nam
4. New Zealand
5. Australia

The 5 Trips I most want to make in the next decade (in no specific order and excluding the above list)
1. Spain/Morocco +/- Portugal (to be honest, I think I'll do Spain in two trips, with Portugal on the second and Morocco on the first)
2. Iceland +/- Greenland
3. Greece/Turkey
4. Brazil
5. South Africa

The 5 Treks I want to make before I die:
1. A Silk Road Trip--basically overland from China to the Mediterranean
2. US Coast-to-Coast (missed a few chances for this one already)
3. A Lehi Trip--more of less, Jerusalem to the Indian Ocean and back around the Gulf.
4. The perimeter of the Black Sea
5. The Americas Tip-to-tip

Perspectives or Perception

2008-04-28T23:35:00.000-07:00

This week I purchased (see below) the movie Harold and Maude. I had never seen it, but had been meaning to ever since college. My then roommate-- who had impeccable but somewhat offbeat taste--had said the movie was his favorite. Although I respected his taste, his description failed to engender any sense of urgency in me. To paraphrase: it's about a quirky, misfit kid and his friendship with an old lady. Not too enticing to a 22-year old, eh? And a shame I didn't investigate further. The movie, like many I have (eventually gotten around to watching and) loved, is a cult classic, overlooked by most, and quickly dismissed by many who do see it.

Reflecting on the movie, I could not help but imagine how I might have reacted to the movie if I had seen it as a boy, young man or college student. It is more difficult to look forward and imagine how I might have understood it or found it, had I watched it later. My imagination thus skips to imagining others seeing the movie: the most natural placeholders are my parents and grandparents, but I also imagine others--particularly members of other familiar groups.

As I watch (Steven Demetre Georgiou --> Cat Stevens -->) Yusuf Islam, over and again, graybearded with eyes intent as ever, playing "Father and Son", I am struck with one particular feeling: how much easier it is to imagine Yusuf as the Father than the Son, whereas every other time I had heard the song, Cat (in the original recording) sounded ineluctably more real--more palpable--when singing as the Son.

Father and Son

Father:
It's not time to make a change,
Just relax, take it easy.
You're still young, that's your fault,
Theres so much you have to know.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,
To be calm when you've found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything you've got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.

Son:
How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.
It's always been the same, same old story.
From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.

Father:
It's not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You're still young, that's your fault,
There's so much you have to go through.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

(Son: -- away away away, I know I have to
Make this decision alone - no)

Son:
All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,
It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them you know not me.
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.
(Father: -- stay stay stay, why must you go and
Make this decision alone?)

One connection between movie and song may be obvious: Cat Stevens (as Cat Stevens) scored Harold and Maude. "Father and Son", however, was not in the score. Nor were a Father and Son written into the script: Harold's father is dead. Maud's presumably died in a concentration camp, something that is hinted at in the movie. The only ersatz Father figures are a Priest, a Shrink and a military Uncle. But the idea of Father-Son in the movie gives me pause nonetheless--fatherhood or paternalism being a deafening vacuum in the movie's metaphor. Each of those individuals represents a pillar of perceived paternalism.

Let me leave, for a moment, any connection to Steven/Cat/Yusuf's own changing perspective and perception. [As a sidenote, though, the shots of the sleeping baby really add something to the presentation that words and music cannot.]

As to watching Harold and Maude, I purchased the movie, sight-unseen because movie rental chains hardly exist anymore here; they seem to be fading off like 8-tracks, soda-shop dates and silent movies--once omnipresent cultural foci that defined their few decades in a way that generations before and after may hardly understand.

Touching on a previous post, the mournful dirge "the outlaws of our time are not like Jesse" presents a seam, sewn through the fabric of human history since story-telling began, that nonetheless yawns into a generational gap. While the longing for romantic outlaws transcends generations (i.e. romantic rogues are not new: Robin Hood, Rob Roy, William Wallace, Bonnie and Clyde, the Assasins tradition in Chinese literature, even Samson), some elements of the longing for Jesse James himself cannot and will not transcend to modern consciousness (e.g. the train and stage bandits era, Confederate longing, bleeding Kansas, frontier tribalism). Or at least, they do not transcend immediately; one must understand much about the past before understanding how Jesse James became a folk hero.

The latter type of Zeitgeists pass eternally into mere Geists, no longer tastbar to any extant collective feeling; in a word, they move beyond our touch. That generational gap arises from a difference of perspective, to be sure, but also from a difference in perception, the faculty itself, between young and old--or even between contemporary groups.

Being personally on the heels of an odd stand-off--some awkward inability to dialogue, or even approach opening some playing field for dialogue, in my own life ostensibly regarding some sense of propriety that I still cannot grasp--battling, all the while, my own urge to stay within my own sense of propriety--maybe I stand in need of some understanding about such gaps.

The interplay between Harold and Maude inform that need of mine (if not any gap itself) nicely--but in a medium that reminds me that such informing and such information may not have been available to young, college-aged me or even to any distant future me. I can imagine myself or others discarding, once upon a time, the film as scandlous, offensive, dull, overly dry, morbid or various other things that may obviate participation in its metaphor. But now, I believe the metaphor is worthy (read here to get some idea; watch the movie to get a better idea).

Speaking of myself, I find the the movie and, perhaps even more so this song, poignant--a window to the divine perhaps. As one Jewish tradition goes, anything--person, poem, image, landscape, foe, etc.--can be a window to the divine. Thus, after watching this movie, at a barely bearable juncture, amid major tumult and personal angst, I for a second time have happened upon the song, quite by accident, and found it ineffably poignant, even divine--however, with a poignance sublimely different than that earlier divinity I felt from it. That is, the poignance itself has changed with my changing perspective and perhaps also with my changed perception.

Though this be but one bit of an epiphany, Harold and Maude shows well that in failing to understand a previous generation, a succeeding generation does not (necessarily) so much set aside, ignore, claim a moral high ground over, move on from or forget the previous generation. And for this reason, we cannot and should not leap to condemnation based on any such accusations. Rather, succeeding generations experience their common threads in a dynamic fabric whose changing colors and patterns may make predecessors' treasured artifacts (e.g. their own Jesse James) forever unable to stir the same feelings of melancholy, allegiance, fervor or nostalgia.

Indeed, nostalgia is an apt word here: the preceding generation envisions nost-algia ("our" "feelings / pain") as being "ours" universally, or at least for a group that includes the succeeding generation. The succeeding generation, though, has never felt and often cannot feel their predecessors "-algia" at all. Alienation results. (This mistaking the universal for the subjective, of course, also happens in reverse with succeeding generations misinterpreting preceeding one. Consider, for an example, the phenomenon of pejoration.) Said this way, we can imagine rifts where, without any blasphemy, objectively speaking, one generation may legitimately and properly set at naught the 'sacred' of another, replacing it with a 'sacred' unintelligible or even subjectively blasphemous to that other generation. So, Maude's generation and Harold's--and so too mine and each of theirs.

Lest one miss the blunt contrasts of the movie, many similar contrasts can be found in the singer of "Father and Son" himself. First, as the son of Greek immigrants in London, then a raucous emblem of 70s counter-culture, later parading under an assumed name (cloaked to capture partially his Greek given name), later still as a second individual--renamed after a near death experience--an ascetic religious zealot abandoning fame and the public eye, and, then, latest as an individual striving to re-emerge into that same public eye, but while embracing his new and evolving identity.

We may ask: How might that one man, at each stage, differently perceive his own song--presented first and fervently by an intransigent and impenetrable youth, but here again, in older age, outwardly as some knowing paternal figure constrasted against a sleeping baby and an audience of head-covered women. The song was originally written as a dialogue between a young Russian man, intent on joining the Revolution, and his Father, intent on keeping him home.

I do not believe Steven Demetre Georgiou, Cat Stevens or Yusuf Islam could represent or be neatly boxed into any characacture or surrounding group. Neither could Harold or Maud, for that matter. Perhaps the audiences of the movie, on the one hand, or the song, on the other, could also each individually be so dynamic that none, when regarded as to their audience reaction, should be considered merely as a part of the group. But, like Father or Son, it is very easy for me to imagine how young or old, members of various groups may react to this movie and this song. The movie it seems, will strike a rare few as genius (who is to say I am right?, only me) and most as something else: evil, mediocre, boring, contrived, trite(?), perhaps droll at best. The song? Most will be drawn to it, others will find it too soft and slow. More importantly, I think anyone (or at least any man) is forced to take sides in the evenhanded song. And the sides one takes, may change as his own circumstances do. Most can understand the other side's pleas, have heard (of) them before--but, in end, individuals will inevitably, I believe, identify with one of the voices--and, after hearing the song, may begin his own words to better explain the point-of-view of Father or Son, as the case may be.

Cabsolutely

2008-04-27T19:13:00.000-07:00

What makes me unhappy? Getting in a cab, naming a destination and being asked by the cab driver how I want to go there. Or, more specifically, "should I go _____ way or _____ way?" The subtext seems to be, "Name the longer way and I'll be happy to oblige you." Btw, worst cab drivers as to driving ability in the world = Singaporean cab drivers. Maybe that's why there is no practice of tipping them.

If you're going to be the worst drivers in history AND if you're going to ask me how to get everywhere, maybe you should just slide over and let me drive. We'd both be less carsick and we'd get everywhere faster. I might even tip myself for the service.

The outlaws of our time are not like Jesse. . .

2008-04-27T18:59:00.000-07:00

Emotional Gold

Show care for the lonesome Western schoolboy.
Notice how his brow is cruel and true.
He's not going back to California.
The gold is in the ground but he's not digging.
The outlaws of our time are not like Jesse.
Romance dies by sulfur lights, just ask Lefty.
This is not at all a wake-up call.
The gold is in the ground but we're not digging

Oh, the Mother Hips. They've been playing through my mind for a day and half, since I watched the story of that dirty little coward. Are there any jobs in folk-history?

Somehow the Hips and Jesse made me think of a Neil Young song the Hips often play:

Barstool Blues

If I could hold on
to just one thought
For long enough to know
Why my mind is moving so fast
And the conversation is slow.
Burn off all the fog
And let the sun
through to the snow
Let me see your face again
Before I have to go.

I have seen you in the movies
And in those magazines at night
I saw you on the barstool when
You held that glass so tight.
And I saw you in my nightmares
But I'll see you in my dreams
And I might live a thousand years
Before I know what that means.

Once there was a friend of mine
Who died a thousand deaths
His life was filled with parasites
And countless idle threats.
He trusted in a woman
And on her he made his bets
Once there was a friend of mine
Who died a thousand deaths.

Phuket.

2008-04-20T01:37:00.000-07:00

Phantastic. I just wish I'd gone for longer.

I want to do make this trip.

2008-03-31T04:42:00.000-07:00

Packrafting the Kenai Fjords in Alaska. Great pictures.

http://www.aktrekking.com/2004/KenaiFjords/KenaiFjords1.html

Stuff

2008-03-26T01:30:00.001-07:00

I posted about this before (and screwed up the link when I did), but I just added stuffwhitepeoplelike to the sidebar. Consider it a guest star, bound to come down eventually. Maybe I can set the tentative date for its coming down as such time as the site includes stuffwhitepeoplelike (the site) among the list there.

The Winds of Thor are Blowing Cold

2008-03-24T02:13:00.000-07:00

Something has awoken the Scythian in me. (The last distraction I need right now is combination of Nordic curiosity and wikipedia addiction, but that's what has happened). Suddenly, I have some need to boat through the North Sea, scale fjords, tramp through strawberry fields in Sweden, summer-ski in the land of the God of Skiing, camp under the midnight sun, see old wooden kirks and red fishing cabins, dig through dead history and languages of the North, wander through millenia old grave markers rock carvings and runestones--a need to scratch some ancestral itch.

Soon I will be back to dreaming of Papua New Guinea, New Zealand and Marquesas, to be sure. Sunshine, beaches. Exotic fruit and spicy sauces. But somehow today, I have the North on the mind. Idle daydreams of Scandinavia. How exactly does a North American move to Norway or Sweden? Work for an oil company or a bank?

Daydreams will just have to be daydreams--for now. But I enjoy them. Soon, I will make it back. And then, I can explore the far reaches of the North. In the West, Bergen, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Greenland. In the East, Finnland, Aaland, Öland, Latvia, Estonia. Last time I stretched from North to South. Maybe I should finally buy that bike and place a bike-ferry-and-train trek. That way I might lose this 10 pounds I've just gained back.

Tea

2008-03-18T22:53:00.000-07:00

The English have their afternoon tea. And I have my afternoon Cha shao bao.

Not sure what I would do without it. Especially on a rainy day.

No use roaming.

2008-03-17T06:24:00.000-07:00

Posted this cause I wanted a friend to pack up some sorrows. Listening to the words, I found them apt in other ways too. Beautiful, and don't anybody dare call it country. At least not out loud.

It's more Tim on local Chico radio ("Pack Up Your Sorrows"):

No use crying, talking to a stranger,
naming the sorrow you've seen
Too many bad times, too many sad times
Nobody knows what you mean

Chorus:
But if somehow you could pack up your sorrows
and give them all to me
You would lose them, I know how to use them
Give them all to me

No use rambling, walking in the shadows,
trailing a wandering star
No one beside you, no one to hide you
and nobody knows what you are

(Chorus)

No use gambling, running in the darkness,
Looking for a spirit that's free
Too many wrong times, too many long times
Nobody knows what you see

(Chorus)

No use roaming, going by the roadside,
Seeking a satisfied mind
Too many highways, too many byways,
and nobody's walking behind

When I think of Northern California, I feel like the Harness maker

2008-03-17T05:14:00.001-07:00

The Mother Hips do some great Neil Young:

More exxxxcellent Neil:

And some really great Gene Clark too:

These two songs come from Everybody's Know this is Nowhere, my all-time favorite album to listen to while driving through the desert (just ahead of Joshua Tree and the the Exodus CD Willie Nelson compilation).

But if we're talking about my all-time favorite band to listen to while out on the open road, particularly within the Golden State, it's gotta be the Mother Hips.

Here's some stripped down (just Tim on this one) California soul:

-less

2008-03-12T07:12:00.000-07:00

was listening to strawberry wine just now, played by mr burton, and put pen to paper. . .

Devil may care
Come now, my new ascetic friend. To strawberries and the desert. Up the streams and autumn pathways. Along the banks.
Come now, and leave those ones. To their own candid horrors. And unspoken highways of pain. Mornings will be.
Leave now, my favorite things. To be upset or heartboken. On to greater stories of the fallen. Fistless go on.
Die now, my teasing temper. Die or be woken to live. Life cannot wait for its end to begin. Be on alone.

Wolves. Idaho. And Slow Covers.

2008-03-12T05:14:00.000-07:00

i love this song. and this cover is amazing.

thanks heaven for youtube playlists. I'm switching over from a tired iPod playlist, plugging in to my work computer and using mr burton as my soundtrack for another late night. Starting with his nick drake covers.

EDIT: an hour or so later, some of the nick drake to share:

As I Lay Me

2008-03-04T22:20:00.000-08:00

The previous post was a reprise, written years ago. This one, a debut.

As I Lay Me
Night drenches my room in a funeral parlor stillness
And I ache at its coming alone
Sleep should be its accomplice
But night still comes alone
Descending inky deep and isolating
A solitary coyote
I muse that night has no friend
Still I'm wakeful in the cool tarry moat
Pondering the lone lowing wolf as it seeps in my window
I hear sounds in the silence.

Night Thoughts

2008-03-04T22:18:00.000-08:00

"Will ich ein Komet sein? Ich glaube."
--Hölderlin

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three Translations of Goethe's

Nachtgedanken
Euch bedaur ich, unglückselige Sterne,
Die ihr schön seid und so herrlich scheinet,
Dem bedrängten Schiffer gerne leuchtet,
Unbelohnt von Göttern und von Menschen:
Denn ihr liebt nicht, kanntet nie die Liebe!
Unaufhaltsam führen ewge Stunden
Eure Reihen durch den weiten Himmel.
Welche Reise habt ihr schon vollendet!
Seit ich weilend in dem Arm der Liebsten
Euer und der Mitternacht vergessen.

1. Night Thoughts [My trans.]
You I mourn, unfortunate stars,
You who fair are and gloriously shine,
Downcast sailors gladly enlightening,
Uncompensated by gods or men:
For you love not, nor ever know love!
Unfailingly leading for hours eternal
Your rows through the wide skies.
Which journeys have you finished
Since I dwelt in beloved's arms
Forgetting you and the midnight?

2. Night Thoughts
Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,
Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,
Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril
And have no recompense from gods or mortals,
Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.
Hours that are aeons urgently conducting
Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,
What journey have you ended in this moment,
Since lingering in the arms of my beloved
I lost all memory of you and midnight.

3. Night Thoughts
Oh, unhappy stars! your fate I mourn,
Ye by whom the sea-toss'd sailor's lighted,
Who with radiant beams the heav'ns adorn,
But by gods and men are unrequited:
For ye love not,--ne'er have learnt to love!
Ceaselessly in endless dance ye move,
In the spacious sky your charms displaying,
What far travels ye have hasten'd through,
Since, within my loved one's arms delaying,
I've forgotten you and midnight too!

It's interesting how differently the ideas move over the language into English.

. . .

Woodeye! Woodeye!

2008-03-04T19:40:00.000-08:00

From an unfortunate story and a conspiracy theory:

OSLO, Norway (AP) -- Austrian skier Matthias Lanzinger's lower left leg was amputated Tuesday because of complications from two broken bones in a crash at a World Cup race.

Lanzinger broke his shin and fibula Sunday during a super-G. The double fracture severely damaged blood vessels, hampering circulation in the 27-year-old skier's leg.

The Austrian ski federation said the surgery Monday night was only partly successful and left doctors no other option in an effort to avoid further risks.

"The circulation could not be stabilized," said doctor Thomas Hoelzenbein, who was flown in from Austria Monday to lead the operation.

Hmm . . . Thomas Hoelzenbein, eh? Doesn't Hoelzenbein mean "Wooden leg"? Lanzinger is almost sure to sue somebody (the World Cup event didn't have a medical helicopter available and have been criticized for other reasons). 60-mile per hour crashes are never pretty: but it does seem unusual that they'd have to amputate his leg because it healed poorly, so they might be looking at a malpractice suit. To that end, I'd love to spring the above question on the good doctor at the deposition. Hoelzenbein, eh. Is that your real name?

Bob and Jerry's

2008-02-29T22:09:00.000-08:00

Bob's

I'd rather be in some dark hollow
Where the sun don't never shine
Than to be at home alone, just knowing that she's gone
That would cause me to lose my mind . . .

So blow your whistle freight train
Take me far on down the track
I'm going away, I'm leaving today
I'm going but I ain't coming back

Jerry's

I'd rather be in some dark hollow
Where the sun don't ever shine
Than to be in some big city
In a small room with a girl on my mind

Jerry's lyrics differ from Bob's and apparently this lyric comes from a folk song recorded as early as 1929 and dating back long before (See here). But it's on my iPod and in my head.

And now, I'm listening to China Doll:

A pistol shot at five o'clock
The bells of heaven ring
Tell me what you done it for
No I won't tell you a thing . . .

Take up your china doll
It's only fractured
Just a little nervous from the fall

Next up on the playlist, I've Been All Around This World.

Malayse

2008-02-28T22:26:00.000-08:00

I was supposed to be in KL this weekend. Instead, I'll be in the office again. Either way it's work, but a few nights at the Mandarin Oriental and seeing a new city sounded like fun.

What I need to do:
1. Start taking a few pictures.
2. Purchase a bike.
3. Book some weekend trips so that I can turn away weekend work.

Malayse was mostly an (un)funny wordplay. Things couldn't be better--although I haven't had a true day-off in almost 4 weeks.

Also, the link for the week (meant to post this a few weeks ago and in the meantime both Volokh and ATL have linked to it):

Get Up Jake.

2008-02-05T04:31:00.000-08:00

I had my first chili crab in the office last night. And by that I mean, I had my first chili crab. But, by that I also mean, it was the first chili crab I had eaten in the office. Tasty. Work is humming along.

It's Chinese New Year. It was a good--but not great--weekend (since, last minute, I decided against a jaunt to Phuket, in favor of racking up hours at the office.)

Oh, and I'm finally over jet-lag, which is the point of this post. I owe it to Heroes; I bought season one, and watched the whole thing last week, which made me stay up later each night, until now: I've normalized. I know, because it's suddenly hard to get up on time. Thus, the song, covered by one of my favorite new bands:

Ad hoc translation.

2008-01-10T17:01:00.000-08:00

Ever since I was a delightfully (as in, it delighted me--not others) selfabsorbed know-it-all in high school, I've been looking for the right opportunities to use bits of Latin here and there. Today, I had to translate my diploma from Latin to English. In the process, I (would have) proved (if anyone actually knew any) that I am helpless with Latin--a complete fake. Yet, in the process, I also discovered the supreme irony of Ivy league diplomas written in Latin--or at least of those from my school: the Latin is bad--even blatantly incorrect, aimed mostly at using complicated words and tenses. So a certificate is passed from Trustees, Faculty, Dean and President of the University--none of whom understand the Latin--to their pupils--none of whom understand it--to signify that the former wish to acknowledge the learning of the latter. Those conferring the diplomas, dressed in the robes of a false priesthood, which neither they nor their graduates believe in, do not even understand what the diploma says (or its mistakes)--nor do those who receive their diplomas, for the most part. Yet all are happy to participate in the pomp and circumstance which serves to congratulate each on his or her status.

Similarly, today I hacked my way through a very bad translation so that a government entity, which also doesn't know much about Latin, can take at face value what I say that my diploma says--even though whatever it says, it says incorrectly. Rewarding me for this, they will allow me to work--thankfully for all, in a field other than Latin.

The Other Baron-Cohen and My Brain

2008-01-07T23:53:00.000-08:00

This interesting discussion at T&S talked me into testing my brain.

My EQ SQ results:

EQ : 29
SQ : 100
Brain Type : Extreme Systemizing

Take the EQ SQ tests

In other news, I found this before Kaimi at T&S, but I agree completely with him about it.
It's pretty hard to tackle "What Is It About Mormonism?"--but this is the perfect tackle, following some famously fumble-fingered attempts of late in the media.

If I wait till midnight. . .

2008-01-07T23:45:00.000-08:00

. . . maybe i get another daily video. or two. conor puts depression into words and music. and silence.

and he's so good live too:

we are nowhere

lua

Daily Video.

2008-01-07T23:26:00.000-08:00

I should just start calling this the Video of the Day Blog. Or even the Music Video of the Day Blog. Because that's what it's turning into. I found a new musician today--who is probably famous for all I know--but knowing little about music, he is new to me. And I like the video. That song, and that artist, come as an upbeat answer to the ennui engulfing this first singer, in this first song. She has a better voice, I think, than the original artist--and, if I didn't know better (and I don't), I'd even say that I have a crush on her. Which isn't something I've had on a random far-off singer since Jewel--and high school. See a few posts below.

1. 我真的受傷了, 王菀之 performed by gaspard128

2. M. Ward "Chinese

. . . I'm definitely going to get some M. Ward from iTunes this week. . .

Ready, AIM.

2008-01-07T23:23:00.000-08:00

Randomly, I msg'd an old friend--from years ago today. Now she's in a grad program--about to become Master Ting and then Doctor Ting. She said that she and her mother were just talking about me. Weird. I've probably talked to her only 10-15 times in the last 5 years, and only once or twice in the last year.

The Most Romantic Song Ever.

2008-01-03T23:46:00.000-08:00

And probably the cheesiest, if I gave you the translation.

Zhishao Hai You Ni--Lin Yi Lian

Now, the most sad.

Women dou ji mo--Eason Chan

While on the topic of Mandarin pop music, isn't Karen Mok fabulous?
Ta Bu Ai Wo

Soundbite.

2008-01-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

Hey Emilie, you can dance to the sound of a piece of bacon sizzling.

Hey Emilie, you can't dance to the sound of a freight train running through your head.
Hey Emilie, you can't dance to the sound of a swarm of honey bees.
Hey Emilie, you can't dance to the sound of a side of bacon sizzling.

Ahhh, the Mother Hips. I always thought the lyric was the former ("can") on all accounts. Looking it up just now online, I was surprised to find I was wrong about this. And here I thought I bacon made everything better. Come to think of it, it's more likely that the Mother Hips are wrong (blasphemy, I know!), and the lyric should allow for bacon to make everything better. Unless they're being ironic.

Clearly I've Never Been

2007-12-31T13:42:00.000-08:00

But, in the words of Addison Pratt, I'm a-going.

Simon Fraser and the Dangers of Wikipedia.

2007-12-14T10:05:00.000-08:00

Simon Fraser was a Canadian Explorer. Simon Fraser was also a Scottish Lord--well several Scottish Lords, including one Jacobite martyr. Coming across the story of the latter a few years ago, I mistook him to be the namesake of the Canadian university in Vancouver. After all, how many guys named Simon Fraser could there be? Apparently lots.

Also, there are lots of bodies of water named Leven. Idly, I was reading about the River Clyde today. Among its major tributaries are the Rivers Leven and Kelvin. But apparently there are numerous bodies of water, within and without Scotland, called Leven.

The Aqueduct?

2007-12-11T13:08:00.001-08:00

So, I wrote a memo where I mentioned the Roman empire, roads and aqueducts as an analogy. Clever, I thought. So, in keeping with the post-random-clips-from-youtube theme, here's what inspired it:

Swedish Lullaby

2007-12-10T00:16:00.000-08:00

Here's another story I've told the wrong way before. And another reason for me to fall back in love with Jewel.

At age 17, I crushed on Jewel. I was enamored with her, watching her Hard Rock Live performance on VH1. Each thing I learned about her--born in Payson, grew up in Alaska--made me more smitten. Well, perhaps there were strikes against her--I cannot say that I was enamored with her every word, in her poetry book; or with every song, "Foolish Games". But from "Who will Save Your Soul" and "You were meant for me" I was hers.

I saw her sing Swedish Lullaby and melted. Beautiful. Defying description. At the time, I envisioned her picking up a tune and some Swedish from a grandmother who sang her to sleep.

Then, later I discovered that Jewel wrote the song herself:

This is a song I wrote in Swedish. When I was writing it I didn't know how to say man or woman yet. But I knew how to say wolf and dolphin.--Jewel

And so, an amazing, simple, and beautiful lullaby. In remedial Swedish:

Sov gott, vackra delfin
Sov gott, jag vita varg
Vi har kärlek för varandra
För varandra
För alltid
Sov gott, vackra delfin
Sov gott, jag vita varg
Morgonen vaknar
Då kysser vi
Kysser vi för alltid
Sov gott, för alltid

She had simply decided to up and learn some Swedish--something that speaks to my soul. Find me a girl who just decides to learn Swedish, and I'll surely forgive her for not having a piercing, angelic voice. In fact, I'll overlook a measure of sappiness,* to boot.

Btw. Did you know that Jewel's cousin plays Pocahantas in New World? Tell me there is another Kilcher for me out there.

(*While I think the story about using wolf and dolphin is cute, and that people who just up and learn Swedish are cool, it's a bit sappier than what I'd had in mind when hearing the song.)

10-31-1998

2007-12-08T02:20:00.000-08:00

At the office Christmas party, I found out that my co-worker's husband, who is a really great guy, was at the same Phish concert as I was in Vegas in 1998. At that concert, Phish played as their second set the entire Velvet Underground album "Loaded." Somehow this came up in our conversation tonight. Pretty amazing.

A Day of Days.

2007-12-07T13:34:00.001-08:00

After being told my whole like that I look like Fred Savage, today Fred Savage will find out that he looks like me.

Thoughts from McDonalds and Nihilism

2007-12-05T15:47:00.000-08:00

Just got lunch at McDonalds in the mall and overheard 9-year old: "Let's eat over there by Starbucks it's all ghetto here."

Later, was discussing nihilism, in the wake of No Country for Old Men--which I had said some wrongfully label as nihilistic. That got me to thinking about Nietzsche.

Back in college, I came up with a few shorthand, crude but "existentialism-for-dummies" ways of talking about major philosophers so that I had something to say, in response to question #3 on the getting to know you list:
1. where are you from
2. what are you studying
3. really, what [good] is that?
(I'm not here to defend those shorthand, not necessarilly accurate spiels, the ideas that existentialism is philosophy, or the idea that it is particularly good philosophy. Nonetheless, to continue storytelling,)

At the time, I would accuse Nietzsche of making the following logical blunder.
(1) There is no objective meaning, purpose or truth in life. Or, phrased differently, there is no morality according to which you should live.
(2) Therefore, you should reject morality, become ubermensch and dominate, etc.

The logical blunder being, as I would say, is that he deduced from *there is no "truth" to tell anyone what he should do* that *one should act, think or believe a certain way.* I mean, if there's no point, there's no point, right? How can a "thou shalt" follow from "there are no thou-shalts."

Years later, with most of Nietzsche forgottenl, and with larger, denser clouds accumulating over what I might have once understood of his ideas, I had this epiphany: What if (2), above, is not a conclusion at all? I mean, he states his point--and then exhibits a will to power. (1) There is nothing to believe in! (2) Therefore, "You should do as I say."

That, in turn, made me think of Hans Lottenbach, upon handing out paper assignments: "If you cannot even spell Nietzsche accurately, how accurately do you think the reader will believe you can understand his ideas?"

EDIT: does anyone want an early German copy of Also Sprach Zarathustra?

Nessun Dorma

2007-11-29T22:17:00.000-08:00

Calaf is alone in the moonlit palace gardens. In the distance he hears Turandot's heralds proclaiming her command. His aria begins with an echo of their cry and a reflection on Princess Turandot:
"Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma! Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza, guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore, e di speranza!"
(English translation: "None shall sleep! None shall sleep! Even you, o Princess, in your cold room watch the stars that tremble with love and with hope")
"Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me; il nome mio nessun saprà! No, No! Sulla tua bocca lo dirò quando la luce splenderà!"
(English translation: "But my secret is closed in me; none will know my name! No, no! On your mouth I will say it when the light shines!")
"Just before the climactic end of the aria, a chorus of women is heard singing in the distance: "Il nome suo nessun saprà... E noi dovrem, ahimè, morir, morir!"
(English translation: "No one will know his name... and we must, alas, die, die!")
Calaf, now certain of victory, sings: "Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincerò! Vincerò! Vincerò!" (English translation: "Vanish, o night! Set, stars! Set, stars! At daybreak I shall win! I shall win! I shall win!")

I never learned the words until just now. Two performances, touching for different reasons. Two performers, opposite in all regards. And one amazing piece of music, from an incredible, romantic (in the original sense) opera.

Riddled with Cancer. Hobbled. His face courageous, passionate, even pained at the autumn of his life and skill. His last performance. The emotion in his face is marvelous.

And, one of my favorite triumphant moments. A great story. Also, courageous, but timid and frightened too. His first performance. A different face, certainly.

Amazing. And even more so, now that I understand all the words. Add seeing Turandot near the top of my life's goals.

It also illustrates nicely, compared with American Idol, the difference between the British Hero and the American Hero. Hmm. . . where's my copy of High Fidelity.

Clearly you've never been to Singapore.

2007-11-26T16:08:00.000-08:00

Just when I thought that I'd not be going anywhere for a while. . . I might be headed to Asia for a few months. We'll see. I volunteered.

Other current events: it was a spectacular sports weekend across-the-board. If I'm not on a plane to Southeast Asia before Saturday, I might just go to another football game this Saturday. For thanksgiving, I travelled all the way to Dana Point, with TC and his family. Oh, and I'm reading again: trying to fight through the five or six books on my nighstand.

Mi Mi. Mi Mi Mi. . .

2007-11-07T10:12:00.000-08:00

Dance your cares away
Worry's for another day
Let the music play. . .

Midway through surfing youtube last night (first, for Johnny Cash, then the Swedish Chef, then Steve Martin banjo-picking) and just after reading a Wikipedia entry on Fraggles, I found inspiration to blog again. About my favorite topic:

A variety is said to be the spice of life, and as my days have been filled with that material, that is the cause why I have thought proper to make this rough outline, that my posterity after me might know what trials and tribulations a roving disposition is calculated to bring upon a person who indulges a thirst for traveling. --Addison Pratt

So begins the Journals of Addison Pratt. And, being "posterity", possessing "a roving disposition" and frequently indulging " a thirst for traveling", I was immediately captivated. Although it may be difficult to be any less captivating than my first foray into the blogosphere, this re-launch, strictly speaking, is pointless. It may be useful. As an avocation. An outlet perhaps. But really, I'm not aiming for anything in particular. There is no point.

Addison wrote the above foreword to a lifetime's attempt at journal-keeping while under house arrest in the South Seas. Someday I may also assess the themes of my life, arrange them, or decide what, from those themes I can determine is calculated to happen to others and frame my musings accordingly. For now, I aim at nothing. So don't expect much.

At most, this new blog will be a rough outline of my travels and perhaps the trials and tribulations my roving disposition and thirst for traveling bring about. At least, it will be a voyage into idleness and irreverance. Beyond travelogs and far-off photographs, there will surely be some Mother Hips. Buffalo Creek. Cormac McCarthy. Letters. Languages. Comedy. Sports. Maybe even the odd head-nod to Fraggle Rock. But nothing heady: not much philosophy, law or religion.

In the name of Idleness and Irreverance, then, let me kick this off with the Swedish Chef, and a distant memory of meatballs and lingeberries in Malmo with Lil' Brudda: