This is a recycled post, or re-post, from my Family Photographs blog. Enjoy.
The sun did not shine It was too wet to play So we sat in the house All that cold, cold, wet day.*
So, today I got to play Cat in the Hat to my kids. Kath has a terrible head cold (not Swine Flu, guys). The kids had no school, so I boogied home in the afternoon to get those kids out of the house. It was "be a tourist in your own town" time, and I took the kids to The Small Mall.
The Small Mall is filled with lots of junk. Old gasoline pumps, model airplanes, real airplanes, a helicopter, British phone boxes (2), neon signs, circus displays, ship models, carnival rides, Star Wars memorabilia, and all manner of curiosities. The main attraction for the kids was picture taking. Between Owen, Julia and me, we took 103 pictures. You can see them in the slide show below. What a great thing about digital photography. [Double click on the slide show to see it in a new window, or just watch the small pictures right on this page.]
I have to go back to work this evening for the Honors Program reception, but it was cool to bust out and play with the kids. Julia did not want to go with us (that's putting it mildly--she had a major fit!). But as you can see from the photos, we had a fun time.
For free!
*The epigraph, it should go without saying, is the opening stanza of The Cat in the Hat.
Okay, so this is me in middle school, probably circa 1981-82. I am wearing a purple Boulan Broncos jacket, a camouflage Marines utility cap, and riding my beloved Redline MX-III BMX bike. It had gold Araya rims, Oakley grips, Shimano componentry. I'm doing an endo here in the street. This was a 35mm slide--converted it here at work.
Now, that's a good title for something: "With Apologies to Chelsea."
This is the analog mix, inspired by my adolescent obsession with cassette tapes, records, radio and record stores. So one of the things Joshua and I have talked about is that mix tapes rarely come back to you--they are gifted out and you hardly ever see them again. I've often thought, however, that someone sees them again. Enter the mix tape I will write about now: "My Girl Chelsea."
I just returned from cleaning out my mom's condo. She let a young woman named Chelsea live there for a while, and she left a wooden box of cassette tapes. Checked with Mom's boyfriend, and Chelsea is long, long gone. Never coming back. No way to get her these tapes. This mix was a birthday present dated Feb. 3, 2000. We can guess this was a present from her friend "A----," who signed rather than spelled his/her name.
"My Girl Chelsea--[star] 24"
Side A: Country/Blues
Leadbelly / Nobody Better Than Us
Bob Dylan / Oxford Town
Beau Jocque / Don't Tell Your Mama, Don't Tell Your Papa
Lou Ann Barton / Shake Your Hips
Billy Joe Sharer / Georgia on a Fast Train
Bobby Blue Bland / Turn On Your Love Light
Dusty Springfield / Breakfast In Bed
Mark O'Connor, YoYo Ma, and Edgar Meyer / Chief Sitting in the Rain
Geechie Wiley / Last Kind Words Blues
Townes Van Zandt / Ain't Leaving Your Love
Ike Turner / Matchbox
D.L. Menard / The Back Door
Dorothy Love Coates / 99 and 1/2
Terry Binion / Locomotive
Nina Simone / I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl
June Carter Cash / The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore
My Dad sent me a funny video that I'd seen before and I sent him this reply. It was fun to write, and it contains a video, so I post it here again for fun.
Cool. I recall seeing this soon after it came out in 2001--it's from Norwegian Public Television:
It's actually a great reminder that literacy itself is a technology. Reminds me of the introduction to one of my favorite books on literacy, The Limits of Interpretation by Umberto Eco. He quotes at length a passage from 1641 by John Wilkins:
How strange a thing this Art of Writing did seem at its first Invention we may guess by the late discovered Americans, who were amazed to see Men converse with Books, and could scarce make themselves to believe that a paper could speak...
There is a pretty Relation to this Purpose, concerning an Indian Slave; who being sent by his Master with a Basket of Figs and a Letter, did by the Way eat up a great Part of his Carriage, conveying the Remainder unto the Person to whom he was directed; who when he had read the Letter, and not finding the Quantity of Figs answerable to what was spoken of, he accuses the Slave of eating them, telling him what the Letter said against him. But the Indian (notwithstanding this Proof) did confidently abjure the Fact, cursing the Paper, as being a false and lying Witness.
After this, being sent again with the like Carriage, and a Letter expressing the just Number of Figs, that were to be delivered, he did again, according to his former Practice, devour a great Part of them by the Way; but before meddled with any, (to prevent all following Accusations) he first took the Letter, and hid that under a great Stone, assuring himself, that if it did not see him eating the Figs, it could never tell of him; but being now more strongly accused than before, he confesses the Fault, admiring the Divinity of the Paper, and for the future does promise his best Fidelity in every Employment.
Eco goes on to complicate the "Basket of Figs" story in a dizzying array of complex linguistic scenarios; it's fun to read. I also loved this sentence by Eco written in admiration for the author of this passage: "Bishop Wilkins--despite his adamant belief that the Moon is inhabited--was after all a man of remarkable intellectual stature, who said many things still important for the students of language and of semiosic processes in general."
Back to computers, Eco is also the guy who made the famous (and now outdated) comparison in which he equated Apple Computers with Catholicism while PCs with Protestantism. That's here:
I am shutting down the mix blog for a few days while Kathy and I head down to Hatteras for the marathon session of going through my Mom's stuff. There are three categories:
Donate to local charity
Dispose in local dumpster
Bring back to Michigan
We will actually be bringing a U-Haul to Flint; that's probably not the normal direction. The return trip is 881 miles, approx. 15 hours. In a 14" U-Haul.
I know it's a bad attitude to have, but this is really going to suck.
Now, tell me that's not the coolest thing you ever heard. The lecture notes, reading lists, and syllabi are posted for all kinds of courses. One of the texts is:
Helmholtz, H. L. F. On the Sensations of Tone. Translated by A. J. Ellis. New York, NY: Dover, 1954. ISBN: 9780486607535.
I recall reading that Wendy Carlos was a fan of this text as a young composer.
Lately I have been doing a lot of writing in my office. Two selections that I return to often have helped quite a bit. I did have some Bach pieces on modern piano that I used (the French and English Suites, the Two and Three Part Inventions, the Goldberg Variations, etc.) but I found them so compelling that I couldn't concentrate. I return to the following:
In addition to being fantastic compositions, these are also masterful performances. I don't think Jarrett's efforts can be overpraised on the Shostakovich recording, but this reviewer comes close:
Repackaged to mark the 100th Anniversary of the birth of Dmitri Shostakovich, this is one of the most important collections of recordings from the Godlike Keith Jarrett collecting Dmitri Shostakovich’s 24 Preludes and Fugues, and is one of the finest meetings of composer and performer I can bring to mind. Shostakovich’s work has been rendered thousands of times, yet nobody quite manages to capture it like Jarrett, transcending the jazz playing he might be better known for and performing these pieces utterly remarkably. Jarrett claims that when he plays Shostakovich it doesn’t feel like he is playing someone else’s music, that’s how close he feels to the source – and this feeling manifests itself totally in the music, giving the pieces subtlety, depth and gravitas. For those of you not unfamiliar with the work of Shostakovich this is about the best starting point you could possibly have – the finest pieces from a great composer, played by one of the most important musicians of our time. Essential.
Jarrett is amazing here, even if the gushing above seems a bit over the top. I've listened to a few other recordings of these pieces, and they are odd, angular, and unconnected by comparison. I suppose one might argue that these Modernist piano compositions could properly be played in a manner that made those three adjectives descriptions of praise. But to hear Jarrett's interpretation is to connect these pieces back to the composer who inspired them--J.S. Bach.
I have grown to love these two recordings as I quietly work on my 100-page document. I walked out of the office so transfixed by the Shostakovich that I was unconsciously humming as I exited the office; got a little chuckle from the work study student in the hall. I need to keep that stuff in my head.
Perhaps I should try writing listening to something like this.
Added some tracks to the Monkey Mix today; the kids love to listen to this thing, and for some reason Julia loves the Dave Bartholomew track that is really the progenitor of the whole thing. The Sly & Robbie track samples that original track, and the kids love to listen for that track. Elvis Costello mentions the song in his track (the kids miss this reference).
I added some covers: The Beatles covering the Chuck Berry track, and Phish covering "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey" by The Beatles, which I can't believe didn't make it on here originally. Also added tracks by Chuck Prophet, Gorillaz, Devandra Banhart. These last few tracks came from the collections of my buddies Greg and Joshua.
Mr. Monkey Suit
Monkey Suit / Plastmatics
Monkey Man / The Specials
Monkey Cage / Felix da Housecat
Monkey Talk / Lene Lovich
Monkey Business / Sly & Robbie
One Monkey Don't Stop No Show / Big Maybelle
One Monkey / Goodie Mob
Monkey To Man / Elvis Costello & The Imposters
Monkey Gone to Heaven / Pixies**
Monkey In Your Soul / Steely Dan
Monkey See-Monkey Do / Michael Franks
Too Much Monkey Business / Chuck Berry
Brass Monkey / Beastie Boys
Bad Monkey / Richard Thompson
Do The Monkey / King Curtis
Shock The Monkey / Don Ho
Brass Monkey (Original) / Wild Sugar
Can Your Monkey Do The Dog? / Rufus Thomas
Mickey's Monkey / Martha Reeves & The Vandellas
Monkey Man / David Byrne**
Monkey Man / Rolling Stones
I Ain't Gonna Be Your Monkey Man / Willie Dixon
What Makes The Monkey Dance / Chuck Prophet
Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey's Head / Gorillaz*
Monkey / Low
Too Much Monkey Business / The Beatles
Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey / Phish
Little Monkey / Devendra Banhart
The Monkey Speaks His Mind / Dave Bartholomew
*yes, that's Dennis Hopper reading the narration. ** Todd's suggestion
I get to go home tomorrow, which makes me exceedingly happy. I've missed 3 days, 5 soccer goals, and 1 lost tooth while here in Chicago. (Let the record show that Julia scored all 5 goals). Last night, Bill and I did drive out to the Double Door to see Backyard Tire Fire. It was fun. But the best music of the night came from DJ Bill, who pumped his iPod into the van stereo and created a perfect soundtrack for driving around Wicker Park in the rain. 13th Floor Elevators, Moldy Peaches, The Flaming Lips, and The Wave Pitchers. At present, I am quite enamoured with The Wave Pitchers.
Today I told Curtis that I like them as much as I liked The Gorky's when I heard them for the first time. That is officially not true now that I've had a moment to reflect. But they are still quite good.
I like Chicago. It's funny, I wrote a good chunk of one chapter of my dissertation at the Swisshotel up the street--sitting at a hotel desk just like I am now.
I find hotels depressing. I always say out loud when I enter a hotel room alone on conference travel: "oh look, a hotel room." I've done that for years and years. Hotels make me feel lonely--especially when I am missing 4 soccer games!
This is the humming song You sing it when you're on your own
I'm also writing on mom's laptop--left mine at home so Kath can study. It's sad to see all the stuff she had set up here. She loved getting online. Her browser still has the customization with cats. Even the "waiting" animation on this laptop has a cat playing with a ball as a page loads. I don't usually listen to music on laptops, but I am listening to my mix of the Gorky's. You can listen to it, too:
Conferences also depress me. Man, it sounds like I am some kind of gloomy gus, but it's true. When I get my name tag at a conference, I can see it hanging on my office doorknob 2 years on. I think of nametags past, nametags future. I think of the hundreds of nametags just like mine at this conference, last year's conference, the un-related conferences in the same building directly before and after this one. I think about how meaningful the information is to me--this is genuine. I learn things I will use, things I am genuinely excited to learn. But then I reflect on all the other people doing this, the ongoing nature of it, and how meaningless it all is in the grand scheme of things. Then I go back to my room and try to go to sleep.
I remember my first conference. I was 23 and it was a paper on Chaucer. I still remember the title: "Antifeminist Lyrics and The Nun's Preist's Tale." I had found some anonymous lyric poetry from the middle ages that shared some thematic content with one of Chaucer's Cantebury Tales. All of these passages were diatribes against women--very common in Middle English poetry. It was a nice paper. I was so nervous. I drove down to Indiana and stayed in a hotel. I gave my first conference talk and answered questions. It felt really nice. But the travel aspect, the hotel room, all of that still bummed me out powerfully.
So here I am at the conference center on Wacker Dr. missing my family--my kids and their soccer games and their new puppy. This is the second conference in a couple of weeks. And next week I have to travel down to NC to sort through Mom's stuff.
It's a good thing I like my job so much. I think about how lucky I am--so many people have lost jobs. I work at a great place, and my scenery has always changed. I feel like I make a contribution, the work is interesting, and I'm on a team with good people. How many people can say that? It's cool, because I kind of screwed up at work today, and even that wasn't much of a big deal. A big deal in my head, I suppose, but it quickly died down.
It would really suck to dislike your job. That's something I've only had to deal with a couple of times, and I have to go back to crappy jobs during college.
Listening to this great Gorky's mix! I love this thing. The lyrics that are playing now:
Let Those Blue Skies Gorky's Zygotic Mynci
Let those blue skies roll some more Let her heart sink no more Let the girl dance till the dawn Coz I know her from before
Some people laughing Can't help from crying But I'm through with walking In the wind and the rain
Let the friends come to my door May they never be alone Let our love dance through the dawn Coz I know her from before
Some people laughing Can't help from crying But I'm through with walking In the wind and the rain
And I wonder why I write this blog. Nothing here matters much. That's what it's about, really. But it comes up. A pal mentioned my post about Five Guys. Stupid things. I guess writing is just a way for me to feel better about stuff, to process the meaningless stuff that floats through my brain. So much of what I do during the day is so purposeful and deliberate. This is like the back page of my high school notebook. It's not much different. Draw the logo of your favorite bands. Make a list of stuff you might like to buy. Ask some ill-formed questions about the meaning of life. Jot down your thoughts about how the world works. Then throw it away.
So there you can see what I see. My Mom's customized Firefox; little cats, Nascar, Bank of America, Blue Cross/Blue Shield, local weather in Avon, NC. Currently there is a severe weather alert for Avon. But right now it's clear and 51 degrees. I've got to get away from this laptop.
...that might be the question. Or it's the question of the morning, at least.
I am someone who actively hid from the high school reunion people for 15 years. I am not kidding about this. My view is that I am still in touch with the people I want to continue to know from my past. I've enjoyed having a common first and last name in the Google age: you might as well try to find your old pal Brian Anderson, David Jackson, Scott Richardson, or Robert Stephenson. Good luck!
And don't get me wrong: I make all kinds of online friends and have for years, even before the advent of the web (yeah, that's right... I am online old school). But that online "friending" is centered on thematic shared interests such as banjo playing, International Harvester Scouts, Hammond Organs, delicious new pop music, or vintage stereo equipment. It's not based on, well... my face, which is not exactly my most favoritest attribute.
Pals have encouraged me to do the Facebook thing. You're in charge of who you "friend," they say. (Making the word "friend" a verb really seems to cheapen it, don't you think?). But do I really want to be in a position to say "no." Do I really want to get in touch with old girlfriends? That's what you do when you're newly divorced, going through a mid-life crisis, or just plain up to no good.
So I am torn about this Facebook thing. Now that Kathy's starting a new career, she's going to jump in and Facebook, which makes total sense. I don't mind old high school buddies or old boyfriends finding her (or her finding them for that matter). I'm just not sure if that's a distraction that I want for me right now.
Still, many of my pals love Facebook and get a lot out of it. What's my problem? I don't think Facebook is stupid (I do think Twitter is stupid). I think I might just not have the requisite self esteem to walk out into Facebook, which feels a lot like the middle school gym floor without my hobbies, favorite records, and workplace pretentions to make me feel safe.
Okay, so my boss is not going with me to the conference in Chicago. Most people would think that's cool, but it's kind of a drag because I was looking forward to the extra face time and away-from-the-office bonding. But she's sending my old pal Bill in her place, and that means he and I will need to check out some music after the conference.
One option--on my birthday no less--is the International Pop Overthrow festival. That evening there are these bands:
8 bands between 7:30 and 11:00. That might be cool. Another band that's playing is Backyard Tire Fire. I listened to them as I worked today (alt-country, pretty good).
Well, I took my Ph.D. robes to work because I don't have much closet space here at home. For some silly reason, it makes me happy to see them there in my work closet--a reminder that I really am a faculty member deep down inside somewhere.
Came home and found this old analog snapshot of me and Mom at the Breslin Center after I walked in graduation in 2001. My mom was awesome about stuff like this--she even came to see Diatribe at Rick's American Cafe once! She also liked to send me mail addressed to "Dr. and Mrs. Steven Mylastname." Only, she used my last name instead of Mylastname. That's how her dad and mom liked to get mail (despite the fact that Betty was a physician, too!--she just never practiced). Dr. and Mrs. Owen A. Rice.
I had the robes with me because I don't think they're exactly right. A doctoral gown with black velvet is acceptable, but for a Ph.D. you should have Ph.D. blue velvet. I could also have white piping around the blue velvet to signify a Ph.D. in Arts, Letters and Humanities.
My local K-Mart has a Huffy commuting bike with 700cc wheels for about $250. It's a cheap bike, but that's a great price. Check out a link for the Huffy Magellan 700cc Commuter. Read a few reviews, and it's not that bad. Some poor components, always bad assembly, and the frame is really too small. You could also buy this one at Wal-Mart, but don't do that, okay? I'll stick with my made-in-USA Schwinn for this season.
Because it's getting to be biking season, I'll reprint my 3 rules of the road. I've already spotted someone riding against traffic on Holly Rd. Ugh! Someone's gonna die!
G-Fab's 3 Rules of Bike Commuting
Be Visible. As a rule, motorists don't try to hit cyclists. Your best defense is being seen. This is why you should never ride on the sidewalk or against traffic. Ride in the far right lane in the direction of traffic. Wear light colored clothing. Attach reflectors or lights to your bike. Be seen.
Be Predictable. Motorists on the road should be able to predict what you are going to do. If you are dodging on and off the road in driveways and sidewalks, you are going to get hit. Stay in the road. It truly is the safest place. Use clear hand signals to let cars know what you are going to do. Check your mirror and make an effort to be extra predictable when cars are behind you.
Obey the Rules of the Car. Unless bike travel is prohibited on a road, you have the same rights and responsibilities as a car. That means stop at the red lights and stop signs. That means signal before turning. Most car drivers do not know your rights; some will honk and yell at you. If they are honking and yelling, they see you--this is good. You are much better off making some motorists angry than you would be going undetected.
I think my trusty old "neighborhood bike," purchased in 1990 or so, will work fine. I might want to add a chain guard like this one. I could also use a better pair of handlebars.
Mundane, uninteresting, and unremarkable. Some of it is just plain weird. Hopefully nothing here will be judged embarrassing, offensive, or objectionable. Mostly it's the equivalent of digital doodling, a throwaway journal, a cyberjunk drawer. While a few friends check in from time to time, I mostly blog here to amuse myself and keep words flowing out the ends of my fingers. It's a process thing.
Regular readers (all three of you) have noticed the dramatic increase in running content here. In an effort to keep this contained, I have created Steve's Running Blog. If you're not reading about running here, know that I am still at it.
Oh, and you'll hear some really good music here if you listen for it.
My Online Mixes
Click on the album art below to listen to one of my online mixes. Read descriptions here.
I blog about music and hobbies and whatever happens to be going on at the moment. I don't use my real name here at the suggestion of the EFF. I mean, you know what happens to people who use their real names in blogs, right? Their kids are abducted and murdered, they get fired from their jobs... you see stories about them on CNN. But you know who I am, don't you?
