time pressure...
I kinda feel like writing, but I do NOT have the time. Seriously NOT. It’s just now hitting me that I leave for this conference TOMORROW, and I have to be ready to go straight from work after class. Which means I need to print out teacher handouts and crap. Which means I need to FINISH teacher handouts and crap.
Maybe tonight.
D.
Tuesday, March 30
completely demoralizing...
The wife is having a playdate, so I came to the library to grade my Astronomy midterms. How fucking depressing. I just graded one that was LESS THAN 50%. For fuck’s sake. My 5 year old daughter could probably get a 50% on this test. I know the class is early and the lectures are LONG, people, but... fuck. Wake the hell up.
d.
The wife is having a playdate, so I came to the library to grade my Astronomy midterms. How fucking depressing. I just graded one that was LESS THAN 50%. For fuck’s sake. My 5 year old daughter could probably get a 50% on this test. I know the class is early and the lectures are LONG, people, but... fuck. Wake the hell up.
d.
Monday, March 29
*ping*...
High point of my day today? I bought a tuning fork. Yup, you heard me – a tuning fork... of my very own. I was teaching about the physics of sound today, and the lab didn’t have any, so I walked down to the Guitar Center and bought one. It makes me very happy. “Ping”!!
I also bought a Kayser brand capo, because I can’t find my Shubb. This will mean nothing to you unless you are a guitarist, and maybe not even then. But I always wanted a Kayser capo, and never could justify the expense. I looked at them today and they were $15.99, and I thought - ”Were they ALWAYS $15.99? Or was there just a point in my life when$15.99 seemed like an extravagant expenditure?” I expect the latter. Anyway, I bought one.
*** ** *** ** ***
My wife and I are going “out” tonight, I think. I don’t know where. It doesn’t really matter, y’know? Her Mom is in town for the week – mainly to help her with the kids while I’m away in Atlanta for the weekend. We may go to dinner. At a restaurant. With just the two of us. With no coloring books. And no high chair. And nobody mooching Pepsi and french fries every 5 seconds. And nobody who needs to be hand-fed anything. Get the picture?
Or maybe a movie. You know... in a theatre. Not in the basement. On DVD. From Blockbuster. Getting interrupted every 25 minutes by somebody crying. An honest-to-goodness “first run” movie that we haven’t already read the ending of in some review somewhere. Imagine that!! And the babysitting is FREE, so the movie won’t cost us 60 fucking dollars.
*** ** *** ** ***
Even though she’s still breastfeeding. my wife recently got her period back. Yeah. It’s been a long time... figure, the kid is 15 months old, plus 9 months before that... that’s two years!! I had almost forgotten all about them and their accompanying... you know... “symptoms”, if you know what I mean. My wife was on some tirade about something a couple of days ago, and I finally just said – “Jesus, it’s been a while, will you please remind me how long these things LAST again??”
And then there is the impact on the whole sex thing. I mean... it was infrequent enough without crossing off 6 days out of every 28. The opportunity, plus the desire, plus the energy only come together for both of us once every 4-6 weeks or so. And now there is a 21% chance that they’ll line up during the wrong week? For fuck’s sake... by the time all those planets are in alignment again... who knows?? This latest box of a dozen condoms is gonna last us until Halley’s Comet comes back.
D.
High point of my day today? I bought a tuning fork. Yup, you heard me – a tuning fork... of my very own. I was teaching about the physics of sound today, and the lab didn’t have any, so I walked down to the Guitar Center and bought one. It makes me very happy. “Ping”!!
I also bought a Kayser brand capo, because I can’t find my Shubb. This will mean nothing to you unless you are a guitarist, and maybe not even then. But I always wanted a Kayser capo, and never could justify the expense. I looked at them today and they were $15.99, and I thought - ”Were they ALWAYS $15.99? Or was there just a point in my life when$15.99 seemed like an extravagant expenditure?” I expect the latter. Anyway, I bought one.
My wife and I are going “out” tonight, I think. I don’t know where. It doesn’t really matter, y’know? Her Mom is in town for the week – mainly to help her with the kids while I’m away in Atlanta for the weekend. We may go to dinner. At a restaurant. With just the two of us. With no coloring books. And no high chair. And nobody mooching Pepsi and french fries every 5 seconds. And nobody who needs to be hand-fed anything. Get the picture?
Or maybe a movie. You know... in a theatre. Not in the basement. On DVD. From Blockbuster. Getting interrupted every 25 minutes by somebody crying. An honest-to-goodness “first run” movie that we haven’t already read the ending of in some review somewhere. Imagine that!! And the babysitting is FREE, so the movie won’t cost us 60 fucking dollars.
Even though she’s still breastfeeding. my wife recently got her period back. Yeah. It’s been a long time... figure, the kid is 15 months old, plus 9 months before that... that’s two years!! I had almost forgotten all about them and their accompanying... you know... “symptoms”, if you know what I mean. My wife was on some tirade about something a couple of days ago, and I finally just said – “Jesus, it’s been a while, will you please remind me how long these things LAST again??”
And then there is the impact on the whole sex thing. I mean... it was infrequent enough without crossing off 6 days out of every 28. The opportunity, plus the desire, plus the energy only come together for both of us once every 4-6 weeks or so. And now there is a 21% chance that they’ll line up during the wrong week? For fuck’s sake... by the time all those planets are in alignment again... who knows?? This latest box of a dozen condoms is gonna last us until Halley’s Comet comes back.
D.
infinite trombonists...
I have way too many Big Projects going on right now... the play, my conference presentation, a big PowerPoint for my class Monday... and they are all competing for space in my calendar and in my head. I just jump from one to another, with no regard to which is the most urgent. Finally on Sunday I turned my full attention to the Monday physics lecture. I’m in the unenviable position of having to teach a concept this week that I’ve never fully understood... Planck’s explanation of blackbody radiation and the resulting quantization scheme that led to the birth of Quantum Mechanics. I don’t know what it is. All the other early quantum stuff I have no problem with. Einstein’s photoelectric effect... Bohr’s atomic orbitals.... but Planck? I dunno. And I think it’s just because I’ve never actually TAUGHT this topic, so I haven’t been forced to either boil down the mathematics to something accessible, or the alternative... come up with an easily digestible analogy. Well, After checking out the math for the first time in probably a decade, I decided THAT wasn’t an option. So I started poring over websites and books, trying to understand this stuff on a level that would allow me to explain it to non-science students. I think I came up with an analogy. It’s called ”An Infinite Number of Trombonists”. Don’t even ask. This is going to be a horrible lecture!!
But I do need to get to work on it. It’s not finished. T-minus two hours, Monday morning.
D.
I have way too many Big Projects going on right now... the play, my conference presentation, a big PowerPoint for my class Monday... and they are all competing for space in my calendar and in my head. I just jump from one to another, with no regard to which is the most urgent. Finally on Sunday I turned my full attention to the Monday physics lecture. I’m in the unenviable position of having to teach a concept this week that I’ve never fully understood... Planck’s explanation of blackbody radiation and the resulting quantization scheme that led to the birth of Quantum Mechanics. I don’t know what it is. All the other early quantum stuff I have no problem with. Einstein’s photoelectric effect... Bohr’s atomic orbitals.... but Planck? I dunno. And I think it’s just because I’ve never actually TAUGHT this topic, so I haven’t been forced to either boil down the mathematics to something accessible, or the alternative... come up with an easily digestible analogy. Well, After checking out the math for the first time in probably a decade, I decided THAT wasn’t an option. So I started poring over websites and books, trying to understand this stuff on a level that would allow me to explain it to non-science students. I think I came up with an analogy. It’s called ”An Infinite Number of Trombonists”. Don’t even ask. This is going to be a horrible lecture!!
But I do need to get to work on it. It’s not finished. T-minus two hours, Monday morning.
D.
Sunday, March 28
smoke signals II...
And the thing is... having spent $5 on these Camels, I feel obliged to smoke them all, which is gonna take forever. Cuz pretty much the only place I can smoke them is in my car, and even then I have to worry about my wife smelling them on me. (She’s a smeller... big time.) Jeez, I had to sneak around less when I was 13. At least then, both my parents smoked... I could smoke up a storm right there in the house and nobody would have noticed. Now, as an “adult” I have to be all sneaky. I can’t even smoke them in public, for fear that I may start coughing and look like a big dork.
It’s all very silly.
D.
And the thing is... having spent $5 on these Camels, I feel obliged to smoke them all, which is gonna take forever. Cuz pretty much the only place I can smoke them is in my car, and even then I have to worry about my wife smelling them on me. (She’s a smeller... big time.) Jeez, I had to sneak around less when I was 13. At least then, both my parents smoked... I could smoke up a storm right there in the house and nobody would have noticed. Now, as an “adult” I have to be all sneaky. I can’t even smoke them in public, for fear that I may start coughing and look like a big dork.
It’s all very silly.
D.
Saturday, March 27
smoke signals...
I fell prey to Evil Tobacco Conglomerate advertising the other day and stopped by the nearby Indian Reservation (**) to buy a pack or two of the new Camel “Exotic Blends” flavored cigarettes. And no... for those of you keeping score, I do NOT actually smoke. I mean I havesmoked... but not... you know... “professionally”. But for some strange reason I find myself wanting to from time to time, and the idea of a Mandarin Orange flavored cigarette was just too tempting to pass up.
It was kind of a waste of money.
Actually, they taste really good if you just breathe through them without lighting them... kinda orangey and minty and the same time. But then once you light it, it just tastes like – surprise - cigarette smoke! Bleah. And then in between drags sometimes you taste the flavor in the background, but it doesn’t contribute nearly enough to the experience. All in all... a big disappointment.
D.
(**)PS: I had never set foot on this reservation, even though it is less than 2 miles from my house. The whole thing is maybe a square mile, and yet the second you set foot on it... you IMMEDIATELY know you are on a Res... smoke shops and run-down trailers... it’s so freaking depressing.
I fell prey to Evil Tobacco Conglomerate advertising the other day and stopped by the nearby Indian Reservation (**) to buy a pack or two of the new Camel “Exotic Blends” flavored cigarettes. And no... for those of you keeping score, I do NOT actually smoke. I mean I havesmoked... but not... you know... “professionally”. But for some strange reason I find myself wanting to from time to time, and the idea of a Mandarin Orange flavored cigarette was just too tempting to pass up.
It was kind of a waste of money.
Actually, they taste really good if you just breathe through them without lighting them... kinda orangey and minty and the same time. But then once you light it, it just tastes like – surprise - cigarette smoke! Bleah. And then in between drags sometimes you taste the flavor in the background, but it doesn’t contribute nearly enough to the experience. All in all... a big disappointment.
D.
(**)PS: I had never set foot on this reservation, even though it is less than 2 miles from my house. The whole thing is maybe a square mile, and yet the second you set foot on it... you IMMEDIATELY know you are on a Res... smoke shops and run-down trailers... it’s so freaking depressing.
Friday, March 26
no such thing as too many books...
Today, tomorrow, and Sunday are “Educator Appreciation Days” at Borders – which means free tea and coffee, 40% off stale pastries, and 25% off all books. Very... very... very dangerous. My wife and I went this morning and spent $250 on books. That’s AFTER the 25% off! Granted, $100 of it was for the three-volume , hardcover “Feynman Lectures on Physics”, which I’ve wanted FOREVER... but still... thems a lotta books. Worse still... I stopped by again in the afternoon when I went to pick up my daughter and bought two more!
Bibliophilia is a terrible disease.
Nothing else is going on in my life. I swear.
D.
Today, tomorrow, and Sunday are “Educator Appreciation Days” at Borders – which means free tea and coffee, 40% off stale pastries, and 25% off all books. Very... very... very dangerous. My wife and I went this morning and spent $250 on books. That’s AFTER the 25% off! Granted, $100 of it was for the three-volume , hardcover “Feynman Lectures on Physics”, which I’ve wanted FOREVER... but still... thems a lotta books. Worse still... I stopped by again in the afternoon when I went to pick up my daughter and bought two more!
Bibliophilia is a terrible disease.
Nothing else is going on in my life. I swear.
D.
photos...
Just because I don’t really have time to properly write this morning, I posted four new pix on my photoblog site. Nothing terribly exciting.... NYC street snapshots taken a month or so ago.
d.
Just because I don’t really have time to properly write this morning, I posted four new pix on my photoblog site. Nothing terribly exciting.... NYC street snapshots taken a month or so ago.
d.
Thursday, March 25
day and nite in the city...
The play was quite good. The acting was quite, quite good. Too good to be stuck in some 80 seat theatre on the Upper East Side. That was weird. The theatre was the size of my living room... the stage the size of my kitchen. I couldn’t help but think – God, how weird must it be to stand up there and act in front of only 50, 60 people?? It’s just too weirdly... close. But then I realized... well... how many gigs have I played in bars and coffee houses in front of HALF as many people? Was it weird? No... it was terribly fun and exciting and I gave the performance everything I had, just like these 4 guys did. It’s just a different mode of expression that I’m not used to, I guess.
Anyway, it was really the first time I’d seen any of this guy’s plays. You’d think I’d have checked that out before I asked him to collaborate with me, wouldn’t you? Imagine if it had sucked! Luckily it didn’t. Even though the subject matter couldn’t be more different than OUR play, it kind of helped me get a sense of what ours might “sound” like when it is finished. His dialogue is very... what Aaron Sorkin would call “crackling”. I’m not gonna claim that he’s in anywhere near the same league as Aaron Sorkin, but... it’s in that vein.
The earlier part of the day was 50% productive, 50% relaxing. I worked on the train... got into the city... headed to my office... printed some stuff out... made some copies... grabbed my Copernicus book... went to lunch... ate curry chicken and took notes... went back to my office... grabbed my computer... walked down to the SoHo Apple store... shopped for iPOd accessories... played with the Macs... walked down Mercer Street... felt very unhip in the way that only SoHo can make one feel... stopped by “Toys in Babeland” for some early anniversary shopping... played with the vibrators... marveled at the one with the LCD screen, not to mention the “twisty” ones... got a call on the cell from the wife... our daughter has taught herself multiplication... walked aaaaaallll the way up to 14th St. to catch the subway.... took the #6 up to Lexington and 86th... walked down to 80th and waaaaaaaay the fuck east to the theatre. And then... well, I already told you about the play. After the play I chatted with my collaborator and met a bunch of weird theatre people, including the “producer” who was about what I expected. It was a long way to go for a 3 minute chat, but...eh... whatever. Maybe some day MY play will be performed in a living room sized theatre in front of 60 people!
The only other interesting thing that happened was that I took a cab from the Upper East Side down to Penn Station and got a Japanese cab driver with Tourette’s Syndrome. Yeah. Lucky me. Riding in a NYC cab is bad enough normally without a cabbie who periodically goes... hoo-WAH! a-HYOOK! (**) for no apparent reason. Freaky! But I got to the station in time to make the 10:29, which is good. I expected to have to catch the next train, which would have mean getting home at 2:30 AM. As it is, I’ll get in at 12:30. Big difference!
So... that was my day. Now I’m gonna try to have another productive hour on the train before I crash.
d.
(**) Try to imagine that with a Japanese accent. It doesn’t really do it justice. I seriously considered pulling out my iPod and plugging in the voice recorder that I use to tape my lectures, recording the Tourette’s Cabbie, and then uploading the audio file here. But those are the kinds of clever things I never actually follow through on.
The play was quite good. The acting was quite, quite good. Too good to be stuck in some 80 seat theatre on the Upper East Side. That was weird. The theatre was the size of my living room... the stage the size of my kitchen. I couldn’t help but think – God, how weird must it be to stand up there and act in front of only 50, 60 people?? It’s just too weirdly... close. But then I realized... well... how many gigs have I played in bars and coffee houses in front of HALF as many people? Was it weird? No... it was terribly fun and exciting and I gave the performance everything I had, just like these 4 guys did. It’s just a different mode of expression that I’m not used to, I guess.
Anyway, it was really the first time I’d seen any of this guy’s plays. You’d think I’d have checked that out before I asked him to collaborate with me, wouldn’t you? Imagine if it had sucked! Luckily it didn’t. Even though the subject matter couldn’t be more different than OUR play, it kind of helped me get a sense of what ours might “sound” like when it is finished. His dialogue is very... what Aaron Sorkin would call “crackling”. I’m not gonna claim that he’s in anywhere near the same league as Aaron Sorkin, but... it’s in that vein.
The earlier part of the day was 50% productive, 50% relaxing. I worked on the train... got into the city... headed to my office... printed some stuff out... made some copies... grabbed my Copernicus book... went to lunch... ate curry chicken and took notes... went back to my office... grabbed my computer... walked down to the SoHo Apple store... shopped for iPOd accessories... played with the Macs... walked down Mercer Street... felt very unhip in the way that only SoHo can make one feel... stopped by “Toys in Babeland” for some early anniversary shopping... played with the vibrators... marveled at the one with the LCD screen, not to mention the “twisty” ones... got a call on the cell from the wife... our daughter has taught herself multiplication... walked aaaaaallll the way up to 14th St. to catch the subway.... took the #6 up to Lexington and 86th... walked down to 80th and waaaaaaaay the fuck east to the theatre. And then... well, I already told you about the play. After the play I chatted with my collaborator and met a bunch of weird theatre people, including the “producer” who was about what I expected. It was a long way to go for a 3 minute chat, but...eh... whatever. Maybe some day MY play will be performed in a living room sized theatre in front of 60 people!
The only other interesting thing that happened was that I took a cab from the Upper East Side down to Penn Station and got a Japanese cab driver with Tourette’s Syndrome. Yeah. Lucky me. Riding in a NYC cab is bad enough normally without a cabbie who periodically goes... hoo-WAH! a-HYOOK! (**) for no apparent reason. Freaky! But I got to the station in time to make the 10:29, which is good. I expected to have to catch the next train, which would have mean getting home at 2:30 AM. As it is, I’ll get in at 12:30. Big difference!
So... that was my day. Now I’m gonna try to have another productive hour on the train before I crash.
d.
(**) Try to imagine that with a Japanese accent. It doesn’t really do it justice. I seriously considered pulling out my iPod and plugging in the voice recorder that I use to tape my lectures, recording the Tourette’s Cabbie, and then uploading the audio file here. But those are the kinds of clever things I never actually follow through on.
Wednesday, March 24
membuka disk....
I did something the other day that I’ve been meaning to do for three years, and have never put any serious effort into, which is to wade through the on-screen setup menus of our DVD player to get the language of the menus changed to ENGLISH. Because for three years, every time you put a DVD into the machine it will say on the screen - membuka disk! And then there are two choices that say ”bata” and ”tajuk”. What the hell? Is that Klingon or what? Vulcan, maybe. Bata! Tajuk! T’Pau! Ponn Farr!
Anyway, turns out it was Malaysian, but one can only discover that by wading through dozens of on screen menus that are in... you guessed it Malaysian. But I did , and it’s fixed. And now... wouldn’t you know... I kinda miss the Malaysian.
“Reading Disk” just doesn’t quite have the same flair as “Membuka Disk”!
D.
I did something the other day that I’ve been meaning to do for three years, and have never put any serious effort into, which is to wade through the on-screen setup menus of our DVD player to get the language of the menus changed to ENGLISH. Because for three years, every time you put a DVD into the machine it will say on the screen - membuka disk! And then there are two choices that say ”bata” and ”tajuk”. What the hell? Is that Klingon or what? Vulcan, maybe. Bata! Tajuk! T’Pau! Ponn Farr!
Anyway, turns out it was Malaysian, but one can only discover that by wading through dozens of on screen menus that are in... you guessed it Malaysian. But I did , and it’s fixed. And now... wouldn’t you know... I kinda miss the Malaysian.
“Reading Disk” just doesn’t quite have the same flair as “Membuka Disk”!
D.
aaaaahhhh....
The train. I’ve realized that my threshold of “vacation” is exactly FIVE days before I start to really, really start to feel the absence of me time. That was yesterday. And thankfully I had plans in the city today, so I took my daughter to preschool, spent a couple of hours shopping with my son, went home, and hopped on a 1:00 train to Manhattan. Granted, my “plans in the city” don’t actually happen until 8:00 PM, but I used the excuse of “work-to-do” to buy me a free afternoon and evening alone today. And it’s true – I do have work to do. I have this trip to Atlanta in a week to deliver a presentation that I’ve barely worked on. And then I have this whole play thing. And I start back to teaching on Monday... new topics in all my classes, none of which I’ve really prepared for. So. Work.
Not that I won’t probably fit a shopping trip in there before 8:00 also.
At 8:00 I’m going to see a play written by my collaborator that is being performed off-off-broadway, as they say. It’s only a one week run, so this was the only chance I had. Then after the play, he and I are going to meet with a producer who is interested in discussing our science play. Yeah. So. I’m meeting with a producer tonight. I can’t really say that without laughing.
D.
The train. I’ve realized that my threshold of “vacation” is exactly FIVE days before I start to really, really start to feel the absence of me time. That was yesterday. And thankfully I had plans in the city today, so I took my daughter to preschool, spent a couple of hours shopping with my son, went home, and hopped on a 1:00 train to Manhattan. Granted, my “plans in the city” don’t actually happen until 8:00 PM, but I used the excuse of “work-to-do” to buy me a free afternoon and evening alone today. And it’s true – I do have work to do. I have this trip to Atlanta in a week to deliver a presentation that I’ve barely worked on. And then I have this whole play thing. And I start back to teaching on Monday... new topics in all my classes, none of which I’ve really prepared for. So. Work.
Not that I won’t probably fit a shopping trip in there before 8:00 also.
At 8:00 I’m going to see a play written by my collaborator that is being performed off-off-broadway, as they say. It’s only a one week run, so this was the only chance I had. Then after the play, he and I are going to meet with a producer who is interested in discussing our science play. Yeah. So. I’m meeting with a producer tonight. I can’t really say that without laughing.
D.
Tuesday, March 23
"a yo-yo...?!"
It is my wife's opinion that the voice of former UN Chief Weapons Inspector Hans Blix is indistinguishable from that of notorious Christmas-hater and arch-enemy of the young Kris Kringle, Burgermeister Meisterburger.
I'm not sure I agree, but it's always made listening to NPR a lot more fun.
D.
It is my wife's opinion that the voice of former UN Chief Weapons Inspector Hans Blix is indistinguishable from that of notorious Christmas-hater and arch-enemy of the young Kris Kringle, Burgermeister Meisterburger.
I'm not sure I agree, but it's always made listening to NPR a lot more fun.
D.
Monday, March 22
for sale...?
Apparently our realtor-to-be has been "talking up" our house around the office. A mortgage person got wind of it and passed it off to a client. The woman asked for the address so she could "drive by" and see the house... which she did, but she couldn't resist the temptation and apologetically knocked on the door and asked to peek inside.
A few hours later we got a call from our realtor-to-be saying... "Yeah, I need your permission to put your house on the market, like NOW... in 30 minutes, because I can't talk to this woman about it until it is officially listed."
We may sell our house without ever running an ad or posting a "For Sale" sign.
Wish us luck.
D.
Apparently our realtor-to-be has been "talking up" our house around the office. A mortgage person got wind of it and passed it off to a client. The woman asked for the address so she could "drive by" and see the house... which she did, but she couldn't resist the temptation and apologetically knocked on the door and asked to peek inside.
A few hours later we got a call from our realtor-to-be saying... "Yeah, I need your permission to put your house on the market, like NOW... in 30 minutes, because I can't talk to this woman about it until it is officially listed."
We may sell our house without ever running an ad or posting a "For Sale" sign.
Wish us luck.
D.
mysteries of home ownership...
Cleaning out the basement "workshop" and "storage room" this morning while the wife is out. This kind of activity - the wholesale throwing-away of 6 years of accumulated debris - brings with it a peculiar kind of satisfaction... but it also raises deep and perplexing questions, such as...
Why the fuck did we "SAVE" a broken microwave, a dead vacuum cleaner, and the bits and pieces of an old desk that the movers busted when we moved here SIX YEARS AGO???
We may never know the answers to questions like these, but it's important to ask them in an effort to avoid repeating these kinds of irrational behaviors in the future.
Also... if you've never owned a house, you have NO IDEA how many half-empty cans of paint one can accumulate in 5 or 6 years. It's truly stunning.
Ok... back to work.
d.
Cleaning out the basement "workshop" and "storage room" this morning while the wife is out. This kind of activity - the wholesale throwing-away of 6 years of accumulated debris - brings with it a peculiar kind of satisfaction... but it also raises deep and perplexing questions, such as...
Why the fuck did we "SAVE" a broken microwave, a dead vacuum cleaner, and the bits and pieces of an old desk that the movers busted when we moved here SIX YEARS AGO???
We may never know the answers to questions like these, but it's important to ask them in an effort to avoid repeating these kinds of irrational behaviors in the future.
Also... if you've never owned a house, you have NO IDEA how many half-empty cans of paint one can accumulate in 5 or 6 years. It's truly stunning.
Ok... back to work.
d.
Sunday, March 21
sunday...
The contractor spend the day hammering away on our front porch, replacing the siding and repairing the rest of the damage from last week’s fire. He almost finished, but not quite. He did it all for $575 + $180 or so for a new storm door and some other materials we bought ourselves. We expect the insurance company to pay out $1500 or so, less a $500 deductible, so we may come out a tiny bit ahead.
Did some boxing up and throwing out in my studio today. Old gutted Macs... into the trash. Old synthesizer with 1 out of 5 keys that don’t work... trash. Old cassette tapes... trash. Old entertainment center and old computer desk... trash.
That’s really about it. This week is Spring Break, so I’ve made two lists of things I need to do... one list of “work” stuff and one list of “home” stuff. One thing that will probably NOT get done much this week is weblog posting. Sorry kids, but no train rides, no web posts.
Maybe some short ones.
D.
The contractor spend the day hammering away on our front porch, replacing the siding and repairing the rest of the damage from last week’s fire. He almost finished, but not quite. He did it all for $575 + $180 or so for a new storm door and some other materials we bought ourselves. We expect the insurance company to pay out $1500 or so, less a $500 deductible, so we may come out a tiny bit ahead.
Did some boxing up and throwing out in my studio today. Old gutted Macs... into the trash. Old synthesizer with 1 out of 5 keys that don’t work... trash. Old cassette tapes... trash. Old entertainment center and old computer desk... trash.
That’s really about it. This week is Spring Break, so I’ve made two lists of things I need to do... one list of “work” stuff and one list of “home” stuff. One thing that will probably NOT get done much this week is weblog posting. Sorry kids, but no train rides, no web posts.
Maybe some short ones.
D.
Saturday, March 20
disturbing personality disorder quiz results...
Paranoid - 30%
Schizoid - 90%
Schizotypal - 30%
Antisocial - 22%
Borderline - 54%
Histrionic - 38%
Narcissistic - 38%
Avoidant - 54%
Dependent - 18%
Obsessive-Compulsive - 62%
explanation: Schizoid Personality Disorder - individual generally detached from social relationships, and shows a narrow range of emotional expression in various social settings.
Yow! I never knew there was a name for it. I thought I was just crabby.
D.
Paranoid - 30%
Schizoid - 90%
Schizotypal - 30%
Antisocial - 22%
Borderline - 54%
Histrionic - 38%
Narcissistic - 38%
Avoidant - 54%
Dependent - 18%
Obsessive-Compulsive - 62%
explanation: Schizoid Personality Disorder - individual generally detached from social relationships, and shows a narrow range of emotional expression in various social settings.
Yow! I never knew there was a name for it. I thought I was just crabby.
D.
survivuh...
Survivor moment of the week... the interviews with Amber and “Boston” Rob about their budding Castaway SnogFest. Cut over video of them in various states of canoodlage are the following tidbits of commentary...
Amber: ”I never thought I would ever have real feelings for someone in this game, but Rob keeps me warm at night, and I just feel so SAFE with him, and it’s really rare to feel safe in this game, and I feel so secure with Rob, and so yeah, there are definitely feelings there... (glow, glow, glow... weep, weep, weep.)”
cut to parallel interview with Rob...
Rob: Ambuh’s ass is smokin’
Oh, Amber... you poor girl.
D.
Survivor moment of the week... the interviews with Amber and “Boston” Rob about their budding Castaway SnogFest. Cut over video of them in various states of canoodlage are the following tidbits of commentary...
Amber: ”I never thought I would ever have real feelings for someone in this game, but Rob keeps me warm at night, and I just feel so SAFE with him, and it’s really rare to feel safe in this game, and I feel so secure with Rob, and so yeah, there are definitely feelings there... (glow, glow, glow... weep, weep, weep.)”
cut to parallel interview with Rob...
Rob: Ambuh’s ass is smokin’
Oh, Amber... you poor girl.
D.
Friday, March 19
double down...
One ray of light in the midst of all the crap going on with the house. We had a realtor come by yesterday to talk about putting the house on the market. Last year when we were thinking of moving to NJ, we figured we could get about $190 - $200k for our house. Since then, it was looking more like $205 - $215. Well this guy proceeds to show us a stack of 35 year-old, one-story, shithole SHACKS in our neighborhood that are selling for $210. He’s recommending that we list our house for $225,000!
Wow... really? Because here’s the thing... we bought this house 6 years ago for $112,000. Check the numbers, folks... that’s DOUBLE the value in 6 years. That’s just crazy. I’m not sure I understand why ANYBODY lives here at ALL! Property values are totally out of control. Not that I’m complaining. If we get our asking price, that means we’ll be selling this house for MORE than we’re buying the Alabama house for... which, mind you, is newer, bigger, and nicer.
I probably sound really gloaty and obnoxious. But really... I don’t care.
$225,000!
D.
One ray of light in the midst of all the crap going on with the house. We had a realtor come by yesterday to talk about putting the house on the market. Last year when we were thinking of moving to NJ, we figured we could get about $190 - $200k for our house. Since then, it was looking more like $205 - $215. Well this guy proceeds to show us a stack of 35 year-old, one-story, shithole SHACKS in our neighborhood that are selling for $210. He’s recommending that we list our house for $225,000!
Wow... really? Because here’s the thing... we bought this house 6 years ago for $112,000. Check the numbers, folks... that’s DOUBLE the value in 6 years. That’s just crazy. I’m not sure I understand why ANYBODY lives here at ALL! Property values are totally out of control. Not that I’m complaining. If we get our asking price, that means we’ll be selling this house for MORE than we’re buying the Alabama house for... which, mind you, is newer, bigger, and nicer.
I probably sound really gloaty and obnoxious. But really... I don’t care.
$225,000!
D.
Thursday, March 18
hot and cold...
Today is my daughter’s fifth birthday, and as is usually the case with birthdays in our family, she is deathly ill. Both kids were sporting temps of the “3-digit-prime-number” variety last night... 101...103... not good. I’m waiting for it to hit me. I’m a little sniffly this morning. Waiting for the other symptoms to drop. Anyway, hopefully she’ll be mostly ok by Saturday for her party.
Meanwhile it just occurred to me this morning that it’s been snowing for like 72 hours straight here... and I’ve just been kinda mockingly ignoring it... “Ha, ha... mid-March snow! It’ll be gone by afternoon.” Ummm... yeah, no so much. At some point it stopped not-sticking to the streets and I found myself sliding all over the fucking roads this morning. March is more than halfway over, ok...? It’s time for it to stop.
D.
Today is my daughter’s fifth birthday, and as is usually the case with birthdays in our family, she is deathly ill. Both kids were sporting temps of the “3-digit-prime-number” variety last night... 101...103... not good. I’m waiting for it to hit me. I’m a little sniffly this morning. Waiting for the other symptoms to drop. Anyway, hopefully she’ll be mostly ok by Saturday for her party.
Meanwhile it just occurred to me this morning that it’s been snowing for like 72 hours straight here... and I’ve just been kinda mockingly ignoring it... “Ha, ha... mid-March snow! It’ll be gone by afternoon.” Ummm... yeah, no so much. At some point it stopped not-sticking to the streets and I found myself sliding all over the fucking roads this morning. March is more than halfway over, ok...? It’s time for it to stop.
D.
Wednesday, March 17
bite me, paddy...
Aah... St. Patrick’s Day... the original Cinco-De-Mayo... a day when Americans everywhere who probably couldn’t find your country on a map will gladly pretend for a nanosecond to give a rat’s ass about your national heritage just so long as it earns them a free pass to get as shitface drunk as they please. I imagine US-Muslim relations could be greatly improved if only Ramadan involved more liquor.
I don’t drink, and I own nothing green (Green! Bleah!) and therefore I have opted out of participating in this particular fake holiday.
Ok... well... I did wind up listening to Sinéad O’Connor on my iPod today, but I SWEAR to you that was an accident.
D.
Aah... St. Patrick’s Day... the original Cinco-De-Mayo... a day when Americans everywhere who probably couldn’t find your country on a map will gladly pretend for a nanosecond to give a rat’s ass about your national heritage just so long as it earns them a free pass to get as shitface drunk as they please. I imagine US-Muslim relations could be greatly improved if only Ramadan involved more liquor.
I don’t drink, and I own nothing green (Green! Bleah!) and therefore I have opted out of participating in this particular fake holiday.
Ok... well... I did wind up listening to Sinéad O’Connor on my iPod today, but I SWEAR to you that was an accident.
D.
a day...
I had 4 things I needed to get done today, and two blocks of time in which to do them. It seemed impossible. I had to grade a dozen exams, I had to plan a morning class, I had to write and print off an astronomy midterm for tomorrow, I had to plan my afternoon class. How did you do it, Dave?
1) I took a closer train to my house this morning, so as to trade 20 minutes in the car for 15 extra on the train.
2) I graded 12 exams, really fast.
3) I recycled an old PowerPoint into a slightly rambling lecture on atomic structure.
4) I showed a movie in my afternoon class. (Ahh... the movie.. last resort of desperate pre-vacation teachers everywhere.) We watched “Pi” and I’m making them write a 3-5 page paper on the relationship between abstract mathematical entities and the physical world.
5) I wrote a really bad and poorly-though-out exam which will be, as a result, too hard.
But hey... the important thing is I got it all done!
Ummm... right?
D.
I had 4 things I needed to get done today, and two blocks of time in which to do them. It seemed impossible. I had to grade a dozen exams, I had to plan a morning class, I had to write and print off an astronomy midterm for tomorrow, I had to plan my afternoon class. How did you do it, Dave?
1) I took a closer train to my house this morning, so as to trade 20 minutes in the car for 15 extra on the train.
2) I graded 12 exams, really fast.
3) I recycled an old PowerPoint into a slightly rambling lecture on atomic structure.
4) I showed a movie in my afternoon class. (Ahh... the movie.. last resort of desperate pre-vacation teachers everywhere.) We watched “Pi” and I’m making them write a 3-5 page paper on the relationship between abstract mathematical entities and the physical world.
5) I wrote a really bad and poorly-though-out exam which will be, as a result, too hard.
But hey... the important thing is I got it all done!
Ummm... right?
D.
Tuesday, March 16
aftermath...
The fire incident really shook up my wife. Besides being borderline hysterical the night of the event itself... she’s been a little... I don’t even know... a little preoccupied with the “what ifs”. Today she rearranged my daughter’s room so her bed was no longer against that outside wall. (Her room is right on the other side of the walk that was burning. The fire was about 12” from her head.)
My reaction has been somewhat different. Since there's nothing I can do about what happened... I just wind up expending a bunch of mental energy fantasizing about burning down THEIR house, or vandalizing his stupid dirt bike... or better yet, just stealing it. Or even better still, just going over there and punching the shit of the little fuck. Civilization sucks. The human body was not built to "fume". This level of anger demands action!
And the County-Arson-Detectives notwithstanding... you KNOW nothing is going to happen to the kid. And you wonder why people take the law into their own hands? Like I said... my daughter's bedroom is right on the other side of that wall. If something had happened - I mean REALLY happened - can you think of a single good reason that I shouldn't have tracked that kid down and just killed him with my bare hands? Would not the world be better off with one less Ollie Bumpus?
See... I'm getting all worked up here on the train!Fume!
One piece of GOOD news, we got pictures of the new house in Alabama yesterday... it is well underway... a frame and some plywood. Too, too cool. You can look at the frame and see where all the rooms are. It looks BIG!
As far as the rest of life, nothing much else is happening. I have so much grading to do. Typical... midterm time. I had actually started doing some work, Saturday night, before the fire. Figures. My brain was just starting to get normal again, now all this other shit happens.
D.
The fire incident really shook up my wife. Besides being borderline hysterical the night of the event itself... she’s been a little... I don’t even know... a little preoccupied with the “what ifs”. Today she rearranged my daughter’s room so her bed was no longer against that outside wall. (Her room is right on the other side of the walk that was burning. The fire was about 12” from her head.)
My reaction has been somewhat different. Since there's nothing I can do about what happened... I just wind up expending a bunch of mental energy fantasizing about burning down THEIR house, or vandalizing his stupid dirt bike... or better yet, just stealing it. Or even better still, just going over there and punching the shit of the little fuck. Civilization sucks. The human body was not built to "fume". This level of anger demands action!
And the County-Arson-Detectives notwithstanding... you KNOW nothing is going to happen to the kid. And you wonder why people take the law into their own hands? Like I said... my daughter's bedroom is right on the other side of that wall. If something had happened - I mean REALLY happened - can you think of a single good reason that I shouldn't have tracked that kid down and just killed him with my bare hands? Would not the world be better off with one less Ollie Bumpus?
See... I'm getting all worked up here on the train!Fume!
One piece of GOOD news, we got pictures of the new house in Alabama yesterday... it is well underway... a frame and some plywood. Too, too cool. You can look at the frame and see where all the rooms are. It looks BIG!
As far as the rest of life, nothing much else is happening. I have so much grading to do. Typical... midterm time. I had actually started doing some work, Saturday night, before the fire. Figures. My brain was just starting to get normal again, now all this other shit happens.
D.
Monday, March 15
headline...
Google News today... headline... “UK: The Passion is Anti-Semitic”
Yeah, yeah.... Big news. Y’know why? Because Christianity is Anti-Semitic. And you know what else? Judaism is Anti-Muslim. And Muslims are Anti-Christian. All the religions hate all the other religions. Big freaking news. Can we go back to talking about something else now?
D.
a lighter poll...
While being tortured by children’s television the other day, I began to contemplate the following question... Who, among the many friends of Winnie the Pooh, is the most gay? Because although there is clearly something going on between Pooh and Piglet, I’m placing my money on Rabbit.
Thoughts?
D.
Google News today... headline... “UK: The Passion is Anti-Semitic”
Yeah, yeah.... Big news. Y’know why? Because Christianity is Anti-Semitic. And you know what else? Judaism is Anti-Muslim. And Muslims are Anti-Christian. All the religions hate all the other religions. Big freaking news. Can we go back to talking about something else now?
D.
a lighter poll...
While being tortured by children’s television the other day, I began to contemplate the following question... Who, among the many friends of Winnie the Pooh, is the most gay? Because although there is clearly something going on between Pooh and Piglet, I’m placing my money on Rabbit.
Thoughts?
D.
Sunday, March 14
”ollie bumpus”...
It started at 9:15... the kids were all asleep, the wife and I were down in the basement watching TV. We smelled something burning. We assumed it was the space heater, which has been acting flaky lately. We unplugged it. The we saw a little smoke in the air, so I picked up the space heater to carry it upstairs and safely out of the house. But when I got up to the kitchen I noticed that there was way more smoke up there than downstairs... enough that I was surprised the smoke alarms weren’t going off. I ran out into the living room to find black smoke POURING into the house under the front door. I opened the door to find our welcome mat in flames, and fire climbing up the corner of the house.
Then followed about 90 seconds of slapstick which involved digging for fire extinguishers under the sink, not finding them, throwing pans of water through the screen door, calling 911... then the smoke alarms start blaring, the wife wakes up the kids, while I run out the back door and around front to grab the garden hose.
It was pitch dark and the hose was kinked somewhere, so no water was coming out. I managed to find a “joint” in the hose and unscrew it enough to obtain a trickle/stream of water enough to put out the fire. Meanwhile the wife had taken the kids to the neighbors. The fire trucks showed up soon after, but stopped down the block. You see... the house numbers on our street go 98... 96... 94... 90... 92... 88... And we are “92”. Yeah. Makes it a real bitch to get Chinese food, but it never occurred to me it would trip up the fire department and add 2 or 3 minutes to their response time. I had to walk down the street and wave them down.
So the next hour involved firefighters stomping through our house (recall we had the carpets cleaned on Friday!) and mounting big fans in all the doorways to blow out all the smoke. The attic was especially bad, as the smoke went straight up the soffit over the front porch and right into the attic. We also gave statements to the cops, which we would have to repeat later when the detectives from the arson unit showed up.
Meanwhile, the wife is at the next door neighbors’ house obtaining crucial info. We’ve been having some trouble with some neighborhood kids and a dirt bike. These kids just showed up a few weeks ago... I had never seen them before in the 6 years we’ve lived here. But recently they’ve decided to turn our corner into “dirt bike central.” About 3 weeks ago they were tearing up and down the street on an ATV, at 8:00 at night and I had to go out and tell them to cut it out. Then last week it was a white dirt bike up and down the side street, which is sort of semi-paved, but has a street sign and a stop sign and is clearly a STREET... therefore not an ok place to ride a dirt bike. Well, last Sunday I tell these guys this and they basically tell me to fuck off. One kid claims that his grandmother lives in the white trash house behind us and he’s been staying there or something. As a result, he claims that this is “his property.” I point out that he is 16, and that I’m willing to bet that he doesn’t actually OWN any property, and that he should probably call the county and complain about the STREET SIGN on his “property”. I refuse to argue with two punks and walk away. Friday they start it up again and this time we just call the cops. And Saturday our house gets torched. Big coincidence, huh?
Anyway, my wife discovers from the neighbor’s 16 year old son that this kid’s name is...
Ok, now... you’ll notice that I often change names in my journal in the name of anonymity. I’m not going to change the name of this kid’s name, cuz... first of all... what do I care about the anonymity of this little fuck... and second of all, his name is just too good to be true. His name...
“Ollie Bumpus”
Now, you tell me if that’s not the name of a guy who is destined to do prison time before the age of 20?? Ollie Bumpus!! Fucking priceless. And when I mention the name “Ollie” to the cop he immediately says... oh, not “Ollie Bumpus?” and proceeds to give me a spot on description of the kid... tall skinny white kid, scraggly hair, kinda pockmarked face? Yup... that’s the guy. Ollie Bumpus. Here’s a clue Mr. Bumpus... when all of the local cops know you by your first name, it’s time to rethink some of the Life Choices you’re making.
(A side note... I have decreed that from this point forward, in our family, the official term to refer to a stupid, punk kid will be an “Ollie Bumpus”. As in... “Yeah his parents seem nice, but the kid is a real Ollie Bumpus”. Feel free to make it part of your lexicon as well.)
At 11:30 the cops went back to the white-trash-house and questioned the Idiot in Hovel #2 who is apparently the Uncle of Bumpus and doesn’t really know where the guy is... he just kinda comes and goes. He seemed shocked that somebody would start a fire, but equally reticent to tell the cops anything helpful. The arson detective gave Uncle Bumpus his card and told him to “Tell Ollie to call him.” Yeah... right.
(continued...)
d.
It started at 9:15... the kids were all asleep, the wife and I were down in the basement watching TV. We smelled something burning. We assumed it was the space heater, which has been acting flaky lately. We unplugged it. The we saw a little smoke in the air, so I picked up the space heater to carry it upstairs and safely out of the house. But when I got up to the kitchen I noticed that there was way more smoke up there than downstairs... enough that I was surprised the smoke alarms weren’t going off. I ran out into the living room to find black smoke POURING into the house under the front door. I opened the door to find our welcome mat in flames, and fire climbing up the corner of the house.
Then followed about 90 seconds of slapstick which involved digging for fire extinguishers under the sink, not finding them, throwing pans of water through the screen door, calling 911... then the smoke alarms start blaring, the wife wakes up the kids, while I run out the back door and around front to grab the garden hose.
It was pitch dark and the hose was kinked somewhere, so no water was coming out. I managed to find a “joint” in the hose and unscrew it enough to obtain a trickle/stream of water enough to put out the fire. Meanwhile the wife had taken the kids to the neighbors. The fire trucks showed up soon after, but stopped down the block. You see... the house numbers on our street go 98... 96... 94... 90... 92... 88... And we are “92”. Yeah. Makes it a real bitch to get Chinese food, but it never occurred to me it would trip up the fire department and add 2 or 3 minutes to their response time. I had to walk down the street and wave them down.
So the next hour involved firefighters stomping through our house (recall we had the carpets cleaned on Friday!) and mounting big fans in all the doorways to blow out all the smoke. The attic was especially bad, as the smoke went straight up the soffit over the front porch and right into the attic. We also gave statements to the cops, which we would have to repeat later when the detectives from the arson unit showed up.
Meanwhile, the wife is at the next door neighbors’ house obtaining crucial info. We’ve been having some trouble with some neighborhood kids and a dirt bike. These kids just showed up a few weeks ago... I had never seen them before in the 6 years we’ve lived here. But recently they’ve decided to turn our corner into “dirt bike central.” About 3 weeks ago they were tearing up and down the street on an ATV, at 8:00 at night and I had to go out and tell them to cut it out. Then last week it was a white dirt bike up and down the side street, which is sort of semi-paved, but has a street sign and a stop sign and is clearly a STREET... therefore not an ok place to ride a dirt bike. Well, last Sunday I tell these guys this and they basically tell me to fuck off. One kid claims that his grandmother lives in the white trash house behind us and he’s been staying there or something. As a result, he claims that this is “his property.” I point out that he is 16, and that I’m willing to bet that he doesn’t actually OWN any property, and that he should probably call the county and complain about the STREET SIGN on his “property”. I refuse to argue with two punks and walk away. Friday they start it up again and this time we just call the cops. And Saturday our house gets torched. Big coincidence, huh?
Anyway, my wife discovers from the neighbor’s 16 year old son that this kid’s name is...
Ok, now... you’ll notice that I often change names in my journal in the name of anonymity. I’m not going to change the name of this kid’s name, cuz... first of all... what do I care about the anonymity of this little fuck... and second of all, his name is just too good to be true. His name...
“Ollie Bumpus”
Now, you tell me if that’s not the name of a guy who is destined to do prison time before the age of 20?? Ollie Bumpus!! Fucking priceless. And when I mention the name “Ollie” to the cop he immediately says... oh, not “Ollie Bumpus?” and proceeds to give me a spot on description of the kid... tall skinny white kid, scraggly hair, kinda pockmarked face? Yup... that’s the guy. Ollie Bumpus. Here’s a clue Mr. Bumpus... when all of the local cops know you by your first name, it’s time to rethink some of the Life Choices you’re making.
(A side note... I have decreed that from this point forward, in our family, the official term to refer to a stupid, punk kid will be an “Ollie Bumpus”. As in... “Yeah his parents seem nice, but the kid is a real Ollie Bumpus”. Feel free to make it part of your lexicon as well.)
At 11:30 the cops went back to the white-trash-house and questioned the Idiot in Hovel #2 who is apparently the Uncle of Bumpus and doesn’t really know where the guy is... he just kinda comes and goes. He seemed shocked that somebody would start a fire, but equally reticent to tell the cops anything helpful. The arson detective gave Uncle Bumpus his card and told him to “Tell Ollie to call him.” Yeah... right.
(continued...)
d.
fire...
Some fucking punks from the neighborhood torched our house last night. What started out as the oh-so-clever ”burning bag of dog shit on the front porch” trick ended up immolating our entire patio and melting all the vinyl siding off of the front of the hose. Here’s a clue you little fucks... the trick goes... put dog shit in bag... set bag on fire... place on front porch... ring doorbell... run away. Because you see... the “funny” part is when somebody comes to “stomp out” the flaming bag of dog shit. If you skip the part about ringing the doorbell and let the fire burn up the welcome mat, the bag of stuff sitting next to the welcome mat, the house... well, then.... that’s pretty much just arson, which is considerably less funny. Ha ha.
More details to come.... a full account with photos. The thing is, we know who did it... we absolutely know who did it.
D.
Some fucking punks from the neighborhood torched our house last night. What started out as the oh-so-clever ”burning bag of dog shit on the front porch” trick ended up immolating our entire patio and melting all the vinyl siding off of the front of the hose. Here’s a clue you little fucks... the trick goes... put dog shit in bag... set bag on fire... place on front porch... ring doorbell... run away. Because you see... the “funny” part is when somebody comes to “stomp out” the flaming bag of dog shit. If you skip the part about ringing the doorbell and let the fire burn up the welcome mat, the bag of stuff sitting next to the welcome mat, the house... well, then.... that’s pretty much just arson, which is considerably less funny. Ha ha.
More details to come.... a full account with photos. The thing is, we know who did it... we absolutely know who did it.
D.
Saturday, March 13
people finding on google...
Three successes the other day, as I finished reading an old "Behind The Music" history I had written about all the bands I've in... I decided to track some people down. Hit number one was a drummer who we called "KY" because those were her initials. The guitarist's wife wouldn't let us hire her because she was too hot. She has some kind of weird house-of-horrors website... I can't really figure out what's going on. Hit number two was Zak May, a very peculiar singer from East Ukraine ("Near Kiev... you know... like Chicken Kiev?") who auditioned for the same band as KY by caterwauling Led Zeppelin songs in a deranged Russian falsetto. He's now apparently a fairly successful Russian-language solo artist. I downloaded some of his music and it's not half bad.
But the last hit was the real jackpot... by best friend Mike who I grew up with... started playing guitar with... crossed paths again in college and played in a bar-band on weekends with... then lost touch with when I went off to grad school. But I've known this guy for almost 30 years... since I was 4 or 5 years old. Problem is, he has such a common name, that it's IMPOSSIBLE to find the right "Mike Commonname" online, so I've never been able to track him down. Even searches for "Mike Commonname" + "Guitar"... you know... looking for a band page or something... or other keywords like "Scuba"... (he was an instructor for a while) never got me there. But somehow this time I wound up discovering that he has his own domain name - www.captainmikecommonname.com. Apparently he runs a sailing charter and yacht delivery business out of Miami. So I sent him an email. I haven't heard back yet, but it occured to me today that he could very well be out to sea or something.
Anyway... score three points for the power of smart Googling!
D.
Three successes the other day, as I finished reading an old "Behind The Music" history I had written about all the bands I've in... I decided to track some people down. Hit number one was a drummer who we called "KY" because those were her initials. The guitarist's wife wouldn't let us hire her because she was too hot. She has some kind of weird house-of-horrors website... I can't really figure out what's going on. Hit number two was Zak May, a very peculiar singer from East Ukraine ("Near Kiev... you know... like Chicken Kiev?") who auditioned for the same band as KY by caterwauling Led Zeppelin songs in a deranged Russian falsetto. He's now apparently a fairly successful Russian-language solo artist. I downloaded some of his music and it's not half bad.
But the last hit was the real jackpot... by best friend Mike who I grew up with... started playing guitar with... crossed paths again in college and played in a bar-band on weekends with... then lost touch with when I went off to grad school. But I've known this guy for almost 30 years... since I was 4 or 5 years old. Problem is, he has such a common name, that it's IMPOSSIBLE to find the right "Mike Commonname" online, so I've never been able to track him down. Even searches for "Mike Commonname" + "Guitar"... you know... looking for a band page or something... or other keywords like "Scuba"... (he was an instructor for a while) never got me there. But somehow this time I wound up discovering that he has his own domain name - www.captainmikecommonname.com. Apparently he runs a sailing charter and yacht delivery business out of Miami. So I sent him an email. I haven't heard back yet, but it occured to me today that he could very well be out to sea or something.
Anyway... score three points for the power of smart Googling!
D.
Friday, March 12
Thursday, March 11
spalding gray...
A quick note of tribute to the late Spalding Gray, whose body was pulled from the East River earlier this week...
I discovered Spalding Gray when I was in grad school... only it wasn’t so much a discovery as a “re-discovery”. Sitting there watching Swimming to Cambodia, I knew I had seen this before... when I was younger... probably on HBO... this guy in a flannel shirt sitting behind a desk, just talking, and talking... with a glass of water and a little pull-down map of Southeast Asia. I’m sure I had NO idea what to make of it when I was a teenager. What the hell is this doing on HBO?? But now I was captivated. I quickly devoured everything by him I could find. His collection of early monologues – “Sex and Death to Age 14”... a video of “Monster in a Box”... his horribly depressing novel, “Impossible Vacation.” It’s all still around the house somewhere... books in boxes and on the backs of shelves... dubbed copies of library videotapes... and a program from “Gray’s Anatomy” which I was lucky enough to see him perform live.
He lived about 3 miles from where I used to teach. His kid went to our school for a while. He was always “around” but somehow I never saw him. He would give little performances and things sometimes, but somehow I never caught them. He did a monologue in NYC last October, but I could never make time to see it. Maybe in a few years when the kids are older, I can make time for all that artsy, cultural bullshit, but not now.
When I heard that he was reported “missing” in January, I tried to imagine that he had just wandered off... y’know? Gathering material for a new monologue... having some kind of bizarre life experience living on the streets somewhere, and that some day he sit down behind a desk and tell us all about it. But I think anyone who has been listening to this guy’s stream crippling neuroses for the past few decades had to know deep down... yeah... he finally did it.
And my reaction the other day when I heard it confirmed on NPR was strange. I imagine it was the same reaction a lot of folks had when Kurt Cobain died , which really didn’t affect me at all... as I was either too old or not socially alienated enough to feel any “connection” to Kurt Cobain at the time. But the reaction when an artist whom you admire takes their own life is a peculiar mixture of sadness and, ”How dare you?” As in – how dare you deprive ME of something that is so important and meaningful to ME. Which is probably a horrible reaction to the death of another person... making it about YOU. And yet somehow appropriate in the case of Spalding Gray, who perhaps more than anybody I can think of, raised narcissism and navel-gazing to a sublime and magical art form.
D.
A quick note of tribute to the late Spalding Gray, whose body was pulled from the East River earlier this week...
I discovered Spalding Gray when I was in grad school... only it wasn’t so much a discovery as a “re-discovery”. Sitting there watching Swimming to Cambodia, I knew I had seen this before... when I was younger... probably on HBO... this guy in a flannel shirt sitting behind a desk, just talking, and talking... with a glass of water and a little pull-down map of Southeast Asia. I’m sure I had NO idea what to make of it when I was a teenager. What the hell is this doing on HBO?? But now I was captivated. I quickly devoured everything by him I could find. His collection of early monologues – “Sex and Death to Age 14”... a video of “Monster in a Box”... his horribly depressing novel, “Impossible Vacation.” It’s all still around the house somewhere... books in boxes and on the backs of shelves... dubbed copies of library videotapes... and a program from “Gray’s Anatomy” which I was lucky enough to see him perform live.
He lived about 3 miles from where I used to teach. His kid went to our school for a while. He was always “around” but somehow I never saw him. He would give little performances and things sometimes, but somehow I never caught them. He did a monologue in NYC last October, but I could never make time to see it. Maybe in a few years when the kids are older, I can make time for all that artsy, cultural bullshit, but not now.
When I heard that he was reported “missing” in January, I tried to imagine that he had just wandered off... y’know? Gathering material for a new monologue... having some kind of bizarre life experience living on the streets somewhere, and that some day he sit down behind a desk and tell us all about it. But I think anyone who has been listening to this guy’s stream crippling neuroses for the past few decades had to know deep down... yeah... he finally did it.
And my reaction the other day when I heard it confirmed on NPR was strange. I imagine it was the same reaction a lot of folks had when Kurt Cobain died , which really didn’t affect me at all... as I was either too old or not socially alienated enough to feel any “connection” to Kurt Cobain at the time. But the reaction when an artist whom you admire takes their own life is a peculiar mixture of sadness and, ”How dare you?” As in – how dare you deprive ME of something that is so important and meaningful to ME. Which is probably a horrible reaction to the death of another person... making it about YOU. And yet somehow appropriate in the case of Spalding Gray, who perhaps more than anybody I can think of, raised narcissism and navel-gazing to a sublime and magical art form.
D.
Wednesday, March 10
thanksgiving liberation front...
I opened Salon.com this morning, and as always I took a second to scan the leftmost column for the AP news headlines of the past 8 hours. Nothing much caught my eye except for this one...
Turkey suicide attack kills 1, wounds 5
... and I swear to you, there was a brief moment when I was imagining a large game-fowl strapped with explosives, and seriously wondering if the attack wounded 5 people or 5 other turkeys.
Look, newspeople... it’s early in the morning... help us out. Would spending two letters on the word “in” really kill you?
D.
I opened Salon.com this morning, and as always I took a second to scan the leftmost column for the AP news headlines of the past 8 hours. Nothing much caught my eye except for this one...
Turkey suicide attack kills 1, wounds 5
... and I swear to you, there was a brief moment when I was imagining a large game-fowl strapped with explosives, and seriously wondering if the attack wounded 5 people or 5 other turkeys.
Look, newspeople... it’s early in the morning... help us out. Would spending two letters on the word “in” really kill you?
D.
Monday, March 8
late...
The 6:58 train arrived at 7:17 today, which means I’m going to be a little late for class this morning. I’m giving a midterm exam, so it’s probably not a huge problem. I still hate being late, though... it brings with it a sort of sustained-low-level anxiety, which is about the last thing in the world I need right now.
At least it didn’t snow... which they were threatening us with... a few inches. But only to the west, it turns out. Which is good... I am quite done with snow, thank you.
We were on our way out to Target/Uno last night and the wife’s car wouldn’t start, so she needs to deal with THAT today. I don’t know what it is... it’s trying so hard to start but it won’t turn over. It’s not the battery... it cranks forever, the lights don’t dim or anything. An attempt to jump it accomplished nothing. I’m betting on the starter. It’s a 2001 car, for christ’s sake... this should not be happening. Besides, she told them 2 weeks ago when she had it in the shop for something else that she was having this trouble with it not starting every so often, and they said – “Eh, it started fine for us... we can’t find any problem.” In other words... go away until the fucking car strands you someplace, and THEN we’ll actually take a look at the thing. So... back to the shop. At least our extended warranty covers a tow and a rental. But just the hassle of it... bah.
Had a productive weekend. Did lots of cleaning and purging and boxing. Making space in the attic. Pre-pre-moving kind of stuff. Plus I did some work on some of my little side projects. I emailed a professor emeritus at Harvard with some questions about Copernicus. I’m not sure he’ll answer. I get the idea that emeritus professors often don’t keep up with their new-fangled email. If I don’t get a response after a month or so, I may write an actual “letter”. Then I sat down last night and tried to distill all of the conversations I’ve had with my collaborator down into a revised synopsis for the play – with lists of specific questions about those sections that we’re still not sure about. I’m about halfway done with that. Plus, the other morning I sat down and tried to start drafting a preliminary letter to Kenneth the Philosopher about our possible proposed book. I think know what the middle part of the book will be, I’m just not sure how it starts, or where it goes... I’m not sure what the POINT of the book is... who the audience is. Maybe he’ll have some ideas, although those are the kind of practical questions that philosophers aren’t always the best with.
I feel like I’m moving... like my brain is working again. It’s the first time in several weeks that I’ve felt mentally energized.
It doesn’t hurt at all that we had an unexpected (by me anyway) been-three-weeks, no-fooling-round, take-no-prisoners, 10-minutes-start-to-finish, we-don’t-need-no-stinking-foreplay, hard, fast, everybody-wins, fuck last night.
(The wife and I , that is. Not me and Kenneth. That was clear, right?)
So things, overall, are looking up.
But I’m still late for work.
D.
The 6:58 train arrived at 7:17 today, which means I’m going to be a little late for class this morning. I’m giving a midterm exam, so it’s probably not a huge problem. I still hate being late, though... it brings with it a sort of sustained-low-level anxiety, which is about the last thing in the world I need right now.
At least it didn’t snow... which they were threatening us with... a few inches. But only to the west, it turns out. Which is good... I am quite done with snow, thank you.
We were on our way out to Target/Uno last night and the wife’s car wouldn’t start, so she needs to deal with THAT today. I don’t know what it is... it’s trying so hard to start but it won’t turn over. It’s not the battery... it cranks forever, the lights don’t dim or anything. An attempt to jump it accomplished nothing. I’m betting on the starter. It’s a 2001 car, for christ’s sake... this should not be happening. Besides, she told them 2 weeks ago when she had it in the shop for something else that she was having this trouble with it not starting every so often, and they said – “Eh, it started fine for us... we can’t find any problem.” In other words... go away until the fucking car strands you someplace, and THEN we’ll actually take a look at the thing. So... back to the shop. At least our extended warranty covers a tow and a rental. But just the hassle of it... bah.
Had a productive weekend. Did lots of cleaning and purging and boxing. Making space in the attic. Pre-pre-moving kind of stuff. Plus I did some work on some of my little side projects. I emailed a professor emeritus at Harvard with some questions about Copernicus. I’m not sure he’ll answer. I get the idea that emeritus professors often don’t keep up with their new-fangled email. If I don’t get a response after a month or so, I may write an actual “letter”. Then I sat down last night and tried to distill all of the conversations I’ve had with my collaborator down into a revised synopsis for the play – with lists of specific questions about those sections that we’re still not sure about. I’m about halfway done with that. Plus, the other morning I sat down and tried to start drafting a preliminary letter to Kenneth the Philosopher about our possible proposed book. I think know what the middle part of the book will be, I’m just not sure how it starts, or where it goes... I’m not sure what the POINT of the book is... who the audience is. Maybe he’ll have some ideas, although those are the kind of practical questions that philosophers aren’t always the best with.
I feel like I’m moving... like my brain is working again. It’s the first time in several weeks that I’ve felt mentally energized.
It doesn’t hurt at all that we had an unexpected (by me anyway) been-three-weeks, no-fooling-round, take-no-prisoners, 10-minutes-start-to-finish, we-don’t-need-no-stinking-foreplay, hard, fast, everybody-wins, fuck last night.
(The wife and I , that is. Not me and Kenneth. That was clear, right?)
So things, overall, are looking up.
But I’m still late for work.
D.
Sunday, March 7
Saturday, March 6
the first boxes...
Slowly, slowly, slowly small areas of the house are beginning to get clean. Baby's room... guest bath... daughter's room. Yesterday while she was at preschool, the wife and I threw out 3 trash bags full of junk and packed up 5 boxes worth of toys and books to stuff in the attic. So the "moving" thing is starting to feel concrete. Once the weather warms up for good, all the sweaters and coats go next. Today I'm gonna give my closets a GoodWill sweep. Because, really... 34" jeans? Never gonna happen, realistically. Time to let that one go.
(ok... except for the leather ones.)
And books... Box 'em! I may even get rid of some. Not many, but some. We also threw away 30 old videocassettes. Very satisfying.
It's the only way to get the house clean, though... clean enough to "show". Thus it begins.
D.
Slowly, slowly, slowly small areas of the house are beginning to get clean. Baby's room... guest bath... daughter's room. Yesterday while she was at preschool, the wife and I threw out 3 trash bags full of junk and packed up 5 boxes worth of toys and books to stuff in the attic. So the "moving" thing is starting to feel concrete. Once the weather warms up for good, all the sweaters and coats go next. Today I'm gonna give my closets a GoodWill sweep. Because, really... 34" jeans? Never gonna happen, realistically. Time to let that one go.
(ok... except for the leather ones.)
And books... Box 'em! I may even get rid of some. Not many, but some. We also threw away 30 old videocassettes. Very satisfying.
It's the only way to get the house clean, though... clean enough to "show". Thus it begins.
D.
Thursday, March 4
tether...
Listening to the new Indigo Girls album... track 6 is an Amy-Ray-penned song called “Tether.” The first time my wife and I listened to the CD was in the car. Halfway through the song I made the decision...
I can’t help it. I HEAR things. It’s the same chords, the same key, the same tempo... how can you not hear that? I hear bass parts... hi-hats... triangles... when I imagine a song in my head, I can hear all of that. She can’t. She always freaks out when there is a song on the radio and I’m fingering some background keyboard part on my knee that she’s never noticed. I notice. I explain to her that it’s no different from the fact that she can see a “double space” when she’s reading a document and I can’t. Words are her thing. Music is mine. I listen deeper.
Anyway... “Tether” is a great song if you can resist the urge to NaNaNa Naaaa.
D.
Listening to the new Indigo Girls album... track 6 is an Amy-Ray-penned song called “Tether.” The first time my wife and I listened to the CD was in the car. Halfway through the song I made the decision...
D: This is going to be my favorite song on the album.
J: I’m sure it is.
D: I’m a sucker for the “Hey Jude” chord progression.
J: What do you mean?
D: (waits for it to turn around, sings over the song) “Naaah Nah Nah NaNaNa Naaaaaah...”
J: You’re sick. Thanks... Now I’ll never be able to listen to this song again.
I can’t help it. I HEAR things. It’s the same chords, the same key, the same tempo... how can you not hear that? I hear bass parts... hi-hats... triangles... when I imagine a song in my head, I can hear all of that. She can’t. She always freaks out when there is a song on the radio and I’m fingering some background keyboard part on my knee that she’s never noticed. I notice. I explain to her that it’s no different from the fact that she can see a “double space” when she’s reading a document and I can’t. Words are her thing. Music is mine. I listen deeper.
Anyway... “Tether” is a great song if you can resist the urge to NaNaNa Naaaa.
D.
Wednesday, March 3
election stuff...
I didn’t bother to vote in the primaries yesterday once I learned that Kerry was leading Edwards in the polls in NY by something like 63% to 17%. Facing numbers like that, there is no sense in which my vote for anyone could have made any difference.
Shout out to Howard Dean for winning Vermont yesterday. Leaves race... wins first state. Hmm. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut from day one and done ALL of your campaigning on the internet you wouldn’t have managed to crush your own “buzz” so efficiently.
So, looks like it’s Kerry in November, huh? Doctor Dave’s prediction...?
Bush is going to beat Kerry like a cat-litter-covered bathroom rug.
You wait and see. Kerry is going to get a beating that’ll make Michael Dukakis cringe.
Way to go, fellow Democrats. You managed to dig up about the only guy in politics with LESS stage presence than Al Gore. And even *I* am tired of hearing him change his story and backpedal on this issue and that. The Republicans are gonna flog this guy to death with his own congressional voting record, and it’s not going to be pretty. And they are going to make this election about everything BUT the economy or the mess in Iraq. Gay marriage is just the first volley. It’s not gonna take a recount in Florida this time, people... it’s going to be a decisive Bush victory in November.
Please, for the love of God prove me wrong.
Dr. D.
I didn’t bother to vote in the primaries yesterday once I learned that Kerry was leading Edwards in the polls in NY by something like 63% to 17%. Facing numbers like that, there is no sense in which my vote for anyone could have made any difference.
Shout out to Howard Dean for winning Vermont yesterday. Leaves race... wins first state. Hmm. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut from day one and done ALL of your campaigning on the internet you wouldn’t have managed to crush your own “buzz” so efficiently.
So, looks like it’s Kerry in November, huh? Doctor Dave’s prediction...?
Bush is going to beat Kerry like a cat-litter-covered bathroom rug.
You wait and see. Kerry is going to get a beating that’ll make Michael Dukakis cringe.
Way to go, fellow Democrats. You managed to dig up about the only guy in politics with LESS stage presence than Al Gore. And even *I* am tired of hearing him change his story and backpedal on this issue and that. The Republicans are gonna flog this guy to death with his own congressional voting record, and it’s not going to be pretty. And they are going to make this election about everything BUT the economy or the mess in Iraq. Gay marriage is just the first volley. It’s not gonna take a recount in Florida this time, people... it’s going to be a decisive Bush victory in November.
Please, for the love of God prove me wrong.
Dr. D.
yesterday...
...all my troubles seemed so...
never mind.
Made a trip out to the Old School yesterday. Met with my collaborator on the play. I think we’re agreed on the basic structure. I may have to fight for a few things that I don’t want to change, but overall I think his contributions are good... he thinks in terms of the dramatic impact of the scenes... how this character should make an “entrance”... stuff I tend not to think about. So we’re ready to start actually writing something. He’s gonna work on some of the pivotal “story” scenes, and I’m going to draft some of the “techie” parts.
In other publishing news, I’m going to write a book proposal with my friend Kenneth the Philosopher. My wife does editing for a small “vanity press” that publishes books on philosophy... ancient stuff only... pre-Socrates. And she’s getting more involved with this publisher... they have her on a retainer now... they pay her $1000 a month to do NOTHING... just to agree to put aside her other clients and work on their stuff first whenever they have a project for her. Good gig. Anyway, this press is soliciting manuscripts so they can expand their offerings beyond their two authors. And my friend Kenneth is somewhat of an expert on Plato and his dialogue “Timaeus”’ and he and I have had a lot of discussions about the parallels between some of Plato’s ideas and the kinds of things particle physicists talk about in string theory and modern cosmology. So we’re going to write about that. String theory and Plato. Crazy, huh?
He’s on paternity leave for 6 weeks starting April 1st. While he’s off from work we’re going to just exchange some wordy emails until something comes out that sounds like a proposal for a book. I’m thinking a good model would be a collection of alternating essays... one by him, one by me, one by him... then maybe some “dialogues” between us... maybe some essays by other people... mathematician friends of mine... It could be good.
I’m fed up with my life. I’m overwhelmed with the things I have to do. Solution? Add a NEW project to the mix!
I also met with the science teacher at the Old School who replaced my replacement, and talked to her about some of the labs I did during the brain unit. Which means I can bill the school for a few hours of consulting. Ch-ching!
That was yesterday... the work part anyway. It felt really busy even though I was only there from 10:00 until 3:00. It made me tired... all that TALKING to people... but i think getting some stuff done might have improved my mood a bit.
A bit...
D.
...all my troubles seemed so...
never mind.
Made a trip out to the Old School yesterday. Met with my collaborator on the play. I think we’re agreed on the basic structure. I may have to fight for a few things that I don’t want to change, but overall I think his contributions are good... he thinks in terms of the dramatic impact of the scenes... how this character should make an “entrance”... stuff I tend not to think about. So we’re ready to start actually writing something. He’s gonna work on some of the pivotal “story” scenes, and I’m going to draft some of the “techie” parts.
In other publishing news, I’m going to write a book proposal with my friend Kenneth the Philosopher. My wife does editing for a small “vanity press” that publishes books on philosophy... ancient stuff only... pre-Socrates. And she’s getting more involved with this publisher... they have her on a retainer now... they pay her $1000 a month to do NOTHING... just to agree to put aside her other clients and work on their stuff first whenever they have a project for her. Good gig. Anyway, this press is soliciting manuscripts so they can expand their offerings beyond their two authors. And my friend Kenneth is somewhat of an expert on Plato and his dialogue “Timaeus”’ and he and I have had a lot of discussions about the parallels between some of Plato’s ideas and the kinds of things particle physicists talk about in string theory and modern cosmology. So we’re going to write about that. String theory and Plato. Crazy, huh?
He’s on paternity leave for 6 weeks starting April 1st. While he’s off from work we’re going to just exchange some wordy emails until something comes out that sounds like a proposal for a book. I’m thinking a good model would be a collection of alternating essays... one by him, one by me, one by him... then maybe some “dialogues” between us... maybe some essays by other people... mathematician friends of mine... It could be good.
I’m fed up with my life. I’m overwhelmed with the things I have to do. Solution? Add a NEW project to the mix!
I also met with the science teacher at the Old School who replaced my replacement, and talked to her about some of the labs I did during the brain unit. Which means I can bill the school for a few hours of consulting. Ch-ching!
That was yesterday... the work part anyway. It felt really busy even though I was only there from 10:00 until 3:00. It made me tired... all that TALKING to people... but i think getting some stuff done might have improved my mood a bit.
A bit...
D.
Tuesday, March 2
mimi smartypants...
One of my favorite weblogs is that of the awesome Mimi Smartypants. Her writing is smart and funny, and her weblog is insanely popular. So popular that Mimi Smartypants actually got a book deal to convert her blog into an honest-to-goodness paper-type-book. Her blog is everything I aspire for mine to be. Especially the "popular" part.
So the other day Mimi Smartypants mentioned that a friend of hers complained that people always wind up on HIS webpage when they do a Google search for Mimi Smartypants. Which got me thinking. If her weblog is so popular that people are Googling it, and if I say the words Mimi Smartypants often enough in MY diary, then maybe I too will attract some serious incidental web-traffic.
Thank you Mimi Smartypants!!
(Also, maybe if I suck up enough to her and put lots of links on my page to her weblog, I will receive an incidental mention in "Mimi Smartypants". Oh, sweet traffic!!)
D.
One of my favorite weblogs is that of the awesome Mimi Smartypants. Her writing is smart and funny, and her weblog is insanely popular. So popular that Mimi Smartypants actually got a book deal to convert her blog into an honest-to-goodness paper-type-book. Her blog is everything I aspire for mine to be. Especially the "popular" part.
So the other day Mimi Smartypants mentioned that a friend of hers complained that people always wind up on HIS webpage when they do a Google search for Mimi Smartypants. Which got me thinking. If her weblog is so popular that people are Googling it, and if I say the words Mimi Smartypants often enough in MY diary, then maybe I too will attract some serious incidental web-traffic.
Thank you Mimi Smartypants!!
(Also, maybe if I suck up enough to her and put lots of links on my page to her weblog, I will receive an incidental mention in "Mimi Smartypants". Oh, sweet traffic!!)
D.
Monday, March 1
what i’m trying to say...
My wife has been giving me a bit of grief lately about my overall attitude. I think she thinks I’m just tired. (That’s not it... I’ve been “tired” for 14 months.) I took multiple naps the other day, and was yawning on the way out of the house with the Boy, and she gave me some kind of crap about her getting less sleep than me last night, and I said... “Yeah, well... let’s see YOU try to make it through the past three days without antidepressants.” She would later accuse me of making a “passive aggressive comment”... I told her I wasn’t being passive or aggressive, all I’m trying to say is that I’m about 2 days away from making an appointment with my doctor to see if “XXXX” is right for me. Either that or stopping at the store to load up on liquor and cigarettes.
She asked if it wasn’t just sleep deprivation, and I said that I’m sure that doesn’t HELP, but it’s more than that. My teaching sucks. My parenting sucks. And I derive not a single iota of pleasure from any aspect of my life. That seemed to sound familiar to her. She just nodded. She asked if there was anything she could do to help. I asked if there was anything I could have done to help when SHE was feeling this way? Yeah... so... probably not.
I dunno. I feel a little better today. Got a little more sleep. But I still pissed away the day doing nothing in particular... I still rambled my way aimlessly through an afternoon lecture... I still got emails and brushed them aside unanswered... I still drive home and react with disappointment every time I se that my wife’s car is in the driveway. I mean... I’ve never been a particularly cheerful guy, god knows... but this is different... I just don’t feel like ME.
And it’s easy enough to say- oh, you just need to have some FUN. Because putting aside the fact that I don’t have the TIME to have fun, and I don’t have the ENERGY to have fun... I don’t even have the DESIRE to have fun anymore. If that’s not “depression” I dunno what is.
D.
My wife has been giving me a bit of grief lately about my overall attitude. I think she thinks I’m just tired. (That’s not it... I’ve been “tired” for 14 months.) I took multiple naps the other day, and was yawning on the way out of the house with the Boy, and she gave me some kind of crap about her getting less sleep than me last night, and I said... “Yeah, well... let’s see YOU try to make it through the past three days without antidepressants.” She would later accuse me of making a “passive aggressive comment”... I told her I wasn’t being passive or aggressive, all I’m trying to say is that I’m about 2 days away from making an appointment with my doctor to see if “XXXX” is right for me. Either that or stopping at the store to load up on liquor and cigarettes.
She asked if it wasn’t just sleep deprivation, and I said that I’m sure that doesn’t HELP, but it’s more than that. My teaching sucks. My parenting sucks. And I derive not a single iota of pleasure from any aspect of my life. That seemed to sound familiar to her. She just nodded. She asked if there was anything she could do to help. I asked if there was anything I could have done to help when SHE was feeling this way? Yeah... so... probably not.
I dunno. I feel a little better today. Got a little more sleep. But I still pissed away the day doing nothing in particular... I still rambled my way aimlessly through an afternoon lecture... I still got emails and brushed them aside unanswered... I still drive home and react with disappointment every time I se that my wife’s car is in the driveway. I mean... I’ve never been a particularly cheerful guy, god knows... but this is different... I just don’t feel like ME.
And it’s easy enough to say- oh, you just need to have some FUN. Because putting aside the fact that I don’t have the TIME to have fun, and I don’t have the ENERGY to have fun... I don’t even have the DESIRE to have fun anymore. If that’s not “depression” I dunno what is.
D.
oscar night...
No minute by minute recap of the Oscars the way I did for the Grammy’s. Sorry readers... that’s just way too much work. I will instead give you my pick for last night’s Memorable Oscar Moment. While the acceptance speech by the Very Weird Guy who won for best documentary is a close second, I’m going to have to go with Sting Plays the Hurdy-Gurdy as last night’s Memorable Oscar Moment.
There weren’t a whole lot of fashion jaw-droppers last night, but Doctor Dave’s Best Dress award is going to have to go to Angelina Jolie’s white, satiny, “Look, Here are My Breasts!” number. The trashy tattoos only added to the whole ensemble. I’ll give a runner-up nod to Rene Zellweger, whose tightly cinched waist was clearly making a statement of – “Look, I’ve already lost all my Bridget Jones II weight!” Sorry, Rene... like ya’ better WITH the extra 30.
Oh yeah, and the “What-The-Fuck-Is-She-Wearing” award goes to Uma Thurman, in some kind of Swiss Miss / St-Pauli-Girl / Tablecloth getup.
As for the actual Oscars – no surprises. Hope nobody out there bet any money against Lord of the Rings.
And thus ends Dave’s brief Oscar Night recap. I know it’s not what you’ve all come to expect. Sorry, folks... I’m depressed, and I have work to do!
D.
No minute by minute recap of the Oscars the way I did for the Grammy’s. Sorry readers... that’s just way too much work. I will instead give you my pick for last night’s Memorable Oscar Moment. While the acceptance speech by the Very Weird Guy who won for best documentary is a close second, I’m going to have to go with Sting Plays the Hurdy-Gurdy as last night’s Memorable Oscar Moment.
There weren’t a whole lot of fashion jaw-droppers last night, but Doctor Dave’s Best Dress award is going to have to go to Angelina Jolie’s white, satiny, “Look, Here are My Breasts!” number. The trashy tattoos only added to the whole ensemble. I’ll give a runner-up nod to Rene Zellweger, whose tightly cinched waist was clearly making a statement of – “Look, I’ve already lost all my Bridget Jones II weight!” Sorry, Rene... like ya’ better WITH the extra 30.
Oh yeah, and the “What-The-Fuck-Is-She-Wearing” award goes to Uma Thurman, in some kind of Swiss Miss / St-Pauli-Girl / Tablecloth getup.
As for the actual Oscars – no surprises. Hope nobody out there bet any money against Lord of the Rings.
And thus ends Dave’s brief Oscar Night recap. I know it’s not what you’ve all come to expect. Sorry, folks... I’m depressed, and I have work to do!
D.
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