atv update...
Well the ATV is back... sort of. But Ollie is not. I’ve only seen him once since the police took him and the bike away... I saw him getting into a car with one of his punkass friends on Sunday. But no more with the dirtbikes or the ATV. And yet...
There IS an ATV. I think it’s actually a different one. It’s red, but darker I think. With more roll bars and whatnot. And it’s MUCH quieter. We’ve seen it sitting on the White Trash property for about a week. Can you believe it? ANOTHER fucking ATV!! After we call the cops three times, after Ollie gets carted to jail for possession of a stolen one... these fucking people have yet another fucking recreational offroad motherfucking vehicle on their property? Then on Tuesday afternoon they started riding it.
Not Ollie, mind you... first it was Uncle Tony. (You’ll remember him from the exchange the day before the arrest. He was the “iratic” one.) Then it was some kid. Then it was yet ANOTHER denizen of the White Trash house... a fellow who I will refer to as “Uncle Mullet”, for obvious reasons. I have no idea if he’s related to them or not, but he seems to be staying in one of the hovels, so I’m guessing he is yet another prime specimen in Grandma’s apparently VAST white-trash gene pool. And so they took turns... Uncle Tony, Uncle Mullet, Cousin Vinnie... whoever the fuck.
I will say... at least they appeared to be making an effort not to go past our house very often. Instead, they would turn up another street a block down, come back, and then do donuts on the property of the two newly-built, unoccupied houses on the side road. They only passed our house 3 or 4 times all afternoon, and like I said - this IS a quieter vehicle, so we just let them be. But still... FUCK. These are ADULTS! What kind of ADULT buys an ATV with no place to ride it but on the streets and on private property?? (Other people’s private property, that is!) I just don’t get it.
And I said to my wife – “Does it make me an evil person to sit here watching them just praying that one of them flips that fucking thing and breaks their neck??” Because... helmets? Yeah, RIGHT! So maybe if having family members imprisoned isn’t enough of a deterrent, perhaps a good episode of quadriplegia might do the trick.
Although, really...? I doubt it.
Friday, April 30
don’t make me stop this car...
The little one was pretty antsy all afternoon, but the day wasn’t too bad until the drive home, which was three hours in traffic and punctuated by an ”ENNNGGHHAAAAAGGHH” from the backseat every three minutes like clockwork. Each one followed shortly by an almost identical sound from ME.
Nothing more need be said about yesterday. Probably best left forgotten, lest one be tempted to never leave the house with the children ever again.
The little one was pretty antsy all afternoon, but the day wasn’t too bad until the drive home, which was three hours in traffic and punctuated by an ”ENNNGGHHAAAAAGGHH” from the backseat every three minutes like clockwork. Each one followed shortly by an almost identical sound from ME.
Nothing more need be said about yesterday. Probably best left forgotten, lest one be tempted to never leave the house with the children ever again.
Thursday, April 29
place your bets...
You know... I want to be positive, but I just don’t see how today is not going to be a disaster. This is the plan. I’m on the train heading in for my morning class. The wife and kids are driving into the city to go to the museum. Our membership expires at the end of the month, and my daughter hasn’t seen the meteorites yet, so... here we go. They will see an IMAX movie and go to the butterfly exhibit to kill time. When my class is over at noon, I will head up to the museum to meet them. We will see meteors and moon-rocks and probably the same damned dinosaurs again. We will probably have lunch. Now comes the fun part...
My wife is going to go see a talk by one of her favorite authors downtown. We will get into her car near the museum... drive down to my college... stop by my office... pick up some computers... drive down to where her talk is. I will then take her car keys, she will take my train pass and MY car keys, I will drive the kids home from the city, she will go to her talk, I will put the kids to bed, she will take the train home to where I left MY car, and she will drive MY car home from the train station.
Simple, right?
Where will the disaster happen? Kids flip out at the museum because nobody has had a nap? Dave has a panic attack on the Williamsburg Bridge with the kids screaming in the back seat? Wife forgets Dave’s car keys and I have to load the kids in the car at 10:00 PM to go pick her up at the train station? Something will go wrong. It’s just a question of what and when.
I’ll let you know..
You know... I want to be positive, but I just don’t see how today is not going to be a disaster. This is the plan. I’m on the train heading in for my morning class. The wife and kids are driving into the city to go to the museum. Our membership expires at the end of the month, and my daughter hasn’t seen the meteorites yet, so... here we go. They will see an IMAX movie and go to the butterfly exhibit to kill time. When my class is over at noon, I will head up to the museum to meet them. We will see meteors and moon-rocks and probably the same damned dinosaurs again. We will probably have lunch. Now comes the fun part...
My wife is going to go see a talk by one of her favorite authors downtown. We will get into her car near the museum... drive down to my college... stop by my office... pick up some computers... drive down to where her talk is. I will then take her car keys, she will take my train pass and MY car keys, I will drive the kids home from the city, she will go to her talk, I will put the kids to bed, she will take the train home to where I left MY car, and she will drive MY car home from the train station.
Simple, right?
Where will the disaster happen? Kids flip out at the museum because nobody has had a nap? Dave has a panic attack on the Williamsburg Bridge with the kids screaming in the back seat? Wife forgets Dave’s car keys and I have to load the kids in the car at 10:00 PM to go pick her up at the train station? Something will go wrong. It’s just a question of what and when.
I’ll let you know..
Wednesday, April 28
yet another meta entry...
I feel like I’m writing TOO MUCH in this here weblog. Two, sometimes three posts a day? I mean... most of the blogs I read regularly are only updated once every 2-3 days. I’m beginning to feel like I’m just talking to hear myself talk. Which isn’t to say that people aren’t reading – clearly they are. But I think lately I’m writing more and more when I have less and less to say. This feeling was exacerbated last night when I got an email from a lurker whose weblog I noted, and she replied by complimenting me on my talent for “inane chatter”.
Umm. Thanks. I think.
I’m also worried about my affected sense of negativity. My old roommate Sam has been reading my Other Weblog, and he sent be an email the other day that said – “If I didn’t already know you I’d think you were a very unpleasant person.” And I was surprised at first, but then I thought about it and... yeah, well... I do bitch and moan and rant a lot, don’t I? And even though it’s pretty clearly tongue-in-cheek most of the time, there’s really not a whole lot of positivity there to balance it out.
But then I think... you know what? Fuck positivity! I’m forced to smile and be positive all day long. The person I am in the weblog is not the person I am in real life. Thank God! Or else when this old albino guy in a suit sat down across from me on the train, I would have yelled at him in real life - ”Hey! Edgar Winter! Are you sure isn’t another seat on this train where you can sit and NOT whack knees with ME?! Because I’d really rather not be forced to hold my legs completely fucking still for the next hour and fifteen minutes until I can’t feel my fucking feet anymore.” But I didn’t say that. I just moved my legs in. But I CAN say that HERE. And so I do.
And yeah – you know what else? My children are adorable and funny and smart. And I tell THEM that. But I if sit here and I tell YOU that every single day, then I just become Kathy Lee Gifford. But if I come here every day and write stuff like, ”If MonkeyBoy doesn’t stop falling off the fucking furniture, he’s gonna wind up on the Short Bus for sure” then you all get entertained, I blow off some steam, and the kids benefit from a substantial reduction in beatings.
And so, for the time being, the “inane chatter” and the negativity will continue. One thing I WILL try to cut down on is writing weblog entries about my weblog. There has been entire too much meta-analysis going on lately. My obsessive tendencies are showing themselves. I should really give those tendencies something productive to do. Why can’t I be obsessive about grading or cleaning or saving money? No, instead I’m obsessive about my hit-count and my “notes”.
(By the way... over 800 hits in April! Already double what I got in March! My weblog kicks ass!)
Ok... that was the last one.
I feel like I’m writing TOO MUCH in this here weblog. Two, sometimes three posts a day? I mean... most of the blogs I read regularly are only updated once every 2-3 days. I’m beginning to feel like I’m just talking to hear myself talk. Which isn’t to say that people aren’t reading – clearly they are. But I think lately I’m writing more and more when I have less and less to say. This feeling was exacerbated last night when I got an email from a lurker whose weblog I noted, and she replied by complimenting me on my talent for “inane chatter”.
Umm. Thanks. I think.
I’m also worried about my affected sense of negativity. My old roommate Sam has been reading my Other Weblog, and he sent be an email the other day that said – “If I didn’t already know you I’d think you were a very unpleasant person.” And I was surprised at first, but then I thought about it and... yeah, well... I do bitch and moan and rant a lot, don’t I? And even though it’s pretty clearly tongue-in-cheek most of the time, there’s really not a whole lot of positivity there to balance it out.
But then I think... you know what? Fuck positivity! I’m forced to smile and be positive all day long. The person I am in the weblog is not the person I am in real life. Thank God! Or else when this old albino guy in a suit sat down across from me on the train, I would have yelled at him in real life - ”Hey! Edgar Winter! Are you sure isn’t another seat on this train where you can sit and NOT whack knees with ME?! Because I’d really rather not be forced to hold my legs completely fucking still for the next hour and fifteen minutes until I can’t feel my fucking feet anymore.” But I didn’t say that. I just moved my legs in. But I CAN say that HERE. And so I do.
And yeah – you know what else? My children are adorable and funny and smart. And I tell THEM that. But I if sit here and I tell YOU that every single day, then I just become Kathy Lee Gifford. But if I come here every day and write stuff like, ”If MonkeyBoy doesn’t stop falling off the fucking furniture, he’s gonna wind up on the Short Bus for sure” then you all get entertained, I blow off some steam, and the kids benefit from a substantial reduction in beatings.
And so, for the time being, the “inane chatter” and the negativity will continue. One thing I WILL try to cut down on is writing weblog entries about my weblog. There has been entire too much meta-analysis going on lately. My obsessive tendencies are showing themselves. I should really give those tendencies something productive to do. Why can’t I be obsessive about grading or cleaning or saving money? No, instead I’m obsessive about my hit-count and my “notes”.
(By the way... over 800 hits in April! Already double what I got in March! My weblog kicks ass!)
Ok... that was the last one.
Tuesday, April 27
jack white? he's the young feller in the red dungarees, right...?
I read a story about how Apple's iTunes sales are up, and it reminded me that I need to do my part and buy some music, so I picked up "Elephant" by the White Stripes for $9.99.
Look at me! I'm over 30, and I listen to the White Stripes! I'm hip! I'm "edgy"!
Expect a review any day now.
I read a story about how Apple's iTunes sales are up, and it reminded me that I need to do my part and buy some music, so I picked up "Elephant" by the White Stripes for $9.99.
Look at me! I'm over 30, and I listen to the White Stripes! I'm hip! I'm "edgy"!
Expect a review any day now.
paper late...
I’m unbelievably tired this morning. One of those mornings when it’s 6:30, the kids are climbing on the bed, the TV is on, and you say to yourself... ok, I’ll wake up...”Open, eyes.”.. and your eyes say - ”No. Sorry. Call back in an hour.”
And maybe my half-asleepedness is to blame, but I’m finding children’s television especially surreal this morning. First it’s JoJo’s Circus with its claymation clowns... which is fine... and not as creepy as a universe of clowns might have been, but the thing is... everyone is either a clown or some kind of Circus Folk or Circus Animal... except for the Potatoes.
Would someone out there PLEASE tell me what the fuck is up with the Potato-Looking-People-Things on that show?? I’ve been to the circus a few times, and I do NOT remember seeing any anthropomorphic potatoes.
Next up is Blue’s Clues which I’m usually ok with, but today’s show is titled “Soccer Practice” and opens with a shot of Blue playing soccer with SideTableDrawer.
I’m sorry, but am I supposed to just ACCEPT the image of a DOG playing SOCCER with a fucking ENDTABLE without comment? Granted, I’m not 4, but I think even the 4 year olds might just look at that and think... “Ok, what the fuck??”
Lastly, I’ve awoke today with the Phil-Collins-Era-Genesis song ”Paperlate” playing on infinite repeat inside my head. Which is doubly irritating, because not only do I not know where the hell it came from, I have NEVER had any idea what the fuck the words to that song mean. Paperlate? Paper Late? No news is good news? The only thing I can think is that my subconscious conjured it up in response to the fact that only about half of my physics students have handed in their term papers.
Anyway, it’s not even 8:00 AM, and I already don’t have a good feeling about today.
I’m unbelievably tired this morning. One of those mornings when it’s 6:30, the kids are climbing on the bed, the TV is on, and you say to yourself... ok, I’ll wake up...”Open, eyes.”.. and your eyes say - ”No. Sorry. Call back in an hour.”
And maybe my half-asleepedness is to blame, but I’m finding children’s television especially surreal this morning. First it’s JoJo’s Circus with its claymation clowns... which is fine... and not as creepy as a universe of clowns might have been, but the thing is... everyone is either a clown or some kind of Circus Folk or Circus Animal... except for the Potatoes.
Would someone out there PLEASE tell me what the fuck is up with the Potato-Looking-People-Things on that show?? I’ve been to the circus a few times, and I do NOT remember seeing any anthropomorphic potatoes.
Next up is Blue’s Clues which I’m usually ok with, but today’s show is titled “Soccer Practice” and opens with a shot of Blue playing soccer with SideTableDrawer.
I’m sorry, but am I supposed to just ACCEPT the image of a DOG playing SOCCER with a fucking ENDTABLE without comment? Granted, I’m not 4, but I think even the 4 year olds might just look at that and think... “Ok, what the fuck??”
Lastly, I’ve awoke today with the Phil-Collins-Era-Genesis song ”Paperlate” playing on infinite repeat inside my head. Which is doubly irritating, because not only do I not know where the hell it came from, I have NEVER had any idea what the fuck the words to that song mean. Paperlate? Paper Late? No news is good news? The only thing I can think is that my subconscious conjured it up in response to the fact that only about half of my physics students have handed in their term papers.
Anyway, it’s not even 8:00 AM, and I already don’t have a good feeling about today.
Monday, April 26
spam clarification...
A couple of clarifications regarding the As-Seen-On-Oprah spam. A lot of people left noes saying - HEY, quit complaining, I get 200 spams a day. Yeah, well... me too. But not at my WORK addresses. I am VERY careful NOT to use my work address for ANYTHING at ALL... EVER, except sending email to people I know. I don't use it on forms, I don't put it on any websites, I don't use it when I order from amazon.com... NOTHING. So my work addresses are pretty blissfully spam-free. My excite.com, mail.com, and yahoo.com addresses are a whole 'nother story.
But the OprahSpam has sneaked through to my work addresses, which really irks me. Granted, it's my OLD work address, from the Old School, and I only get about a message a week there, but I still auto-forward it. And so now there is this ONE fucking spam coming in, and it just keeps coming, and coming, and coming... and oh, it makes me mad.
So that's the complaint. Not spam in general... I've been able to deal with that pretty well by being smart with my email. It's just... this... one...
A couple of clarifications regarding the As-Seen-On-Oprah spam. A lot of people left noes saying - HEY, quit complaining, I get 200 spams a day. Yeah, well... me too. But not at my WORK addresses. I am VERY careful NOT to use my work address for ANYTHING at ALL... EVER, except sending email to people I know. I don't use it on forms, I don't put it on any websites, I don't use it when I order from amazon.com... NOTHING. So my work addresses are pretty blissfully spam-free. My excite.com, mail.com, and yahoo.com addresses are a whole 'nother story.
But the OprahSpam has sneaked through to my work addresses, which really irks me. Granted, it's my OLD work address, from the Old School, and I only get about a message a week there, but I still auto-forward it. And so now there is this ONE fucking spam coming in, and it just keeps coming, and coming, and coming... and oh, it makes me mad.
So that's the complaint. Not spam in general... I've been able to deal with that pretty well by being smart with my email. It's just... this... one...
monday, and i’m not even gonna complain about the rain...
No PowerPoint today. I’m kickin’ it Old School... just me and the blackboard... err... wipe-board. Ok, so, maybe not THAT Old School. Multimedia-free, though. Anyway... today’s topics... pion exchange and the nuclear force, followed by the quark model, the strong interaction and QCD. Oh, yeah baby.
(My spell-check doesn’t know the word “pion”? How long have I had this computer??)
My physics students also have papers due today. I come up with these great topics for term papers, and then the students hand them in, and all I can think is – “Fuck, now I have to grade 18 five-page-papers?? Why do I do this to myself?” I’ve decided that the best thing about my new job of producing educational videos will be that it’s kinda like teaching, but without the grading. Then again, I’ll also be doing online courses, which as far as I can tell is pretty much all the grading without the actual TEACHING!
The rest of the day promises to be pretty busy. I have to meet with my “senior work” student about the first draft of her research project, then I have to decide what the FUCK we are doing in Calculus for the rest of the semester. Then I have to come home and watch the kids, because tonight is apparently another “Mom’s Night Out.” Yeah. So is Tuesday, as a matter of fact, with a different group of Moms. And Thursday she’s going in to the city to see some author.
WHEN THE FUCK IS “DAD’S NIGHT OUT”??
Yeah, yeah... I know... I get to spend 3 days a week in Manhattan all by myself every week. Apparently my wife thinks that I spend my whole day happily wandering the streets of New York, occasionally stopping to toss my beret into the air. Not so much. I rush from the subway station to my office, teach my class, eat from vending machines, teach another class, and then rush BACK to the train station. Sure, I get a lot of alone time on the train, but it’s not like I ever get to DO anything.
Yeah. Anyway...
This new shirt totally rocks. I bought new jeans a few weeks ago. One pair that are medium-Levi-blue (although they are Lee, not Levis... I’m too fat for Levis anymore, sadly) and another pair that are darker-than-medium-blue. Not that REAL dark color, like the “Wrangler Stiff-Ass Dungarees” your Mom used to make you wear to school. These are still “washed” looking... just a shade darker than the default jeans color. And I’ve been wearing them with a dark shirt... usually either a black button down or a dark grey turtleneck... and my dark grey professory blazer. And while I like that look a lot, I thought last week – you know what would look good instead? The jeans and blazer with a WHITE shirt. Not a crispy Haggar dress shirt, something casual and Gap-ish. I wasn’t even thinking linen until I saw this shirt at Target. . ( I‘m actually fairly sure I’ve NEVER thought “linen” before in my life. By the way... Is it totally uncool to admit buying your clothes from Target?? Sorry. It’s only about half of them if that helps any.) Anyway... it’s not very often that I have these fashion ideas and they WORK. I usually think – oh, that would look nice, and then... yeah, not so much. But this shirt works.
One problem.
I’m gonna regret the fuck out of buying a linen shirt the first time this puppy comes out of the wash, aren’t I? It’s gonna wrinkle like a motherfucker, isn’t it?? Damn. And I don’t really have enough time in my schedule to be ironing shirts in the morning. So, this may be the last time I wear it.
But for one day at least... I look damn good.
No PowerPoint today. I’m kickin’ it Old School... just me and the blackboard... err... wipe-board. Ok, so, maybe not THAT Old School. Multimedia-free, though. Anyway... today’s topics... pion exchange and the nuclear force, followed by the quark model, the strong interaction and QCD. Oh, yeah baby.
(My spell-check doesn’t know the word “pion”? How long have I had this computer??)
My physics students also have papers due today. I come up with these great topics for term papers, and then the students hand them in, and all I can think is – “Fuck, now I have to grade 18 five-page-papers?? Why do I do this to myself?” I’ve decided that the best thing about my new job of producing educational videos will be that it’s kinda like teaching, but without the grading. Then again, I’ll also be doing online courses, which as far as I can tell is pretty much all the grading without the actual TEACHING!
The rest of the day promises to be pretty busy. I have to meet with my “senior work” student about the first draft of her research project, then I have to decide what the FUCK we are doing in Calculus for the rest of the semester. Then I have to come home and watch the kids, because tonight is apparently another “Mom’s Night Out.” Yeah. So is Tuesday, as a matter of fact, with a different group of Moms. And Thursday she’s going in to the city to see some author.
WHEN THE FUCK IS “DAD’S NIGHT OUT”??
Yeah, yeah... I know... I get to spend 3 days a week in Manhattan all by myself every week. Apparently my wife thinks that I spend my whole day happily wandering the streets of New York, occasionally stopping to toss my beret into the air. Not so much. I rush from the subway station to my office, teach my class, eat from vending machines, teach another class, and then rush BACK to the train station. Sure, I get a lot of alone time on the train, but it’s not like I ever get to DO anything.
Yeah. Anyway...
This new shirt totally rocks. I bought new jeans a few weeks ago. One pair that are medium-Levi-blue (although they are Lee, not Levis... I’m too fat for Levis anymore, sadly) and another pair that are darker-than-medium-blue. Not that REAL dark color, like the “Wrangler Stiff-Ass Dungarees” your Mom used to make you wear to school. These are still “washed” looking... just a shade darker than the default jeans color. And I’ve been wearing them with a dark shirt... usually either a black button down or a dark grey turtleneck... and my dark grey professory blazer. And while I like that look a lot, I thought last week – you know what would look good instead? The jeans and blazer with a WHITE shirt. Not a crispy Haggar dress shirt, something casual and Gap-ish. I wasn’t even thinking linen until I saw this shirt at Target. . ( I‘m actually fairly sure I’ve NEVER thought “linen” before in my life. By the way... Is it totally uncool to admit buying your clothes from Target?? Sorry. It’s only about half of them if that helps any.) Anyway... it’s not very often that I have these fashion ideas and they WORK. I usually think – oh, that would look nice, and then... yeah, not so much. But this shirt works.
One problem.
I’m gonna regret the fuck out of buying a linen shirt the first time this puppy comes out of the wash, aren’t I? It’s gonna wrinkle like a motherfucker, isn’t it?? Damn. And I don’t really have enough time in my schedule to be ironing shirts in the morning. So, this may be the last time I wear it.
But for one day at least... I look damn good.
Sunday, April 25
sunday in brief...
The wife and daughter went out this afternoon to catch a community theatre production of Sondheim’s Into the Woods. I took the little one to Target, bought myself a white linen button-down shirt, and pulled a muscle in my back picking up a 35 pound bucket of Tidy Cat.
That is all.
The wife and daughter went out this afternoon to catch a community theatre production of Sondheim’s Into the Woods. I took the little one to Target, bought myself a white linen button-down shirt, and pulled a muscle in my back picking up a 35 pound bucket of Tidy Cat.
That is all.
ok!! i’ll buy it if you STOP...!!!
As seen on NBC, CBS, and CNN, and even Oprah! The health
discovery that actually reverses aging while burning fat,
without dieting or exercise! This proven discovery has even
been reported on by major Science Journals.
Forget aging and dieting forever! And It's Guaranteed!
* Reduce body fat and build lean muscle WITHOUT EXERCISE!
* Enhance sexual performance
* Remove wrinkles and cellulite
* Lower blood pressure and improve cholesterol profile
* Improve sleep, vision and memory
* Restore hair color and growth
* Strengthen the immune system
* Increase energy and cardiac output
* Turn back your body's biological clock 10-20 years in 6 months!!!
Is it just me, or are other people getting this spam message every single fucking day?! FUCK! Just... ENOUGH!! I mean... spam is one thing, but to get the same message, every day, always from a different “address”, always with a different subject line... it’s driving me CRAZY. OK! It was on OPRAH! I’ll take one! I’ll take TEN!
JUST STOP SENDING ME THIS FUCKING MESSAGE!!
As seen on NBC, CBS, and CNN, and even Oprah! The health
discovery that actually reverses aging while burning fat,
without dieting or exercise! This proven discovery has even
been reported on by major Science Journals.
Forget aging and dieting forever! And It's Guaranteed!
* Reduce body fat and build lean muscle WITHOUT EXERCISE!
* Enhance sexual performance
* Remove wrinkles and cellulite
* Lower blood pressure and improve cholesterol profile
* Improve sleep, vision and memory
* Restore hair color and growth
* Strengthen the immune system
* Increase energy and cardiac output
* Turn back your body's biological clock 10-20 years in 6 months!!!
Is it just me, or are other people getting this spam message every single fucking day?! FUCK! Just... ENOUGH!! I mean... spam is one thing, but to get the same message, every day, always from a different “address”, always with a different subject line... it’s driving me CRAZY. OK! It was on OPRAH! I’ll take one! I’ll take TEN!
JUST STOP SENDING ME THIS FUCKING MESSAGE!!
Saturday, April 24
separation anxiety...
So I was sitting in the basement this evening, reading... listening to music, when I decided to take care of something I’ve been meaning to do – get on to eBay and sell some stuff. Particularly some guitars. Because really... I can NOT move all of these things to the new house. There simply won’t be room for them. And I never play them, and they are all old stuff I bought from pawn shops for $100, and now that I have a nice solid Stratocaster, what do I need a bunch of old beat up Silvertone’s and Harmony’s for?
So I log on to eBay, open a new listing, start typing the description for my Harmony archtop, and I’m about 5 lines into it and I forget if the pickup works or if there are any cracks in the body, so I walk in to the studio to check on it. Yup... a few cracks along the joint between the top and the sides. Not good... that kind of structural crack really hurts the value of a vintage guitar. But the pickup plug appears to be repaired, which I didn’t actually remember doing. So I walked over to an amp and plugged it in to make sure it worked.
Play...
Play...
(...)
”What are you, fucking CRAZY, Dave? You are NOT selling this guitar!!!”
Damn you, little Guitar-Collecting-Voice-In-My-Head!! He's right, though. It plays SO nicely. It has such a solid feeling neck... so perfect for the blues... and it's a great guitar for playing slide on. Well... ok... what about this Silvertone archtop? It needs new bushings and, look... the finish is all crackly, and... and...
And...?
(Take it off the wall... hold it...)
”My god it’s beautiful.”
Shit. I’m stuck with ALL of them, aren’t I?
So I was sitting in the basement this evening, reading... listening to music, when I decided to take care of something I’ve been meaning to do – get on to eBay and sell some stuff. Particularly some guitars. Because really... I can NOT move all of these things to the new house. There simply won’t be room for them. And I never play them, and they are all old stuff I bought from pawn shops for $100, and now that I have a nice solid Stratocaster, what do I need a bunch of old beat up Silvertone’s and Harmony’s for?
So I log on to eBay, open a new listing, start typing the description for my Harmony archtop, and I’m about 5 lines into it and I forget if the pickup works or if there are any cracks in the body, so I walk in to the studio to check on it. Yup... a few cracks along the joint between the top and the sides. Not good... that kind of structural crack really hurts the value of a vintage guitar. But the pickup plug appears to be repaired, which I didn’t actually remember doing. So I walked over to an amp and plugged it in to make sure it worked.
Play...
Play...
(...)
”What are you, fucking CRAZY, Dave? You are NOT selling this guitar!!!”
Damn you, little Guitar-Collecting-Voice-In-My-Head!! He's right, though. It plays SO nicely. It has such a solid feeling neck... so perfect for the blues... and it's a great guitar for playing slide on. Well... ok... what about this Silvertone archtop? It needs new bushings and, look... the finish is all crackly, and... and...
And...?
(Take it off the wall... hold it...)
”My god it’s beautiful.”
Shit. I’m stuck with ALL of them, aren’t I?
graphic novella...
So, today is apparently 24-Hour Comic Day. Who knew there was such a thing? It’s apparently an invention of Scott McCloud whose deconstructions of the comic genre are quite interesting reads. If I didn’t have, you know.... a LIFE, I’d definitely pick up a stack of paper and start drawing a 24-page comic book RIGHT NOW. Although... I’ve always been more of a 1-panel guy when it comes to comics... “Far Side” type stuff. You wanna know why? It’s because I’m too fucking lazy to try to draw characters that look the same in every panel. And because I have the attention span of a...
But that reminds me, I have this idea for when I start my new job developing science education materials. Comic books!! As in... comic book versions of famous scientific works. Darwin’s “Origin of Species”... Newton’s “Principia”... Galileo’s “Starry Messenger”... all re-imagined as COMICS!! The text would be excerpted from the original historical works, but it would be combined with modern, edgy, illustrations.
I had this idea that it would be away to make the history of science appealing to teenage-students, but now that I think about it... probably only to nerdy boys who wind up liking science anyway. Oh well. I still wanna do it, because I think it would be cool.
(Speaking of nerdy boys.)
So, today is apparently 24-Hour Comic Day. Who knew there was such a thing? It’s apparently an invention of Scott McCloud whose deconstructions of the comic genre are quite interesting reads. If I didn’t have, you know.... a LIFE, I’d definitely pick up a stack of paper and start drawing a 24-page comic book RIGHT NOW. Although... I’ve always been more of a 1-panel guy when it comes to comics... “Far Side” type stuff. You wanna know why? It’s because I’m too fucking lazy to try to draw characters that look the same in every panel. And because I have the attention span of a...
But that reminds me, I have this idea for when I start my new job developing science education materials. Comic books!! As in... comic book versions of famous scientific works. Darwin’s “Origin of Species”... Newton’s “Principia”... Galileo’s “Starry Messenger”... all re-imagined as COMICS!! The text would be excerpted from the original historical works, but it would be combined with modern, edgy, illustrations.
I had this idea that it would be away to make the history of science appealing to teenage-students, but now that I think about it... probably only to nerdy boys who wind up liking science anyway. Oh well. I still wanna do it, because I think it would be cool.
(Speaking of nerdy boys.)
Friday, April 23
a noble act...
I registered a piece of “shareware” today. Can you believe that?? Not a cheapie, either... $25!! But I finally sucked it up and paid for it, because it IS something I use every day. ( It’s called “Konfabulator” - for you Mac users out there who might want to check it out.) I think it’s only the second time I’ve ever done that. I feel like it makes up for the thousands of dollars of pirated Microsoft and Adobe programs on my hard drive. A little. I feel “atoned” anyway.
In a completely unrelated consumer act, I bought myself the Complete Beethoven Symphonies on CD today. (The classic Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic versions) It’s something I’ve always wanted, and it was $34, and I had an $18 Borders gift card, and a 20% corporate discount, and so I figured... a 5-cd set for $11? Yeah... it’s time.
I rocked out to Symphony #1 in C-major on the way home. The seventh is my favorite, though. I could become one of those really obnoxious, elitist, classical music wankers if I wanted to. Maybe when I hit 40.
I registered a piece of “shareware” today. Can you believe that?? Not a cheapie, either... $25!! But I finally sucked it up and paid for it, because it IS something I use every day. ( It’s called “Konfabulator” - for you Mac users out there who might want to check it out.) I think it’s only the second time I’ve ever done that. I feel like it makes up for the thousands of dollars of pirated Microsoft and Adobe programs on my hard drive. A little. I feel “atoned” anyway.
In a completely unrelated consumer act, I bought myself the Complete Beethoven Symphonies on CD today. (The classic Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic versions) It’s something I’ve always wanted, and it was $34, and I had an $18 Borders gift card, and a 20% corporate discount, and so I figured... a 5-cd set for $11? Yeah... it’s time.
I rocked out to Symphony #1 in C-major on the way home. The seventh is my favorite, though. I could become one of those really obnoxious, elitist, classical music wankers if I wanted to. Maybe when I hit 40.
whoommf...whoommf...
Whatever this cold-allergy-sinus thing is that I’ve had for 5 days... I’m about ready to be rid of it, thankyouverymuch. Especially since for the past 2 days I’ve been enjoying a pounding headache, accompanied by the constant hum of The Sound of the Inside of Dave’s Head. I can HEAR the blood rushing through my veins. I can hear my muscles contract. It’s very noisy in here, and I’m tired of it.
I told my wife the other day that I had a headache and she said - “Did you take some Advil?” and I said yeah, but it didn’t help. and that they should make an Advil Patch especially for people with children.
Whatever this cold-allergy-sinus thing is that I’ve had for 5 days... I’m about ready to be rid of it, thankyouverymuch. Especially since for the past 2 days I’ve been enjoying a pounding headache, accompanied by the constant hum of The Sound of the Inside of Dave’s Head. I can HEAR the blood rushing through my veins. I can hear my muscles contract. It’s very noisy in here, and I’m tired of it.
I told my wife the other day that I had a headache and she said - “Did you take some Advil?” and I said yeah, but it didn’t help. and that they should make an Advil Patch especially for people with children.
Thursday, April 22
10 beautiful minutes of unconsciousness...
I just fell asleep on the train before it even left the station. I woke up feeling like I had slept for an hour. It had been only 10 minutes.
Last night from midnight until about 2:00 AM, the baby screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. Blood-curdling, wake-the-dead, I’d-better-come-in-there-and-find-a-wild-jackal-chewing-off-your-leg screams. Why? Because he’s an evil, evil little monster sent to Earth by God or the Devil to fucking torment me and send me to an early grave, that’s why.
Anyway, not until I had kids did I realize that under the right circumstances, 10 minutes of sleep can feel as restful as 8 hours.
Not that I REMEMBER what 8 hours of sleep feels like, mind you.
I just fell asleep on the train before it even left the station. I woke up feeling like I had slept for an hour. It had been only 10 minutes.
Last night from midnight until about 2:00 AM, the baby screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. Blood-curdling, wake-the-dead, I’d-better-come-in-there-and-find-a-wild-jackal-chewing-off-your-leg screams. Why? Because he’s an evil, evil little monster sent to Earth by God or the Devil to fucking torment me and send me to an early grave, that’s why.
Anyway, not until I had kids did I realize that under the right circumstances, 10 minutes of sleep can feel as restful as 8 hours.
Not that I REMEMBER what 8 hours of sleep feels like, mind you.
the big blah...
Aaah... the Big Bang. Something I’ve taught a zillion times before. And you know what THAT means, don’t you? Recycled PowerPoints!! Woo-hoo! Beats the crap out of actually PREPARING to teach like I’ve had to for the past two weeks. Back to phoning it in... for Astronomy, anyway. Although, in my physics class, I’m actually teaching new material... stuff I’ve never done in any other class... Feynman diagrams, the pion exchange model, QCD. Fun stuff, but it’s always amazing how different it is when I teach something I’ve never taught before. It sucks noticeably more than a typical class. I guess practice does make... if not perfect, then at least “less sucky”.
There are about 4 weeks left of class. I’m glad. I’m done. Seriously. D-o-n-e. This has been a crappy semester. Which I suppose is good, since I won’t exactly be SAD about leaving academia.
Not that I’m leaving, mind you, because somehow I can never actually LEAVE a job. I’m scheduled to teach an online course next semester for my University. (The WRONG course, actually... major screw up... long story.) The thing is, since I agreed to do that, I’ve gotten a better offer... a chance to teach online science courses for SUNY. Good courses too... I mean... FUN courses. But I can’t really do TWO at once... not with a new job and all. So... I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.
Astronomy class sucked today, by the way. No surprise, really.
Aaah... the Big Bang. Something I’ve taught a zillion times before. And you know what THAT means, don’t you? Recycled PowerPoints!! Woo-hoo! Beats the crap out of actually PREPARING to teach like I’ve had to for the past two weeks. Back to phoning it in... for Astronomy, anyway. Although, in my physics class, I’m actually teaching new material... stuff I’ve never done in any other class... Feynman diagrams, the pion exchange model, QCD. Fun stuff, but it’s always amazing how different it is when I teach something I’ve never taught before. It sucks noticeably more than a typical class. I guess practice does make... if not perfect, then at least “less sucky”.
There are about 4 weeks left of class. I’m glad. I’m done. Seriously. D-o-n-e. This has been a crappy semester. Which I suppose is good, since I won’t exactly be SAD about leaving academia.
Not that I’m leaving, mind you, because somehow I can never actually LEAVE a job. I’m scheduled to teach an online course next semester for my University. (The WRONG course, actually... major screw up... long story.) The thing is, since I agreed to do that, I’ve gotten a better offer... a chance to teach online science courses for SUNY. Good courses too... I mean... FUN courses. But I can’t really do TWO at once... not with a new job and all. So... I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.
Astronomy class sucked today, by the way. No surprise, really.
and the winner is...
A lot of long-time readers responded to my post the other day by saying - ”Gee, I’ve read you online for a long time, but I don’t know HOW long.” So I decided to go back to my old journal at opendiary.com to look up my first few pages of notes and see who has been reading my rantings the longest.
The winner is that crazy California chick, known to some as “Dexter’s Gurl” - although she has more Yahoo aliases than anybody I know. (I also happen to know her real name, which is Porn-Star sexy!)
She has been reading since November of 1999! Check your calendars, kids... that’s almost 5 years. I didn’t even know I had been WRITING for that long.
I’ve never been sure why she comes here to read about my incredibly lame and boring life, given that HER life as recounted in her own weblog typically makes an episode of “Sex and the City” look like “Little House on the Prairie”. Ok... well, she’s settled down a little in recent years, but she’s still exponentially more cool than me.
I wish I had the resources to send her a prize. Any ideas?
A lot of long-time readers responded to my post the other day by saying - ”Gee, I’ve read you online for a long time, but I don’t know HOW long.” So I decided to go back to my old journal at opendiary.com to look up my first few pages of notes and see who has been reading my rantings the longest.
The winner is that crazy California chick, known to some as “Dexter’s Gurl” - although she has more Yahoo aliases than anybody I know. (I also happen to know her real name, which is Porn-Star sexy!)
She has been reading since November of 1999! Check your calendars, kids... that’s almost 5 years. I didn’t even know I had been WRITING for that long.
I’ve never been sure why she comes here to read about my incredibly lame and boring life, given that HER life as recounted in her own weblog typically makes an episode of “Sex and the City” look like “Little House on the Prairie”. Ok... well, she’s settled down a little in recent years, but she’s still exponentially more cool than me.
I wish I had the resources to send her a prize. Any ideas?
Wednesday, April 21
reversal...
There is a supergorgeous 20-something chick sitting across from me on the train. Tall and thin, with a diamond-stud pierced nose and big, curly Debra-Messing hair... and I just looked up from my laptop and caught her looking at me.
Make that staring at me.
She didn’t look away when I caught her, either. It kinda freaked me out. I mean... I stare at women all the time... I’m just not sure what to do when they stare BACK! All I can hear is Beavis in my head...
Hey... how’s it goin’? Heh-heh... ”
Settle down, Beavis.
There is a supergorgeous 20-something chick sitting across from me on the train. Tall and thin, with a diamond-stud pierced nose and big, curly Debra-Messing hair... and I just looked up from my laptop and caught her looking at me.
Make that staring at me.
She didn’t look away when I caught her, either. It kinda freaked me out. I mean... I stare at women all the time... I’m just not sure what to do when they stare BACK! All I can hear is Beavis in my head...
Hey... how’s it goin’? Heh-heh... ”
Settle down, Beavis.
critical mass...
I’ve had another little *hiccup* in readership this week – topping 40 readers in one day for the first time ever. A quick glance at my Sitemeter “referrals” report suggests that some of the increase in traffic may be coming from new links to my weblog at Symposiasts and another at Black Daisies. So in the name of interconnectedness and good-old-fashioned internet neighborliness, I figured I’d give them both a little mention here.
I figure every cross-link increases the chance of forming what Stuart Kauffman would call an “autocatalytic loop” where every new reader spawns MORE new readers and so the whole thing just explodes like a nuclear chain reaction. If that happens, I could top my goal of 100 readers in a few weeks. In fact I could wind up with THOUSANDS of hits a day. Which would freak me totally the fuck out, because I would be CERTAIN that somebody I knew in real life was reading, then I would stop talking about certain things that I talk about which are probably the reason most people read, and then they would stop reading, and the whole thing would crumble until I was back to the same dozen people who have been reading for the past 2 years already
So, yeah... thanks again you dozen 2-year readers. And welcome to you new people too. I’m not always this self-referential... really.
I’ve had another little *hiccup* in readership this week – topping 40 readers in one day for the first time ever. A quick glance at my Sitemeter “referrals” report suggests that some of the increase in traffic may be coming from new links to my weblog at Symposiasts and another at Black Daisies. So in the name of interconnectedness and good-old-fashioned internet neighborliness, I figured I’d give them both a little mention here.
I figure every cross-link increases the chance of forming what Stuart Kauffman would call an “autocatalytic loop” where every new reader spawns MORE new readers and so the whole thing just explodes like a nuclear chain reaction. If that happens, I could top my goal of 100 readers in a few weeks. In fact I could wind up with THOUSANDS of hits a day. Which would freak me totally the fuck out, because I would be CERTAIN that somebody I knew in real life was reading, then I would stop talking about certain things that I talk about which are probably the reason most people read, and then they would stop reading, and the whole thing would crumble until I was back to the same dozen people who have been reading for the past 2 years already
So, yeah... thanks again you dozen 2-year readers. And welcome to you new people too. I’m not always this self-referential... really.
Platforms 'R' Us...
Last week while watching my favorite TV show, I concluded that the success of Survivor must be a huge boon to the manufacturers of floating platforms. I never would have thought there even was such an industry, but there they are... every week on Survivor... every year in a different part of the world... out there in some lagoon, standing on a floating platform, so... SOMEBODY must make them. I wonder if you go to Marquesas and pick up a Yellow Pages, if there is a section devoted to floating platforms with a big quarter page ad for AAA Floating Platforms Inc. – “As seen on the hit CBS show SURVIVOR!”
Last week while watching my favorite TV show, I concluded that the success of Survivor must be a huge boon to the manufacturers of floating platforms. I never would have thought there even was such an industry, but there they are... every week on Survivor... every year in a different part of the world... out there in some lagoon, standing on a floating platform, so... SOMEBODY must make them. I wonder if you go to Marquesas and pick up a Yellow Pages, if there is a section devoted to floating platforms with a big quarter page ad for AAA Floating Platforms Inc. – “As seen on the hit CBS show SURVIVOR!”
cryptohooziewhat?
Did somebody out there recommend that I read Neal Stephenson’s book Cryptonomicon? Because he has a new book out - The Confusion - which apparently involves Isaac Newton and alchemy and all sorts of 17th century intrigue. And I was reading up on it to see if it sounded like my kind of thing, and I came across a mention of Cryptonomicon, and I thought... “Didn’t someone tell me I should read that?” It must have been someone here, because none of my friends in real life read books.
Did somebody out there recommend that I read Neal Stephenson’s book Cryptonomicon? Because he has a new book out - The Confusion - which apparently involves Isaac Newton and alchemy and all sorts of 17th century intrigue. And I was reading up on it to see if it sounded like my kind of thing, and I came across a mention of Cryptonomicon, and I thought... “Didn’t someone tell me I should read that?” It must have been someone here, because none of my friends in real life read books.
Tuesday, April 20
Ober... Unger. Unger... Dunn.
There is a guy across the way on the train using one of those cell phones that doubles as a “coast-to- coast walkie talkie”. What is the deal with those things? I mean... really... what are they FOR? Do they have some advantage over a regular cell phone that I’m not understanding?? Or are they just fun toys for people like this guy who insists on saying “Over” and “Roger that.”
I think maybe it’s time for a revival of the mid-70’s CB radio fad. Remember that? 10-4 good buddy! All it would take is a modern Hollywood remake of “Smoky and the Bandit”.
Any casting suggestions?
There is a guy across the way on the train using one of those cell phones that doubles as a “coast-to- coast walkie talkie”. What is the deal with those things? I mean... really... what are they FOR? Do they have some advantage over a regular cell phone that I’m not understanding?? Or are they just fun toys for people like this guy who insists on saying “Over” and “Roger that.”
I think maybe it’s time for a revival of the mid-70’s CB radio fad. Remember that? 10-4 good buddy! All it would take is a modern Hollywood remake of “Smoky and the Bandit”.
Any casting suggestions?
pressure...
I checked my Sitemeter stats today, and found that my readership has practically doubled in the past two months. And now all of sudden I'm feeling all pressured and panicky when I don't have anything interesting to write.
I have a very unhealthy relationship with my weblog.
In lieu of real content this morning, I will share with you a recent candy find. Sweetart Jelly Beans. Think about that for a moment. If you try to imagine what that would be like... you'll be right. They are pretty cool. See if you can find some in the post-Easter clearance bins.
I checked my Sitemeter stats today, and found that my readership has practically doubled in the past two months. And now all of sudden I'm feeling all pressured and panicky when I don't have anything interesting to write.
I have a very unhealthy relationship with my weblog.
In lieu of real content this morning, I will share with you a recent candy find. Sweetart Jelly Beans. Think about that for a moment. If you try to imagine what that would be like... you'll be right. They are pretty cool. See if you can find some in the post-Easter clearance bins.
Monday, April 19
goooal...!
almost bedtime. looking forward to an exciting evening of Nose Hockey. you know the game. breathe thru right nostril... turn onto right side... breathe thru left nostril... turn onto left side...
repeat...
all night.
in other news, i've added on of those obnoxious 'what book am i reading' boxes to my right column in order to prove how much smarter and better read i am than you. i'll conveniently refrain from mentioning the copies of playboy and maxim that share the nightstand, however.
almost bedtime. looking forward to an exciting evening of Nose Hockey. you know the game. breathe thru right nostril... turn onto right side... breathe thru left nostril... turn onto left side...
repeat...
all night.
in other news, i've added on of those obnoxious 'what book am i reading' boxes to my right column in order to prove how much smarter and better read i am than you. i'll conveniently refrain from mentioning the copies of playboy and maxim that share the nightstand, however.
monday...
I spent the whole day under the spell of the Wet Towel once again. I finally couldn’t take it any more and walked over to the drug store to pick up some Sudafed and some nasal spray. The latter seemed to help temporarily, but only on one side... the Sudafed seems to be doing NOTHING. I feel like hell. I gave my afternoon students a quiz and set them on their merry way.
This morning I was late for work after the train preceding me apparently HIT the train preceding IT! It has NOT been a good week for Me and Trains, to say the least. Anyway, once I rolled into class, set up my stuff, caught my breath and started teaching, I felt like the entire lecture was moving in slow motion. It was like I was lecturing underwater. It was bad.
And now I’m just dead tired. I almost just fell asleep and the train hasn’t even left the station.
...
When I wrote that sentence, a tiny lump of neurons in the back of my head started singing an old Stones blues cover... ”When the TRAYYYN leff tha STAYSHOWWWN... there were two lights owwn behine’....” I don’t even know the name of that song. Shut up neurons! (Homer Simpson voice... “Stupid singing neurons!”)
I know it’s been a few days since I’ve written anything interesting, but I REALLY need to close my eyes now.
I spent the whole day under the spell of the Wet Towel once again. I finally couldn’t take it any more and walked over to the drug store to pick up some Sudafed and some nasal spray. The latter seemed to help temporarily, but only on one side... the Sudafed seems to be doing NOTHING. I feel like hell. I gave my afternoon students a quiz and set them on their merry way.
This morning I was late for work after the train preceding me apparently HIT the train preceding IT! It has NOT been a good week for Me and Trains, to say the least. Anyway, once I rolled into class, set up my stuff, caught my breath and started teaching, I felt like the entire lecture was moving in slow motion. It was like I was lecturing underwater. It was bad.
And now I’m just dead tired. I almost just fell asleep and the train hasn’t even left the station.
...
When I wrote that sentence, a tiny lump of neurons in the back of my head started singing an old Stones blues cover... ”When the TRAYYYN leff tha STAYSHOWWWN... there were two lights owwn behine’....” I don’t even know the name of that song. Shut up neurons! (Homer Simpson voice... “Stupid singing neurons!”)
I know it’s been a few days since I’ve written anything interesting, but I REALLY need to close my eyes now.
wet towel...
Oh... man... what a weekend. I still have whatever I had on Friday, but it’s been aggravated by the onset of Allergy Season, so I spent the whole weekend feeling like I have an entire wet bath towel stuffed inside of my head, and then the wife decides that the weather is so nice on Sunday that would be a good day to go to the Bronx Zoo. Yeah, and I’m sure 2 million other people won’t have that very same idea, will they?? Yeah.
The thing about these Modern Zoos is – now that we’ve decided as a culture that it’s cruel to put lions and rhinos in a 20’ by 20’ cage and that they should instead be seen in a ”naturalistic habitat”.... zoos are now these HUGE sprawling affairs where you have to walk about 3/4 of a mile to get from one exhibit to the next. And when you do, the lions and rhinos are like, 300 yards away from you sleeping on top of a rock. It’s enough to make you long for the days when you could actually SEE the animals, because they were right there in front of you in a 20’ by 20’ cage... pacing agitatedly like... well, like a caged animal, in fact.
Anyway, I walked my ass off, and that combined with the wet towel inside my head made for a very tiring day. Then my wife dropped me off at a subway station and I headed into the city while she took the kids home. Y’see... last night was the opening night for the Festival of Geeky Science Plays at the theatre which commissioned our play, and my co-author and I had to go to suck up and schmooze. So I figure, I’ll hop on the #2 train in the Bronx... head down to around Columbus Circle, have about an hour to kill, maybe at a bookstore or a Starbucks, then walk down to the theatre.
An. Hour. And. A. Half.
To get from the Bronx Zoo to midtown Manhattan took me LITERALLY an hour and a half. It was the worst public transportation experience I’ve ever had. I don’t even want to recount all the details, because reliving it would be too painful. Reminder to self – check the MTA’s website for “Service Updates” when you go to Manhattan on the weekends. Because Sundays are apparently Track Construction Days!
Oy.
Anyway the play was good
And now I must go and construct a PowerPoint presentation about nuclear physics.
Oh... man... what a weekend. I still have whatever I had on Friday, but it’s been aggravated by the onset of Allergy Season, so I spent the whole weekend feeling like I have an entire wet bath towel stuffed inside of my head, and then the wife decides that the weather is so nice on Sunday that would be a good day to go to the Bronx Zoo. Yeah, and I’m sure 2 million other people won’t have that very same idea, will they?? Yeah.
The thing about these Modern Zoos is – now that we’ve decided as a culture that it’s cruel to put lions and rhinos in a 20’ by 20’ cage and that they should instead be seen in a ”naturalistic habitat”.... zoos are now these HUGE sprawling affairs where you have to walk about 3/4 of a mile to get from one exhibit to the next. And when you do, the lions and rhinos are like, 300 yards away from you sleeping on top of a rock. It’s enough to make you long for the days when you could actually SEE the animals, because they were right there in front of you in a 20’ by 20’ cage... pacing agitatedly like... well, like a caged animal, in fact.
Anyway, I walked my ass off, and that combined with the wet towel inside my head made for a very tiring day. Then my wife dropped me off at a subway station and I headed into the city while she took the kids home. Y’see... last night was the opening night for the Festival of Geeky Science Plays at the theatre which commissioned our play, and my co-author and I had to go to suck up and schmooze. So I figure, I’ll hop on the #2 train in the Bronx... head down to around Columbus Circle, have about an hour to kill, maybe at a bookstore or a Starbucks, then walk down to the theatre.
An. Hour. And. A. Half.
To get from the Bronx Zoo to midtown Manhattan took me LITERALLY an hour and a half. It was the worst public transportation experience I’ve ever had. I don’t even want to recount all the details, because reliving it would be too painful. Reminder to self – check the MTA’s website for “Service Updates” when you go to Manhattan on the weekends. Because Sundays are apparently Track Construction Days!
Oy.
Anyway the play was good
And now I must go and construct a PowerPoint presentation about nuclear physics.
Friday, April 16
no... after you...
My office overlooks the college’s courtyard, which one enters from either building through a revolving door at each end. Sometimes I just stare out my window and watch people go through the revolving doors, and I’m becoming very interested in the instantaneous little “social contract” that happens between people as they approach a revolving door from opposite sides. ”Are you going first? Am I going first? Are we going to go through at the same time?” Because you have to adjust your pace just a tiny bit to make sure the process goes smoothly. And I’ve seldom seen the process break down... like when you wind up doing the Sidewalk Shuffle with someone because you can’t decide who is going to pass on which side. I’ve never seen anybody get themselves crushed or be forced to stop moving altogether while waiting for the other person. It’s very interesting.
And the whole thing makes me want to do really geeky things like wire up motion detectors to measure the speeds of people as they approach revolving doors, or to model the whole process with a computer program. Some part of me thinks that there must be underlying principle that could be applied to data packet transmission or nuclear scattering or... something.
It’s a horrible thing to be a science nerd sometimes.
D.
My office overlooks the college’s courtyard, which one enters from either building through a revolving door at each end. Sometimes I just stare out my window and watch people go through the revolving doors, and I’m becoming very interested in the instantaneous little “social contract” that happens between people as they approach a revolving door from opposite sides. ”Are you going first? Am I going first? Are we going to go through at the same time?” Because you have to adjust your pace just a tiny bit to make sure the process goes smoothly. And I’ve seldom seen the process break down... like when you wind up doing the Sidewalk Shuffle with someone because you can’t decide who is going to pass on which side. I’ve never seen anybody get themselves crushed or be forced to stop moving altogether while waiting for the other person. It’s very interesting.
And the whole thing makes me want to do really geeky things like wire up motion detectors to measure the speeds of people as they approach revolving doors, or to model the whole process with a computer program. Some part of me thinks that there must be underlying principle that could be applied to data packet transmission or nuclear scattering or... something.
It’s a horrible thing to be a science nerd sometimes.
D.
uuuuggh...
I feel like a big pile of undistilled hell this morning. The symptoms are pretty vague, though, so I'm not sure what the problem is. Sore throat + a deep sensation of some kind of woozy malaise.
Have to take the kid to preschool at 8:30... head to my Old Job to turn in a consulting timesheet and meet with my co-playwright at 11:30... do some shopping at 3:00... pick up the kid from preschool at 4:15... come home. It would be a pretty nice day without all the wooziness and malaise.
Bleh.
D.
I feel like a big pile of undistilled hell this morning. The symptoms are pretty vague, though, so I'm not sure what the problem is. Sore throat + a deep sensation of some kind of woozy malaise.
Have to take the kid to preschool at 8:30... head to my Old Job to turn in a consulting timesheet and meet with my co-playwright at 11:30... do some shopping at 3:00... pick up the kid from preschool at 4:15... come home. It would be a pretty nice day without all the wooziness and malaise.
Bleh.
D.
Thursday, April 15
taking the fun out of slutty...
Has anybody noticed the "mainstreamization" of fishnet stockings that has occured recently? Here in the city I see them with business suits. Students at my college wear them under jeans. Diane Sawyer was wearing them on Letterman a couple of weeks ago.
Leave it to the winds of fashion to take yet another thing I fetishize and suck all the life out of it by making it available at K-mart for 13-year-olds and 60-year-olds alike.
What's next? Barbara Walters in a PVC corset??
D.
Has anybody noticed the "mainstreamization" of fishnet stockings that has occured recently? Here in the city I see them with business suits. Students at my college wear them under jeans. Diane Sawyer was wearing them on Letterman a couple of weeks ago.
Leave it to the winds of fashion to take yet another thing I fetishize and suck all the life out of it by making it available at K-mart for 13-year-olds and 60-year-olds alike.
What's next? Barbara Walters in a PVC corset??
D.
fucking exhausted...
I can only write a little on the train this morning. I’m teaching a subject I’ve never taught before in Astro class today (galaxy structure and formation) so I have a lot of work still to do on my PowerPoint, which I had to create from scratch last night.(Something I seldom have to do anymore.) I was up late working on it... went to bed at 12:00, and the baby then proceeded to wake up 4 times in the next 2 hours. So I got maybe 4.5 hours of sleep last night.
Yeah.... this is gonna be a GREAT lecture!
I can’t wait until tomorrow, and it’s only 7:15 AM.
One more thing before I go. Can I just say – now that I’ve chased all the lurkers in my diary out of their spider-holes and into the open? I’m a little creeped out by how many of you there are. I mean... don’t take that the wrong way or anything. It’s just that, in going from a dozen readers to 30... all of a sudden I don’t feel like I “know” everybody who is reading, which is a little weird. A classic case of Careful-What-You-Wish-For. But a good thing, in the long run.... really.
Ok... it’s galaxy structure and formation time.
D.
I can only write a little on the train this morning. I’m teaching a subject I’ve never taught before in Astro class today (galaxy structure and formation) so I have a lot of work still to do on my PowerPoint, which I had to create from scratch last night.(Something I seldom have to do anymore.) I was up late working on it... went to bed at 12:00, and the baby then proceeded to wake up 4 times in the next 2 hours. So I got maybe 4.5 hours of sleep last night.
Yeah.... this is gonna be a GREAT lecture!
I can’t wait until tomorrow, and it’s only 7:15 AM.
One more thing before I go. Can I just say – now that I’ve chased all the lurkers in my diary out of their spider-holes and into the open? I’m a little creeped out by how many of you there are. I mean... don’t take that the wrong way or anything. It’s just that, in going from a dozen readers to 30... all of a sudden I don’t feel like I “know” everybody who is reading, which is a little weird. A classic case of Careful-What-You-Wish-For. But a good thing, in the long run.... really.
Ok... it’s galaxy structure and formation time.
D.
Wednesday, April 14
night @ home...
The wife’s evening in the city went just fine. She enjoyed her musical, and actually wound up with a table at Studio 54 two seats down from Stephen Sondheim!
As for me, the kids were good, the little one went to sleep with minimal aggravation, and I spent the rest of the night downloading porn and watching ”For a Few Dollars More”. I gotta get me one of them musical pocketwatches to play every time I shoot somebody.
And today, as usual, I have WAY too much to do. Two classes that I haven’t really prepared for, probably an advising appointment or two, a “Science Lab Open House” for which I have to set up an experiment and print out some signs, and... it seems like there’s something else. I dunno. Lots of stuff
I spend a good chunk of yesterday mucking around with me weblog template. (**) And the thing is... I’m sure it’s nothing anyone would notice. Tiny tweaks... a little font size here, a little margin there... a little more white space all around. (Beige space? Khaki space?) I also stripped down the template of my new G-rated blog. That one is even more minimalist than this one, if you can believe it. No notes, no links, no counter... not yet anyway. I like it that way. Somebody here asked me for the link but... nope... not gonna happen. Because I’ll probably eventually have a link to my wife’s blog. I don’t want any of my readers HERE winding up on my wife’s weblog and leaving her a note and having her check out YOUR weblog and finding a link to THIS weblog or a note from me or... whatever. I promise there will never be anything posted there that isn’t posted here. got it? You people get the good stuff.
Ok. I’m gonna work now.
D.
The wife’s evening in the city went just fine. She enjoyed her musical, and actually wound up with a table at Studio 54 two seats down from Stephen Sondheim!
As for me, the kids were good, the little one went to sleep with minimal aggravation, and I spent the rest of the night downloading porn and watching ”For a Few Dollars More”. I gotta get me one of them musical pocketwatches to play every time I shoot somebody.
And today, as usual, I have WAY too much to do. Two classes that I haven’t really prepared for, probably an advising appointment or two, a “Science Lab Open House” for which I have to set up an experiment and print out some signs, and... it seems like there’s something else. I dunno. Lots of stuff
I spend a good chunk of yesterday mucking around with me weblog template. (**) And the thing is... I’m sure it’s nothing anyone would notice. Tiny tweaks... a little font size here, a little margin there... a little more white space all around. (Beige space? Khaki space?) I also stripped down the template of my new G-rated blog. That one is even more minimalist than this one, if you can believe it. No notes, no links, no counter... not yet anyway. I like it that way. Somebody here asked me for the link but... nope... not gonna happen. Because I’ll probably eventually have a link to my wife’s blog. I don’t want any of my readers HERE winding up on my wife’s weblog and leaving her a note and having her check out YOUR weblog and finding a link to THIS weblog or a note from me or... whatever. I promise there will never be anything posted there that isn’t posted here. got it? You people get the good stuff.
Ok. I’m gonna work now.
D.
** Actually that was supposed to say “my” weblog template, but I’m gonna leave it as “me” because I like the idea of a pirate having a weblog. ”Wednesday, April 14th... Shiver me timbers I’ve a lot to do this morn’! Hoist the mains’l... batten the hatches... swab the deck... Aaargh! I’ve barely a minute to edit me’ template!”
Tuesday, April 13
little miss darwin...
My daughter and I were watching her new “Eyewitness: Dinosaur” video today, and she suddenly pipes up from the sofa...
“I have a problem. I don’t understand how the first people were born. Because if they were BORN then they must have had parents... and then... ??”
Oh, crap.
Thus followed a very short (and perhaps slightly dismissive) account of the Adam and Eve Myth, followed by a lengthy explanation of the Theory of Evolution, pitched at a 5-year-old’s level, complete with a trip online to look at pictures of Australopithecines and a discussion of how little dogs have been bred from wolf-like ancestors through thousands of years of artificial selection.
I’m exhausted. How do people who AREN’T scientists deal with these questions??
Dr. Dave
(PS: The best part was when I explained that humans changed slowly over years and years from types of creatures who weren’t QUITE the same as people, she said – “Yeah, when I was thinking about it and trying to figure out I thought that maybe they could have been born from animals or something.” which is not terribly far from the truth.)
My daughter and I were watching her new “Eyewitness: Dinosaur” video today, and she suddenly pipes up from the sofa...
“I have a problem. I don’t understand how the first people were born. Because if they were BORN then they must have had parents... and then... ??”
Oh, crap.
Thus followed a very short (and perhaps slightly dismissive) account of the Adam and Eve Myth, followed by a lengthy explanation of the Theory of Evolution, pitched at a 5-year-old’s level, complete with a trip online to look at pictures of Australopithecines and a discussion of how little dogs have been bred from wolf-like ancestors through thousands of years of artificial selection.
I’m exhausted. How do people who AREN’T scientists deal with these questions??
Dr. Dave
(PS: The best part was when I explained that humans changed slowly over years and years from types of creatures who weren’t QUITE the same as people, she said – “Yeah, when I was thinking about it and trying to figure out I thought that maybe they could have been born from animals or something.” which is not terribly far from the truth.)
tit for tat...
ok... i apologize for yelling at all my readers the other day. many thanks to all of those guilted into first-time-noting. as payment for being such good and loving readers, I have added a 'per-entry' comment feature to my weblog as requested by many.
it's all about you, readers... i do it all for you.
dr. dave
ok... i apologize for yelling at all my readers the other day. many thanks to all of those guilted into first-time-noting. as payment for being such good and loving readers, I have added a 'per-entry' comment feature to my weblog as requested by many.
it's all about you, readers... i do it all for you.
dr. dave
vending mishap/surprise...
The other day I walked out of my office and I thought “Man, I’m really hungry... maybe I’ll go get something from the vending machine.” And I walked into the bathroom and thought... “No Dave... you already had something from the vending machine today... one is enough.” And then I’m standing in the restroom doing my thing and I thought... “What DID I have from the vending machine...?”
!!! :O !!!
(That ‘emoticon’ is meant to indicate that I actually and literally made an eyes-wide-open, wide-mouthed, Eddie Murphy “Buckwheat” face.)
“I never ATE the thing I bought from the vending machine earlier!!”
Score one for the positive side-effects of early-onset dementia.... little surprise treats for yourself in your own coat pocket.
D.
The other day I walked out of my office and I thought “Man, I’m really hungry... maybe I’ll go get something from the vending machine.” And I walked into the bathroom and thought... “No Dave... you already had something from the vending machine today... one is enough.” And then I’m standing in the restroom doing my thing and I thought... “What DID I have from the vending machine...?”
!!! :O !!!
(That ‘emoticon’ is meant to indicate that I actually and literally made an eyes-wide-open, wide-mouthed, Eddie Murphy “Buckwheat” face.)
“I never ATE the thing I bought from the vending machine earlier!!”
Score one for the positive side-effects of early-onset dementia.... little surprise treats for yourself in your own coat pocket.
D.
Monday, April 12
waste of time...
Artistic types seem to put far too high a value on “Face Time”. Today was the second meeting I’ve been called to down at the studio that is commissioning our play, and on both occasions nothing transpired that couldn’t have been accomplished with a 5 minute phone call or a 10-line email message. What the hell? I hang around Manhattan for two hours and all I get is “Hi, everybody...welcome... it’s nice to see you all... we’re looking forward to working with you... the full resources of the studio are available to you... call us if you need anything... here is your check.”
Wtf? I mean... ok, the check part was good, but the rest of it? Complete waste of my time. What’s wrong with the MAIL?
Eh. I’m just generally crabby this week. Tomorrow isn’t going to be much better. The wife is going to spend the whole afternoon and evening in NYC seeing a show – leaving me with both kids all day... including the dreaded BEDTIME. I fully expect to completely lose it. I’m going to need to be sedated or something.
(No! Don’t sing it!! Ah... too late.)
Not much else is going on. My classes were so-so today. I had some “advisee” appointments. (More time wasters!) I spent some time eviscerating my newfound Mac G3 stash.... put all the RAM into one. Boy that speeded it up! Haven’t gotten around to yanking the HD from the “donor” Mac yet. I’m not sure how much point there is. There’s no reason that a 5 year old G3 running System 9.2 needs 9 Gb of storage.... 4.5 is just fine.
Ok... I’m TechnoBabbling now. That means I’m out of interesting things to say. Time to do something else!
Dr. D.
Artistic types seem to put far too high a value on “Face Time”. Today was the second meeting I’ve been called to down at the studio that is commissioning our play, and on both occasions nothing transpired that couldn’t have been accomplished with a 5 minute phone call or a 10-line email message. What the hell? I hang around Manhattan for two hours and all I get is “Hi, everybody...welcome... it’s nice to see you all... we’re looking forward to working with you... the full resources of the studio are available to you... call us if you need anything... here is your check.”
Wtf? I mean... ok, the check part was good, but the rest of it? Complete waste of my time. What’s wrong with the MAIL?
Eh. I’m just generally crabby this week. Tomorrow isn’t going to be much better. The wife is going to spend the whole afternoon and evening in NYC seeing a show – leaving me with both kids all day... including the dreaded BEDTIME. I fully expect to completely lose it. I’m going to need to be sedated or something.
(No! Don’t sing it!! Ah... too late.)
Not much else is going on. My classes were so-so today. I had some “advisee” appointments. (More time wasters!) I spent some time eviscerating my newfound Mac G3 stash.... put all the RAM into one. Boy that speeded it up! Haven’t gotten around to yanking the HD from the “donor” Mac yet. I’m not sure how much point there is. There’s no reason that a 5 year old G3 running System 9.2 needs 9 Gb of storage.... 4.5 is just fine.
Ok... I’m TechnoBabbling now. That means I’m out of interesting things to say. Time to do something else!
Dr. D.
Sunday, April 11
the bumpus saga continues...
So while I was away in Atlanta, there was another confrontation with the dirtbike/ATV riding punkass neighbor grandkid, one mister Ollie Bumpus, who if you recall, is Suspect Number One in our little fire incident last month.
Well... he starts up with the dirt bike again, and so my wife goes out to ask him (nicely) to give it a rest. She gets called a “Bitch”, told that this is “His pad” and told to go home. Ok.
So, the wife is pissed and decides to take it out on the rest of the family. Long-time readers will recall, perhaps an incident with the White Trash Neighbors more than a year ago revolving around a parking space at the side of our property. Those of you who don’t can check out the original story back at my old Open Diary site. (The guy who parks there is Ollie’s uncle, who we will shortly learned is named, along with 75% of the population of Long Island, Anthony) Well, since this little square of dirt is in fact our property, and since my wife is feeling less than charitable and neighborly, she decides to post some “Private Property” and “No Parking” signs on our fence and to rope off the spot. She leaves a note on their windshield suggesting that if they would like to discuss being “neighborly” then perhaps they should start by having a discussion with Ollie about calling their neighbors a “Bitch”. I find out about all this when I arrive home from my trip. Oh, fun.
Two days later, they pull the rope down. Later on, when they are gone, I go out to put it back up. Just as I do... Uncle Anthony drives up in his pickup.
Oh boy. He starts in Why should I even believe this is your property? (We’re right in the middle of selling our house, we’ve got a copy of the survey right inside, you’re welcome to have a look at it.) I don’t understand why this is all of a sudden a problem? (Ummm... since our house got set on fire by your nephew?) You’ve got no proof that Ollie even did that! (We’ve had no problems for six years, we call the cops on Ollie, the very next day our house gets set on fire... doesn’t exactly take the gang at CSI to figure that one out.) Ollie doesn’t even live here, he just comes and goes (Well, he tells us this is his “pad”. Is that his dirtbike in your yard?) By now the wife comes out and raises the volume level. Uncle Tony tells her to go back inside, that he was out here “conversat’ing” with me until she came out acting all “iratic”. My wife the editor informs him that “iratic” is not, in fact, a word. This goes on for quite some time.
Somehow things eventually settled down and we got our point across. Which is... we’re tired of the dirtbikes, the cops can’t do anything, all Ollie does is cuss us out, we thought that maybe bringing the rest of the family into the discussion would get something done. Because maybe now either you or your mother will take this punk kid aside and say – “Hey, stop harassing our neighbors, because now they are giving US shit!”
Got that? That was Friday.
Saturday at 3:00 PM, what happens?
Yup. Vroom-vroom... up starts the ATV. Back and forth, back and forth... wheelies... past our house 15 times in 10 minutes. What should we do? I dunno... I give up. The wife on the other hand has NOT given up and calls the cops. A few minutes later I look out the window to find that the cops have, in fact, arrived... and luckily enough, the cop passed by just as the ATV was parked, so... they didn’t have to chase them. (They can’t chase them, the cops informed us after a prior call, because if they get hurt they can sue. Really? They can sue the COPS for getting hurt wile evading arrest on an illegal vehicle? Jesus.) So, cop is talking to them. I’m in the bathroom with the window open eavesdropping.
Long story short... cop calls in the serial number of the ATV, and...?
And...?
You guessed it. STOLEN!!
Oh, happy day! Oh, happy, happy day!
An hour later both Ollie and the ATV find themselves in the back of separate police vehicles, on the way to the station.
This is just too good. I mean... I’m sure I’m gonna wake up with my tires slashed one day this week, but still... in the meantime... this is just way, way too good. I didn’t get much of the conversation. Ollie claimed to have bought the thing, but he didn’t know the name of the guy he bought it from, blah, blah, blah. The cop seemed to indicate that they were having trouble getting their stories straight and that someone was “Having trouble thinking quick enough on their feet here.” But my favorite part was listening to Ollie’s friend “Eddie” trying to rationalize to the cop that they didn’t know it was stolen because they paid $1000 for it, and “You don’t go and pay a thousand dollars for an ATV that you know is stolen.” Hmmm... and so, just what IS the going rate for a stolen ATV on the street nowadays my Fine Young Man?? Priceless. Absolutely priceless stupidity.
And so kids, let this be a lesson to you. If you buy a stolen ATV, for goodness’ sake – jot down the last name of the guy you bought it from. And then think twice about calling your neighbor a bitch and then driving the damned thing back and forth past her house a million times. You might just attract a bit of unwanted attention to yourself.
So... that was our afternoon. Stay tuned for the next Senseless Act of Vandalism, I’m sure. Until then...
Dave
So while I was away in Atlanta, there was another confrontation with the dirtbike/ATV riding punkass neighbor grandkid, one mister Ollie Bumpus, who if you recall, is Suspect Number One in our little fire incident last month.
Well... he starts up with the dirt bike again, and so my wife goes out to ask him (nicely) to give it a rest. She gets called a “Bitch”, told that this is “His pad” and told to go home. Ok.
So, the wife is pissed and decides to take it out on the rest of the family. Long-time readers will recall, perhaps an incident with the White Trash Neighbors more than a year ago revolving around a parking space at the side of our property. Those of you who don’t can check out the original story back at my old Open Diary site. (The guy who parks there is Ollie’s uncle, who we will shortly learned is named, along with 75% of the population of Long Island, Anthony) Well, since this little square of dirt is in fact our property, and since my wife is feeling less than charitable and neighborly, she decides to post some “Private Property” and “No Parking” signs on our fence and to rope off the spot. She leaves a note on their windshield suggesting that if they would like to discuss being “neighborly” then perhaps they should start by having a discussion with Ollie about calling their neighbors a “Bitch”. I find out about all this when I arrive home from my trip. Oh, fun.
Two days later, they pull the rope down. Later on, when they are gone, I go out to put it back up. Just as I do... Uncle Anthony drives up in his pickup.
Oh boy. He starts in Why should I even believe this is your property? (We’re right in the middle of selling our house, we’ve got a copy of the survey right inside, you’re welcome to have a look at it.) I don’t understand why this is all of a sudden a problem? (Ummm... since our house got set on fire by your nephew?) You’ve got no proof that Ollie even did that! (We’ve had no problems for six years, we call the cops on Ollie, the very next day our house gets set on fire... doesn’t exactly take the gang at CSI to figure that one out.) Ollie doesn’t even live here, he just comes and goes (Well, he tells us this is his “pad”. Is that his dirtbike in your yard?) By now the wife comes out and raises the volume level. Uncle Tony tells her to go back inside, that he was out here “conversat’ing” with me until she came out acting all “iratic”. My wife the editor informs him that “iratic” is not, in fact, a word. This goes on for quite some time.
Somehow things eventually settled down and we got our point across. Which is... we’re tired of the dirtbikes, the cops can’t do anything, all Ollie does is cuss us out, we thought that maybe bringing the rest of the family into the discussion would get something done. Because maybe now either you or your mother will take this punk kid aside and say – “Hey, stop harassing our neighbors, because now they are giving US shit!”
Got that? That was Friday.
Saturday at 3:00 PM, what happens?
Yup. Vroom-vroom... up starts the ATV. Back and forth, back and forth... wheelies... past our house 15 times in 10 minutes. What should we do? I dunno... I give up. The wife on the other hand has NOT given up and calls the cops. A few minutes later I look out the window to find that the cops have, in fact, arrived... and luckily enough, the cop passed by just as the ATV was parked, so... they didn’t have to chase them. (They can’t chase them, the cops informed us after a prior call, because if they get hurt they can sue. Really? They can sue the COPS for getting hurt wile evading arrest on an illegal vehicle? Jesus.) So, cop is talking to them. I’m in the bathroom with the window open eavesdropping.
Long story short... cop calls in the serial number of the ATV, and...?
And...?
You guessed it. STOLEN!!
Oh, happy day! Oh, happy, happy day!
An hour later both Ollie and the ATV find themselves in the back of separate police vehicles, on the way to the station.
This is just too good. I mean... I’m sure I’m gonna wake up with my tires slashed one day this week, but still... in the meantime... this is just way, way too good. I didn’t get much of the conversation. Ollie claimed to have bought the thing, but he didn’t know the name of the guy he bought it from, blah, blah, blah. The cop seemed to indicate that they were having trouble getting their stories straight and that someone was “Having trouble thinking quick enough on their feet here.” But my favorite part was listening to Ollie’s friend “Eddie” trying to rationalize to the cop that they didn’t know it was stolen because they paid $1000 for it, and “You don’t go and pay a thousand dollars for an ATV that you know is stolen.” Hmmm... and so, just what IS the going rate for a stolen ATV on the street nowadays my Fine Young Man?? Priceless. Absolutely priceless stupidity.
And so kids, let this be a lesson to you. If you buy a stolen ATV, for goodness’ sake – jot down the last name of the guy you bought it from. And then think twice about calling your neighbor a bitch and then driving the damned thing back and forth past her house a million times. You might just attract a bit of unwanted attention to yourself.
So... that was our afternoon. Stay tuned for the next Senseless Act of Vandalism, I’m sure. Until then...
Dave
Saturday, April 10
smartass kid...
When my mother-in-law drove down from Chicago she brought some moving supplies to help us pack up this summer. Three GIANT boxes full of butcher paper... LOTS of butcher paper. Not wadded up either... all nicely folded. It’s for wrapping stuff up – y’know? But each giant box weighs as much as 3 or 4 reams of paper. They sat in the living room for about a week, and I finally dragged two of them down to the basement. But there wasn’t room for the third one down there, so I left the 3rd one for a few more days.
Yesterday, my 5 year-old daughter starts on about it.
I just love children.
D.
When my mother-in-law drove down from Chicago she brought some moving supplies to help us pack up this summer. Three GIANT boxes full of butcher paper... LOTS of butcher paper. Not wadded up either... all nicely folded. It’s for wrapping stuff up – y’know? But each giant box weighs as much as 3 or 4 reams of paper. They sat in the living room for about a week, and I finally dragged two of them down to the basement. But there wasn’t room for the third one down there, so I left the 3rd one for a few more days.
Yesterday, my 5 year-old daughter starts on about it.
”Where did the other two boxes go?”
I put them down in my studio.
”Why?”
Because they were in the way up here.
”Well, why is this one still here, then?”
Because it’s big, and heavy and I haven’t found a place for it yet. It’s really not your problem honey.
”Actually... I think it’s everybody’s problem.”
I just love children.
D.
the hit parade...
Over the past few weeks, my daily hit count has climbed from the mid-20’s to the low to mid 30’s, which suggests to me that I’ve acquired a few new readers. (Either that or one very obsessive reader who checks my site 10 times a day.)
I get tired of saying this, people... the price of admission is NOTES!
Pesky lurkers.
For instance... I happen to know that somebody is reading from the campus of NYU. I can see your domain name! I know you're there! Show yourself!! COWARDS!!
Dr. D.
Over the past few weeks, my daily hit count has climbed from the mid-20’s to the low to mid 30’s, which suggests to me that I’ve acquired a few new readers. (Either that or one very obsessive reader who checks my site 10 times a day.)
I get tired of saying this, people... the price of admission is NOTES!
Pesky lurkers.
For instance... I happen to know that somebody is reading from the campus of NYU. I can see your domain name! I know you're there! Show yourself!! COWARDS!!
Dr. D.
Friday, April 9
all the world’s a stage...
I just realized something the other day. As of mid-May, my college teaching gig will be over. Also my consultant stuff... done. My new job down in Alabama won’t officially start until July 1st. That means for a whole month and a half, my only official paying job will be...
Playwright.
Yeah. Cool, right? Should I dress differently, you think? Get serious about the drinking and the smoking? How can I make my 6 weeks as a starving artist as “Bohemian” as possible?
D.
I just realized something the other day. As of mid-May, my college teaching gig will be over. Also my consultant stuff... done. My new job down in Alabama won’t officially start until July 1st. That means for a whole month and a half, my only official paying job will be...
Playwright.
Yeah. Cool, right? Should I dress differently, you think? Get serious about the drinking and the smoking? How can I make my 6 weeks as a starving artist as “Bohemian” as possible?
D.
daveswifesblog.blogspot.com...
The other day I got a “new reader” (and, one would imagine, a short-lived reader) who left me an anonymous note that simply said... ”If I were your wife and I read this bog, I would divorce you.” Ummm... ok... thanks for coming, drive safely. That would be why I go to great lengths to make sure that doesn’t happen.
And wouldn’t you know it... very next day, my wife goes and sets up a weblog at Blogspot.
Dammit.
And even though I know there is only the teeny-tiniest chance of her ever, ever, ever coming across MY blog via Blogger’s home page or a note from a note from a note... it still gives me the heebie-jeebies knowing that her weblog is hosted on the same site as mine.
D.
The other day I got a “new reader” (and, one would imagine, a short-lived reader) who left me an anonymous note that simply said... ”If I were your wife and I read this bog, I would divorce you.” Ummm... ok... thanks for coming, drive safely. That would be why I go to great lengths to make sure that doesn’t happen.
And wouldn’t you know it... very next day, my wife goes and sets up a weblog at Blogspot.
Dammit.
And even though I know there is only the teeny-tiniest chance of her ever, ever, ever coming across MY blog via Blogger’s home page or a note from a note from a note... it still gives me the heebie-jeebies knowing that her weblog is hosted on the same site as mine.
D.
science news...
I saw a news story online today suggesting that the recent discovery of a 9,500 year old burial site indicates that humans may have first domesticated cats much earlier than was previously thought.
Wow.
Nine thousand years and we still haven’t taught them not to piss on the fucking bed.
D.
I saw a news story online today suggesting that the recent discovery of a 9,500 year old burial site indicates that humans may have first domesticated cats much earlier than was previously thought.
Wow.
Nine thousand years and we still haven’t taught them not to piss on the fucking bed.
D.
Thursday, April 8
score...
It pays to be “known” as the guy who wants... something... whatever your particular “thing” is. The Assistant to the Finance Guy cornered me in the hall today and said she was about to toss an old Mac, and did I want it. Uhh... YEAH. Always, are you kidding?
It’s a 300 Mhz beige G3 tower, 4.25 Gb hard drive, 256 Mb of Ram, internal Zip100, dual video cards, AV input/output. It would have been a sweet machine 5 years ago, now it’s apparently garbage.
Oh, no... not if I can help it!
It’s sitting on the floor next to the LAST beige G3 I rescued from the heap. Together they are going to make one sweet FrankenMac... 300 Mhz G3, 384 Mb of Ram, 2 video cards, dual USB ports, AV capture card, TWO 4.25 Gig hard drives, maybe even two Zip drives if I can find a place to squeeze them into the case!!
Actually, I should probably just sell the other Zip on eBay. Either way, my daughter is going to be able to play “Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo” at breakneck speed!
The only question is... what to do with my old 180 Mz G3-upgraded Mac 9500’s that are being replaced by this new find?
Hmmm...
D.
It pays to be “known” as the guy who wants... something... whatever your particular “thing” is. The Assistant to the Finance Guy cornered me in the hall today and said she was about to toss an old Mac, and did I want it. Uhh... YEAH. Always, are you kidding?
It’s a 300 Mhz beige G3 tower, 4.25 Gb hard drive, 256 Mb of Ram, internal Zip100, dual video cards, AV input/output. It would have been a sweet machine 5 years ago, now it’s apparently garbage.
Oh, no... not if I can help it!
It’s sitting on the floor next to the LAST beige G3 I rescued from the heap. Together they are going to make one sweet FrankenMac... 300 Mhz G3, 384 Mb of Ram, 2 video cards, dual USB ports, AV capture card, TWO 4.25 Gig hard drives, maybe even two Zip drives if I can find a place to squeeze them into the case!!
Actually, I should probably just sell the other Zip on eBay. Either way, my daughter is going to be able to play “Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo” at breakneck speed!
The only question is... what to do with my old 180 Mz G3-upgraded Mac 9500’s that are being replaced by this new find?
Hmmm...
D.
getting it done...
Ok... I have FOUR MORE of these fucking astronomy exams to grade, so I’m gonna go get that done NOW so I don’t have it hanging over my head for another week. Then I have to invent some magical “curve” that will alter the grades in such a way that half the students don’t fail. I don’t know what to say. I mean... I hate to sound like I’m being “culturally insensitive”... but I’m pretty sure if I was going to move to a country in Asia and go to college, I would do my best to make sure I understood Chinese/Korean/Japanese really, really, pretty well before I tried to take difficult college courses in said foreign language that required me to listen to lectures and read books and write things. Cuz that’s what you do in college, y’know? It wasn’t clear to me until after this exam that there are a few students in there who really have no idea what I’m saying.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that knowledge?
--- --- ---
God damn... I can’t believe that took me the whole ride in to finish. Not grading the 4 papers so much as doing the math, figuring out the percentages, and then coming up with a curve that seemed fair. Basically I made the highest score in the class equivalent to a 100%, so I calculated the percentages out of 335 points instead of 350. Then I added a weighted fraction which raised a score of 50% to one of 60%. (basically I took 100 minus your percentage, divided by five, and added that to your percentage. This gives you a bigger bonus the worse you did!) Two people STILL failed after all of that. You can only do so much.
D.
Ok... I have FOUR MORE of these fucking astronomy exams to grade, so I’m gonna go get that done NOW so I don’t have it hanging over my head for another week. Then I have to invent some magical “curve” that will alter the grades in such a way that half the students don’t fail. I don’t know what to say. I mean... I hate to sound like I’m being “culturally insensitive”... but I’m pretty sure if I was going to move to a country in Asia and go to college, I would do my best to make sure I understood Chinese/Korean/Japanese really, really, pretty well before I tried to take difficult college courses in said foreign language that required me to listen to lectures and read books and write things. Cuz that’s what you do in college, y’know? It wasn’t clear to me until after this exam that there are a few students in there who really have no idea what I’m saying.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that knowledge?
God damn... I can’t believe that took me the whole ride in to finish. Not grading the 4 papers so much as doing the math, figuring out the percentages, and then coming up with a curve that seemed fair. Basically I made the highest score in the class equivalent to a 100%, so I calculated the percentages out of 335 points instead of 350. Then I added a weighted fraction which raised a score of 50% to one of 60%. (basically I took 100 minus your percentage, divided by five, and added that to your percentage. This gives you a bigger bonus the worse you did!) Two people STILL failed after all of that. You can only do so much.
D.
Wednesday, April 7
photos...
I’m spending the afternoon grading, so instead of writing an afternoon post, I uploaded four new pix to my photoblog site. Random pictures from my trip to Atlanta, including Chatty Old Guy and the Sweatpant Girls.
d.
I’m spending the afternoon grading, so instead of writing an afternoon post, I uploaded four new pix to my photoblog site. Random pictures from my trip to Atlanta, including Chatty Old Guy and the Sweatpant Girls.
d.
midweek weblog slump...
Well. Wednesday. Where to start?
The outlook for me today? My two regular Weds classes. One guest lecture in a Math class to talk about the notion of “infinity” as it pertains to physics. A possible late stay in the city to see a lecture by playwright Tom Stoppard at my university. Unless...
The one-year-old is really sick. Like... coughy-phlegmy sick. He sounds just plain awful, and is a pretty crabby and unpleasant person as a result. The 5 year old has no preschool all week because it’s Spring Break at the public schools. Which means that the wife is home with both kids all day, all week. And so a late stay in the city for me could lead to my WIFE becoming a very crabby and unpleasant person as a result. And nobody wants that. So I imagine there will be a check-in some time around 3:30. “How’s the baby? Are you crazy yet? Will you hurt me if I come home at 10:00 PM?”
That’s it. I have nothing to write about. People are sitting near me on the train who know each other. You know what that means... talking. I hate the people with the talking. At least these are just corporate types. Better than the Blue Collar Long Island Goombah Vinnie/Tony/Vito types that were clogging up the train last night. Jesus, is it EVER necessary to talk that fucking loud?? Anyway... to fill you in. on this morning’s conversation... Bald Goatee guy is buying a bull mastiff puppy from a breeder in Connecticut, and so Handlebar Moustache Guy is telling him about how to take the ferry. Pink Sweater Sensible Shoe Girl takes the kids camping in Connecticut, and they always take the ferry.
Where the fuck are my headphones??
D.
Well. Wednesday. Where to start?
The outlook for me today? My two regular Weds classes. One guest lecture in a Math class to talk about the notion of “infinity” as it pertains to physics. A possible late stay in the city to see a lecture by playwright Tom Stoppard at my university. Unless...
The one-year-old is really sick. Like... coughy-phlegmy sick. He sounds just plain awful, and is a pretty crabby and unpleasant person as a result. The 5 year old has no preschool all week because it’s Spring Break at the public schools. Which means that the wife is home with both kids all day, all week. And so a late stay in the city for me could lead to my WIFE becoming a very crabby and unpleasant person as a result. And nobody wants that. So I imagine there will be a check-in some time around 3:30. “How’s the baby? Are you crazy yet? Will you hurt me if I come home at 10:00 PM?”
That’s it. I have nothing to write about. People are sitting near me on the train who know each other. You know what that means... talking. I hate the people with the talking. At least these are just corporate types. Better than the Blue Collar Long Island Goombah Vinnie/Tony/Vito types that were clogging up the train last night. Jesus, is it EVER necessary to talk that fucking loud?? Anyway... to fill you in. on this morning’s conversation... Bald Goatee guy is buying a bull mastiff puppy from a breeder in Connecticut, and so Handlebar Moustache Guy is telling him about how to take the ferry. Pink Sweater Sensible Shoe Girl takes the kids camping in Connecticut, and they always take the ferry.
Where the fuck are my headphones??
D.
Tuesday, April 6
yo, adrain...
My wife and I went out two nights in a row last week, before my trip. Once to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which was really good, by the way. One of those movies that you think... Jesus, how did they convince anyone to let them make a movie like this?? Anyway, then on Tuesday we went out for dinner and then to this place called “Dave and Busters” which is kind of like a Chuckie Cheese for adults, with liquor and pool and skeeball and more expensive videogames.
One of the games I played was this boxing game. It has a pad you stand on and these big heavy wired glove/handle things that you pick up and punch with, and a motion detector that can “see” your head and tell when you bob, weave, and duck. It was very impressive from a technological standpoint, but I soon realized that the whole game was just a big device designed to trick you into working out! My fucking arms and shoulders were still sore two days later! Imagine how grueling it must be to box against a real person. Especially if they hit back. I can’t imagine being this sore and also bruised.
d.
you have 5 seconds to comply...
I went into a public restroom the other day, and while I was doing my thing at the urinal, I heard this noise coming from the far, far end stall...
*whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click!
Ummm... problem with the automatic flusher? Or is Robocop taking a piss in there?
D.
My wife and I went out two nights in a row last week, before my trip. Once to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which was really good, by the way. One of those movies that you think... Jesus, how did they convince anyone to let them make a movie like this?? Anyway, then on Tuesday we went out for dinner and then to this place called “Dave and Busters” which is kind of like a Chuckie Cheese for adults, with liquor and pool and skeeball and more expensive videogames.
One of the games I played was this boxing game. It has a pad you stand on and these big heavy wired glove/handle things that you pick up and punch with, and a motion detector that can “see” your head and tell when you bob, weave, and duck. It was very impressive from a technological standpoint, but I soon realized that the whole game was just a big device designed to trick you into working out! My fucking arms and shoulders were still sore two days later! Imagine how grueling it must be to box against a real person. Especially if they hit back. I can’t imagine being this sore and also bruised.
d.
you have 5 seconds to comply...
I went into a public restroom the other day, and while I was doing my thing at the urinal, I heard this noise coming from the far, far end stall...
*whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click! *whirrrr* click!
Ummm... problem with the automatic flusher? Or is Robocop taking a piss in there?
D.
Monday, April 5
the grind...
Back to it, that is... kids, sleep, work, repeat.
I’m sitting here on the train with the book that I managed to finish about 4/5 of while I was away and debating spending the train ride reading instead of planning for this morning’s class. Why not? Why not “wing”? Sometimes magical and brilliant things happen when you wing a lecture. And sometimes it just sucks. And the fact that I don’t really care anymore enters into the equation as well.
I feel like I’ve blogged myself silly over the past three days. There are some things happening back in the Real World, but nothing I feel compelled to start going on and on about.
Yesterday I took some time to clean off my desktop. The computer incarnation, that is. The Desktop on my Mac is a striking display of controlled chaos. And while my hard drive is a fairly organized affair, my Desktop serves as a place to hold everything that I am currently working on, and anything I need frequent and daily access to. Everything is neatly grouped into specific areas, and the SIZE of the icons serves as an indicator of the relative importance of a particular file or folder. (This feature is not part of the OS, but a courtesy of a Finder hack that I can’t recall the name of.) So the busier I am, the more STUFF accumulates on my Desktop. And in the past few weeks, it had gotten a little crazy, with a long diagonal line of folders creeping across the middle of the screen. But now with the conference done and a couple of other things out of the way... the associated documents having been either filed or deleted... the center of my Desktop is clear again. I was surprised when I did it how much of a relief it was to see all that empty space.
But now it’s time to start thinking about all the things I’ve been putting off because of the conference. Grading, planning, writing letters of recommendation, grading, working on the play, grading.
Did I mention “grading”?
My wife asked me if I felt “recharged” after the weekend, and the thing is... I had to say... really, no. I mean... it was nice while it lasted, but now? I just feel like I’ve hit the ground stressing. Maybe it would cheer me up to look at a calendar and see how few weeks we really have left in the semester.
Anyway. Back to work.
D.
Back to it, that is... kids, sleep, work, repeat.
I’m sitting here on the train with the book that I managed to finish about 4/5 of while I was away and debating spending the train ride reading instead of planning for this morning’s class. Why not? Why not “wing”? Sometimes magical and brilliant things happen when you wing a lecture. And sometimes it just sucks. And the fact that I don’t really care anymore enters into the equation as well.
I feel like I’ve blogged myself silly over the past three days. There are some things happening back in the Real World, but nothing I feel compelled to start going on and on about.
Yesterday I took some time to clean off my desktop. The computer incarnation, that is. The Desktop on my Mac is a striking display of controlled chaos. And while my hard drive is a fairly organized affair, my Desktop serves as a place to hold everything that I am currently working on, and anything I need frequent and daily access to. Everything is neatly grouped into specific areas, and the SIZE of the icons serves as an indicator of the relative importance of a particular file or folder. (This feature is not part of the OS, but a courtesy of a Finder hack that I can’t recall the name of.) So the busier I am, the more STUFF accumulates on my Desktop. And in the past few weeks, it had gotten a little crazy, with a long diagonal line of folders creeping across the middle of the screen. But now with the conference done and a couple of other things out of the way... the associated documents having been either filed or deleted... the center of my Desktop is clear again. I was surprised when I did it how much of a relief it was to see all that empty space.
But now it’s time to start thinking about all the things I’ve been putting off because of the conference. Grading, planning, writing letters of recommendation, grading, working on the play, grading.
Did I mention “grading”?
My wife asked me if I felt “recharged” after the weekend, and the thing is... I had to say... really, no. I mean... it was nice while it lasted, but now? I just feel like I’ve hit the ground stressing. Maybe it would cheer me up to look at a calendar and see how few weeks we really have left in the semester.
Anyway. Back to work.
D.
Sunday, April 4
the return trip...
Sunday morning, There was a TV in the airport shuttlebus. Ernest Angley was on. You know him, even if you think you don’t. He is a TV preacher. Strike that... he is the TV preacher. He is the TV preacher that Robin Williams is doing when Robin Williams does a TV preacher. One of those TV preachers who manages to make “God” into a three syllable word. (“Ga-HOWWWd-uh!”) I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager. I had no idea he was still around, and still sporting the same toup’ apparently. Nice. I was watching the “healing” portion of the program with strange fascination. I just can’t imaging believing that hard in anything. I was mildly amused until they brought a little 8 year old kid up there, which immediately turned curiosity into revulsion. Keep your Crazy God Talk off the kids, please.
--- --- --- --- ---
I checked out of the hotel at 10:45 AM in that automated way you can do nowadays without ever talking to a real person. Dial #7080, and you’re checked out. We slipped your bill under the door last night. It’s a futuristic kind of efficiency. The whole hotel was like that. Robotic. And yet “organic” too, because the building itself had no straight lines. The high speed elevators that rushed me up and down to and from the 46th floor were these curvy transparent-pod-things... like the one that Derek Smalls gets stuck in during “Rock and Roll Creation”. The 50 story high atrium inside the hotel was bounded by curved railings and gently looping concrete balconies. It was like being inside of a skyscraper-sized aorta. It wasn’t hard to imagine the whole hotel growing out of the earth like a giant H.R. Giger biomechanical living structure. Minus the “wet”.
--- --- --- --- ---
Here in today’s enlightened age, you’d think that the archetype of the “hot flight attendant” would be one which would have faded away by now.... disappearing hand-in-hand with the now decidedly 1970’s sounding word “stewardess”.
The thing is? Really... not.
Yeah.
--- --- --- --- ---
Takeoff was rough. It was a windy day in Atlanta today – enough so that I was actually glad I had worn my out-of-place looking black leather New York coat as I stood waiting for the airport shuttle this morning. The plane moved down the runway like a soccer ball being dribbled down field... with far more back and forth motion than you’d reasonably expect an airplane to have while it is still on the ground.
Apart from the Hot Flight Attendant Archetypes, there are a smattering of attractive women in the general area who bear commenting on. A very attractive Latina woman next to me, who seems to be traveling with her Mother. An indeterminately ethnic woman two rows black with that thick, thick, thick, curly, curly, curly black hair that many indeterminately ethnic woman have, and that I will never forgive myself for dying without ever having touched. And a black-clad woman who could very well be carved out of stone, and appears to perhaps be flying to Pilates class.
The flight TO Atlanta was packed with what I have come to refer to as “Sweatpant Girls”. You know the ones. This flight appears to be mercifully Sweatpant Girl free.
The flight boarding at the gate opposite mine was notable in that every woman in line at the gate was wearing a miniskirt. Every one. A glance at the board... FLIGHT 1265, DEPARTING 13:30, ATLANTA, CANCUN.
Go wild, girls.
--- --- --- --- ---
Back in NY, as soon as shoes hit pavement there is an immediate shift to a different energy... a different way of moving. It’s cliché, but true.
The sky here is gray and cold and wet. In comparison to Atlanta, it seems like a different season. Or a different country. It’s like I’ve flown to London in September.
T-minus one hour aboard the train, and then it’s back to My Life. It was a good vacation, but I think I needed one more full day. Then maybe I’d feel ready. Right now I don’t.
D.
Sunday morning, There was a TV in the airport shuttlebus. Ernest Angley was on. You know him, even if you think you don’t. He is a TV preacher. Strike that... he is the TV preacher. He is the TV preacher that Robin Williams is doing when Robin Williams does a TV preacher. One of those TV preachers who manages to make “God” into a three syllable word. (“Ga-HOWWWd-uh!”) I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager. I had no idea he was still around, and still sporting the same toup’ apparently. Nice. I was watching the “healing” portion of the program with strange fascination. I just can’t imaging believing that hard in anything. I was mildly amused until they brought a little 8 year old kid up there, which immediately turned curiosity into revulsion. Keep your Crazy God Talk off the kids, please.
I checked out of the hotel at 10:45 AM in that automated way you can do nowadays without ever talking to a real person. Dial #7080, and you’re checked out. We slipped your bill under the door last night. It’s a futuristic kind of efficiency. The whole hotel was like that. Robotic. And yet “organic” too, because the building itself had no straight lines. The high speed elevators that rushed me up and down to and from the 46th floor were these curvy transparent-pod-things... like the one that Derek Smalls gets stuck in during “Rock and Roll Creation”. The 50 story high atrium inside the hotel was bounded by curved railings and gently looping concrete balconies. It was like being inside of a skyscraper-sized aorta. It wasn’t hard to imagine the whole hotel growing out of the earth like a giant H.R. Giger biomechanical living structure. Minus the “wet”.
Here in today’s enlightened age, you’d think that the archetype of the “hot flight attendant” would be one which would have faded away by now.... disappearing hand-in-hand with the now decidedly 1970’s sounding word “stewardess”.
The thing is? Really... not.
Yeah.
Takeoff was rough. It was a windy day in Atlanta today – enough so that I was actually glad I had worn my out-of-place looking black leather New York coat as I stood waiting for the airport shuttle this morning. The plane moved down the runway like a soccer ball being dribbled down field... with far more back and forth motion than you’d reasonably expect an airplane to have while it is still on the ground.
Apart from the Hot Flight Attendant Archetypes, there are a smattering of attractive women in the general area who bear commenting on. A very attractive Latina woman next to me, who seems to be traveling with her Mother. An indeterminately ethnic woman two rows black with that thick, thick, thick, curly, curly, curly black hair that many indeterminately ethnic woman have, and that I will never forgive myself for dying without ever having touched. And a black-clad woman who could very well be carved out of stone, and appears to perhaps be flying to Pilates class.
The flight TO Atlanta was packed with what I have come to refer to as “Sweatpant Girls”. You know the ones. This flight appears to be mercifully Sweatpant Girl free.
The flight boarding at the gate opposite mine was notable in that every woman in line at the gate was wearing a miniskirt. Every one. A glance at the board... FLIGHT 1265, DEPARTING 13:30, ATLANTA, CANCUN.
Go wild, girls.
Back in NY, as soon as shoes hit pavement there is an immediate shift to a different energy... a different way of moving. It’s cliché, but true.
The sky here is gray and cold and wet. In comparison to Atlanta, it seems like a different season. Or a different country. It’s like I’ve flown to London in September.
T-minus one hour aboard the train, and then it’s back to My Life. It was a good vacation, but I think I needed one more full day. Then maybe I’d feel ready. Right now I don’t.
D.
Saturday, April 3
the same...
Saturday morning. I got up before 9:00... got dressed...walked downstairs to get a hot tea and some donuts... came back up... polished the PowerPoint... met with my co-presenters. That done, and having toyed with the idea of going “out” in some unspecified way, I got back into my pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt and parked myself in front of the giant hotel window to read... once again, doing “nothing” in the most deliberate way I know how.
The results of last night’s experiment are indeterminate. It was only one drink, but I felt... nothing. I’m not sure what I expected, but I think that was the result I was most afraid of.
D.
Saturday morning. I got up before 9:00... got dressed...walked downstairs to get a hot tea and some donuts... came back up... polished the PowerPoint... met with my co-presenters. That done, and having toyed with the idea of going “out” in some unspecified way, I got back into my pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt and parked myself in front of the giant hotel window to read... once again, doing “nothing” in the most deliberate way I know how.
The results of last night’s experiment are indeterminate. It was only one drink, but I felt... nothing. I’m not sure what I expected, but I think that was the result I was most afraid of.
D.
too much nothing...
It’s 10:00 PM on a Friday night, and I find that my enjoyment of my solitude is being disturbed by the nagging sense that I should be doing something. Meaning – something MORE than listening to Beethoven and reading science fiction. Why? I don’t know. If you had asked me a week ago I’d have told you that I would KILL for a whole evening alone to read science fiction and listen to Beethoven. And yet now... I can’t seem to still my brain, so I’m back down in the hotel lobby... hanging out... typing.... considering walking over to the Lounge and ordering a vodka and something... anything just so I can feel... I don’t know... a little more present or something?
Something...
--- --- --- ---
Hotels are always crawling with beautiful women... especially in the evening. Even the science teacher women seem to have dressed themselves up for the night and come out to play. Problem is, they are all in the places where I have no desire to be.... the crowded Lounge, the noisy Sporty Bar. I walk into those places and I can just feel the pressure of all the people pushing in on the air. And yet... that’s where the women are. Except for one. A little while ago she asked me in the elevator for directions to the Sporty Bar, but now she’s sitting outside of the Sporty Bar... in the Lobby...
Reading a book...
That’s like... a SIGN right? Or close to a sign. Closer than I usually get, anyway.
And yet it would still involve staring a conversation.
”Too dark in the Sports Bar to read??”
Bleah.
Its times like these that I really, really hate being me.
D.
It’s 10:00 PM on a Friday night, and I find that my enjoyment of my solitude is being disturbed by the nagging sense that I should be doing something. Meaning – something MORE than listening to Beethoven and reading science fiction. Why? I don’t know. If you had asked me a week ago I’d have told you that I would KILL for a whole evening alone to read science fiction and listen to Beethoven. And yet now... I can’t seem to still my brain, so I’m back down in the hotel lobby... hanging out... typing.... considering walking over to the Lounge and ordering a vodka and something... anything just so I can feel... I don’t know... a little more present or something?
Something...
Hotels are always crawling with beautiful women... especially in the evening. Even the science teacher women seem to have dressed themselves up for the night and come out to play. Problem is, they are all in the places where I have no desire to be.... the crowded Lounge, the noisy Sporty Bar. I walk into those places and I can just feel the pressure of all the people pushing in on the air. And yet... that’s where the women are. Except for one. A little while ago she asked me in the elevator for directions to the Sporty Bar, but now she’s sitting outside of the Sporty Bar... in the Lobby...
Reading a book...
That’s like... a SIGN right? Or close to a sign. Closer than I usually get, anyway.
And yet it would still involve staring a conversation.
”Too dark in the Sports Bar to read??”
Bleah.
Its times like these that I really, really hate being me.
D.
Friday, April 2
confer...
The whole “conference” part of the Conference, I could do without. I went into a talk today for about 5 minutes and then walked out. Not to sound stuck up or anything, but... these people have nothing to offer me! I just mean that... look, I’m not going to learn any SCIENCE in any of these talks, and I’m not actually TEACHING anymore, so I have no need to pick up cute little classroom hints or activities or new approaches to this topic or that. So why bother? I’ve decided not to even fake it.
I did hit the exhibits today, but even there... I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for. Am I here as a teacher, or representing my NEXT job? I’m in limbo. So mostly I just wandered. There weren’t even many cool giveaways. I did get a stuffed Shamu from the Sea World booth, so... at least I have something to bring back for the 5 year old.
Then I went back to the hotel room (by now it’s only noon!) took a nap, got up, bailed on my 5 minute talk, went to lunch at the mall, came back to the hotel, logged to my email and IM, and wound up talking to an Internet Friend / Weblog Reader Person for like 2 hours on the phone. (When you sign up for high-speed net access, the hotel lets you make as many long distance calls as you want!)
Now I’m sitting downstairs at the hotel’s fake-Starbucksy place and having a tea and a Krispy Kreme and waiting for a beautiful young science teacher chick to come by and lock eyes with me.
Hey... it could happen.
D.
The whole “conference” part of the Conference, I could do without. I went into a talk today for about 5 minutes and then walked out. Not to sound stuck up or anything, but... these people have nothing to offer me! I just mean that... look, I’m not going to learn any SCIENCE in any of these talks, and I’m not actually TEACHING anymore, so I have no need to pick up cute little classroom hints or activities or new approaches to this topic or that. So why bother? I’ve decided not to even fake it.
I did hit the exhibits today, but even there... I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for. Am I here as a teacher, or representing my NEXT job? I’m in limbo. So mostly I just wandered. There weren’t even many cool giveaways. I did get a stuffed Shamu from the Sea World booth, so... at least I have something to bring back for the 5 year old.
Then I went back to the hotel room (by now it’s only noon!) took a nap, got up, bailed on my 5 minute talk, went to lunch at the mall, came back to the hotel, logged to my email and IM, and wound up talking to an Internet Friend / Weblog Reader Person for like 2 hours on the phone. (When you sign up for high-speed net access, the hotel lets you make as many long distance calls as you want!)
Now I’m sitting downstairs at the hotel’s fake-Starbucksy place and having a tea and a Krispy Kreme and waiting for a beautiful young science teacher chick to come by and lock eyes with me.
Hey... it could happen.
D.
our intial descent...
I can’t remember the last time I was disappointed to hear that a plane was landing. What a difference traveling alone makes. Every time I hear a screaming child, it makes me smile... secure in the knowledge that it is NOT my problem.
The awesome travel day went south when I got to the hotel and my room wasn’t ready. They suggested that I go to the Convention Center to register for the conference, which I did, only to find that the registration desk had closed and the shuttlebus had stopped running. So I wound up walking like 3.5 miles, round trip, for nothing. On the way back I stopped at this place called the CNN Center, which seems to be a combination of a hotel, a mall-type-thing, and actual CNN offices. Very odd. Anyway, I grabbed a bite to eat and posted last night’s travel entries by leeching off the Omni hotel’s wireless network.
So, yesterday evening was kinda crappy, but I’m not about to complain, because I went to bed at 2:00 last night, then woke up at 7:00. Then again at 8:00. Then I got out of bed at 8:30. And I promise you I’ll be back here in the hotel sleeping at noon.
Conferences so totally rock.
D.
I can’t remember the last time I was disappointed to hear that a plane was landing. What a difference traveling alone makes. Every time I hear a screaming child, it makes me smile... secure in the knowledge that it is NOT my problem.
The awesome travel day went south when I got to the hotel and my room wasn’t ready. They suggested that I go to the Convention Center to register for the conference, which I did, only to find that the registration desk had closed and the shuttlebus had stopped running. So I wound up walking like 3.5 miles, round trip, for nothing. On the way back I stopped at this place called the CNN Center, which seems to be a combination of a hotel, a mall-type-thing, and actual CNN offices. Very odd. Anyway, I grabbed a bite to eat and posted last night’s travel entries by leeching off the Omni hotel’s wireless network.
So, yesterday evening was kinda crappy, but I’m not about to complain, because I went to bed at 2:00 last night, then woke up at 7:00. Then again at 8:00. Then I got out of bed at 8:30. And I promise you I’ll be back here in the hotel sleeping at noon.
Conferences so totally rock.
D.
Thursday, April 1
airplane seating tradeoffs...
Exit row... chatty old guy...
I figure it’s a wash.
I take that back... better than a wash. Chatty Old Guy takes the HeadPhone Hint and drifts off to sleep as I fire up some Philip Glass piano etudes on the iPod. (I have decided that an iPod can turn any experience... even flying... into a pleasant one.) I’m reading. A book. Fiction, Deliberately. Something that’s not about physics or astronomy or the philosophy and history thereof. William Gibson’s ”Pattern recognition”... an acquisition of the recent $200 Borders assult. Sitting in my flying steel tube, plugged into my palm sized 10,000 song music library, I feel like I could be a character in one of Gibson’s novels, if only I were better dressed.
It’s been so long since I’ve flown anything but Southwest, this Boeng 767-300 feels like a flying hotel. The exit door has an emergency handle that serves as a perfect iPod holder. I put down my book a bit to type on the computer, and Chatty Old Guy wakes up and pulls out his own book... a book called “The Complete Book of Dirty Tricks.” The dustjacket is safety-orange and has a picture of a gut with a giant screw through his head. Chatty Old Guy is wearing a jaunty red leather cap. I should try to sneak a photo.
Turbulence. I often wonder what that “feels” like to pilots. I mean, what is the driving equivalent? Is hitting turbulence as unremarkable as driving over a pothole or a patch of gravel? Or is it more like hydroplaning, or slipping on a patch of black ice? I suspect the former, but fear the latter.
Back to the book.
D.
Exit row... chatty old guy...
I figure it’s a wash.
I take that back... better than a wash. Chatty Old Guy takes the HeadPhone Hint and drifts off to sleep as I fire up some Philip Glass piano etudes on the iPod. (I have decided that an iPod can turn any experience... even flying... into a pleasant one.) I’m reading. A book. Fiction, Deliberately. Something that’s not about physics or astronomy or the philosophy and history thereof. William Gibson’s ”Pattern recognition”... an acquisition of the recent $200 Borders assult. Sitting in my flying steel tube, plugged into my palm sized 10,000 song music library, I feel like I could be a character in one of Gibson’s novels, if only I were better dressed.
It’s been so long since I’ve flown anything but Southwest, this Boeng 767-300 feels like a flying hotel. The exit door has an emergency handle that serves as a perfect iPod holder. I put down my book a bit to type on the computer, and Chatty Old Guy wakes up and pulls out his own book... a book called “The Complete Book of Dirty Tricks.” The dustjacket is safety-orange and has a picture of a gut with a giant screw through his head. Chatty Old Guy is wearing a jaunty red leather cap. I should try to sneak a photo.
Turbulence. I often wonder what that “feels” like to pilots. I mean, what is the driving equivalent? Is hitting turbulence as unremarkable as driving over a pothole or a patch of gravel? Or is it more like hydroplaning, or slipping on a patch of black ice? I suspect the former, but fear the latter.
Back to the book.
D.
I, RobotTrain...
I’ve decided to get to the airport today by taking the AirTrain, which is this new and somewhat disturbing Blade-Runneresque robotic unmanned elevated railway that runs from the Long Island Railroad station in Jamaica, Queens out to both NY airports. When they were testing the system last year, it went out of control and slammed into a wall and killed the operator. (It’s still unclear why there even WAS an “operator” aboard the robotic unmanned train.) And recently I hear that it’s just driven off on its own a couple of times and stranded people in the rail yard, surrounded by electrified tracks.
So... task number one for today... make it to the airport without being killed by a Robot Train.
d.
I’ve decided to get to the airport today by taking the AirTrain, which is this new and somewhat disturbing Blade-Runneresque robotic unmanned elevated railway that runs from the Long Island Railroad station in Jamaica, Queens out to both NY airports. When they were testing the system last year, it went out of control and slammed into a wall and killed the operator. (It’s still unclear why there even WAS an “operator” aboard the robotic unmanned train.) And recently I hear that it’s just driven off on its own a couple of times and stranded people in the rail yard, surrounded by electrified tracks.
So... task number one for today... make it to the airport without being killed by a Robot Train.
d.
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