Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Tote Rag with a Rote Tag

I'm trying to write poorly tonight. Speed requires not re-thinking. What part of the brain should I stimulate to solve paralysis? Oh yeah, I have to pinch the spine!

Despite my (thus far) success in trying "rough draft" style writing so that I can go back and do meaningful edits (instead of belabouring every sentence, and treating a mistake like a potential miscarriage), I still need an outlet for good writing when I'm in "writing mode" (especially while listening to Mark Farina on ginormous headphones at 2am...why haven't I downloaded Rainbows yet??). I just think it is amusing that that outlet turns out to be on a basketball blog.

Barely Becoming Brian (an ode to Dexter, a show I am head over severed heels in love with)

Monday, October 8, 2007

Dr. Jekyl and Mr Snide

The TV is on, but I'm not really paying attention. There was some crappy commercials on - which I am very good at not paying attention to (Seth sent me an email about a funny commercial that I would have completely forgotten if not for the youtube link he sent me...I push such things to the periphery of my consciousness). One line from a commercial, however, I did listen to - it was something about how an acorn contains the potential of an entire tree, and this was supposed to be some metaphor for some shitty product/service. In any case, being who I am, this naturally got me thinking about abortion.

An acorn does not contain all of the energy of a full grown tree, as the commercial said. It is not as if all of that life energy necessary to sustain an life is somehow compacted into a super potent seed...that energy is gained by absorption of nutrients, and photosynthesis, etc. But people allow their linguistic tendencies to project upon their assumptions about the world, and thus tend to view the acorn-to-tree process as just a transfiguration of one thing. A thing might have changes, but we wend to assume that all of its essential characteristics are somehow present in all of its stages.

This explains why pro-life people point to conception as the moment that life "begins". Something I have always wondered: why conception, and not sperm cells or ova? Don't those both contain the genetic blueprint for a person? Of course, this would be inconceivable, because then it would be murder to have your period...or one is a murderer a billion times over for each sperm cell that dies without producing a child (men are far less saintly than women).



To prove that "life begins at conception," one must show that there is something essentially different about it from the prior moment. What makes it more life than before?

The problem is that the process of becoming a human being is a gradual one that does not lend itself to our desire for hard and fast distinctions. Obviously in the 3rd trimester it would be wrong to abort, but a baby could be medically kept alive outside of a uterus by that stage easily, and there is advanced sensation. To make use of an absolutely ridiculous example: there have been tons and tons of comedies that have the "fetus thinking/talking" joke, but Danny Devito's voice never starts until the fetus is relatively baby-shaped. Even when imagining we don't conceive of dividing cells as possessing those most unique human traits in that way.



The point is that we always forget how philosophical category mistakes are at the core of some of the deepest (and most frivolous) issues that we deal with on a day to day basis. People want a hard and fast moment to point to the commencement of "life," and since we ascribe thingliness with unity, some act as if conception is a sufficient condition for life, not merely one of many necessary ones. Complication requires thought, context, and deliberation...and deliberation has become to be widely regarded as "inaction". And it gets in the way of imposing ethics upon another; the democracy of self-decision making and the traditional interpretation of power are at odds. Presenting the "right to choose" as just about the particular choice of particular women is excessively limiting; this is not just an issue "for" potentially pregnant women. Instead, it is about the right to choose in general; to throw off the conveniences of viewing language as a utilitarian microscope through which the world dances for us. Language is a memory of an echo. Every word can expand itself onto a symphony of meaning if we let it, but the instant it becomes a confining force...it can have deadly ramifications. Even when trying to save lives.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

New HBO show with David Cross and Bob Odenkirk

The possibility outlined here makes me so happy, I can only indicate this fact by stealing one of Joe Mathlete's creations, the HitlerPenis RainbowJizm Kablooie:

Sunday, September 2, 2007

things that are things that are things that are

One movie that struck me a great deal when I first saw it was Linklater's Waking Life. For obvious reasons....it is an immensely lived-philosophy kind of film. Linklater is perhaps my favourite director - from Slacker, to School of Rock, to Before Sunrise and After Sunset, (all must see films in my opinion). Already appealing to my then-budding desire to be overwhelmed by everything (to be replaced by....a wanting to overwhelm at my whims, but turn it off when I need to go out and be functional?) - Waking Life was the perfect mind-bending flick to watch when stoned (a once omnipresent habit I lost some years ago).

One scene in particular that stuck out in my memory was of a movie (director? critic? thinker?) person being interviewed about what he calls the "holy moment" that film can capture. I should explain: Waking Life is comprised of a fellow who is uncertain if he is in a perpetual dream he can never escape from...some new, transcendent, dream to end all dreams. He spends his time alternatively in and out of awareness of himself and his condition...much of the movie involves him being entirely absent from scenes where people pontificate on matters about life, death, the capacities of language and communication...and dreaming and waking consciousness most of all. The limits of the human experience. These scenes seem to suggest that he has himself died, and the dream world functions as a boundary or home of death.


(the) One character I was referring to in that scene was talking about how film has an inherent relationship to the actors, and that the traditional view of acting - which lauds those who can act the most "different" from their "real" selves - is badly mistaken. In essence, the way in which hollywood producers tend to make roles with famous actors in mind - is a good thing...there are lots of examples of this. Lost in Translation might well be one of them (an aside about how the internet can lead you onto other and other things - looking up Lost in Translation on wikipedia to make sure my memory of it being an original screenplay was correct...led me to 1. put Marie Antionette on my Netflix list, because I have long wanted to see Sofia Coppela's follow up, and 2. to discover a quotation from Robert Frost about poetry being "lost in translation", which is a perfect pretentious intro to place on an Emerson paper that is mostly written but I've been kicking around for awhile about the role of nationality and language in the figure of the poet as imagined by Heidegger).

One morning (this morning) I had woken up, but didn't want to get up, be productive, any of that. So I thought I should browse the movies available on Ondemand (we now have all premium channels, which is an absurd amount of programming I haven't really exploited much) and see if anything caught my interest. One of showtime's ondemand offerings was a movie called I Am A Sex Addict, which was described as an autobiographical documentary about a filmmaker's struggles with sex addiction. I'd never seen a documentary about one's self on such a personal level, so the description was intriguing. I had always agreed (without having fully worked out my thoughts on the nature of film) with that Waking Life clip...that viewing film as just stories with moving pictures was limiting. Books were better for that format because stories are meant to evoke the imagination. Movies are a new and fundamentally different format that are about those specific people, those bodies, moving in time and space.

One can imagine my surprise when, as I started this movie to see what it was all about (not expecting to really watch it), it turned out to be the same guy who was in that Waking Life clip! Caveh Zahedi was the filmmaker (and subject) of this movie, and it was clear just how fundamentally he believed that movies should be about the people that appear in them (which is not to say they must always be documentaries or biographical, but that there is a non-circumstantial relationship between the character and the actor). It was one of the most fascinating movies I had seen in some time. He narrated the entire thing at the chapel where he was about to be married for the 3rd time, and recounts his entire history of loves throughout his life, and his working through of his addiction to prostitutes before going into the wedding ceremony. Insanely personal, hilarious...I haven't seen a movie that kept me that astounded in quite a long time. I appear to have invested all of my writing capacity in the lead up, because I don't really have much to say about the movie itself (why I could never be a movie or music critic..I'm much better at talking about peripheral elements that relate me to the material in lieu of the material itself). But you should see it if at all possible. Caveh's strangely protubing head, his all too human gaze, his fetish for vulnerability...abjectly compelling. Even if you didn't give a fuck for the entirely different way of relating to film, it is still a fascinating examination about addiction.


One music recommendation, because I feel terribly amiss if I put forth one of my rare long posts without referencing music or bad jokes somehow....I'm currently addicted to SoulOrganismState by Mummer. If I had to choose a place to live outside of the US, I would choose Vienna in a heartbeat. Partly due to the glowing recommendation of the place I have heard from my ex-girlfriend Nicole and others, and also because it seems to birth music that speaks to me very personally. I feel at home with lots of Vienna artists more so than I do even Portland bands! Something about the fusion of jazz with sweeping, chromatic electronica (stumbling across the Vienna duo dZihan & Kamien might have been one of the more formative accidents in terms of me being explicitly interested in what I call "chromatic" music). Apparently the scale caused by musical semitones is called chromatic - but that is not what I mean. I just discovered that...music theory was never my strong suit during my music-producing period of my life.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

I love the local news

Currently a guy is "reenacting" the senator from Idaho's claim that he didn't really proposition an undercover cop while in a bathroom. The senator, while in a bathroom stall, hooked his right foot around the cop's left foot, which is apparently a signal for wanting a discreet hookup (or is it discrete? The one that means secretive, not separate plots on a line). The senator claims he just uses a "wide stance", but the brave and truth-seeking newsman shared his thoughts on how it would be difficult to get one's foot that far into another stall accidentally, showing how far he can get his with his pants around his ankles.

This was immediately following a segment about a woman whose fence was graced by a knot in the shape of Jesus' head!!

To cleanse my palette, I watched the following:

Friday, August 17, 2007

Eating Bubblegum Pie

Paper writing times usually coincide with music acquisition times, for obvious reasons. So allow me to share the albums that have got me in their tentacley grasp during these trying times (aka, me trying to work and mostly failing)

1. Missy Elliott's Respect M.E. Well, obviously (Basement Jaxx remix!)

2. Chromeo - Fancy Footwork.


This is one of those instances where I pick up something on Pitchfork's recommended list, and I turn out loving the shit out of it. A genre that can only be classified "electrofunk", it may only be 2/3rds of the way through 2007, but I'm calling the Gregorian calendar year right here and now: this is as funky as it is going to get. The album is about 75,000 times more interesting than you think it would be based on the cover art seen above. Adjust that number if you particularly like or dislike the cover art. But there's no way you can listen to a few lines of "Bonafied Lovin'" without needing to dance a little. Or you're a soulless blight on society. Bonus Chromeo factoid: they're the best Arab/Jewish collaboration since my favourite episode of Wonder Showzen.


3. Neil Young's Greatest Hits. This also needs no explanation.

Also listening to: of Montreal's entire catalog (although I was shocked how different most of their earlier stuff is), Tracey Thorn's solo album, and the Pixies and Posies.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

vapid, ho!

Unlike misbehaving pets (damncatthatpissedonmyLegos15yearsagoruiningmywholecollection), you can't take cultural mini-trends to a guy who couldn't handle med school veterinarian to be put to sleep. But if there were such a Dr Kevorkian for Memes (a concept I detest - fuck you Richard Dawkins - but is somewhat fitting here), his first order of business would be to give the gift of death to the stupid love affair people have with pirates and ninjas these days.

The way in which those two figures have been given such prominence is interesting in its own right. Why have both gotten grouped together and treated in a similar fashion? The clearest similarity is that both are incredibly anachronistic...but then, so is butter churning, black smithery, and Republicanism, and those things aren't inherently "humorous." I think the way in which both archetypes operate entirely outside the social order is the decisive factor - the interest in pirates and ninjas belies a wistful longing for the possibility for an individual to truly operate contrary to the rest of society in a successful and active way (aka, not just hiding in a bunker in Montana or being irrelevant to society). It does not appear likely that individuals will ever have that level of power vis-a-vis society again. Celebrities and the super-rich are usually even less powerful than most, because they are bound more than most by the demands of society. Owning expensive things doesn't have much to do with power, typically...money can liberate from basic needs, but it can also be its own form of shackle if pursued relentlessly (witness any reality show "star" who structures even their privacy around the need to be a pathetic clown for a brief payday). Ninjas and pirates were never about having really expensive things (or at least, the idea of both that we have....remember the Simpsons episode where Bart and Lisa are looking for buried treasure, and they have that hilarious flashback to a pirate suggesting that they keep the stolen treasure to buy things instead of burying it, and the captain just stares at him for a moment in silence before shooting him in the head?).

That unplanned tangent into the psychology of our interested in pirates and ninjas notwithstanding, the point is that these things aren't inherently funny. Anything can be funny given the right context, but people substitute cliches for imagination and wit. I realized that things had gone too far when I received the following facebook invitation:


What is this?? Why are ninjas fighting pirates? Why do I care, or feel the need to pick sides?!? Just as our collective need to talk about snakes on a plane was forever cured by the movie Snakes on a Plane, we need some massive event to get all this pirates and ninjas crap out of our system permanently. That's why I want them to make a big, empty, absoludicrous movie Ninjas vs. Pirates. No protagonists, no plot...just a bunch of ninjas fighting a bunch of pirates for 100 minutes. After that, no one will talk about ninjas or pirates again for CENTURIES.

...actually, that movie would probably make a ton of money. I always knew I should be a Hollywood producer!!

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Bibles, Beats, Bliss

In random assorted links and thoughts time:

1. My grandfather, while alive, was one of those total grandfather-cliches. His life consisted of playing trombone in World War 2 while fighting (I'm fairly certain he did both at the same time while marching uphill). After that he owned some vague company that neither I nor my mother are really clear on the details of. Then he spent the rest of his life playing the piano and trombone, finding fault with things, and playing golf. He would do pretty decently at senior PGA events and whatnot. Although I guess one really interesting thing about him was how he was the only one of 10 siblings to abandon the Mormon church; so I have him to thank for my non-Mormony life, I suppose.

In any case, I never thought that I follow in his golfing footsteps....until now!!! I discovered the British site Eye Candy Caddies.com, which is the first (that I'm aware of) merger of caddy services with an escort site. Hot women who don't know anything about golf will carry around your clubs for you. Have you ever been as excited to be 70 in your life? If you need to kill a few minutes look around in the "meet the caddies" section. Two of my favourites:

a. The twins


My questions: Do they both carry the clubs at once, or do they trade off? And if so, what does the one who isn't holding the clubs do - just stand there? Why do they have different hobbies and film stars, but the exact same favourite facial feature, singer, and holiday destination?

b. Sky Bliss

This is the most fucking intense caddy ever. It looks like he watched Zoolander and then decided to make the look "Blue Steel" come to LIFE. Look at that gaze. Could you remember what your own name was in the midst of that arched left eyebrow, let alone whether to pull the ball left or right on the 11 hole? I love how his favourite part of his own body is his "personality", and that, when asked to use just one word to describe himself, he went out of his way to add an unnecessary word in "Sublimely friendly." Sky Bliss doesn't play by any of the fucking rules. I'm just shocked that his favourite colour isn't "tree" or "happiness."

I mean...I could really keep going forever with this. One chick's answer to "favourite film" is "I love films!!" The girl whose favourite holiday destination is "Catherine Zeta Jones" (and who is a fine example of British taste for beauty). The girl whose answer to "best facial feature" is "I have 2 lips, eyes." This guy's hair. It is all so perfect.

2. Some kid who was in Charles in Charge, Willie Ames, has apparently made a career for himself doing shit-ass Christian knockoffs of the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers called "Bibleman." The show is pretty brilliant -



but the new forthcoming video game based on this show really, really takes the cake. WATCH THIS CLIP. This is a NEW game. I love it.



3. And now, for something actually useful. Well, kind of.

It was strange, getting into electronica in college...if just because I had almost no friends who shared my tastes, and living in Walla Walla....well, there's not any good chances for me to go see this music in clubs. It is hard to get a feel for what is going on with most electronica genres unless you live in San Fran or New York, really. Finding new music was particularly confusing because there are SO MANY genres in electronica. For anyone interested in looking at the different genres, subgenres, hearing what each sounds like, and seeing how they are intertwined...this is a great guide some guy has been maintaining for a few years now.

4. Usually TV is pretty dead during the summer - not that I need to waste my time on it - but it seems like there is always one show that is worth watching. Last summer it was the final season of Deadwood...and this summer we get two. Flight of the Conchords (which I've already mentioned, but I encourage everyone to look up their old songs/performances on youtube, they're really quite good), and also Damages, which I just saw the other day. Glenn Close and Ted Danson doing the best TV they've ever done (well, after Becker). It is excellent - and I typically hate legal dramas.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Fergie pisses on herself my childhood

This is an addendum to the post before last...another thing I would do if I had a lot of money and, like, didn't care about starving people and whatnot - I would DEFINITELY buy a ton of animatronic robots from Chucky Cheese and similar places and program them to sing along to some of my favourite songs. Some memories from your past dig into your brain more sharply than others, and for some reason the way in which Boris and Natasha's robot mouths moved when they spoke at the Bullwinkles in Montclair my grandmother used to take me to....entranced the shit out of me (the jets of coloured water helped too). In any case, this video is clearly the greatest thing humankind has ever done. Except for the song choice.


Golden Unlaughter

Someone from my undergrad philosophy programme sent me the following link, which is fun stuff - a random nietzsche quotation associated with a random family circus cartoon.


Friday, August 3, 2007

How to exploit nature betterly

This is already a well established fact, but celebutards are stupid. Why do these talentless whores get boring pets like hairless dog-rats, or biting monkeys? If I had money like that and I wanted a pet that reached absurd levels of cuteness, then I would try to get:

1. A pangolin.





2. a Pudu, the smallest species of deer ever.



3. A sentient, transsexual trash heap (I'm not joking. One episode of Fraggle Rock the trash heap changed from a woman to a man. This confused the Fraggles).



4. A Kurt Russell.





But then again the only reason celebrities get pets is to have "unique" fashion accessories. I think that fashion is a force more dangerous than landmines. A fashion mentality is the ultimate expression of wasteful capitalism - wanting and valuing things based merely on their newness and rarity. This mindset has taken over technology, politics, music...is it a stretch to say that Project Runway should inspire as much loathing as Project: Manhattan?

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

He's like some non....giving-up.....school guy!

I apologize for taking a 2 week absence from my writings here. In reality, I have a handful of half-finished entries that I shall endeavor to publish in the upcoming days. My lack of productivity mainly has to do with the fact that I refuse to spend time blog-writing while at home (where I have a combination of paper writing, Oblivion, and increasingly busy social life to keep me occupied). But here's some of the note-worthy events to occur recently:
-Saw the White Stripes at the BU arena. Missed damn near a third of the show, but it was still fun.
-Lost my glasses about a month ago, and thus had to stumble around blind for weeks until I could get a new prescription and have new glasses ordered. Damn expensive too - of the many health insurances I've had throughout my life, the one you pay Boston College a ton for is easily the worst. I got more off my glasses due to a "BC student pity discount" the eye place I went to has than anything my insurance was doing for me.
-My good friend Erin is moving to San Diego soon for the next phase of her academic career, so it has been "Erin Week" this week. I realize that it is also Shark Week, but that is ok, because Erin is more or less just a sexy shark. This involved my very first karaoke experience - a rousing rendition of "The Humpty Dance." I riffed on the "All the Samoans in the house...do the Humpty Dance" line considerably.
- We threw an 80s party, which featured a grand total of zero philosophy folks (first time that's happened), but there were loads of rowdy Irish folk, fun new friends, and a bunch of cops! First time the police have shown up at any of our parties (out of 11 or so majour ones we've had the past few years). Great fun.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Making Sense on the Dollar

It is a little known fact that the word "communication" was originally coined to mean "spreading of communist munitions". Back in the first few decades of this past century, people spoke very rarely; it was a concern that wanton free exchange of information would educate the masses and lead them to question the harsher aspects of capitalism. Thus, silence reigned supreme, and speaking was largely viewed as an insidious means of spreading Marxist insurgent notions. Movies of the era provide proof of this; only when profits began to fall did Hollywood allow its actors to speak on film, which was a large part of McCarthy's wrath against the industry a decade later.



Of course, capitalism is nothing if not a wily, adaptable beast, and today we find ourselves beset on all sides with new ways to communicate, all benefitting the "Al ighty ollar." Unfortunately, the proliferation of means of communication has outpaced our ability to establish solid societal standards behind these newfangled technologies. We forget that it takes time to make such decisions - Alexander Graham Bell was trying to figure out what kind of greeting to give when you answer the telephone, and his first idea was to rip off sailors with "Ahoy hoy", before "hullo" became ubiquitous.

So if I am to pretend I had the power to set standards (and given my megalomaniac tendancies, this is something I am well practiced at), here's what I would enforce regarding newer methods of communication:

Text Messaging:
It has become common place to use any craptacular mangling of words when sending text messages, but I don't see the justification here. Sure, it is not a fast method of typing in general, but that's no real excuse. If you're looking for faster, then just leave a voice mail. The only situations when you're permitted to type like "ur goin 2 stor lol?" is if there's an emergency or something. "OMG jim died car reck hug firez". The only thing I skimp on in my texts are punctuation marks (occasionally), if just because that can be more of a pain than most things. Also, since I abjectly refuse to pay 5 dollars per month for unlimited texting capacity, recieving each one costs me a dime. Maybe this is why I cringe at short, misspelled texts.



Emails:
Not much to say here, but one thing needs mentioning: how is it that fairly competent people can't spot the difference between an email hoax and an un-hoax? It just seems fundamentally obvious in the way these emails are written...even when it isn't a commercial pitch. For instance, some number of months ago an acquaintance sent me an email detailing the dangers of a new date rape drug that was finding its way into circulation and being used against women. All the email was trying to do was spread caution about drinking from untrusted sources, or leaving your drink vulnerable, etc - all reminders of caution that are important be pressed hard. But the email felt fake to me, so I looked up the new date rape drug that it was talking about...and sure enough, that was a hoax. I had no idea who the hell could have started this hoax and why - there are enough reasons now to practice due caution against date rape, why muddy a good message with made-up stories? Or was it just someone who enjoys spreading dis-information (the opposite of the dot-communism/Wikipedia effect)? Very strange, to me.

Instant Messaging:
IM is not like being on the phone with someone; you're not necessarily "in a conversation." People pick up and leave, or have computer/internet malfunctions, or get distracted by shiny things, or whatever. Unless you've been in a long back and forth conversation for some time, there is no need to apologize for taking a phone call, or for not responding with alacrity...this is mostly moot since my IM habits had dwindled down to a bare minimum from my college debate work procrastination glory days of yore, but it still bears mentioning.

Note #1 - One of the history lessons I gave in the early part of this post was true, another was false. Hopefully you can discern the two.

Note #2 - While writing, a song came on the radio station that Andy leaves on in his office (perhaps the most eclectic radio station I've ever heard...like someone smashed together an indie rock station today with a poppy alternative station from 1994)...it was Peter Bjorn and John, a band I haven't heard much of. This song is the title track from their album "Writer's Block", and it kind of rocks my shit. How have I not heard this before? Embarassing. I am elated to discover that they're playing at the avalon in early September. Other bands I'm pumped to see this fall: Animal Collective, Of Montreal!!!.



Note #3 - The very first picture in this post, believe it or not, was actually more offensive in the original version. This marks the first time I've ever edited a picture I've found online to be less offensive rather than more. I did make it more colourful, though.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Open Wide For Some SOCCERRRRRRR

I don't really have a good excuse to post this link, but it is funny, so a quasi-pertinent simpsons quotation will have to suffice.

ambulatory epiphanies, take 2784

As I was walking home just now, I realized that if I lived forever, I would have time to form my Hall and Oates tribute band: Ollae and Hats. Here's the kicker: Ollae would be the one wearing all the hats!!


Death is a cruel joke.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Brian and Music

(every once in awhile I write about the history of me vis-a-vis one of the relevant aspects of my life. interesting to anyone not-me? Dubious. But it makes for good procrastination. Check the "Brian and Stuff" label for more).

My first memory of music was from when I was 3 or 4...driving in my father's 57 Chevy (the pride of his existence at the time). I think the car was close to this colour, I can't recall. The radio was playing Madonna; I didn't register it as much at the time, but I can recall him not liking it much. I have a stronger association with that car and music from just a few years later, when at some of the old timey 50s style restaurants that they have out in LA where you get served in your car. Big bopper-esque rock n' roll jamming...this might be the first time I felt a sense for anything that is "past." I have since grown impatient of the tendency to glorify the immediate past (or, even, the ancient past, aka those who think ancient greek philosophy is worth pursuing to the exclusion of everything else), but it is hardly surprising that one feels an awe at seeing the neon traces of world I can never inhabit.


MTV was present in the late 80s, and I recall seeing a Dire Straits video once, I think...but whenever I had unfettered access to a television back then, I would always choose Mario or Zelda over Money for Nothing; drawn to worlds I could conquer over ones that felt designed for an entirely different crowd.

MTV became important to me again when I was 10, 11. Living in Portland now, I was suddenly confronted with LA for the first time; via the Chronic and whatnot. Choosing the birth town by way of hip-hop (and preferring it to actual contact), I come to my most embarrassing story about my relationship to music:

For the christmas during my first year in middle school, I received my first cd player. A quaint boombox, that would be forever marred by its time spent in beach sand, chugging along to the tune of 8 D batteries. In order to justify this device and get something aside from Z100 on the radio, I requested a cd, and my mother picked up a band whose music video she had seen me watching: Kriss Kross. I kind of liked this cd, even though I sort of thought it was childish. That reservation didn't stop me when our 6th grade homeroom class had some sort of weird party thing, and I immediately volunteered to "bring the music" to show off my new device. Cut to the bus ride home; bus trips being times for me to hide underneath my cherished Oakland A's hat (which was lost on one of these bus rides, thrown out a window by some malicious student) from the 7th grade kids who would constantly make out in the seats to my front. One of these older kids asked to check out my cd player on the way home, and I gave it up without thoughts of refusal. It got passed around, and as we approached home I began to wander the aisle looking for it; someone finally passed the cd player back, but later I discovered that the Kriss Kross cd was no longer in there! I couldn't find who had taken it, and I mentioned this to my mother...not realizing that she would of course buy me another one, when I would have preferred a different cd (the novelty of jumping up and down on my bed along to "Jump, Jump!" long having since worn off). And that's how the first two cds I ever owned were both Kriss Kross.

I soon expanded my collection, thanks to the handy deals BMG and Columbia House promoted in order to get people to order cds via the mail. I'm sure that most people went in on these at some point in their lives; you would get like 12 cds for free to begin, and had to "subscribe" to their monthly offerings, and buy so many cds at full price. The real way they'd try to make money was by automatically sending you a cd in the mail each month that you'd have to pay for if you didn't return; many corporate schemes have been entirely built around knowing how lazy consumers tend to be. But if you kept up on these deals you could sign up for BMG, do the minimum to fulfill their requirements, cancel, and then sign up for Columbia House...rinse and repeat. The first albums I picked up through these means were a mixture of r&b and just random stuff: Janet Jacket's If, Lenny Kravitz, Nine Inch Nails, Aerosmith's Get A Grip, things along those lines. I listened a lot to whatever I got; when you are coming fresh faced to the music world, almost anything sounds great.

7th grade. One of the biggest changes about that grade that really made you feel "old" was that suddenly you got to choose an elective class! Some kids went into band to torture the music teacher by playing flutes, trumpets, and the like. There were a few phys ed type electives. Chess. Things of that nature. But this newfound academic freedom hammered home something I had never really realized before; I didn't actually have any interests. I was good in school - skipped a few grades of math, always years ahead in terms of reading and writing ability, had spent a lot of my time reading up on random science stuff, so my random knowledge in the areas of astronomy, geology, meteorology, and similar sciences exciting to 11 year old nerdy boys was exceedingly high. But none of those electives really spoke to me. I found myself in the general study time elective, along with a mostly unmotivated crew. I hated this time, since the other kids in there were generally pretty dumb, and therefore of the mean variety. Even if not for my peers, we were just sitting in near silence most of the time. Depressing way to spend sunny fall afternoons.

Then one day in walked a white bearded fat man wearing rainbow suspenders, who could only be described as "jolly". He looked like a burnt out hippie version of Santa Claus. The school was starting a guitar class that he would be teaching. I had a 3/4ths acoustic guitar I had been given for Christmas, so I figured, why not? My out of placeness was confirmed when I showed up with that toy guitar, surrounded by 8th graders who started off by competing with each other to see who could play the main licks from "Enter Sandman" and "Teen Spirit" the best. I quickly purchased a used Epiphone electric guitar, and began to get immersed into classic rock. That year I attended Aerosmith, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and ZZ Top concerts, and my cd collection pushed past the 50 mark.


For falling back-asswards into guitar playing, I quickly overcame the head start everyone else had. I picked up music reading far faster than anyone else, and being one of the few in a class of 30 who was capable of focusing on the sheet music at hand instead of trying to learn Stone Temple Pilot's latest sent me to the top of the class. After that year was over Mr. King had to leave Hazelbrook, but I started taking private lessons from him. By the time high school rolled around, I had picked up the bass to play in the school jazz band...but I had to play in the regular band to be in jazz band, so I switched between the upright bass and percussion. My specialties were quads (in marching band, which I loathed), the timpani, and the marimba. I've always had some weird fetish for the marimba. I don't know why.


My musical tastes in high school didn't actually change all of that much; my interest in the things I was previously interested in just grew deeper. I grew out of some of the cheesier classic rock in lieu of Zeppelin and so forth. I listened to the "main" Portland classic rock station 24/7 - literally, I would leave it on at night. It got to the point where I knew the station's rotation habits so well I would often find myself humming the song they were about to play as the current song was ending. Should I have broadened my musical horizons more? Of course! But it is hard to get introduced to things in an ultra-whitebread suburban community. The late 90s were not a good era for popular music. I even gave up playing guitar after having spent a few years assuming that it would be my future. After the band I put together my sophomore year of high school won the Tigard Battle of the Bands (we got ROBBED at our own high school's BotB, because our leadership council in all of their wisdom wanted to diplomatically give first place to the band from another high school....but Tigard's was judged by musicians and people who taught guitar lessons, and out of 4 high schools represented, we won best overall), I decided that I should give it up entirely. Mainly because it had become increasingly evident that I was drawn to academic pursuits (and debate, but that's another post altogether). I reasoned that there were millions of people who played guitar who might be better than me, but I could rise to the top of any other field I chose. So I sold my effects pedals, bass, guitars, amps...etc.

College saw the convergence of two phenomena that changed my music tastes radically:
Technology, and social standing. I suddenly was going to parties...what's more, dance parties. I've always liked to dance. Even took hip hop and ballroom dance some when I was in middle school (it is really tough to be more of an awkward kid than I was in middle school. The only way to increase my clueless isolation during that time would have been if I was a queer leper to boot). Simultaneously, suddenly everyone's music collections were available to me via the network. Before this Napster had yet to rear its head, and downloading music was a painstaking matter of getting into an IRC channel, requesting someone's shared library (usually of 100 songs or so), and then sending a request to that person's download-bot to get a particular song, which took about 30 minutes to download. I amassed about 60 songs via late nights spend doing this process (stuff like Foghat, ELO, Steely Dan...), which I was very proud of. But now I could get hundreds instantaneously, and I found myself listening to trance and club music.

My newfound interest in electronica progressed as follows: first I was into progressive house like Sasha and Digweed. I ate up the Global Underground series, and anything related to club hits of the late 90s. Not understanding this music or its roots, I chased these styles back in time to reach deep house, the direct descendant of disco mixed with a bit of techno and gospel. That took up my time for about a year, while I started exploring variants like psytrance (Infected Mushroom), and acid jazz.

My first two years I frequently attended dance parties, especially those thrown at the Shady Rill. One of the side effects of living in Walla Walla is that space isn't exactly at a premium like in many other locations. Thus, the college likes to rent some of the many, many homes it owns to upperclass folks for dirt cheap ($200/person, frequently). the Shady Rill was one of the crown jewels in the college's collection of weird houses...partly because it was only about 300 yards away from the student center, but also because it was down a tiny cul-de-sac all by its lonesome, and was surrounded by large grassy fields, trees, and a river in the backyard. It was the perfect location in a number of ways, and also a party institution at the school. It had been affiliated with theatre and debate students for years and years, and the house would get "passed down" - there'd always be at least one junior on the lease (there were 5 bedrooms), and when the seniors left, the junior(s) would handpick their roommates. It was known for its dance parties, and a counter-weight to the weak fraternity system's "get-drunk-and-evade-being-pawed-at" style of party throwing. Given that Portland and Seattle were 4 and 5 hours away, if the Shady Rill threw a party, then over 10% of the 1500 person school was going to show up. The below picture doesn't show the river, backyard, or surroundings...but the tiki torch subtly attests to the house's lifestyle (and the purple car to Eric's wackiness).



I'm on this tangent because I lived at this place my junior and senior year, and party throwing was a very important thing to me. We would do it right: enlisting frosh from the debate team to hand stuff every single student's school mailbox with our invitations, over $300 spent on booze (acquired across the border in Oregon to save on tax), 2 bartenders per hourly shift...and always a DJ. Which, when I was living there, was usually me. I worked for the Sound and Lights folks, so I would just wheel the huge amp, cd-djs, and speakers (usually along with some lighting equipment) home, set it up, and blast the hell out of the neighborhood (people across the river would occasionally call the cops, but the cops would just relay that to the Whitman security, who would send someone on a bicycle to ask us to turn it down a bit, which we would momentarily comply with. Preparing for these parties drove my music collecting to a fair amount, because I wanted to have a well rounded supply for any need or request. I took a lot of pride in our ability to squeeze in 75 or so people into our living room and hallway (the other half of the party would be outside, and in our various downstairs rooms).

I combined enjoying to DJ along with my interest in electronica with a college radio show. More than that, I got to run the electronica genre (or RPM, as it is termed), which means that all new cds in that area got sent to me to listen to, to decide what to put in the changers. Obviously I made copies of all of it, and a few bands who I love I probably never would have stumbled across otherwise (dZihan & Kamien, for instance).

After college I continued with the DJing - as a wedding and special events DJ for a crap company based out of Medford. This was a low paying job that meant spending all of my weekends driving around Oregon, looking for weird places with huge speakers and a ton of equipment stashed in my poor Honda Civic. The high school dances were horrifying (fortunately I tended to get better gigs than that), the birthdays and reunions were boring, and the weddings....would run the gambit between unbelievably fun to incredibly painful.

Nowadays, my interest has expanded to include "indie" music, although since I'm more interested in musicality than lyrics and emotions, I tend to not get into the super-lo-fi folks that aren't really inventive in their music stylings. But instead of moving on from any type of music (except for the "bad" rock and "bad" trance that I listened to when first being introduced to those larger genres), I have instead incorporated everything as time has gone on.

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Bananas Made Me Arrogant

The New York Times' Sunday magazine has an interesting article about Williams syndrome, which is a genetic condition in which the ability to recognize space and basic math concepts is gone, but one is filled with a super high desire to interact with others. This is an interesting bit I'm copying at length, because it tries to explain why people feel uncomfortable around those who are really friendly but have obvious intelligence shortcomings....and also a look into how social demands drive brain development much more than tool usage.

.........

As an experiment of nature, Williams syndrome makes clear that while we are innately driven to connect with others, this affiliative drive alone will not win this connection. People with Williams rarely win full acceptance into groups other than their own. To bond with others we must show not just charm but sophisticated cognitive skills. But why? For vital relationships like those with spouses or business partners, the answer seems obvious: people want to know you can contribute. But why should casual friendships and group membership depend on smarts?

One possible answer a comes from the rich literature of nonhuman primate studies. For 40 years or so, primatologists like Jane Goodall, Frans de Waal and Robert Sapolsky have been studying social behavior in chimps, gorillas, macaques, bonobos and baboons. Over the past decade that work has led to a unifying theory that explains not only a huge range of behavior but also why our brains are so big and what their most essential work is. The theory, called the Machiavellian-intelligence or social-brain theory, holds that we rise from a lineage in which both individual and group success hinge on balancing the need to work with others with the need to hold our own — or better — amid the nested groups and subgroups we are part of.

It started with fruit. About 15 or 20 million years ago, the theory goes, certain forest monkeys in Africa and Asia developed the ability to digest unripe fruit. This left some of their forest-dwelling cousins — the ancestors of chimps, gorillas and humans — at a sharp disadvantage. Suddenly a lot of fruit was going missing before it ripened.

To find food, some of the newly hungry primate species moved to the forest edge. Their new habitat put more food in reach, but it also placed the primates within reach of big cats, canines and other savanna predators. This predation spurred two key evolutionary changes. The primates became bigger, giving individuals more of a fighting chance, and they started living in bigger groups, which provided more eyes to keep watch and a strength of numbers in defense.

But the bigger groups imposed a new brain load: the members had to be smart enough to balance their individual needs with those of the pack. This meant cooperating and exercising some individual restraint. It also required understanding the behavior of other group members striving not only for safety and food but also access to mates. And it called for comprehending and managing one’s place in an ever-shifting array of alliances that members formed in order not to be isolated within the bigger group.

How did primates form and manage these alliances? They groomed one another. Monkeys and great apes spend up to a fifth of their time grooming, mostly with regular partners in pairs and small groups. This quality time (grooming generates a pleasing release of endorphins and oxytocin) builds strong bonds. Experiments in which a recording of macaques screaming in alarm is played, for instance, have shown a macaque will respond much more strongly to a grooming partner’s cries than to cries from other members of the group. The large time investment involved seems to make a grooming relationship worth defending.

In this and other ways a group’s members would create, test and declare their alliances. But as the animals and groups grew, tracking and understanding all those relationships required more intelligence. According to the social-brain theory, it was this need to understand social dynamics — not the need to find food or navigate terrain — that spurred and rewarded the evolution of bigger and bigger primate brains.

This isn’t idle speculation; Robin Dunbar, an evolutionary psychologist and social-brain theorist, and others have documented correlations between brain size and social-group size in many primate species. The bigger an animal’s typical group size (20 or so for macaques, for instance, 50 or so for chimps), the larger the percentage of brain devoted to neocortex, the thin but critical outer layer that accounts for most of a primate’s cognitive abilities. In most mammals the neocortex accounts for 30 percent to 40 percent of brain volume. In the highly social primates it occupies about 50 percent to 65 percent. In humans, it’s 80 percent.

According to Dunbar, no such strong correlation exists between neocortex size and tasks like hunting, navigating or creating shelter. Understanding one another, it seems, is our greatest cognitive challenge. And the only way humans could handle groups of more than 50, Dunbar suggests, was to learn how to talk.

“The conventional view,” Dunbar notes in his book “Grooming, Gossip and the Evolution of Language,” “is that language evolved to enable males to do things like coordinate hunts more effectively. . . . I am suggesting that language evolved to allow us to gossip.”

Fallicle of Rome

I don't get homesick. It has never been in my constitution. Largely because I never had a set home for more than a year or two at a time, so it was hard to get too attached.

What I'm feeling now isn't homesickness...but hairsickness.


It was only 7 months ago that this glorious mop perched atop my noggin...judging all that it sees and finding it lacking. I miss it, and it misses me. Time for absurdly over-long hair again, I think. I shaved my head completely on Wednesday....so I'm going to time to see how long it takes to grow out fully...and establish a hair growth speed.

I miss the weird leery look slightly less.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Last on this subject, I swear

Who would have thought that the biggest advancement in cell phones this week would come from someone aside from Apple?

T-Mobile's Hotspot at Home article at the New York Times

For those without the desire to chase the link, here's the gist: T-Mobile is releasing phones that will automagically switch over make calls over any wi-fi spot when you're in range. And they give you a free router if you start with their service!!! That means:

1. You have perfect reception when at home no matter what, or when in any location with wifi access.
2. You can save a shitload of money, because all calls made on wifi do not count as minutes that you have to pay for in your T-Mobile plan.

Considering that I live in a house that somehow is a dead spot for all cell phone networks - and live in the basement, making it even worse! - this is a really really attractive option. If you're an early adopter it is only $10 per month, which means it costs $50 per month to get INFINITE calls. There is no other setup in existence that gives you that kind of deal (except for creative skype usage, but I've never bothered with that).

So, on the one hand, you have a $600 dollar device, plus minimum $60 dollars per month...and it is no better - most say worse - at being a phone than any phone you can get for free with a new contract. On the other, you have T-Mobile revolutionizing how basic cell phone service works, and making a world of difference for people like me, and saving us money to boot. But I guess you can't watch dog skating videos on youtube without the iphone...and how could you live without that? Oh, that's right - very, very easily.

Another juicy bit of Apple news...they've been fucking over artists! This engadget post details a string of incidents in which someone was in talks to have Apple license their work for their commercials...and even though a deal didn't materialize, Apple uses it anyways!!! Gotta love that company.

Speaking of youtube, here's something you have got to see. This guy stuck a jet engine in a kayak, and then races across glacier-covered iceland against a Land Rover. It includes the epic line:
"Shaun must be getting tired...the jet engine has roasted his buttocks!!"

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

iPhone = Iraq War

I know that almost no one gets my vitrol on this subject, but I just can't help myself.

The Iraq War, in historical perspective (or, the perspective of people who weren't fucking idiots and were screaming at the top of their lungs for reason once the 9/11 dust cleared), looks like this:
US gets attacked by group angry about our presence in the Middle East, everyone rallys around the flag. Conservative group in power sees perfect opportunity to complete four pet goals at once: 1. give rich and powerful corporate executive friends infinite oil-slick handjobs (or in Cheney's case, outright whacking off, considering how much money he still gets from Haliburton) 2. focus public anger against an external threat for political gain, 3. try to run the experiment of successfully using American military hegemony, both to overthrow the spectre of Vietnam and to be able to have more influence in the world at large, 4. Do the rash thing that Daddy was too wise to do. George HW Bush got an ear stud in the first Gulf War, so his son had to go way further to rebel (Prince Albert).

The war was sold to the public as a means of protecting ourselves in the war that had been started on the enemy...except it was against a different enemy, and the war strengthened the enemy, and caused many innocents to become enemies by spreading poverty, neptostically appointing friends to run/control the country's resources, etc. In short, the announced reason for the war was never the real reason for the war, and the war actually had the OPPOSITE effect of what we said it would do. This is a peculiar form of irony that is specific to the 2000s America. A cultural mood of self-defeating fakeness. The exact formula applies with a number of the other Bush political policies (tax cuts, energy policy, etc.)


The EXACT same logic is at work with the iPhone. Every single review - even those ones that gush about its multimedia playback capabilities, as if mp3 and video players larger than 8gb had yet to be invented or something - mentioned the biggest area of inadequacy of the iPhone being....the fucking phone!!! That's 5/6ths of the name they fucked up! It is on the worst carrier in the US, the price is outrageous, it is complicated and clunky to make and answer phone calls. Apparently the way to "revolutionize" phone usage is to make it really obnoxious. The only thing revolutionized is the extent to which consumers will thank a company on their knees for the right to grossly overpay (the profit margins on the iPhone, like all other products, are HUGE. Apple gets away with price rape just because no one has the self-esteem to say no!). Oh, and the reason why they went with AT&T? no other phone carrier would allow Apple to keep a big chunk of the yearly phone fees for themselves. What a fuck you to the consumer!! The iPhone wasn't about making phones better; it is finding a way to get people to buy a multimedia player (aka, the ipod) AGAIN, and to make them more reliant on itunes/apple crap. What genius product is next, Apple? The iPorto'Potty, where instead of a toilet inside, there's just a bunch of food? Or the iSunGlasses that end up just shining superfulous lights in your eyes?



Nothing Apple has ever done has been genius from an invention standpoint, just a business/marketing standpoing. OS X has a few strong advances on XP, but a lot more GAPING holes! (no DirectX, no systems rights customization, no domains and thus no good for businesses/colleges, no support for thousands and thousands of free software out there, no alternatives to crappy/evil programs like itunes). And that's the best thing they've ever done - that operating system. Mac hardware is nothing to be impressed about, especially since they don't make the important parts anymore. Windows sucks dick in a number of ways itself, but it is vastly easier to avoid using flawed products with so many free alternatives floating around. Apple is a small-market-share monopoly, whereas Microsoft is a huge market share in that it has its finger in everything, but you can easily avoid actually giving any money to them.


Edit: In my anti-Apple rant, I ended up fudging some facts when I was trying to identify OS X negatives. Which I realized only after the fact (it supports active directory fine, the ones I use at work just have that disabled). I'm not totally as irrational as I seem; I recommended that my ex-roommate Kerri switch from a pc laptop to a macbook because she doesn't know anything about computers and the simplicity would help her. But I, like every other computer enthusiast, balks at Apple's monolithic approach to its overpriced hardware. I'm going to be building my own machine this summer once the core2duo 6850 price drop hits that far outstrips the highest end desktops Apple has available, for a dramatically reduced cost. But if I didn't do anything with my computer except surf the web, liked wasting money, and didn't hate the Apple aesthetic..then I might make the switch and enjoy OS X's handful of nice features (although except from target mode and a few UNIX command line tricks you can do, I can't think of any that would benefit a single user).