Oh, gee, look at this.

EVENT

Evidently someone figured out that stopping a glacier from shrinking is approximately as easy as stopping a glacier.

END OF POST.

Lunas 11, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Use crushed rhubarb leaves to scour brass or copper.

- LINK OF THE WEEK -
Metamorphic Rocks.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Provide a link to a photo of something awesome.

END OF POST.

Lunas 10, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Form a single word from: spare him not.

- PICTURE OF THE WEEK -
A wormhole.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
I think yesterdays question was quite good, though nobody has answered it yet. So let's stick with that!

END OF POST.

Catsup 14: From a Lot of Park to a Parking Lot.

DIARY

For a while we threw the frisbee around on the green meadow, and then we lay down in the grass to eat apples and carrots and relax. Then, we wound our way through the western part of the park, and had about an hour left to spend at the Botanical garden. The garden itself was gorgeous looking, although really the fragrance was the most striking thing about it. Of course, we wouldn't have epxerienced this as strongly if we'd come at a different time of year. My favorite trees are almost always the trashier, cheaper ones: poplars, cottonwoods, aspens, and willows. There was an impressive willow, though, and who cannot be overwhelmed by the stately rows of pink cherry trees all in blossom.

I had to leave a little early, to get to the first night of the New School Thesis Readings. People were more dressed up than I'd ever seen them, and there was a genuine, palpable excitement to the whole thing. Jessica arrived, and we started in on the free food and drink. When Sky and Emma arrived, I took them around and introduced friends from workshop and the program. Amy read that night, and basically stole the scene, but for the most part people stuck to the 350-word limit, and the pace was brisk.

Afterwards, Jess was feeling bad so she offered to head on home. Sky and Emma and I walked down to Chinatown for a quick meal, then returned north to the Lower East Side to try to get into a friend's party. I was the only person of the three of us that met the bar's dress code, which is never a situation I expect to be in. After waiting there for a few minutes, and saying "hi" to a friend of Emma's we walked back south and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. We got home some time after two...

The next morning, Sky and Emma had to transport their luggage to a site closer to the train they'd take to the airport, but I still took Sky up to the roof for a quick tour. When they had left, I ran about getting things ready for my own reading that night. I took the train up to the Upper East Side, and grabbed a coffee with the two of them, and we headed over to Central Park. There, we lounged around on a rock outcropping for about an hour (and watched the closest thing to a high-speed police chase I've ever seen, with one cruiser tearing down the sidewalk with pedestrians springing out of the way). Eventually, we wound our way over to Strawberry Fields, then on down to 60th Street and MOMA.

We spent the middle part of the day at MOMA, spending most of our time in the architectural galleries and the sculpture garden. At about four o'clock, my dad arrived, having taken a flight and several gurrelous subways to Midtown. The four of us had a bit over an hour left together, so we went upstairs to the top floor where all the famous paintings (Van Gogh's Starry Night were). We stopped at an overpriced diner for a quick bite to eat, and all of us pretty much stuck to coffee and appetizers. Then we said our goodbyes in a very-crowded, very slow moving subway, and dad and I headed down to New School where we met Jessica.

END OF POST.

Lunas 9, 29.

DIARY

- Last Tuesday was the only uneventful day last week... we watched the final performances for American Idol and determined that it was clear that Jordin would win.
On Wednesday, we went to the Guerrilla Lit reading, followed by the house, on fire. Oh well.
On Thursday, I went to work for a half-day then migrated to the Habana Outpost to study geology for The Silurians, then migrated to Scott and Marco's for some Star Wars role-playing.
On Friday, I sent out a couple emails after Jess left, then headed up to the American Museum of Natural History, again to research the The Silurians. Unfortunately, their Eurypterids were not on display, but I was able to check out the Ostrocanths, and the museum itself is quite extraordinary. The Hall of Biodiversity had an impressive overview of simple organisms (though I think that the arthropods, mollusks, and higher invertebrates were somewhat slighted), and the Rose Center was striking by its very layout. Most powerful, though, were the fossil halls on the fourth floor, laid out not chronologically, but cladistically. It was downright moving. After Jess had finished work, we met in Union Square, grabbed Subway for dinner, and went to see Pirates of the Caribbean (my first impression here). We went home and played a couple dice games before turning in.
On Saturday, I read a bunch of Greek history (for Urbantasm), and that night Jess and I went out to a birthday party for Mike McD at Liesel's. The party was great fun... Amy and Mark and many others were there, with plenty of beer and Jameson's. Liesel has a gorgeous deck with a beautiful bottom-of-a-well view of a blue blue sky. We sat around and drank and talked until about two AM. MTA had reduced hours by then, so we didn't get home until almost four.
- On Sunday we slept in. I did some more reading and went to church, then we met up at Habana Outpost with Barb, her sister Kate, Kate's boyfriend Jacob, and Matt. There was a huge crowd there for a kung fu movie which was projected on the side of the adjacent building, but we went inside to drink mojitos and beer. Later, the sky clouded over and it seemed ready to storm. We said goodbye to Barb, Kate, and Jacob, and walked back home. Jess made lasagna, and we watched the Departed with Matt. Liked the movie, but the ending was lame. Jess and I finally went to bed at two, which was an improvement over the night before.
- Monday we decided to stay in and relax. I did more research for Silurians, and the dishes. Jess made a tomato-bean soup and cornbread, and we watched Jaws. Great movie sez' I. Not very accurate about sharks, though. Finally, I went to bed about one. It's been slightly warm and muggy throughout all this, which makes sense for the onset of summer.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Today, Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay became the first men to reach the summit of Mt. Everest, 1953.

- HAPPY BIRTHDAY -
John F. Kennedy

- QUOTE OF THE WEEK -
"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so."
- Douglas Adams

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Assuming you could travel to observe another time and place, where would you go? Let's give you the last billion years to choose from, and anywhere on the terrestrial Earth.

END OF POST.

Boo ya? (POTC3)

CONCEPT

So Jess and I just got back from At World's End, and I was preparing myself to toss in the towel if it didn't work. While I see that it has already received mixed-reviews, I have to say I feel 100% vindicated. I don't want to spoil anything (and especially not at such an early date) so I won't say much yet, but I am now convinced that the second and third films (if not the whole franchise) is conceived as a mythology and not a "story" in the psychological century sense of the word.

More later...

END OF POST.

Catsup 13: From Sleepier to Less Sleepy.

DIARY

As it turns out, what I had just suffered was a one day reprieve in the midst of an otherwise month-long vacation. I mean, yes I had work and everything, but the good times kept coming so fast, it couldn't but feel like a vacation.

On Tuesday I was truly dazed and, frankly, try as I might, I cannot remember much of anything that happened on May 1st. On the 2nd, however, after work I stopped by New School for reasons I cannot remember now, and continued on into Greenwich Village where I saw Sky, for the second time in a week and several hundred miles removed. It was his first time in New York and he'd brought along his lovely girlfriend Emma, whom I'd heard about for months.

We went to a pizza place (which is virtually the only affordable eats along that stretch of Seventh Avenue, and then moved on to a bar where my friend Narissa, a jazz singer, was performing with a band. We stayed through the remainder of her set, and Jared and some other New School students came along. Afterwards, Sky and Emma left me so that they could go pick up their luggage from their last place (at Madison and 60th... what an address) while I went ahead to the apartment to meet Jessica and help her clean. But then, due to a getting lost and a subway mishap, I only got back twenty minutes ahead anyway.

That night, we visited for awhile, but nobody wanted to stay up too late, since practically nobody had gotten enough sleep.

On Wednesday, after work, I ran a few errands, then headed down to Cafe Loup to meet a delegation of New School students hellbent on getting sloshed after handing in their theses. I didn't get sloshed, myself, but I did have a beer and some Maker's Mark, so I was a bit toasty. Always in moments like that, I'm struck by how nice it is to visit without people when there aren't impending deadlines... practically everybody was there, and I talked with Sarah and Julie P and Emily and Jared. Collectively, we contemplated the future. Then quickly moved on to more drinking. Such is the writers way.

I got back home at a little after nine, and we all ate Indian food from Kenara's the uber-affordable-and-nice Indian restaurant that Jess discovered a few months ago. It was great, of course, and there were leftovers. There always are. I don't remember, one way or the other, if we stayed up much later than that, but I made sure to sleep in the next day. Thursday. My last Thursday not working. We got off to a leisurely start, and Sky made Emma and me scrambled eggs. It was well after two by the time we started off toward Prospect Park.

I was less sleepy than I had been before.

END OF POST.

Lunas 5, 29. (Following Lunas 4, the Day of Flames.)

DIARY

- Yesterday was as ridiculous a final act / resolution to the last six months as any... or perhaps a tiding of things to come? Well, I hope not. I won't go into all of the gory little details here. Look for that in further installments of catsup. But for the moment, I'll just give the barest details. Jess and I were riding the bus back from the Guerrilla Lit reading series, when our bus was passed by a fire truck and two police cars. I don't know why, but I had the strangest little nagging thought: 'That would just figure, it would be our building.' After all, the place has been plagued with the worst variety of problems.
Well, naturally, we turn the corner, and there are three fire trucks pulled right up in front of our building, with a couple dozen fire-fighters coming and going with axes and helments. Big fat hoses ran in through the front door and there was so much water running down the street that they formed big pools at the bottom of the BQE. The air was thick with a smoky woodsy smell. A ladder ran up to the roof from one of the trucks and the skylight at the top of the stairwell had been smashed in. When we finally got inside, several stories up, glass lay everywhere. All of our neighbors, both from the building and adjacent, were out on the street, watching.
It turns out the resident of #3, who inexplicably put his refrigerator into the middle of the hall earlier this week, and whom nobody has been able to find, had a fire in his apartment, and it spread sufficiently to do damage to the apartment right above, where a woman noticed and called the fire department. This morning there was a big sticker on his door, telling him to call the city.
As for our apartment, no permanent damage but everything from our curtains to our bedding to our clothes to our chairs smelled (and still smells) like a weekend barbecue. Plus, we have very legitimate fears that the fire might have prompted some visitors from last summer to drop in for another visit.

Welcome to Life, Connor and Jessica! =)

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Approach trouble as you would a mule. Look it in the face.

- LINK OF THE WEEK -
New Advent: Job.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
How much trouble is too much?

END OF POST.

Catsup 12: From Monday to Tuesday.

DIARY

In many ways it was a sheer unadulterated Hell of a day. After getting a ludicrously slow start off to work, I happened to use a phone to call Kinkos and confirm my order. They said first that they would not have it finished until 8 PM (I was meeting my advisor to turn it in at 5:30), and that moreover they did not have acid-free paper, though I had been assured over the phone the night before that they did. In a final bit of backstabbing they hadn't even started to process the order because, despite my having previewed the print job and approved it online, they wanted me to stop in and look at their own draft. How all of this adds up to be convenient (as the website brags) is beyond me.

At work I fired off apologies to my boss and an explanation to my advisor. I eventually got on the phone with another Kinkos that confirmed that they had acid-free paper... I could print my document from a computer there and get it copied and bound while in a few hours. I took a lunch break (which was embarrassing, because I'd already shown up to work over an hour late) and went down to Kinkos. There I discovered that the initial computer print would cost me fifty cents a page, adding up to a grand total of $150 for the first copy. The second would run at least another $40, and then I had to get them bound. I had a few short words with the rep I'd spoken with on the phone, regarding the fifty-cents-per-black-and-white-page policy (which is murder and she had no control over) and the fact that nobody informed me of this (which was quite doable).

I got back to the office, not in tears but red-faced and pissed-off and I think everyone knew something was up. Then, Dave, a coworker, told me about a little print shop attached to our building. I left again, explained my situation, and they were very accommodating. They let me access their computer for free, print out the initial copy for free, and make the two necessary copies on their fanciest paper at twelve cents a page, and bindings at five dollars each. My boss was very understanding of the chaos, and I left Midtown on time with two bound copies that cost me a total of exactly $100. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Moral of the Story:

KINKO'S SUCKS.

JASON STATIONERS RULES:
140 W. 31st St. #1
212.279.7455

I successfully met with Jeff, successfully got my thesis initialed and turned it in at the Writing Center office, successfully went out for a meeting with Jeff and successfully ate strawberry ice cream and drank coffee while we talked about African literature and literary criticism and plans for the generally near future. Then I successfully went home and successfully greeted Jessica with joy. Despite my mere twenty minute of sleep the night before, I only semi-successfully managed to crash. There was just too much excitement in the midst of all this.

END OF POST.

Lunas 4, 29.

DIARY

- Tonight: Attending the Guerrilla Lit reading to hear Marco and Daniel take on their work.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Late season snowstorm blanketed eastern Iowa with 4 to 6 inches of snow, 1882.

- PICTURE OF THE WEEK -
I want one.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Choose a subject in which to instantaneously multiply your knowledge tenfold.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 11: From Weddings to Finals.

DIARY

The reception was held adjacent to a golf course, actually it was a site Jess and I had considered for our own wedding, and there was quite possibly another two weddings and half a dozen proms being held there at roughly the same time. We arrived and I was again separated from Jessica as she posed with the wedding party and I helped carry flowers into the tent. After the party had been announced, however, Jess joined me and we sat with her friend Nicole and family, and also met with several other friends from her high school. There was so much food we were overwhelmed, and also enjoyed talking for most of the time, but Jess persuaded me to dance a little, and I talked her into talking a walk with me. When we finally got back, dad J talked with us awhile about the wedding, and then we went to bed. I think I had had intentions of getting through Derrida, but that didn't come to pass.

The next morning, early, too early, dad J drove us back to Columbus, and the the shale hills and then the trees smoothes out into the flat farms, and then we arrived at the airport. We flew Jet Blue, and this stage of the trip went smoothly. We finally claimed our luggage at JFK, and rode Sky Train with a Chicago cellist in town for a gig. We took the A train until it ran out of steam, and we had to transfer to buses somewhere deep in Bushwish. A half hour later we switched to buses again in downtown Brooklyn, and by four o'clock we were pretty much home.

That evening, Jess went to hang out with Leila and Barb.

I didn't, though. I had to finish my literature project (Derrida, Foucault, Bathes, and other unsavory sorts presiding over my analysis of the Smashing Pumpkins). I finished at about 7 AM, called my order into Kinko's for two copies printed on acid-free paper and fitted for velo binding. I went to bed.

I got up at 7:20 to get ready for work.

Vacation, vacation, was suddenly over.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 10: From Zanesville to Rix Mills.

DIARY

Picking up the pace a little...

Our schedule was tight enough that we'd have to get most of our visiting done the next day. We rode out to the Colony Square Mall and picked me up a tie and dress shirt for the occassion. From there we drove out to Combridge to visit with Becky and Bill for a few hours, and they took us to a pizza place on the edge of town. It was a pleasant, relaxed afternoon, which was nice in the rushing around of the whole trip. Ultimately, though, things picked up again, and we drove through New Concord on the way to Rix Mills for the rehearsal for our second wedding.

Rix Mills lies six or seven miles out from New Concord in some of the breathtakingly beautiful farmland, rolling river valleys and patchwork hills with cows grazing all about. The town itself is a particularly elevated and tree-studded patch of road consisting of maybe a dozen or so houses and a single large Presbyterian church. This was where Jill and Ron's wedding took place. We parked the car and went inside. It was quite cold out, and the weather had been changeable all week. After the rehearsal, which was conducted by the presiding minister, a friend of Ron from college, we went into the rec room for a dinner of ribs and pork. Jill made each of her bridgemaid's a beautiful shawl. Eventually we helped carry chairs up to the sanctuary for the ceremony, and headed out. The wedding party kids (myself included) decided to meet for coffee and dessert at Denny's, and so Jess and I drove into Zanesville and sat in the parking lot while we waited for the others to arrive. I made further dents in Derrida (reading seventy pages of Derrida is like reading ten pages of anything else) and then we went it. Jess got a shake, I got a coffee, and everyone was laughing and talking. The next day was going to be one of the busiest of the trip, though, so we finally called it a night and went home. Jeff and Chelsea were there when we got back, so we had the chance to visit with them as well.

The next day, Jess had to be out early to get ready with Jill and the other bridgesmaids. My day was initially uneventful... I spent a good three hours with Derrida, but Jeff and Chelsea and dad managed to talk me into a trip to Bob Evans for lunch. In the end, there was even enough time to stop back home and switch off vehicles. He let me drive the Santa Fe out to the wedding. Even though I was early, the whole town and then some had shown up, and I had to park quite a way down the road. The weather kept changing, literally minute to minute, with the blue mixing it up with big huge roiling balls of white cloud. The day could go either way, it seemed. As for the church, it more than filled up. It wasn't a large church, but there were still a dozen or so pews and plenty of chairs besides. Nevertheless, the place was packed, a few people ended up standing when all was said and done.

Then, for the second time in a week, I saw a beautiful wedding. Both Jill and Ron looked elegant and equal to the occasion, but of course, Jess was the most gorgeous person in that room to me. The sermon was one of the most striking and tight I've ever heard, pulling on the gospel reading... the need for firm foundations... via covered bridges and civil engineering and the rigor of a sound design. I can't really do it justice here. After the ceremony, we were dismissed row by row and waited outside to throw rice the bridge and groom emerged. They wind kept blowing and the weather still vascillated. But then Ron and Jill came out, and the sky finally cleared for good. It started to warm. We returned to the car, and when I turned on the ignition, I remembered that I'd had The Giving Tree Band playing on the ride over. We set off into the sunshine and pointed ourselves toward Zanesville.

END OF POST.

Lunas 3, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
For better absorption of iron, eat spinach with orange slices.

- QUOTE OF THE WEEK -
"We partied every day and I'm trying to figure out how I got anything finished. Today you even have to set a time for partying!"
- Bootsy Collins

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What is the most overrated word you know?

END OF POST.

Tarantula.

CONCEPT

Naturally, it is far too soon to tell, but to riskily venture forth my neck: Pumpkins, it's good to have you home again.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 9: From Illinois to Ohio.

DIARY

The feeling that Thursday morning was more than a little weird. Ever since the morning after Colin and Nora's wedding, and more strongly after leaving Hyde Park, I had a weird sensation of waiting for the other shoe to drop. In fact, about half of our time in Chicago, I was rushing about so fast that I kept expecting our time there to suddenly run out. It suddenly did!

That last day was busy enough, nevertheless. Sam and I woke and Jess was still asleep. I said goodbye to Sky, but I was going to see him in a week anyway, and Bill. Sam and I went down to a very pricey little diner near his house. Still, he didn't exaggerate when he told me how quick and spicy the eggs would be coughed up, plus coffee, rye toast, hot sauce, you name it. The place was sparkly shiny clean too, with a beautiful deep counter-bar that I could have stacked a dozen books if I wanted. As far as morning dive diners go, it wasn't just nice, it was beautiful.

Sam had to leave for his dentist appointment, so Jess and I got our things together and headed out on our own. We walked down to Grand Street and waited seemingly forever for the bus, although really it was only about twenty minutes. (Quick public transit is something I will miss about New York). The bus crawled along because it was vying with another bus on the same route, but we got downtown and found the Indian Restaurant where we were meeting Yotam and Smrthi. We had a really good dinner, although I didn't eat as much as I should have because I was still digesting the eggs from the morning. Already, it seems, there is a plan for a D&D campaign when we arrive back in Chicago, which will take a little bit of the sting out of losing our playing group here. After a very rich lunch, we walked with them to the subway, and then started off in search of Sam.

He'd loaded up our things in his car and was coasting about for us. He picked us up, and Jess immediately climbed in the back seat and fell asleep. Sam and I cruised through the city for most of the time left between then and our departure. We had close to three hours before we were needed at Midway, so we rolled around downtown for awhile, and started making our way south. We took Halsted through Greektown and on past the UIC campus. Halsted north of Pilsen looks totally different then I rememebered it, and frankly in a kind of a sad way. I don't believe that gentrification is always a unilateral action that is all homogenization without any benefit. That said, the sort of gentrification that has gone on down there seems to be a particularly soul-sucking kind. It is the kind that does, in some way, damage integral community, because the faceless buildings that have replaced the grand old Halsted relics are all specifically for students. Students are fine, great, don't get me wrong. But there is nobody on that drag that will be there for more than four years at a stretch, and that includes not only the students, but the coffee shops and the dry cleaners too. Plus the old neighborhood had been was of Chicago's more grandiose run-down districts... a real menagerie of blues musicians, Jewish jewellers, and South Siders picking through the debris for keepers.

We eventually wound up in Bridgeport, but didn't spend any time there. We continued on until we got to McKinley Park, and drove around some industrial areas I'd never had the chance to explore while I lived there. Then we drove past the Swap-O-Rama, through the old stockyards, and Back of the Yards. Then I convinced poor Sam that I needed to buy the CMS for my literature project, and he graciously drove us to the Borders in Hyde Park. I only found the $56 hardcover CMS, and ended up buying some crappy paperback MLA citation guide instead (which is why my citations, though "correct," look like an 11th grade research paper).

Oh, well.

We took 55th/Garfield out to Midway, and Sam dropped us off at the terminal, gave us hugs, and we were all on our way. Check in happened smoothly enough. I don't remember if the flight was delayed or not, but if it was, it was a brief inconvenience. We went up in the air and down again, and I anticipated the landing in Ohio where there aren't a couple dozen miles of a couple hundred thousand brick bungalows on every side.

There were trees and farmlands.

Ohio. Neither Chicago nor New York. But travel has become so casual, and I don't know that I like that. It isn't really travel if it doesn't feel like travel and adventure. Whatever, I was tired.

We got our luggage without any trouble and met dad right away. He'd brought some cookies for us, and while we rode back I listed to Jess tell him about our adventures. We got into Zanesville at ten or so, and took it relatively easy for the evening...

END OF POST.

The strangest spam I've ever received.

DIARY

Unaltered except emails and urls:

From: Xiangdong Goza [xxx@xx.com]
Date: Mon, 21 May 2007 15:49:06 +0420
To: connor@xxx.com
Subject: Re:

Hello my friend!I am ready to kill myself and eat my dog, if medicine prices here (http://xxx.xx) are bad.Look, the site and call me 1-800 if its wrong..My dog and I are still alive :)

END OF POST.

Ketchup 8: From the Garden to the Land of Nod.

DIARY

I'm kind of in a Shandyesque problem here... I'm getting caught up more slowly then the events actually happened. If I don't pick up the past of posting and whatnot, then I'll just fall progressively further behind. Some infinities are larger than others.

It was cold and rainy when we finally arrived at Garfield Park. This was only my second time there, and the first time (in 1999) I'd practically spent no time there at all. We found the conservatory quite easily and waited inside until Patrick and Lisa showed up. Then we walked around the gardens for some time... the labyrinth was closed, and it was too miserable anyway to spend much time outside, but the gardens inside we sprawling and marvellous. I always love the fern room the most, but the desert room had a plant that same was obsessed with: a tiny sprout with only two leaves that grew out from its center indefinitely. It could live to be over two thousand years old. There were also temperate displays, orchid displays, waterfalls, and a mosaic donated from the country of Morocco. The conservatory was sprawling, and a little bit more dilapidated than the Lincoln Park observatory, but also felt more classic, with hugh high ceilings and more of a mazelike configuration.

Eventually, Patrick had to leave. From there, Jess, Lisa, and I crossed under the El and found a field house, which was shaped more like a state mausoleum, but which was also quite beautiful. It had an open gallery with what would have been a spectacular view of downtown, had it not been so wet and foggy out. When we live in Chicago again, I will visit Garfield Park more often.

From there were went back to the Ukrainian Village, and had lunch at a restaurant that openly advertised its cheap prices and its crabby waitresses. The food was good, but the coffee was pretty awful. I kept pouring in creamer after creamer, just so I would taste something other than warm water. We had a lively discussion about violence and the Virginia tech shootings, but that eventually wound up an argument, and then we left. We stopped back at Lisa's to pick up our belongings, and after awhile Sam came over. Lisa played some of her music for us, and then we headed out to a restaurant called Bite where we met Sky.

I happen to know that this was one of Jessica's favorite parts of the Chicago trip and I could see why. Bite was okay... the food was good (the menu was truly impressive), and of course we had the beer that we had brought. But mostly it was just the warmth of that moment. It was still cold and rainy outside, and just getting past twilight. There were so many people inside that restaurant that their breath was fogging up the windows, and I could even venture, from your noisy psychoanalytics POV, that there was something womblike about the way things fell out. But there was also laughter and loud and rowdy conversation, lots of toasts, mock sarcasm, talk and plans of the future, divergent plants dealing with school and health care and writing and music and architecture and computer design...

Afterwards, we said goodbye to Lisa and went back to Sam's. Jess was quite tired, and didn't stay up for long. Sam and I went out for a ride through the city, listening to a mix of YTMND songs. I realized that I liked Cowboy Bebop even more without the visuals than with. The sound mixing is more apparent that way. We made it halfway past Maywood on North, and then finally turned around and made our way back. We drove around downtown in the rain for awhile, looking at the old post office for the sign reading 'Gotham Bank' (they'd been filming the new Batman movie there just earlier that day). Then we stopped at the Map Room in Wicker Park for a couple drinks and headed home.

When I finally got into the futon, I fell asleep almost at once.

END OF POST.

Lunas 2, 29.

DIARY

- Someonly leaked Tarantula by the Smashing Pumpkins. Some seven hours from now, I'll be listening to it!

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Last season's mulch has a whitish yellow fungus-type covering on it. What is this?

- NEWS OF THE WEEK -
The New York Times: White House Says It Will Move Quickly to Replace Wolfowitz.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
When and how did you receive your worst sunburn?

END OF POST.

Difficult... ish.

CONCEPT

The Silurians is in a sort of ascendence, in that it feels the most powerful, the most interesting and relevant right now. I'm still trying to finish the fifth revision of Hungry Rats, but I'm finding it very hard to concentrate. Oh, well.

END OF POST.

Thoughts on the (third) commencement.

DIARY

So I finally decided to not attend the final commencement ceremony at the New School tonight.

It's a complicated story, not very interesting in the details, but maybe I can sum it up in a reflective sort of way, and maybe even make a useful point at the end.

I'd originally planned on attending. When I petitioned to graduate, they asked me if I wanted to pay the forty dolalr fee for a cap and gown and I agreed on the spot. In the past few weeks, however, I started having second thoughts. Not dread: the whole situation was really too incidental for such a strong emotion. I found out that few of my friends were planning on attending. My dad offered to make a trip to New York, and we agreed that the thesis readings would have been more interesting and personal (which, I think, was correct). Jessica would have had to take time off work, and offered to, but her job is important, and I didn't think an afternoon in the concrete anonymity of Madison Square Garden was worth it. Moreover, in the last two weeks, I'd attended the thesis readings themselves, which program director Robert Polito once described as the "holiest" of writing program events, and yesterday, a ceremony and reception for the New School Graduate programs. How many times do they need to graduate us? Isn't there some better use I could have put my forty dollars toward? And we don't get our diplomas for another three months regardless. And New School is so disorganized that they haven't even taken care to advertise for their Commencement speaker. Last year's speaker was Senator McCain, which set off a firestorm of protest and coverage, since the New School is one of the more liberal schools in the country. There was little or no description of what the Commencement would involve, but I have every indication that it would be a less organized mirror my graduation at the U of C. Madison Square Garden is not Rockefeller Chapel, and a mass of New School affiliated people are not my family. All I'm saying is that my incentives to not attend were growing this whole time.

Cut to last Wednesday when I arrived at the Fifth Avenue building to pick up my gown. They asked for forty dollars cash. I had assumed that my account had been billed. I could always stop off at an ATM... but did this mean that I wasn't to be charged if I didn't pick up the gown? Actually, if I didn't pay for the gown, I didn't have to pay.

There was still one more day at that point for me to pick up the gown, so I went home to think it over. I decided not to go. Then I changed my mind, when I found out that a few more of my friends were attending. Then I changed my mind again when I found out that the deadline for picking up gowns had passed. I almost changed my mind again when I read in one announcement (of rumor and questionable authorship, out of perhaps five) that there wold be a limited number of gowns available at the ceremony itself. This seemed like a long shot, and so I held my hand.

It is a challenge, when one is equivocal and uncertain, to not let chane make up your mind for you. Sometimes (say, perhaps, on a summer evening, when deciding whether to eat Mexican food or Italian, and you happen to pass a taqueria on the street) this doesn't matter much. Sometimes, however, it is important to sort out your equivocal feelings and make a decisive choice, and stand by it, however tempting it may be to let the winds buffet you about. This, then, is how I made up my mind:

I have found a community at New School. It is not the community of the institution, however. The institution is, at best, a cypher or a machine needed to guide the creature through difficult social motions. This is different, I think, than the University of Chicago, or even Flushing High School. There, the administration, the students, the teachers, the physical buildings themselves, were so bound up in the experience of the community that separating them, drawing distinctions between them, was not possible. I cannot help but feel that my experience of New School is in my meetings with Jeff Allen (which often took place at coffee shops and restaurants), my summer emails with Shelley and David Gates, my conversations with my peer group and friends... even things that didn't strictly have anything to do with the program itself. Summer afternoons at Coney Island seem inextricably linked to the New School. The buildings and campus and free events, however, do not. An afternoon at Madison Square Garden does not. This makes attendance, at best, a matter of indifference.

To extend my point further, however, my experience of New School has also been constantly informed by my wish to get as much bang for my buck as possible. Unlike college, I didn't have large grants and outside financial support to basically cover the bill for me. This is appropritate, because at my age (I was twenty-seven when I started the program) I needed to be both financially independent, and just as important, capable of making major life decisions mindful of their long-term commitments and consequences. At New School, this meant learning, engaging, conversing, acting, moving about as much as I could. And I was delighted and challenged to discover, beneath the important and unending contemplation of the written language, of its activity in an artistic work, of the bond between a reader and a writer, between a writer and an audience, another task. That is that even the most experimental writers are, socially and economically, artisans. In terms of the paces gone through in the acquisition of skills, the specialized vocabulary, and most significantly, the need of any writer to make oneself relevant, we have much in common with, both in the process of craft and in its social integration, specialized artisans. More, in fact, than we have in common with administrators, the service industry, or even scholars. There is, after all, specialized skills and a limited market for stained-glass window manufacturing, antique automobile restoration, naked funiture, high-precision scientific equipment, and novelists. This is a huge lesson, because it makes whole and organic for me the whole issue of what a writer's artist's place in society is, and what obligation a writer has to support him or herself.

To modernist thought this is perhaps a regressive posture. To postmodern thought it is maybe too obvious to mention. I think there is even a chance that skilled traditional artisans would consider this an unfair and unfavorable comparison. Ultimately, however, it clarifies and liberates. It liberates in the sense of critical discourse because the writer-as-artisan is still permitted to examine and explore the creative use of language even while realizing that one applies his or her understanding to a calculated effect (assuming, in the case of experimental literature, a sufficiently broad definition of the word "calculated"). More the point of my commencement dilemma, however, artisanship takes writers out of the social twilight of creative ephemera. This boils down to a very simple point: I must live within my means, and if I consider inspiration (say, for example, a James Brown compilation) to be a legitimate work-related expense, I must see that I live within my means and that my expenditures are consistent with their probable fruit.

This is more than saying that I don't want to spend my forty dollars on a commencement that may or may not be worthwhile.

This means that even if I had unlimited funds, if Bill Gates wrote me a personal check, I still wouldn't go.

I have already celebrated my graduation from the New School program in the most meaningful way. I am not interested in revisiting a past moment or diluting it through repetition. I am not interested in attending yet another ceremony in recognition of my accomplishments. My accomplishment is, as much as learning how to write, acquiring the discipline and focus to commit to the work at hand. It is time to commit to the work at hand.

I should finally say that I'm not explaining all of this out of some self-doubt that compels me to over-rationalize. As I get older I find that most peoples' greatest strengths share in their greatest flaws. I am a completist. I value thoroughness for its own sake. This can be an asset: I revised a three-hundred page novel three times and read a couple thousand relevant pages of noir and gothic fiction and lumbering history in the last five months. But completism is also a liability... huge amounts of time and energy and money are spent on things that may or may not be useful, in hopes of a holism that may or may not be organic. It is my responsibility to play up the good in my personality, and to try to recognize, and mitigate, the bad.

And I think that all of this effort leads me to a point at which I can be comfortable and happy, both now and in the future.

I am going to take this contested forty dollars and put it toward groceries. I am going to take these contested four hours and put them toward writing and reflection. This is, ultimately, the most meaningful use of my afternoon, and will make the most lasting and powerful memory.

Thanks for letting me rap at you.

END OF POST.

Oculine 29, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Lack of pep is often mistaken for patience.

- HAPPY BIRTHDAY -
Pope John Paul II

- COUNTRY OF THE WEEK -
Cameroon.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
If you were allowed to establish your own degree program, nowhere in existence, what would it be and where would you establish it?

END OF POST.

Oculine 28, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Fickle drops sprinkle crops.

- HAPPY BIRTHDAY -
Amy S.

- PICTURE OF THE WEEK -
Annie, get your gun.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What would your perfect vanity plate say?

END OF POST.

First New Smashing Pumpkins Single.

CONCEPT

Tarantula, arriving on Tuesday, May 22nd.

END OF POST.

Writing Project: The Silurians (Post 1 of 5)

CONCEPT

My next writing project will be The Silurians, a collection of short stories following the rise and fall of a small rural village over the course of four generations.

• It will be fully drafted by June 30th.


• I will release three "demos" during the month of June.


• I've created a Facebook group to interact with this project.


• Even more here.

Check it out!

END OF POST.

Oculine 27, 29.

DIARY

- A lot is afoot today. For example, the Smashing Pumpkins have released the cover art for their next album. Looks cool. I wonder if it's going to be political...

- ALMANAC SAYS -
A flash flood near Northampton, Massachusetts, caused 143 deaths, 1874.

- PICTURE OF THE DAY -
Zeitgeist.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What is your favorite piece of political music?

END OF POST.

I got nothing.

CONCEPT

END OF POST.

Amusing... at least.

EVENT

Here.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 7: From Uptown to Edgewater.

DIARY

So then we went back to Sean's and started in on the Millers that had
arrived from Milwaukee c/o Mr. Judd Belstock. We basically spent the next
several hours talking about art and politics, politics and art. It's frustrating, because I remember having these brilliant and engaging conversations, but I can rarely remember the exact substance of the discussion (unless there was drama) besides the general topic. Well, that's not entirely true. Derrida came up, and so did Bush, and interestingly enough, Carter. At one point, Aleja got home, and we talked about possible Democratic Presidential nominees. We bantered about music and drugs and their impact on each other. At one point, Metalman arrived, and we talked about gears and sprockets and sawblades and how to best cut one or the other, and how to wield them against a foe. Pretty soon, there wasn't much Miller left, and it was time to go. So Jess and I gave out hugs and set about our way.

Instead of taking the Red Line we walked up Broadway to Foster, then zigged and zagged through Lakewood and Balmoral until we got to Gemma's an hour or so before sundown. It was all but raining now, and the wind was blowing. The sky was cloudy and it had gotten quite chilly. We met her bunny (whose name I'm always forgetting "in the moment" -- Dustin I thik) and then we watched Gilmore Girls, which I have now seen about six times total. We also had plans to meet up and stay with Reinhardt that evening, so we agreed to meet him at a fancy brew pub/restaurant: the Hop Leaf, I think it was. Once again, back in Uptown. When we got there we waited a little while and were seated upstairs, and I ate mussels for the first time. They're good mussels. I'm a fan. This time the talk revolved also around art and People We Knew, and the inevitable New York vs. Chicago, and the CTA. But I've also realized that Politics are the "so, how's the weather?" among People I Know, so of course, that came up to. Gemma talked some (albeit vaguely) of her plans for the next year, and I was particularly thirsty for that.

We walked with Gemma back to her apartment, and spent a moment saying hi to Gaby before heading over to Reinhardt's a few blocks away. Even if the whole trip was a wake-up call for how much we're getting ripped off in Chicago, Reinhardt's apartment was so huge and well-positioned, it would have been a reasonable deal in Flint. It's just at the edge of Andersonville, and it is a sprawling three bedroom with giant sized living and dining rooms. Also, Reinhardt only has one roommate who happens to be gone during the week. There's also a bar on rollers. If I were him, I'd take all the money I was saving on the insanely insanely cheap rent, and pour it into massive parties that would make me the most popular guy for miles around.

We made popcorn and watched Adaptation on a TV too big for me to wrap my arms around. I liked the movie a lot, and haven't been able to stop thinking about it, actually. Jess and I went to sleep on the futon. The next morning, Reinhardt woke us to say goodbye, but he was gone when we left. We cleaned everything pretty thoroughly before leaving.

I actually feel kind of bad: this was the only place we stayed where we cleaned all that thoroughly before leaving.

Poo-tee-weet.

We put the futon up, bundled out things together, and zoom-sploosh. Toward the Bryn Mawr stop to head down and meet Lisa and Patrick at the Garfield Park conservatory.

END OF POST.

Words of Wisdom

DIARY

Metalman was the coolest of the Megaman villians.
I'm sure he was in some Big Benesque type factory place overlooking a big river.
That's how cool he was.

END OF POST.

Oculine 26, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Try mullein tea up to three times a day to alleviate allergy symptoms.

- QUOTE OF THE WEEK -
"I did the moose. Oh no, not the moose!"
- Funkadelic, "not just) Knee Deep"

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What are three things that are on your desk that shouldn’t be?

END OF POST.

The Extent of This Thing.

CONCEPT

So I think I wrote something to the effect that this blog would be as fully-functional as a giant sombrero by about a week ago, and that hasn't happened. A lot of things have been going on, not giving me much time to think about or act on blogging. Plus, now that I'm a "master writer," I'd like to bring my website into the 21st century. This will take some time, as it currently my most advanced understanding of html.

So my new deadline is June 21st. Until then, expect to see the daily posts, ketchup posts, maybe some stuff here and there. For the most part, though, I'll be staying away from lengthy artistic/political commentary for the next month, barring something drastic. Of course, I'll keep reading your posts during this time.

This is also a good time to send me any links to sites/journals/etc. I might want to consider including.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 6: From the Cottage to Sunnyside.

DIARY

I will get all caught up this week, so help me God, I will!

Okay. So when we got to Lisa's, which is both deceptively small and large. It occupies the entire second floor of a tiny house, but they've managed to install five small rooms and a bathroom there. There are many windows, and the living room opens onto an open porch, while the kitchen opens onto an enclosed porch and a stairway wends its way (very mazelike) through work areas, storage space, and ultimately, a laundry room in the basement. There's a very warm funace heater running through the kitchen, and the walls have been painted in strident colors that Lisa left. Of course, the whole place is awash in books, music, and musical instruments, which gives it a very lived in feel. It was a vivid experience, visiting there. Jess and I got to stay in our own guest room as well, with its own expandable cot contraption and television.

Lisa was there, obviously, and so was her boyfriend Patrick. We all stayed up talking for another three or so hours that night. Lisa made us muffins, which were very good. I bought a copy of the Giving Tree Band album (United Folk Theory) and autographed it (she'd collaborated on two of the tracks).

The next morning we walked up to Atomic Cafe and Patrick treated us. I got a plain coffee, since that is necessary to keep Connors alive. Lisa graciously offered to let us leave our stuff there (we'd be spending one night on the North Side, then head West again on Wednesday), and we caught the Chicago bus to the Red Line and took the Red Line north to Uptown to meet up with Sean.

We got there almost a full hour late, owing partly to the ridiculous amount of time it now takes to get a few miles on CTA, and partly to my mistinterpreting the directions. But, having arrived, we went out for a late lunch at a great (and cheap) Mexican restaurant on Broadway. Sean told us about his and Aleja's marriage plans, what they're going to be doing in the near future, and talked in particular about his plans to apply for law school.

And then Connor's break at work ran out. Check back. I'll post more later today...

END OF POST.

Oculine 25, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Licorice in tea or candy form can help remedy heartburn.

- HAPPY BIRTHDAY -
Demetrius!

- NEWS OF THE WEEK -
New York Times: Chrysler Group to Be Sold for $7.4 Billion.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
If you had to explain the concept of religion to someone from another planet, how would you do it?

END OF POST.

Arghghg!

EVENT

Hey! You! Yeah, you! The Scavvie.

Yo, we aren't all in Chicago right now! Why don't you post a quick comment and tell us the final ranking of the '07 hunt, since I can't seem to find the results on any of the dozen relevant websites or blogs!

END OF POST.

Oculine 22, 29.

DIARY

- Sorry I've been absent lately. My thesis is done, but the school year isn't all wrapped up yet. I have the Capture the Flag game tomorrow, the writing program ceremony next Thursday, and commencement the day after. I'm also starting preparations for my next writing project, which I'll be writing about soon. LaKisha got voted off American Idol, and that's a bummer. As far as I know, the Tigers are behind the Indians (though it's nice that three out of five teams in the American League Central are a going concern). And. I'm missing Scavhunt for the first time since 1997. You can check it out Leila's journal and the judge blog.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
The first heart-lung transplant took place (today) in Baltimore, MD, 1987.

- COUNTRY OF THE WEEK -
Botswana.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Lemonade or Pink Lemonade?

END OF POST.

Ketchup 5: From Rocco's to the "Michigan Cottage"

DIARY

The next day encompassed our first leisurely morning. I had a lovely conversation with Hallie, which wandered explored traversed all dimensions of theological and religious issues. We talked a lot about the fundamental principles in different faiths, their divergences, and their common denominators.

At about noon, Jess was up, and by one we'd made arrangements to meet Sam and Sky for brunch at Salonica. We walked on down, talking about American Idol (go figure) and they met us at the restaurant. We did half-effective impressions of each other, but the best must have been Jess doing Sam and Sam doing Sky. After eating, Hallie left us, while Sam, Jess, Sky, and I continued on to the MSI to try to go to the Bodies exhibit. Unfortunately, all shows had been sold out until 4:30 PM, and we already had plans to meet up with the Kennedys and Meridith for the evening. Instead, we spent the next hour strolling around the northern half of Jackson Park, eventually going down to the Japanese Garden and Island before wandering back. We also saw an immense plastic horse's head (we're talking about eight feel tall) that had been place alongside a dumpster, and talked about the technology of Jurassic Park; how it's held up and used a level of CGI restraint to uncommon today.

Eventually, we drove around and back to Sacred Grounds Uncle Joe's Fatty McNono's the Second Floor Coffee Show, and this was as deeply onto campus as I'd penetrate on this trip. I got coffee and nerds, and we hung out, and talked about scavhunt.

At 6ish, Meridith showed up, and we said goodbye (for the moment) to Sam and Sky. I went back to their car to get my backpack, and to give Sam back the Ninja and Zombie books he'd lent me. We drove a few blocks to Noodles, Etc. and went in and ate and talked about film and Hyde Park (and how the temperature had abruptly dropped about a million degrees in roughly twenty minutes). But I have to be completely frank here. There was no way for either Michael or Meridith (or, when we met up, Jen) to compete with Thalia for attention. And not in an obnoxious attention-grabbing way. Rather, Thalia just seemed so gosh darn prescient that everytime she said anything, we all started listening.

So after dinner was over, Thalia led us back to Kennedy's (though Michael did the driving) and when we got upstairs they hooked me up with coffee. Jen came home and we finished getting the update on all those People We Know. There does seem to be a collective tendency for people to be collecting in Chicago, eventually if not ultimately. But they come and go in a ragged, irregular way that means that we'll probably never have everyone at the same dance party again. Given that we're all pushing thirty (or soon to be pushing thirty), we should probably just get over this fact.

We also took turns at the Nintendo Wii, which I'd never played before. We created profiles for ourselves, and took games, and while I was pretty good at the baseball option, I needed Kennedy to show me how boxing worked.

Like every other night on the trip, however, this one went by too quickly. I want to say it was about nine or ten when Michael drove us back over to Hallie's where we grabbed all of our stuff, and Rocco and Hallie drove us up to Lisa's apartment (which Sam fairly described as a "Michigan Cottage") in the Ukrainian Village.

Yes, the Hyde Park phase of our trip was over. For the rest of our time in Chicago, we'd stalk the alleys of the North Side, and roam the streets out West...

END OF POST.

Oculine 20, 29.

DIARY

- You can blog your own damn scavhunt, because I won't be there! >:(
- Seriously: Best of luck to all judges and teams in the 21st Annual University of Chicago Scavenger Hunt. The last time I missed it was in May, 1997.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Put pennyroyal or tansy leaves in your pet's bedding to deter fleas.

- PICTURE OF THE WEEK -
Two men enter. One man leaves.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What is your involvement in Scavhunt this year?

END OF POST.

Ketchup 4: From Rockefeller to Moomers.

DIARY

The alleged construction at Rockefeller wasn't a big deal at all. In fact, today, I don't recall if I saw any scaffolding at all. We entered at the front, and Colin and Nora had prepared a beautiful program with yellow flowers on the front. Inside, we met up with many people we knew, mostly from the Scavhunt judges or the FIST. Most of the judges, themselves, arrived, and took their seats in the row just behind us. We also saw Sam, Sky, Igor, Sam Smith, Joan, Yotam and Smirthi, and their assorted cohorts.

The ceremony itself wasn't long... it clocked in at less than an hour with a series of Bible readings, and I was actually surprised how similar it seemed to many of the Christian weddings I've attended (or perhaps I should say I was surprised how closely the Christian rituals followed the Jewish tradition, bearing in mind what was antecedent to what). Colin got very faklempt (which I can assure you, nobody predicted) and Nora looked absolutely gorgeous in a white dress with lace and beads. Between the readings, the rabbi gave suggestions on the content and conduct of a marriage... on its implications, while Colin and Nora circled each other... picked each other out. The rabbi's parting words were to the effect that "God invented marriage to make selfish people miserable." They broke the glass.

Outside, a great wind was blowing, and the setting sun was out in full force. We visited for a few minutes with our friends in front of the chapel, where I learned that Christian's sunglasses were simply simply for looking cool, then we loaded into Sam (PH)'s cop car and drove on down to the South Shore Cultural Center.

I've always seen this place from the road and wanted to get inside, but I never had a good reason to go. It's visually stunning - a former country club put together at the end of the Gilded Age, or maybe just a little bit after. The reception consisted of lamb/chicken/veggies, wine, and special beer "assembled" at Moomers ("I Would Brew Anything for Love," natch). I saw Heather D., who I haven't seen in about three years, and she caught me up on the more attractive half of the UT crowd. Jess and I walked down to the lake, and wandered in the bright white portico and around the area with inlaid mosaic tiles.

Rather than disperse the troublemakers about the party, Colin and Nora had decided to concentrate us all at one table which was a bit further from the center than the rest. A wise move: within about ten minutes we were in a heated debate about both the movie 300 and arms control legislation, which quickly moved onto a heated debate about rocking out and Detroit. For the record:

- Haven't seen 300.
- Increased arms control legislation is useful and necessary, yet probably insufficient.
- It is good to rock out.
- Detroit rocks out.

That's my opinion coming to bear.

As the evening wore on there was a loosening of collars and ties and the roucous dancing (yes, we lifted Colin and Nora in their chairs and danced in a big circle around them). Someone made a comment that the purpose of Jewish weddings was to wreck gentile health, and I was certainly winded. The deeper problem, though, was that the server's were too generous and prompt in refilling our glasses of wine. I got more than sufficiently toasty, and may have even had a couple brief "that drunk guy" moments. It's always a question of moderation vs. modulation. Nevertheless, the night was all about dancing and hanging out, and when the party finally wound up (it must have been about midnight), we helped clean a little and our designated driver, Sam PH of all people, took us back to Moomers for an after party.

At this point, Jess was quite exhausted, and while I was returning to Earth, I understood her wanting to get back. So we set out at some time around one, and got back to Hallie's, and collapsed into sleep.

END OF POST.

Oculine 19, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
To remove dried paint from glass, apply hot lemon juice with a soft cloth.

- QUOTE OF THE WEEK -
"I want to know God's thoughts... the rest are details."
- Albert Einstein

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
If I had a million dollars I'd buy you a _____________.

END OF POST.

Ketchup 3: From Snail to Rockefeller.

DIARY

After the Mikvah, we hung around on the point for a little bit, and started to move inland. We decided to stop for food at the Snail, which is one of my favorite Hyde Park restaurants, and had one of the most invigorating political discussions I've had in awhile, periodically interrupted by the velociraptor chirp of Sam's new cel phone. Crazy ass cel phones. After that, we said by to Amber, and drove over to the Co-Op to pick up supplies for a Gothic Funk party that Sky had "thrown" together. We picked up pop, hot dogs and hot dog buns, various fishy meats, chips, and so on. We drove back to the point and decamped. We decapted with a frisbee.

The theme of the party was a barbecue to celebrate Sam's birthday, the arrival of spring, Jess and my visit, and above all Colin and Nora's impending marriage. Over a dozen people were there, though I didn't keep a close track. Many of them were members of FIST, and "Theo" from Fire-escape came to film the event for the Scavhunt documentary. There was, therefore, a lot of Cosby jokes on everyone's part, and getting-the-eyebrows-singed-off-in-a-lighter-fluid-fireball on Sam's part. Sean showed up, as did Lisa, and Hallie and Rocco. The event had started at about two thirty, so Jess and I only stayed for a couple hours before we had to leave for Colin and Nora's pre-wedding party. They'd invited us as out-of-town guests. Sean gave Hallie and Rocco a ride home, and me a chance to grab my coat, and then drove us downtown for the meal.

It was Chicago-style (I'd forgotten that one slice of Chicago style is a basic meal), and there was unlimited refills of pop and beer. Jess and I were late, but not as late as Colin and Nora. We had great conversations with Colin's brothers and cousins, with whom we sat, and then were lucky enough to catch the Brown line to the #6, which arrived just as we left the train. We got home around midnight. Hallie and Rocco had already gone to bed, and it didn't take Jess or me long to sleep either. Meanwhile, the Gothic Funk party had gone on for another five or six hours, and a number of first years had shown up, to be thrilled with (probably exaggerated) stories of derring-do by Sam and Milligan.

---

The next morning, we left early so that we could meet Armand and Vivian at the Original Pancake House. I haden't seen either since my wedding, so I was really happy that we were able to meet up. They're both freshmen doctors, so this was their one day off between 36-hour shifts. While they would have met us later in the week, it was better for their fatigue to meet on Sunday, I think. We spent a lot of the time talking about various health-related issues, the effects of sleep deprivation, hypocondriac tendencies. Jess in particular had a lot to talk about with them since she is going into nursing. After a meal that almost destroyed me, we went down to Walgreens for a few errands, and then Armand and Vivian drove us back to Hallie's.

Hallie and Rocco were up and about, working on chores and writing, when we got back, and this gave us a bit of time to visit with them one-on-one. I was glad for this... we stayed with them for three nights, but this was the first time we could really just sit and relax awhile. I read the new beginning of Hallie's novel and we talked about it. A lot of the conversation turned to China, which she has visited, and which is deeply involved in her writing. So the discussion was educational for both of us.

Note: I am, right now, listening to "Be My Lady" by the Meters.

It is a song.

Eventually, Jess and I realized it was getting late, so we crushed ourselves together for the wedding. It was still warm, but a breeze was stirring and Rockefeller was about the closest we came to spending time on campus that day...

END OF POST.

Ketchup 2: From Airport to Mikvah.

DIARY

Things got off to a rocky start. While I arrived at the airport over forty minutes before the flight, Jess hadn't arrived yet, or if she had, I couldn't find her at our meeting place. I walked back and forth for about a half hour before I bumped into her (she was upset) at the baggage check. She explained that one bus she rode (the M 60) had taken over two hours to get from the Upper East Side to LaGuardia. This is partly because she was riding at rush hour on one of the first nice day's of the year. Of course, in New York we don't have convenient color-coded rail lines connecting to either airport. For LaGuardia, one has to take a bus from some remote corner of Queens, or at best, upper Astoria. For JFK, one has to take the over-complicated and expensive SkyTrain just to get to the A.

We were instructed to fly standby on the next flight, leaving at 8-ish, about three hours later. I got a cup of coffee and tried to dig into Derrida. Jess worked on her Microbiology. We got good seats, which was good, since LaGuardia is the most cramped airport of its size I've ever seen. We met a fellow passenger (who was, in fact, on the very same bus as Jess had been), and she reassured us that we were likely to get seats. Later, Jena, who we knew from college (and who was going to Chicago for the same wedding) showed up. We talked for awhile, and she wished us luck. She was taking the same flight as we were. We tried calling Hallie to warn her not to pick us up, but all we got was voicemail.

Later, as the sun was going down, our optimism was affirmed. Not only were we permitted to fly, but we got seats together. I read Derrida the whole way, managing to get further than I expected (probably about a dozen pages in the whole four-odd hours of reading). I also got a whiskey, since I figured I'd earned it. We touched down in Chicago and again marvelled at the space and freshness of Midway (which had its own facelift just a few years ago).

Hallie had, in fact, gone out to meet us for the earlier flight... the cel had died, but her boyfriend, Rocco, took the bus out to tell her what had happened, then they drove back to Hyde Park together. They were gracious enough, though, to returne to pick us up a second time, and getting our luggage and getting to the train was all pretty painless. I remember another visceral sensation... noticing that there were brick tenements instead of brownstones, wide straight boulevards instead of angled sloping streets with broad sidewalks, Maples instead of Ginkgos, and the flatness of the prairie ground... in short, all those things that make Chicago feel so distinct from New York. In high school I thought that for all this feeling different, the two cities resembled each other very closely. Now, I don't think I could possibly mistake one for the other.

Back at Rocco's, Hallie had prepared us a wonderful meal of steak and pasta and muffins, and the four of us stayed up until late... I think about two... talking. Then we inflated the Aerobed, and Jess and I went to sleep. Classical music played on the radio, and there was a glow of teal from a digital clock, if I remember correctly. I remembered that the lights on Woodlawn are of the yellow carbon kind, bright and garish, and of the shadow play they make when the leaves are out on the margin. I just a moment to notice all this, because I fell asleep almost immediately.

---

The next morning, I got up very early. Before eight, in fact. I had an important meeting with Amber and Sky, and I didn't want to be late. In fact, I had to make some preparations. I did my Biblical readings (I try to do these each day, and usually I do, although the past few weeks it's been pretty patchy), took a shower, found my coat and all the materials I was taking, and set off. It was a cool morning, but the sun was out and it promised to warm up soon. I passed St. Thomas on the way.

Again, it's easy to take things for granted, living one place, and visiting another. In New York, there are twenty streets to the mile. In Chicago, this number is eight. It took longer to walk from 54th Street to 57th than I had expected. I got the the park at 57th and Kenwood, and met Sky, wearing his kilt (of course). A few moments later, Amber arrived. We went to the Medici, ordered breakfast, and talked about our lived for a few minutes, and then got down to business. I was eating eggs and potatoes with hot sauce and ketchup, and also drinking a lot of coffee. After about three hours, our important discussion was over, and we left to meet our friends at the Point.

On the way, we found a concrete tube and ran through it.

At the point, we convened at the wrong place, but just a little later we found our friends: Jessica was there, and so was Gemma, Sam, Milligan, and of course, Colin and Nora. Have I left anyone out?

A Mikvah is a Jewish pre-wedding ritual of purification that can be conducted at any body of open water. Nora, in her infinite consideration for her friends, invited us all to join them in balmy water of Lake Michigan in April. Colin looked like his lungs were about to collapse as he crawled out, and nobody except Nora took their time with the experience. I was pretty wretchedly cold myself, but I'm glad that I did it.

END OF POST.

Oculine 18, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Never spend your money before you have it. -- Thomas Jefferson

- NEWS OF THE WEEK -
New York Times: After Sarkozy Win, France Looks to Parliament Vote.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Where would you put the zombies?

END OF POST.

Oculine 15, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
- Not much time atall today.

- COUNTRY OF THE WEEK -
Blogostan.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What does your favorite shirt look like?

END OF POST.

Oculine 14, 29.

DIARY

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Graft fruit trees now.

- LINK OF THE WEEK -
Scavhunt

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Two questions, as submitted by my guests.
1. Eminent Domain - what's the deal with that?
2. If we all lived in the Phantom Tollbooth where we were born at the height we'll always be, and our feet grew to the ground, what would we do?

END OF POST.

Oculine 13, 29.

DIARY

- I've 70% changed my mind on the NIN album. On a couple relistens, it's incredibly catchy. Likewise, the backstory is cheesy to the n^th, but Rolling Stone said something to the effect that "at least it got his creative juices moving." I'll try to write more on this soon.
- Yesterday the new Tori Amos album came out. I'm listening to it now. So far, it's pretty sweet (despite the weak album art). The first three tracks are incredibly strong. "Big Wheel" is hot. More on this later, too.
- Yesterday was just an awesome day. It feels so good to be finished with the thesis, and it additionally feels great to have been capable of writing a piece of literature over 300 pages long. It feels nice to know that this is in the hands of a publisher and to have earned the respect of my instructors and peers. I'll be blunt: I freaking rock!
- But yesterday was more than sylph-induglent solipcystism. After work I bought the new Amos album, got a bagel and beer and had dinner at New School, then went on to meet Sky and Emma (in town on a visit) at the corner of Christopher and 7th Avenue. They grabbed slices of pizza, and we all went to 55 Christopher to hear my friend Narissa (the jazz singer) sing. It was a nice night. It took me an hour-and-a-half to get home in the rain, due to my own fuzzy memory of the West Village streetscape, and the B's stupid limited schedule. But I got home, took a shower, and all was well. Sky and Emma arrived a bit later, and we all hung out (Jess too), and went to bed around one.
- In fact it's been such a good week, I've been forgetting how tired I am.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Read from the left, I shall be found a portion of all things that are; but change your hand and turn me 'round, I then am nothing but a snare.

- PICTURE OF THE WEEK -
The Hot Dog Vendor.

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
What has delighted you this week?

END OF POST.

Ketchup: Before the trip.

DIARY

Before the Vacation

The week before the week we went on vacation now feels like so long ago, I don't know if I can properly talk about it. My schedule had become so busy, with one deadline basically on top of another, that I divided my schedule into chunks so that I could prioritize more systematically. I called that week "power week" because I was allegedly going to finish both my taxes and my literature project.

The first was a funny situation. In the big mix up of 2006, we had not submitted our state taxes (by "we" I principally mean "me") and of course, owing us money, neither Illinois nor New York followed up. So I was really doing two years of taxes, since I had to reexamine our federal returns to figure out what the deal with the state was. I am pleased to say that they got in on time, albeit barely.

On the second front, things didn't go quite as hot. The argument in the literary project was tending toward concepts of authorship in/vs. postmodern literary theory. I'd gotten through several essays by Foucault and Barthes. Everything seemed to be going pretty well. Then I picked up Derrida. By the end of Thursday, I'd only gotten through about half of my paper, and it was entirely the easy part.

From my notebook:

LIT. PROJECT - Look Up on Wikipedia

1. Primo Levi (+ books)
Elie Wiesel (+ books)
Holocaust
2. MCIS songs
Andrew Mellon
3. Mallarmè
Valèry New Criticism
4. Surrealism Marxism
Futurism Freudianism
T.S. Eliot (+ books)
Ezra Pound (+ books)
Ethnographics Modernism
Linguistics Structuralism
5. Roland Barthes (+ book)
Jorge Luis Borges (+ Pierre Menard)
Deconstruction Postmodernism
Poststructuralism
Lacan Zizek
Adorno Benjamin
Derrida (+ book) Beaudrillard
Foucault (+ book)

I got through perhaps ten of these.

But Thursday was a gorgeous day, when I was able to (briefly) leave the apartment and walk to the corner deli for a beer (Coors and Steel Reserve are $1 for 24 oz. - I prefer SR, but Coors is always in stock).

Earlier that week, Jess and I ate Indian food and were very happy with the outcome of American Idol.

On Thursday night we had a bottle of wine that we discovered in the bowels of our apartment, left from the wedding no less, and watched Casino Royale, which was generally delicious (although I totally didn't buy the last half-hour).

Then, on Friday, after Jess left, I wrote some emails, did some packing, and took a cab out to the airport.

END OF POST.

Oculine 12, 29.

DIARY

1) Thesis: Done! (Much excitement and exhileration resulting.)
2) I bought the new Nine Inch Nails album. I'm initially disappointed, but I'm going to go on and give it more chances than it deserves. I had hoped that With Teeth was a transitional movement to something better, more daring and different... that Reznor had rediscovered the originality that he ceded after The Downward Spiral. But Year Zero is like With Teeth without them. Nine Inch Nails has been way too cautious in expanding beyond their original sound and the lyrics here are (less offensive) effigies of everything he's written in the last 18 years. Also, the concept album approach never "saves" anyone... it makes the effort harder. This is something he should have learned from Machina/The Machines of God or, I don't know, Zooropa. Remember back in 1994 when we all thought Trent Reznor was oh so powerful, and he was probably going to go ahead and devour the world?
3) I got 8 hours of sleep last night, bringing my two night average up to roughly 4 hours and 10 minutes. Coffee saves, as usual.
4) I'm in a very good mood today. I also got a sunflower, and Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits, which I used to have, but it got wrecked. Virgin Megastore sale.

- ALMANAC SAYS -
Harper Lee won Pulitzer Prize for her novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, 1961.

- QUOTE OF THE WEEK -
"I sure wouldn't want to be praying to the wrong piece of wood."
- Nine Inch Nails on his new album

- QUESTION OF THE DAY -
Submit a list of up to 10 "perfect" albums. Clearly this will favor groups/musicians that you already like, but I have some particular criteria in mind:
- The album should be an organic whole that interacts with its individual songs.
- Every song should feel essential.
- Album and song should articulate
- Are lyrics, song order, even liner notes up for consideration? Why yes, they are.

END OF POST.