Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Subject: i bought sub-way sanwich and bid my tongue accidentally..
dear mom and [bananarchist],
i bought subway sandwich and bid my tongue accidentally.
so i quit eating in the middle..
rinsing with dense salty water now.
please don't let BOO chew the dog-bone , very dangerous!!
if you watch the way how his tongue is turning around the bone ...
it will take a high-speed computer to calculate the location of his tongue,
and guarantee no logic bit error during the process!
don't let him eat the bone... please!
Monday, July 19, 2010
- Take Mom and Dad to Crystal Springs Reservoir
Take Grandma to the movies
- Move to [redacted], or make definite plans to move
three more songs Participate in something performative (reading, music, other)
- Finish bedside book pile
Discover two new bands that I really like
- Win one bet against O
Run the San Francisco marathon Go to eastern California or northern northern California Buy more contact lenses Go camping again (Lost Coast?) Do another bike-about/food odyssey with R and O (balut in South Bay?) Try to go jogging with Mom (or encourage her to do some aerobic activity)
- Bike with Dad to Union City
Find renters Decide whether Boo can live with me when I move
- Get to a stable place with S
Do a weekday night hike with R and O and friends to spy on friends' relationship
- Spend time with BH
- Spend time with HK and KW
- Spend time with JY
- Try Richard's mountain bike at Arastradero Preserve before work one morning
- Learn to cook five more of Mom's dishes
Do something nice for S's birthday
- Read "The Nine"
- Write something every day
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Try to ignore this video (it will make you itchy) and just listen to this very popular song.
0:01 enter ukelele and voice. "Hey hey" section is howlable. The song is produced cleanly: all the instrumentation is distinct, and the words are well-enunciated.
0:13 enter words and drums. Catchiness of music must overcome cringeworthy lyrics. Bad visuals, meaning sacrificed to rhythm: "Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains" and "my heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest." Inconsistent metaphors, meaning sacrificed to rhyme: "Like a virgin you're Madonna, and I'm always gonna wanna blow your mind." The singer's voice is strong but colorless, most interesting when straining at its highest register, like Sting, but also good for a lilting head voice, as sung on the "I" in "I don't want to miss a single thing you do." Drums make the song. Is this in 2/2? The beat is samba-esque, with a kick drum on the downbeats (and a little sixteenth note before the second beat that makes all the difference), and a sort of unraveling, slightly decrescendoing snare that leaves the second half of the measure hot, empty space. The measures feel unfinished. It gives the song a humping-along momentum.
0:33 enter piano chords.
0:52 first chorus. Enter tambourine and shakers. Slight sound separation here. Most of the music is centered, except the bass (at 2:02) leans a little to the left and the hand percussion is pretty wide on the right.
1:12 instruments drop out when singer hits vocal crux of song, the word "tonight." Then instruments reenter, plus organ holding chords behind everything else. Brush hits on the snare on the back beat, coupled with ukelele strikes, also off beat, give the song its catchy Club Med country/reggae feeling here. Sounds like Jason Mraz.
2:02 enter electric instruments. An unnotable bass line gives the song a little flesh on the low end; clean quiet Telecaster chords are similarly unobtrusive, but the addition of these instruments counteracts the repetition of the verse melody. The rhythm and the singer's vocals are mixed so loud that the changes in instrumentation feel subtle in comparison.
2:21 bridge section. Only melody and chords change but rhythm and instrumentation are the same. "The way you can't cut a rug" is a nice resuscitation of a dead idiom, unfortunately nullified instantly by Sting saying, "You're so gangster, I'm so thug."
2:42 great transition here where all the noise drops out except vocals, ukelele, organ, and snare.
2:50 ramping back up with the instruments.
3:01 nice drum fill into a shuffle beat, which gives the effect of slowing the music down even though the tempo hasn't changed. Handclaps on the up beat at 3:11 return the rhythm to its rollicking Christian rock sound.
I find this song very attractive, even though like many pop songs the vocals are mixed so loudly that I am embarrassed by the music's earnestness. This production toes the line between sincerity and sentimentality. Who gives a shit? The music really works.
I may have spent too much time thinking about this song.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Per your request, but much belatedly. I wake up. Shower. Correction, when I am not in a hurry, I brush my teeth in the shower. When I am in a real hurry, I do not brush my teeth. Otherwise, in between me waking up and me showering me brushes me teeth (good). Parts are dried, others left to fend for themselves (depending on flexibility, location of part, and if I am in a hurry). Breakfast is usually taken at work (bad coffee, a bowl of cereal -- there is a fridge in the office, where I keep my soy milk, no the cereal is not of the type that remains a gentle, blond lattice on the way out). Before breakfast, there is a commute. It is done by bicycle. Since this is a written record, I fastidiously wear a helmet, stop at orange lights, and help people as I make my way. It's a road bike, so the ride is pretty sweet. Lots of wind, freedom, self-propulsion. At some point, I joyously scoot to a stop in front of a booth that guards the entrance to our garage. The people who attend that booth are generally too busy to notice that I am standing there. I wait three to five minutes for them to raise the freaking bar. Raise the bar people! I yell, dance, and solve systems of linear equations until they take their eyes from the booth and plaster them to the yelling, dancing, solving lunatic. I show them my gov't issued ID. They raise the bar. I think hallelujah, but compose my face. I am at work. It is time for my work face. I walk the bike down the ramp, lock it up, approach the elevator. While waiting for it to recognize me, I think back on the wind, freedom, self-propulsion. Then the elevator comes and I begin looking ahead to soy milk. It will be fresh, the carton will be crisp. I will poor the milk before adding cereal. . . . All that happens after I arrive at the office, boot up my computer, and say hello to my co-clerks. If that day I had brushed my teeth (whether inside the shower or out), they generally respond with some pleasantry. Maybe a comment on the news. Maybe something about there being doughnuts in the cafeteria, which look suspiciously like the doughnuts that were spotted there the prior afternoon. We may argue what the likelihood is that these are the same doughnuts while I poor my fresh milk from its crisp container. Delicious. I eat the cereal tasting nothing but wind, freedom, and self-propulsion... but wait, what is that undertaste? Bandaged regret? Recollections of honeycomb! I burst into tears, hiding my face in the half eaten bowl of cereal. Like a big inverted porcelain teat. That is where the afternoon finds me.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Friday, July 02, 2010
- 6:47. I usually set my alarm clock to pointy times, the non-round numbers that fool me into wakefulness. My room is corner windows and merciless light. It segues into warm water, clothing planned the night before. Liberal Radio wars with French press or stovetop espresso or manual drip, and I steel myself for the rituals that precede other rituals: my hour or so to write or draw before duty calls. The best of mornings, I forego home brewing and join legion wannabes in the neighborhood cafe. We are playwrights and limners and designers trying to be ourselves, fighting off the imminent closure of night.
- alarms on my and a's watches go off at 7:30 and we turn them off. i usually turn off a's because he's rarely bothered by the alarm. we continue to sleep. a second alarm goes off on my watch at 8:30, this is so i remember to take my no-baby pills. that's when i wake up, take the pill. pee, usually. i turn on my computer and check my gmail (basic html view!), the news, and world cup and wimbledon updates (lately). i'm trying to get off facebook. by the time i'm done it can be as late as 10. at some point in there, maybe while my computer is booting or the internet is connecting, i'll make and eat breakfast -- pseudo-muesli cereal with almonds and ground flaxseed. with yogurt, preferably, or buffalo milk if we're out of yogurt. i take a multivitamin. a will also probably have woken up at some point and he'll shower and eat. ideally my bowels will be ready for a shit at some point within the first 1.5 hours of waking -- if they're not, usually i'll go the day without it. i'll brush my teeth after i've had my chai. sometimes i shower (bucket bath) with a, depending on if i'm at a natural stopping point when he's ready, but sometimes i don't shower until noon or so. after futzing online, i study (microbiology lately) for a couple hours (for the boards) and then work on my thesis, which i currently hate and feel inadequate at. by about noon a will have started cooking lunch and we'll eat around 1:30.
that's the usual, but if there's no water, i'll have to go to the outside tap and fill up three buckets, every large pot we have and all 5.5 water bottles. if there are leftover dirty dishes (because there was no water the night before either) i'll bring all the dishes out there to clean, too. at these times i feel like a real woman of the world. if there's no electricity, i can't use the computer, so i'll start studying first and/or just read (Faulkner right now).
unless we're without basic utilities, i usually forget i'm in India until a) a turns on the tv or b) we go outside.