It's been a long long time. I've done so much, lived through so much pain, ....I don't think this pseudo whine is going anywhere so enough.

I'm back in Vancouver for a not so joyful Christmas. My lack of joy is due to two things, actually three. I miss my girlfriend. I miss my mother. And I'm sick. I've been sick for four days now and it's still hampering my style (yes I do have style). Currently my buds are out drinking at the Cambie. I am stuck a home, laime little me, who can't even spell, typing away my thoughts into the vast void of cyberspace nothingness. It's hard to describe my state of mind. Some might call it boredom. But I don't feel bored. I do however feel bored with my thoughts. So as it my habit (when bored with my thoughts and writing into cyberneant), I will post some quotes from others:

"One hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the most skillful. Subduing the other's military without battle is the most skillful." -Sun Tzu

post feast musings

I've been unable to post anything for the last few days because of the dire state of my health. You see, a couple of days ago, I ate much much too much. I then did it all over again the next day, more turkey, more stuffing, more potatoes, more yams, more green beans, more dressing, more waldorf salad, more pecan pie, more pumpkin pie, more apple pie, more, more.? I think thanksgiving is really a government conspiracy akin to the CIA's flooding of black ghettos with crack in the days of yesteryear. Whoa, I'd better step back into reality before my fanciful mouth gets me in hot water for belittling the plight of blacks in America.
But really, I was incapacitated for the whole weekend. Now we all know that big business and the government sleep in the same bed, I think old Donald may be smarter than we think. Lombotomize the nation by coercing them into overeating.
Actually, all joking aside, I believe there is a kernel of truth in some of what I've just said. The national lombotomy can be more accurately caracterised as the product of mass overstimulation.
I may ponder this a bit more as I ingest and digest my dinner.
Till later.
Evan

Thanksgiving

Down here in USland, it's the time of year when we eat too much and remember all the Indians who died so we could establish our puritanical Shangri-la. Okay, so perhaps the picture I've painted is inaccurate. Most people don't really remember the Indians. And really, a large portion of this fair land eats more than its share on a daily basis. Really the only distinguishing element of Thanksgiving is turkey. How is it that we base an entire national holiday (two days long) around an oversized, tough, and tasteless bird. Does anyone really like turkey? I may not be averse to turkey, so long as it's not overcooked and there's plenty of dark homemade gravy to drown it in, but really, who actually likes turkey?

I'm off to buy a turkey.

Corrections from Kitty

Hey, this is Kitty. I just wanted to tell you all that I did not say that Justin Timberlake is the new Michael Jackson, nor did I seriously wish to say that the Neptunes rival Dre. I said "add the Neptunes 'cause they made Justin Timberlake SOUND exactly like Michael Jackson!" And if you don't believe me about that, listen to Justin for a while and then switch to Billie Jean. Crazy....

Sunday afternoon

So I'm sitting on my bed, talking with Kitty, my beautiful girlfriend, and listening to "Daily Operation". I muse to her that I think that were I to posit a pantheon of greatest hip hop producers, DJ Premiere would certainly be among them. A few moments thought and I've added Dr. Dre and Rza, and that's about as far as I got. Any thoughts? Kitty's list got as far as Dr. Dre and the Neptunes and then conversation trailed off into talking about how Justin Timberlake is the modern day Michael Jackson. Seriously, go check out some old Jackson, i.e. Billy Jean.

Snow Snow

It's snowing here in Portland. Or, more accurately it snowed this morning. There is however still a nice blanket of whiteness on the ground.

I'm listening to "Daily Operation," an earlier album by the powerhouse GangStarr. It was a much appreciated anniversary present from my girlfriend Kitty. Not quite as tight and heavy hitting as my favourite "Moment of Truth" (I will get that back to you at some point Chris, my apologies), but still a solid album. It's interesting to hear Premier's stylings from earlier days. "Flip the Script" has grabbed my attention the most thus far, but there are many other tracks that I'm sure are going to grow on me.

hello hello

(I say hello in red, the coloUr of love)

I spent a wonderful weekend with my girlfriend Kitty on the Oregon coast (Cannon Beach) celebrating our 1st anniversary. In actual fact, we spent but all of Sunday night there, however my delight in that night (and day) was so great that the rest of the weekend has been overshadowed into a blurry vague near-non existence.

I find myself now at school, dissapointed and morose. I do not want to be here (not really true). "These are not my walls, this is not my house." But really, I exargerate (as I am won't to do), my disdain is for the walls I've erected myself, the house of burdensome work that lies before me. Tonight I am rereading Waberi's "Cahier Nomade" in hopes that I will glean an abstract understanding (because there is no other) of its whole. Next follows the three page paper on "Cahier Nomade" and then a thorough reading of the first three chapters of a book by Derrida (I've forgotten the title). Top this all off with a little attic Greek and I might just catch a little sleep before the light of dawn.

Colour is Cool

Well, after an hour or so of research I am left in a state of aporia and at present unable to bitch about what I previously said I would. Fret not, I will do some more reading and get back to this tomorrow. As for now, I'm back to Baudelaire and other things school.

What is "in-situ" phenomena. I have a vague recollection of perhaps knowing something about the meaning of this term, but alas last week is much too far away and I've already forgotten large chunks I've what I learnt in my weeklong cursory overview of syntax (is "cursory overview" perhaps a tad redundant, it seems to me that by definition any overview is cursory. Anyways, I think I added "cursory" to emphasize my displeasure with most of my linguistics course. Were that it weren't so.)

Saturday afternoon has come and I'm in KRRC (Reed College motherhold of psychotronic domination, i.e. the radio station). I have a burgeoning love for Afu-Ra and a new found appreciation for Illadelp Halflife. In particular, Section (from Illadelph) and Defeat (from The Body of the Life Force, Afu-Ra). I have a vaguely political rant in the making, but lest I be guilty of the half-assed analysis about which I will probably rant, I'm going to do a little bit of research before I post it.

It's Saturday morning and I've been ensconced in the Reed library for over an hour now. I'm about half way through Baudelaire's "Les Paradis artificiels". At this point I have little to say about it but I will post some thoughts later today.

Reed student body elections finished up last night and I'm bitter. I wasn't running (next semester perhaps), but my bitterness stems from the following:
My wonderful and very smart and adept girlfriend didn't clearly win a Senate seat.
Those who clearly did win are not the best choices (in my not so humble opinion).
I should explain the first issue. Currently there is a tie for fourth (the last spot that garners a seat on Senate). It has yet to be decided how this tie will be resolved, we'll see. Of the three candidates that placed in the top three, there is only one who I can unreservedly say deserved to be up there, another who perhaps did but about whom I have reservations so far as his being a Senator is concerned, and then one who is just a silly choice. And we thought we weren't in highschool anymore.
In other news, Reed hosted a break dancing competition last night. Friking amazing, I was blown away by a number of the dancers. A great many of them were technically amazing, and some were also stylistically beautiful. Two fights almost broke out at different times. I worry about what may have happened after the competition, but alas.

peregrinate my...

funny shit

Nothing improves a given moment more than some good hearty laughter. I've watched this little animation three times and have yet to stop laughing.

late night peregrinations

It's late here in Reedland and I've just started reading Abdourahman A Waberi's "Cahier Nomade". From what I can tell (a few internet searches) this book has never been tranlated into English (I may be wrong). While trying to do and think about things other than my homework I got to musing that perhaps I'll translate it myself. The book is a collection of short stories which I think would make the translation process less arduous. Additionally, my francophone lit prof would probably be happy to advise me and he happens to be personally acquainted with the author. You'd think that I have oodles of free time to spare or something.
In other news, I've begun meditating much more regularly. Reed now has two burgeoning dharma groups. A small subset of one of the groups has begun meditating every morning in the Reed college chapel. This morning there was four of us, not bad for 7:30 in the morning.
I'm going to try and force myself back to my studies, as besides the reading, I still have a paper to finish.

I'm in the middle of reading "The Suns of Independence" (Ahmadou Kourouma) for my Francophone literature class. The book is a wonderful elucidation of the struggles of independence (post-colonial) in a west african country. But I'm not here to try and do any sort of deep and meaningful analysis, instead I thought I'd share with all of you some of the wonderful similes employed in the character descriptions:

"All day long he was as intractable as a newly circumcised donkey."

"as unconciliating and unmanageable as a mad donkey's erection"

That's all for now. I hope all is well.

a fond hello

It's Thursday night here. I've pulled my way through yet another Linguistics problem set. As I have been derelict in my posting duties,I should perhaps add some context for that last statement. I've yet to start a ling problem set any earlier than the night prior. The questions are usually pretty beastly; problem sets can easily take ten hours. What makes them especially exhausting is that most of that time is spent on the one dastardly hard question. Hours can easily be spent on just one element. Take last night for example. The better part of the problem set was relatively straightforward, not easy, but manageable. However the last question (about some Peruvian language) involved (transitive) verbs that agreed both with the subject and the object, but not all the time. I still not entirely satisfied with the rules that I formulate, but alas.

It was very nice to be back in Vancouver last week. Sad to see my Mom go and the house exit the family (almost), but such is life. I really have to get back to work as my week isn't quite done. I've got a short paper to write for tomorrow and some Greek studying to do. I'm going to post a piece of writing that was writen as a blog entry on route to Vancouver. It meanders a bit, but that's sort of what travel does to my state of mind.

I miss you all,

Love Evan

Tuesday, Oct. 21.

It’s a few minutes shy of 8:40, my train for Vancouver should be leaving momentarily. My brain is still waking itself, some breakfast might help , but that won’t be an option until Seattle by which time it will more accurately be called lunch. I didn’t sleep much last night. However I did manage to watch an excellent Black Adder sketch (the one about being on the front, in the trenches), and most of The Long Hot Summer. Sleep overtook me a little more than half-way through the latter, I’ll have to watch it again with Kitty when I return to Portland.
I’m still sort of amazed that I made it through the last couple of weeks. I mean that both in a physical and mental sense. I can’t imagine that life will ever again require that I work as hard as it does while I’m in college. I’ve got one crazy, albeit very interesting and engaging, french prof who simply assigns an inordinate amount of work most every week. The last two weeks were no exception; in addition to the usual workload, we also had a seven page paper to write. Were it to be written in english that might not be so bad. Alas, I am a keener and choose to write mine in french despite that I was not required to do so (only French majors are required to, I am as of yet undeclared and very well may not be a french major). About ten days before the paper due date I stopped by my prof’s office to discuss my ideas. The exchange was really more me telling him my one vague idea about which I wanted to write and then him responding by elaborating on my topic, and then reccomending four other books I should look at as he thought they related to my expressed area of interest. The topic, really a rather interesting one I think, was a study of the use of repetition in Aimé Césaire’s Cahier d’un retour au pays natal. The book, about the length of a novella, is really more of a long lyric poem than a straighforward narrative based story. I highly recommend it if any one is interested. The poem is filled with surrealist metaphors that really bring to life the personal and cultural tension about which Césaire was writing. Getting back to my essay, my prof recommended I read the following:
An essay called Le Ritournelle from Milles Plateaux by Deleuze and Guattari
Différence et Repétition by Deleuze
An essay by Nietszche called On the Use and Abuse of History from his Untimely Meditations (this title has also been translated as, Unmodern Meditations, and a few other things as well)
Some parts of Sartre’s Situations (I don’t know if this is the name of the whole series, or just of volume two, but I read parts of volume two of an eleven volume series, the volume itself is entitled Situations)
I certainly didn’t read all of that, but I did read more than I perhaps should have. I say that because I spent over one week reading secondary sources (the above books) and then one day writing the paper. I’m not really sure how it turned out, I think fairly well, but I think I made a couple logical leaps during my argument.
We’re now leaving Vancouver Washington. The sun is fairly high on the horizon behind me and is streaming in over my left should creating an annoying glare on my screen. Despite being five minutes past nine, it still feels like early morning. I’m not really sure why. Perhaps it has something to do with travelling. Perhaps in displacing myself physically I create some sort of displacement in my temporal experience. Anyways. My itunes player has now made it through, What Does Your Soul Look Like (parts 1 and 2), and Midnight in a Perferct World. Going back to my earlier thought, I think the music may have something to do with my extended sense of the early-morning-feeling (hyphens are your friends). I intentionally began the playlist with those tracks because I wanted to prolong and intensify my pensive and somewhat melancholy mood. For me this type of mood seems best suited to late-night or early-morning. Something about being exterior to the action of the day allows for greater dedication to my thought process.
Choices, choices. I make them every day. Sometimes I think about them too much, other times not enough. There seems to always be several levels of analysis of a given situation on which a choice can be based. Take for example my fast approaching decision concerning the movie Legally Blond, to watch or not to watch? Do I want to watch the movie. Why do I want. Am I interested in watching the movie, what is it to be interested? If I want to watch the movie but am I not interested (in an intellectual sense) in watching the movie, why then do I want? The answer seems rather obvious, I’d rather not be faced the painful reality of my own mind. I want to, as often as possible, and as easily as possible, escape the seemingly mudane, painful, aspects of my own exeperience. I’m going to go watch the movie.
I can at least take comfort in the fact that my own mind is not as vapid and hollow as that movie. I hardly made it through ten minutes. Actually I’m sort of ashamed, had the main character not been so easy on the eyes, I’m quite sure I wouldn’t have made it through five minutes.
It’s time to take a break and do some real work.

I’m now on the Trailways bus heading north along I-5 to Vancouver. For any of you who have ever driven this highway, you may know of the existence of the express route; one embarks onto the express route by way of an exit off of I-5 somewhere in the heart of downtown Seattle. The express route which I am now on was a later addition to the Seattle area I-5, a great behemoth that in its infancy seemed almost monstrous in its size and capacity, and now, but forty years later, seems monstrous in its congestion and chaos. The addition of the express-way was an atempt to bring order, through the process of modernization, to the chaos beget by modernism. Like the invention of the traffic light in 1905, the express-way brings a temporary and mostly symbolic reprieve from the chaos, momentarily providing a cocoon in which the dualism of modernism appears to cease existence. As we hurtle along this stretch of road, this modern symbol of our society’s great progress, I am struck by its linear progression, by how it seems to negate, or at the very least work against that other element of modernism, the clash of abstract forces. It seems to me that modernization has overtaken modernism and so brought about the latter’s death; or has it? Let’s take a step back. In an essay written in 1855 entitled On the Modern Idea of Progress as Applied to the Fine Arts, Baudelaire wrote the following:

There is yet another and very fashionable error which I am anxious to avoid like the very devil. I refer to the idea of “progress.” This obscure beacon, invention of present-day philosophizing, licensed without guarantee of Nature or God – this modern lantern throws a stream of chaos on all objects of knowledge; liberty melts away, punishment [chatiment] dissapears. Anyone who wants to see history clearly must first of all pur out this treacherous light. This grotesque idea, which has flowered on the soil of modern fatuity, has discharged each man from his duty, had delivered the soul from responsibility, has released the will from all the bonds imposed on it by the love of beauty… Such an infatuation is a symptom of an already too visible decadence. (translation quoted from Baudelaire: Modernism in the Streets from All that is Solid Melts into Air)


“Modern life has a distinctive and authentic beauty, which, however, is inseperable from its misery and anxiety.” -Baudelaire

I leave aside the question of whether, by continually refining humanity in proportion to the new enjoyments it offers, indefinite progress might not be its most cruel and ingenious torture; whether, proceeding as it does by a negation of itself, it would not turn out to be a perpetually renewed form of suicide, and whether, shut up in the fiery circle of divine logic, it would not be like the scorpion that stings itself with its own tail – progress, that eternal desideratum that is its own eternal despair!
-Baudelaire

It’s good to be home. The bus is slowly making its way up Knight st., edging along through the evening traffic. There is something comforting in the thought that, at this very moment, reccurs in my head, I am in Canada, I am home. Is it political, is it geogprahical, is it some unconscious abstract sense of place and birth? It seems a disparate synthesis of all of these and more, of parts brought together, fused together, but not thoroughly understood together.

The mountains jut up in front of me, a barrier of sorts between here and there. I am here, that is what seems important at this moment. As the evening light softens my perception of familiar buildings, I wonder what has changed since last I visited here. What evolution, or progression, has time brought, or wrought. How have I evolved? What am I looking for in this native land, in this abstract coalescence of my place?
The bus is stopped at Clark and 12th, the cars heading west catch my eye. I wonder where they are headed, what lies at the end of their trip. I’ll probably drive that road tomorrow, perhaps to have coffee with old friends, or to visit the beach of my childhood memories. Walk along the water and look out in the chasm of incomprehension that is the ocean. Held at bay by only the mountains and this city. I somehow feel more at ease standing before the ocean, as though this chaos without concept is more easily understood; it somehow allays the misery of my soul wrought by the abstract but all too real chaos of my modern world.

----

P.S. I've refrained from rereading this before posting as I was afraid it might not make it up (perhaps that would have been a good thing).

a brief hello

This entry is but a short respite from my competing pastimes of school-work and sleep. I've done a good job of letting my consciousness meander between the two over the last hour or so. A few lines of reading followed by a few moments of unconscious semi-sleeping then abruptly interrupted by the realization that I am no longer reading.
Back to work. There will be a much longer post appearring sometime in the next few days. Till then, I hope all of you are well.

In Search of Things Lost

What have I lost? It's a good question, and one that perennially seems to pop its little head. Some might be tempted to say, "Evan, you've lost your mind", and I might chuckle and smile a little, but then I'd be left right where I started.

I'm reminded of a little Buddhist saying, "If you lose your mind, come back." It's really rather simple, and I'd do well to heed its advice more often.

I find myself here about to enter my fourth week of school. It's rather surprising really, the speed with which the days fly bay when your under the golden yoke of school never ceases to amaze me. That was a long one. I'm reminded of some francophone literature I've been reading lately, "Cahier d'un retour au pays natal," by Aime Cesaire and, "La Lezarde," by Edouard Glissant. Glissant once said (in a critical paper entitled Discours Antillais) that meaning in francophone literature (or at least that from Antillais) is not supposed to be straightforward, at least not necessarily. Perhaps I should let him make his point because he states it much better:
C'est un des avatars de la pens�e occidentale que de pr�tendre qu'une oeuvre doive toujours se donner sans hiatus, et je connais nombre de contes de nos pays dont la puissance d'impact sur leur auditoire ne tient pas � la clart� de leurs sens. -p.345, Discours Antillais

Rough translation: One of the mistakes of western thought is the claim that a work (piece of writing, piece of music, etc.) must without discrepancy unfold its meaning. I know a number of stories from our countries whose strength of impact on their audience does not pertain to their clarity of meaning.

The paragraph from which that sentence came has made understanding francophone literature much easier for me. The reading came out of my francophone literature course. Thus far I've found the classes and the readings to be very interesting, though the latter are sometimes a bit difficult. It's a small class (about 10) which can make for very engaging discussion, though when the readings are hard, the discussion is often stilted. Our syllabus includes readings (creative works and theroretical/critical) from the Antilles, Algeria, Djibouti, and Quebec. With the exception of Djibouti, we're reading two authors from each country.

I'm having even more fun in my Baudelaire class. This isn't necessarily because the readings are more interesting, but because they're easier. I had a particularly difficult time reading the first work in my aforementioned francophone lit class and so the class became, as a whole, a bit frustrating. Baudelaire is a much easier read, at least when compared to Aime Cesaire, who has some surrealist tendencies. Like the francophone lit class, Baudelaire class is a mixture of primary (his writing) and secondary readings. The secondary readings include stuff by Walter Benjamin, Barbara Johnson, and Jean-Paul Sartre. From the man himself we are reading, "Les Fleurs du mal" (how could one not), Les Paradis artificiels, other poems, and a selection of his critical/theoretical writings. A very interesting course. I can imagine few greater academic treats than a semester devoted to Baudelaire. Perhaps one devoted to Iris Murdoch. In fact, there are many possibilities, really the beautiful aspect is the depth with which I get to delve into one author. yahooo

Linguistics get slotted in here because, well, it would be a shame to finish with my most boring course, but it would also be a shame to start with whining and bitching. Phonetics and Phonology...Bouuu hearnnss (I'm sure I didn't properly phoneticize that). Hopefully later sections will be minterestingsing. Actually, I'm really looking forward to syntax.

And last, but certainly not least, my introduction to Greek. This course progresses fast. We have class every day for an hour and 1-2hrs (sometimes even more) of homework per night. I'll certainly have a good foundation in Greek by the end of the year (heck, probably by the end of the semester), but as it is now, my vocabulary extends only just past the realm of farming.

Next month a may enroll in a weekly Buddhist studies course at the local shambhala Buddhist center. Other than that, I think this covers the academic side of things here as they are.

Other stuff to follow when I finish my homework. What I am saying, homework is never finished. It is more accurate to say that other stuff will follow when my homework no longer seems like a great big looming scythe dangling precipitously (I can't be bothere'd to look up my spelling) over my neck.

Ciao Ciao

Fluid nations?

Have any of you ever heard the term fluid nation bantied about? I was doing a little bit news catch up earlier this afternoon. After surfing through some daily news sites I went to the New Yorker site and came upon a silly article about the emerging discipline centered around the study of "fluid-nations", a term that, to my mind, seems relatively synonymous with "cultural group". That's really not a very good defnition; however, it will perhaps work as a definition if "cultural" is understood to mean shared experiences/beliefs. The author seems to agree (veiled sarcasm at the end) that the whole discipline is a bunch of huey, but nonetheless I am still curious.

Here's the web link if anyone's interested:document.write(myObject.popReferrer);http://www.newyorker.com/shouts/content/?030922sh_shouts

some discussion

In the interest of journailistic integrity, I don't believe that I should let the figures speak for themselves. What follows is a selection of quotes (many paraphrased) culled from the "dicussion" section of the previously cited article:

Certainly, administration is an integral element of good healthcare. The leaps and bounds in patient outcomes that society (western, at least) has witnessed over the past century are due mostly to the implementation of principles known since the turn of the twentieth century (not, as touted by industry, technological advances). Implementation may not be synonomous with administration, but the two are very much related.

The question is two part, how much administration is optimal, and what form should it take. Does the high administrative spending in the United States relative to that in Canada (or that in the US 30 years ago) improve care? No studies have directly addressed these questions, however analyses of investor owned HMOs and hospitals have found that for-profit facilities have neither higher-quality care nor lower costs than not-for-profit facilities.

There is certainly more to be said, but I'm about to go eat some Raisin' Cane's chicken, hands down the best fast food chicken on god's green earth. Actually, some of the best chicken you'll ever eat. Add some sweet tea, texas toast, crinkle cut fries, and slaw, and you've got yourself one heart satisfying meal.

Some more healthcare facts

(From an article in The New England Journal of Medecine, August 21st 2003
Authors: Steffie Woolhander, M.D., M.P.H., Terry Campbell, M.H.A. and David
Himmelstein, M.D.)

Costs of Healthcare Administration in the US and Candada:

Numbers are Spending per capita in USD

Canadian figure follows the US in parentheses


Insurance Overhead 259 (47)

Employers' cost to manage
health benefits 57 (8)

Hospital Administration 315 (103)

Nursing home Administration 62 (29)

Administrative costs of practitioners 324 (107)

Home care administration 42 (13)

Total 1,059 (307)

A Question

I'm planning on purchasing a domain (name) and getting some hosting. Anyone have any suggestions on company?

Buenos Dias

Hello, Hello. It's Sunday morning here in Baton-Rouge. Kitty and I are making our second attempt at "Arsenic and Old Lace', a wonderful old comedy starring Cary Grant. Coffee is good.

Hello Hello

I have a full tummy and internet access; the pleasures of wealth in this day and age are wonderful.

It's no wonder that so many people in this state (Louisiana) are obese. I wouldn't be surprised if I've gained five pounds while eating here. Eating has really consumed most of my effort the past week. I've also indulged in some pure pleasure reading and some brain rot (television). If anyone has yet to read Anthony Bourdain's "Kitchen Confidential", it's well worth a read. The boob tube has sucked me in again. I'm wholeheartedly a West Wing fan. Stay far far away if you do not want to loose yourself. More about the food later.

Farewell

It's quarter to one here in Seattle and I'm preparing to head off to Louisiana. Before I forget, I think we should all extend a congratulatory good luck to Mr. Flynt and to Arnie (both candidates in the California Governatorial election). But, more seriously, lets pray for a candidate who may actually save the Californians from their own lunacy (it's really their voter ballot initiatives that are the problem, direct democracy is a horrid idea).

Always American
What's with Rumsfield, Wolfowitz, and Fieth (all Pentagon higher-ups). Some time ago they extended their unilateralism to include overuling not only other nations, but the State Department as well. More reading needs to be done on these issues, but I see conspiracy theories in the midst.

Who's your Daddy

You've painted the nursery, reserved the hospital room, and even accepted some hand-me-down baby clothes from your mother. The big day comes and everyone's gushing, "oh, he's got his mother's eyes, and her smile as well!", but all you can think is, "where'd that nose come from??"

Fret no longer. Head straight to "www.geneticassays.com/paternity.htm" and for just over two hundred bucks, you can figure out who the daddy really is.

Options, options, options.
1. Notarized (court admissible) package starts at $495.00 USD
2."Peace of mind package" (At home Paternity Test Kit) starts at $245.00 USD

Want to fight it out in court, depositions and expert witness testimony start at $195.00 USD/hour (plus expenses).

Ardent Aesthetic Ablutions

For those of you who've taken to making quips about the thesaurus that allegedly rests at my side, this once you have been vindicated. Almost, it was actually a dictionary combined with the lyrical prowess of my everpresent beautiful cohort, Kitty.

Good Morning. The sun is streaming in here in my seattle apartment. I'm eating chocolate chip cookies and butter tarts and reading about my homeland. My reading today is a bit unorthodox, or perhaps unexpected is a better word. I'm on page 26 (of 3??) of "Building on Values: The Future of Health Care in Canada" by Roy Romanow (former Premier of Saskatchewan).
My interest in this subject is fueled by my recent realization that I need to get myself some health insurance. Fret not, I do have some. But should my medical expenses exceed $25,000 USD (maximum lifetime coverage of the policy that I have through my school), I'm up the creek. That adequate health insurance is rather expensive was not an entirely unexpected discovery last night as I searched the web for the holy grail: adequate, affordable, and user-friendly health insurance. In a country where 40 million people (approximately 16% of the population) have no health insurance, I didn't really expect the situation to be any different.

This all left me rather forlorn, wishing I was back in my homeland where healthcare is a right, but also wondering about the current state affairs so far as the healthcare system is concerned. Somewhere in the back of my memory Mr. Romanow's name lingered as "the author of some report" about the whole thing. Jump to this morning, I typed in "www.canada.ca" and a few clicks later (about 4) I'd downloaded the report in its entirety.

I've yet to read much of any real import, but I would like to share some of the introductory thoughts and put them out:

"Medicare is a worthy national acheivement, a defining aspect of our citizenship and an expression of social cohesion."

How attached do all of you feel to medicare, to what extent do you include it as part of your canadian identity?

"The reality is that Canadians embrace medicare as a public good, a national symbol, and a defining aspect of their citizenship"

A few facts (dare I say) about healthcare:
- health spending in Canada is on par with most western countries and is substantially lower than in the United States
- we devote a smaller portion of our GDP to healthcare today than we did ten years ago

Any thoughts sent to any of my email addresses will be dutifully posted. If anyone would like posting priveleges, please let me know.

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Techno Tid-bit, August 13th 2003
It seems that our glorious technology industry has gotten us tangibly close to holographic data storage. Many working prototypes already exist, and some are slated for market release as early as next year. The whole thing dates back to 1963 "when Pieter van Heerden, a researcher at Polaroid, first proposed using the method to store data in three dimensions." In theory, it is an excellent idea; the principle challenge over the past four decades has been to develop (or find) "the right recording material--a photosensitive substance that is both stable and cheap enough to use commercially."
Why all the fuss? Holographic storage has three attributes that make it very appealing:
1. Capacity, adding another dimension makes for a lot more space. (imagine 1 terabyte on media the size of a CD)
2. Speed, light (the method of storage and retrieval) is very fast
3. Searchability - more efficient...if anyone is curious as to how, or would like to provide a succint and illuminating explanation, let me know (there is one in the Economist, the source for this Techno Tid-bit).

----

Always American
The Pentagon recently proposed that an online futures market be created to enable punters to place bets on the odds of forthcoming terrorist activity. The idea was that the market would bring all the hidden expertise to the fore and aid the nation in preventing the next 9/11. Democratic Senators didn't cotton to the idea and the plan has since been nixed.
In related news (conceptually at least), as of last year Goldman Sachs and Deutsche Bank have been offering traders the opportunity to place bets on the vicissitudes of the unemployment rate. Who said the rich don't get richer and the poor poorer. Where's my trickle (down effect).
In thoroughly unrelated news, a quarter of those aged 25 and up in Arkansas do not have a high-school diploma. Despite this, the Arkansas state legislature has decided to restrict even further the reading material available by passing into a law a bill that forces bookstores and libraries to seperate "adult material" from "more tasteful stuff". According to state code, material that has "any description, exhibition, presentation, or representation, in whatever form, of nudity, sexual conduct, sexual excitement, or sado-masochistic abuse" is considered "harmful to children". Earlier this year, in a school library in Cedarville (Arkansas), Harry Potter books were placed in a cabinet under lock and key to shield Christian sensibilities from the scary witchcraft. Though this action was later ruled unconstitutional (by a fedral judge),it does not bode well; we here at Always American believe that if Arkansas wants to step up in the field of literacy, it had better start training some new players.
(Source: The Economist, most quotes from the Economist)
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So who wants to go into politics? Your author (I've been reading too much of the Economist) feels that the left-wing, in Canada and the United States is in need of revival. Revival could be said to be a euphemism for leadership, but that might be a tad unfair. I ask not even for a left "left-wing", simply, I would like something other than neo-conservatism, or its thinly veiled progeny, compassionate conservatism. I want politics with heart, politicians with integrity, and a populace with a sense of responsibility. Perhaps I'd better step up myself.

Economic Eddies

Citigroup and J.P. Morgan have reached an agreement with American regulators. The fines are, relative to their overall profits, small, however there is no established methodology for how to go about such things. More importantly, the two have been forced to concede two important legal points. "The first is that, even though every element of a transaction they structure could be legal, the whole could be misleading enough to violate the law. The second, is that banks are responsible for how their clients use the fancy financial structures they create."
(Source: The Economist, all quotes from the Economist)

Well, that about brings me to the end, both of this week's Economist, and of me free time today. I may check in again later to write about "Film Theory". Hope everyone is enjoying their summer.

It's been a long time since the last post. Let me assuage your concerns and say that, yes indeed, a lot has happened.

Events in Brief

I spent some number of days in Vancouver pressure washing (thank you Ben), sanding, and painting my mother's garage and deck. Try and imagine me seated in a white plastic deck chair, pressure washer in my left hand, beer in my right, sun glasses donned, and a great big smile on my face. I also had a few long bouts with the ivy on my mother's front porch. Happy, happy, joy,........joy?

This almost week was followed by a visit to Swan River Manitoba for my grandmother's funeral. No need for a summary here.

Of the last two weeks, the most important event (by far) was Kitty's birthday. Let's all wish her a Happy Birthday (yay!).

There was supposed to be daily entries while I was enjoying the great north (Swan River is rather a bit to the north of the border), however my power supply conked out on day one. Kudos to Apple for sending me a brand new one two days after my return.

This next part is the entry that did get (partially) written:

August 4th, 12:08 am

Long, long day. I feel as though all my ligaments, tendons, and muscles have been slowly stretched. Got up at six to catch a plane to Regina at nine, only an hour earlier than I got up yesterday. That was to finish off the painting of my mother’s garage. Today was to make the trip to Swan River (Manitoba) for my Grandmother’s funeral.

The plane ride gave me a nice opportunity for reading. I made some further progress into “Film Theory”; I’m now on chapter four. I didn’t transcribe any quotes, nor did I record my thoughts while reading, so I’m afraid the account will be slightly less than enthralling, but here she is.

In a chapter called “The Establishment of Physical Existence”, Kracauer focuses on the elements of film that make it cinematic. For Kracauer, cinema is art, and a film is not necessarily cinema. I’ll save his outline of this distinction for later (when I have properly understood it), but I will start by sharing some tidbits of it.

Movement, movement, movement, who would have thought. His discussion of different types of movement is interesting. It begins with three types of movement that “can be considered cinematic subjects par excellence”: the chase, dancing, and nascent motion. A nice quote from Hitchcock appears at the beginning of the discussion of the chase, “ The chase seems to me the final expression of the motion picture medium.”

That entry ended after the Hitchcock quote, I will pick it up tomorrow after I've done some more reading and it's fresh in my head.

I must send kudos to the Economist for their cover story on Silvio Berlusconi (Italy's PM) this week and for their open letter to him. It's about time somebody in the mainstream press took him task for his democratic ways. Mr. Burlesquesconi seems about ready to get himself elected for life, he must be stopped.

Why I'm not Catholic, August 12th, 2003
The Vatican has recently taken a stand and proclaimed that any support of same-sex unions is "gravely immoral", and that, "there are absolutely no grounds for considering homosexual unions to be in any way similar or even analogous to God's plan for marriage and family. Marriage is holy, while homosexual acts go against the natural moral law....Legal recognition of homosexual unions or placing them on the same level as marriage would mean not only the approval of DEVIANT (emphasis added) behaviour...but would also obscure basic values which belong to the common inheritance of hummanity." Additionaly, people extending cohabitation rights "need to be reminded that the approval or legalisation of EVIL (emphaisis added) is something far different from the toleration of evil." Also, gay couples who adopt children have been described as "doing violence". (Source: Guardian Weekly)
If only the Pope could stick to waving at pilgrims and visiting sick children.

Good night. I hope all is well.

Recently I've begun to feel a tad more self-conscious as I write my blog. I worry that perhaps my tangents are too disconnected and too verbose, that perhaps my prose is disintegrating into a realm, hitherto inhabited only by the semioticists and their post-modern brethren, that is best described as turgid and halting, that perhaps my sentences are becoming too long, that they run on and on and on and... .

Today has been a bit of an intellectual journey. I've begun reading "Theory of Film" by Siegfried Kracauer. I spent the better part of my mental effort painstainkingly navigating the introduction to the new edition (Princeton U Press, 1997); turgid and halting may have been hyperbole in reference to my own writing, but it fits the bill for Hansen's "framework for appreciating the signigicance of Film Theory for contemporary film theory". The structure is haphazard, the sentences awkwardly constructed, and, as if her deleterious effect on contempoary prose were not enough, her fanciful addition of morphemes is maddening. I was hopping mad many a time. You know that feeling, a sort jolly anger that has its wrath, but is ostensibly devoid of aggresion. The kind of anger where you make animal noises (I'm fond of the time honoured "gRrrrrrrr") and pound your fist with feigned aspirations of violence, as though the word "anthropocentric" were enough to warrant your curbing an academic whose face you've never seen, and voice you've never heard. Actually I worry that "antropocentric" really is a word (for the most part, wordness is bestowed by inclusion in the OED). Still, I don't like it. I'll gripe about one more of her morphetical constructions, if only because, in the not so humble opinion of Kitty (it was her idea) and Evan, the wrong morpheme was appended. Palimpsest is a perfectly good word with well established wordness. It however has yet to evolve into an adjectival form. My problem is not so much that Miss Hansen chose to hasten this process, simply that she selected "ic" as opposed to "ual". Say it now, "pal - imp - sest - ic". Now try "pal - imp - sest - ual". C'mon, how can you not prefer the latter ? Need I point out that it rhymes with incestual.

Now, having concluded with my necessary whining peregrinations, I'll return to what was my original purpose. Dissatisfied with my own thoughts, I sat down this evening with the intention of transcribing a few pithy observations for all of you. Odly enough, a great many of them come from the aforementioned heinous prosodist, who, to tell it truthfully, has moments of eloquent luminosity peppered throughout her burdensome opus.

"Photographic representation has the perplexing ability not only to resemble the world it depicts but also to render it strange, to destroy habitual fictions of self-identity and familiarity." - Hansen, p.xxv, intro to "Theory of Film"

"Kracauer's insistence on indeterminacy should not be understood as a romantic defense of the irrational nor as an abdication of principles of coherence and intelligibility. What is at stake is the possibility of a "split-second meaninglessness," as the placeholder of an otherness that resists unequivocal understanding and total sumbsumption. What is also at stake is the ability of the particular, the detail, the incident, to take on a life of its own, to precipitate processes in the viewer that may not be entirely controlled by the film. These twin concerns are at the core of Kracauer's critique of the hegemony of the narrative, as of the hegemony of dialogue and vocality in the realm of sound - that is, his critique of any attempt to subordinate the material, sensory qualities of film to a tight and a priori discursive structure." p.xxi, Ibid.

"Why indeed should one say everything at the same time" p.xlviii, Kracauer

Explaining his preference for the first films of a particular style or genre Kracauer says that he prefers "to stick to the prototypes which, more vividly than all that follows, still vibrate with intentions engendering them." p.xlviii, Ibid.

"It is two different things to espouse an idea and to realize, let alone endorse, all that is implied by it." p.xlix, Ibid.

"A great idea is like a phantom ocean beating upon the shores of human life in successive waves of specialization" Whitehead quoted by Kracauer.

Well, that's about it for the evening. If anyone has any thoughts, please send them along.

Goodnight

It always seems that fantastic tales with which to regale all of you occur to me when I'm doing something else. Not now, when I'm actually seated in front of my computer. Today the ideas came when I was meditating. That's usually the way, I think up all kinds of great ideas while I'm not supposed to be thinking.

I've been meditating semi-regularly recently. About five days a week. I'm going on one week now. Actually, I hope to start doing two sessions a day, perhaps tomorrow.

Kitty and I watched Heat a few nights ago. A great movie. For those of you who don't know, "Heat" is an epic action/heist movie with significant character development (for an action/heist movie). As always, the best scene, and in some respects the climax of the movie, was the conversation between Al Pacino (the cop) and Robert Deniro (the criminal mastermind). If you haven't seen the movie, you won't understand what I'm talking about; I don't plan on explaining as I think it's best discovered in the course of the movie. I do however have some complaints. In many ways, the screenplay for "Heat" was very well written. There are some great pieces of writing.
[!!!! if you haven't seen the movie, stop reading till you see three happy faces. !!!] There are also some big mistakes. Get rid of the daughter. At the point when she tries to commit suicide we still don't care enough about her for the scene to not be distracting and annoying. Also, Pacino's wife's lines are horribly written. Finally, my other complaint, DeNiro's character (the criminal mastermind) is not one to go back and settle a score with some 2bit thug at his future's peril. Still though, an eminently enjoyable movie, even after the third viewing.

:) :) :)

There is more to say, but my eyelids....oh yeah GOD DAMN FUCKING COMPUTER! I had to send my iBook into Apple yesterday. Looks like my logic board needs to be replaced. It is apparently a somewhat common problem. Apple, however, has thus far been very helpful and expedient. At this point, I'm not that peeved.

Good night.

I was remiss not to mention this in the previous post: Thanks to all of you who read this. Actually I somehow feel odd thanking people for reading what is in essence a journal, albeit an intentionally public one. Part of me tries to avoid those sort of egoistic aspirations. But, that said, I do appreciate all of you. A great big hello to Mr. Jericho, Dr. SARS and his Italian girlfriend, the Lobster man, the People's locksmith, the lovelorn lovers (there's two of you, you're in different cities, and the one closest to me isn't lovelorn anymore), my mental guitar chord library friend, and my Mrs. Pants. Hopefully no one has been left out, if so, it is not because I do not care, it is only because I have had far too much to drink.

"I leave when the pub closes"

Ok smartie, go to a party
Girls are dancin the crowd is showin body
A chick walks by you wish you could sex her
But you're standin on the wall like you was Poindexter
Next days function, high class luncheon
Food is served and you're stone cold munchin'
Music comes on, people start to dance
But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants
A girl starts walkin, guys start gawkin'
Sits down next to you and starts talkin'
Says she wanna dance cus she likes the groove
So come on fatso and just bust a move

It's now been over ten days since the last entry and I thought I’d start us off with a little Young MC. What have I been doing? Well most, if not all, of you know I spent the last nine days in Vancouver. It all started with a desire to get down and boogie. Kitty and I slaved for hour after hour, striving to lay down the perfect dance mix (you might ask, as my Torontonian friend did, "don't you have a job?"). After much griping, the mix was made and we set off for Vancouver. Its test run, on the drive up, proved that a few not so boogeying tracks slipped through the cracks. But all was not lost. As I made the drive to Vancouver I repeatedly grooved out (I’ll take some flagellation for that one) to “Bust a Move”, so much in fact, that it began to appear to me as a prophetic hymn (of the (post-)modern variety), foretelling the wild partying that was to come (I considered employing the alternate spelling of that last word, but decided that I am too old (or perhaps not drunk enough (I’m currently only on my third glass of wine)) for those kind of shenanigans. As you’ve by now realized however, I am not too old to add this little footnote of sorts alerting all of you to the possibility.)…add another bracket if needed for completion)

In the end, the desire to boogie was somewhat thwarted. Many partygoers seemed more interested in making their own music, and some others had had a bit too much to drink even before their arrival. The real low point for me and my boogieriffic mood was when some young (ahh....to feel old) pretentious twerp quipped something like “its time to put on some real music.” Apparently his intellect took up so much of his ass-crack that it hurt to “get down and boogie”. But I digress. Despite my necessary wining peregrinations, I still had a jolly good time (and I do mean that in all serious, I employ “jolly” simply because, as an ex-pat Canade living the land of “gun-totting xenophobic troglodytes”, I’ve had to become more British than the Brits). The real highlight of the party was the tour of Mr. Mah’s studio. It was, like great jazz, an experience that managed to be cerebral, and yet still filled with soul. I also thoroughly enjoyed the tour of Parker’s room and its legendary memorabilia, and quite simply, it was very nice to hang out with a great group of friends for the evening.

Monday morning (aforementioned party was Sat night) saw Kitty and I make a whirlwind trip to Seattle in preparation for the upcoming week. My Torontonian friend gave notice the day before of his imminent arrival in Vancouver. I particularly remember his airport arrival, in part because I had not seen him for six months, but also because I had an experience that in some ways seemed quintessential of the human condition (or, at least the condition promulgated by our beloved media). Two others and myself were standing near the baggage carousel, intently looking towards the doors out of which he would soon appear. As expected, the recognizable grin soon popped out of the crowd. A brief moment of doubt was dissuaded by his time-honoured gait. At this point I felt a quandary of sorts. Should I continue standing in my present spot, excitedly awaiting his presence with a big fat grin, or should I run forward like a lovelorn lover, too impatient to wait one more second. I’ve always preferred Donne’s image of two parting lovers (So let us melt, and make no noise, / No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; / 'Twere profanation of our joys / To tell the laity our love. ) and hence partly assumed that I’d prefer a similar exchange between uniting lovers…..perhaps I should jettison the extended metaphor (of sorts) here and clarify that there is no “lovin” between us, simply a very deep friendship…., but the point is that a great part of me wanted to run forward and lay a big fat hug on my Torontonian friend.

The rest of the week was beleaguered by too much fun and not enough sleep. Generally a day started off with a late breakfast (replete with requisite coffee and grease to assuage the remanents of the previous night’s activities) attended by those who were otherwise unoccupied. This was then followed by an assortment of activities, but most frequently by swimming, and then next by more coffee drinking. Frequently a break was made for dinner after which the evening activities followed. Much alcohol was consumed during these evenings, usually starting at the beginning and then continuing through to the end. A frequent course of events for these evenings was “drink, talk, hang out a bit, drink, hang out,, drink, and then hilarity ensues.” Of particular note were a fun filled evening of near nudity, an evening of fraternizing with the old crew and our underlings (read = high school chums and those who graduated after us), and an epic game of trivial pursuit. Who knew it could be so hard? Perhaps Genus IV is best left for sober occasions.

That about brings me up to date. I do still have this last week in Seattle to detail, but that can wait for tomorrow. Actually, I’m sure there is more to say about Vancouver 2003, but that can wait till my next entry. I think I’ve said nigh enough for the night.

Happy 4th of July
So now my Canadian ass deserves a kicking. So be it. Today's been a nice day. Lots of good food. Oversized steaks, mushrooms (the cooking method would require multiple sentences), new potatoes, gravy (excessive perhaps), corn pudding, and apple pie. What is corn pudding you ask? A good question. It's one of those "Americana" dishes. To me, "Americana (I promise, that's the last time) means velveta and jello salad. Despite its brethren, corn pudding proved itself to be tasty and delicious. Other than the requisite fireworks, there was nothing else of note.
I can't sleep. That's about all I've got to say. It's really time to go to bed. There's only one solution. It's time to let my thoughts flow onto the page.

Don't worry, I don't plan on subjecting any of you to my prose.

Sleep well.

Okay, so I need a title. No not me personally, I've already got enough of those, though an official one would be nice. But this blog thing needs a title. Anyone got any ideas? Soup has been criticized (rightly so) by two of you. And despite it's cuteness and momentary hilarity, "Mr. Cutey Pants Speaks Out" has stepped aside to be replaced by three pathetic little question marks. This is a desperate situation. Perhaps some of you have by now realized that the desperate situation is not my nameless blog, in fact I rather prefer it that way, but my idle time. I've done far too little today and now I'm trying to vindicate myself by giving the naming of my blog a sense of great import. If someone could please take care of this then perhaps I can get on to better things. Like learning an ancient language. Or perusing the declassified FBI files of famous people. Did you know that Nikola Tesla (the inventor of the tesla coil) and Albert Einstein both had FBI files? Probably not, and I'm not sure I really needed to know either. For some reason Philip K. Dick's file won't load....hmmmm...As you might surmise, today has been another day of not working. I spent a very enjoyable few hours at the Seattle Art Museum. I very much enjoyed the permanent Japanese and Chinese collections. There was also a particularly nice Warhol of Nixon. Overall, I can't say I was that impressed. Some nice things, but a lot of seconds (not so great pieces by great artists). I think it is perhaps time to head to bed. Sleep well.

A new day has fallen and, it's sort of like yesterday. I say fallen because it's now 4:15 and I've yet to accoplish anything of note. Well that's not entirely true. Kitty and I plan to head off to the SAM (Seattle Art Museum) in about 45 minutes. We spendt yesterday afternoon at the Seattle Aquarium. Dragonfish are really cool. Exceptionally cool in fact. Some of the coolest looking animals I've ever seen. Sea otters are very cute, as are sea horses. I can tell that this isn't going anywhere. Let me see, ....something interesting....well, I'm sure you all heard about the legalization of sodomy here in these united states of america. Oooh, I know, Britain got a supreme court last week (or maybe it was the week before). Yes, the old country has finally decided to seperate the judicial and legislative functions. Yeah Tony. Go Tiger. Back to something more personal, last night I decided to look into the history of the KKK. Very interesting, I can't say I've found very many sources that I trust. The first apparently reputable source upon which I stumbled (The Indiana Historical Society) turned out to be obviously biased thanks to the opinions of Mr Bondira, the society's president. A great deal of the information he presents is probably accurate, however he fits it all within his desire to vindicate the original KKK (there are many). At the very least, his bias is obvious. Some of the other sources were equally biased in the opposite direction including at least one ".edu" source (whose bias was not so obvious). I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, many american state schools are far worse than mediocre. I've babbled enough. If any one wants a good laugh (okay, perhaps I shouldn't call this funny), check out some Texas "racialist" websites.

Boddington's is good. It's very creamy. New Castle is good. It's very tasty. If only they could put the two together. Watered down Guiness perhaps. No, that's a terrible idea and it wasn't even funny. It really is time to go to bed.

Just had a very nice conversation (of the msn variety) with a long lost friend. It's not that his whereabouts have been a unknown, simply that he resides in a far off land. This post was happily interrupted by the appearance of another friend (on msn), this one not so long lost. What a wonderful night, three (the third joined the conversation with the first for a goodly chunk of time) of my closest friends on msn in the same night. I will go to sleep with happy thoughts. Please, you dirty bastards, leave your mind in the gutter and don't read anything obscene into my pleasant thoughts.

Good night.

I love you :)
-Kitty

Kitty and I have now settled into our apartment is Seattle. It feels good. First time I've truly had my own place and had to deal with all of the associated things (rental screening, lease, internet, etc). Our apartment is rather spartan, but it is very nice. We have the necessties: a large bed, a dining room table, a stereo, computers (that double as DVD players with screens), lots of food, and a backgammon board. Kitty is fast becoming an expert backgammon player. She's fond of risk taking. I'd say too fond, but her style has taught me a few things.

Before I forget. Thanks must go out to Vancouver based sailing Jewish friend, it's nice to know that someone is reading this window into my life. Good also to know that it's someone who has a very good idea of what my life is about and so can actually make some sense of the significance of what appears here. Anyways, if anyone else is reading this, feel free to send me a note (and give me the challenge of a stroked ego). Considering the (at this time... :) ) small audience, I may even take y'all into account while writing. Whoa, what was that! And that! I can't really whine about the proliferation of colloquialisms in the written word if I write stuff like "y'all". Gosh, people might think I'm a southerner or something. That was for the benefit of my beautiful girlfriend, Kitty. I like to give her a hard time (in a friendly manner) about being from the dirty south.

This past week has seen the moving of my stuff and myself from Portland to Seattle. I really did have the sense that I was moving my stuff, as opposed to moving myself and my associated stuff. It's not that I moved that much. One Volvo 240 carload and we were finished. However I didn't really arrive in Seattle until my stuff was unpacked, organized and settled in. I arrived sometime today, probably sometime while I was reorganizing the pantry. If my life were pee wee's playhouse, organization would have been the word of the day. Okay, please excuse me. Other than the aforementioned pantry, I unpacked some boxes, fixed the table, and began the job of deciding on a course of study for the next month. Lot's of reading, or should I say wishful thinking. I'm going to post my reading list, if anyone has any thoughts, please let me know.

Must read:
L'Éducation sentimentale (Gustave Flaubert)
Theory of Film (Siegfried Kracauer)
Camera Lucida (Roland Barthes)
-this one is translated, I should really get the original French
Turning the Mind into an Ally (Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche)
Of Grammatology (Jacques Derrida)
-also translated, I'm not sure whether I'm better off reading the French or the English first
The Art of War (Sun Tzu)
-second read, I've been considering picking up the new translation
Teach Yourself Sanskrit - exactly what the name says
A Macroeconomics reader - probable textbook for my macro course next year, I only intend to read excerpts
Linguistics - a textbook, again I only intend to read excerpts
The Way of the Bodhisattva
The Visual Turn (editor: Angela Dalle Vacche)
S/Z (Roland Barthes)

And that's it. I did bring at least twice that many books with me to Seattle, more because I couldn't decide what to read than because I had delusions that I would actually read them all. I don't even expect to get through all that I've laid out here. But I can try.

Okay, my bed is calling. Good night

Sunday afternoon and it's grey and raining in Portland. A respite from the heat of last week. I watched Ran earlier this afternoon. Excellent. Very beautiful. This morning was spent watching Boogie Nights. Awful, okay it some enjoyable moments, but nonetheless, trash. It's been an enjoyable weekend, except that I haven't seen my girlfriend enough, but then that hardly seems possible. Time to get back to something more productive.

It's too early in the morning to be in the library.

It's too early in the morning to be in the library.

Hello all. This morning sees me slowly rising to greet the day to the tunes of "What does your soul look like pt.1" (Preemptive Strike), and "Midnight in a perfect world" (Endtroducing). As might be ascertained from the soundtrack, this is not an, "up and at em" kind of day. No, this day has one of languishment. If only that was a word, but I have a feeling that I am combining morphemes in unacceptable ways. I must say however, that Mr. Shadow combines sounds in a most splendid manner. ITunes has moved its way on to Orgon Donor (the extended overhaul mix) and my tush feels as though it wants hop right out this lazy-boy, toss my laptop to the side, and "rock the funky beat". Okay, so I haven't had enough sex lately. Kitty, my wonderful girlfriend, is currently residing in a different state. I'm stuck here in Portland and she's all the way up in Seattle. All I've got is her...I'm not going to say what she left me to keep me company. Well, I think it's time for breakfast (now that the clock is in the pm), I will probably write more when I am next trying not to do what I should be doing.

Another day of work is over and I've been listening to "Moment of Truth" (Gang Starr (thank again Chris W)) and trying to organize my life; the perpetual struggle. Excuse the incorrect semicolon usage. Today the steps are small. After a finish relaxing I plan to organize the area that is my room. I'd have put that is quotes, but I hate quotes. Overused, essentially abused, at this point devoid of any proper meaning, so....okay I exagerate, and this rant ends here. (capital period if such a thing existed) This evening will probably see some reading and perhaps a movie. If I feeling ambition, I may sit down and try to watch 8 1/2 (Fellini). Otherwise I may go for some heartwarming entertainment from Kubrick. Reading will be the Linguistics textbook, THE Economist, and perhaps I'll break out the Sanskrit.

Hope y'all are well. I still am pretty sure no one reads this. Perhaps that's because no one knows about it (sauf Carl, Jedd, Ben). :)

God damn, God damn. Most of you who will be reading this all ready know this but, God Damn DJ Premier is good. I've been listening to a little mix prepared by my good friend Chris (W) recently and my head always get bobbing just a little bit more when Premier's instrumental gets going. I'm going to go back to my 19th century French litterature research with a smile on my face, and a bit of a groove going while I sit on this chair.

Okay, so while I let my stomach do some work digesting the IHOP split decision (don't ask) I recently consumed, I'll meander my way through the memories of the last few days.
This past weekend, and I spent a wonderful weekend at Birch Bay. We went up Friday night after spending a couple hours in our new (and first) apartment. I believe the poker and drinking began the first evening. It was very nice to be playing with Parker, Jedd, and Chris again. Kitty did well for her first time out. Some beer was drunk, much shit was exchanged (in the verbal form), and generally through all the viscitudes, a good time was had by all. Hot dogs, Hot dogs, Hot dogs; along with oodles of vodka, Baci (clothed and naked, replete with spankings for the losers), swimming in the skibbies, and Kings (the drinking game (more nudity here)), that pretty much sums up Saturday. Oh, how could I have forgotten soccer. An excellent match, I believe the chinaman and the halfer beat out the white trash. MVP goes, hands down, to Kristina Gestaldo.
..................

Hello,

Wonderful day today. Spent a couple of hours out on the water on the Velocitas with Adam, Jedd, Sharon, and Kitty. Sunny and windy, couldn't really ask for better. We had to slab-reef the main, all of us got very wet, and our skin a little darker, and I'm still scratching salt off of my scalp. A very good first sail for Kitty.

Tomorrow Kitty and I will head back to Portland. Hopefully we will pick up the key to our apartment while passing through Seattle.

That's it for tonight and for my fist blog. I can't seem to organize my thoughts into anything that will pass through my consciousness and into coherent sentences, too much sun perhaps.


Wine stuff
Finally drank the vin santo that I brought back from Italy a few years ago. It was very interesting, if perhaps a little over the hill. I can't really give details as I don't know them (or remember them). What little I do know: vintage = 1992, Occio Pernice, Chianti Classico district,