Portland Attains status of "World Class City"

Yes, yes, Portland has finally arrived. Little more than a month ago Portlandites were finally introduced to the joys of Bubble tea. Oh bubble tea, how I have missed thee. The local joint around here also serves some very tasty tea time snacks and brews up a very decent espresso (made from Illy, so I guess it should be).

Bon

Voyage

Happy Birthday

A fond Happy Birthday to my Dad! I don't think he reads this, but anyways.

Grammy Hysteria

Or not. I look to the Grammys for entertainment and some vindication. It's sort of hypocritical that I at once feel happy when an artist I like wins, but then also enjoy making derisory comments about the commerciality (apologies) of the Grammys and the boneheaded selections that sometimes get made. The latter tend to serve me as fodder for rants about our "mass culture" and all of the schlock that it produces.
A case in point. This years nominees for best rock album really illustrate rocks decline (and hip hop's rise). That's not to say that good rock and roll isn't being made (somewhere), but it's not what most people are listening to (sorry). I must admit to not knowing anything about the actual music on the albums for which these artists were nominated, but I hold not even the faintest hope. Audioslave, Evanescence, Foo Fighters, Matchbox Twenty, and Nickelback. Now a year ago, being that they hail from my home town, Nickelback might nave gotten my vote (If only I had one), but of late they have been an embarassment. That leaves the Foo simply because Dave Grohl is their front man.
On to more interesting categories.
Record of the Year: Outkast(Hey Ya!). Critically acclaimed and loved by all there shouldn't been any contest (though I haven't hear Coldplay's effort)
Album of the Year: Outkast. Wahooo! (this is the excitement that I mentioned earlier).
Best New Artist: I've never heard of any of the nominees in this category except for 50, so why not. And really, seeing as the Grammys always seem to be at least partly a sales competition, this one seem a no brainer.
Pop Vocal Album: Timbernut. (George will roll over a few more times)
Rap Album: I heard Missy's album (Under Construction) once while waiting in the waiting room of a clinic. I was very impressed. Part of me wants this to go to her, Outkast doesn't really need a third, but they're not undeserving. A worthy match up.
Country Album: I've included this category so I can profess my great admiration for Lyle Lovett. I don't know any of the other albums in this category (though I do know the artists) and in my world this wouldn't be a competition.
Best Alternative Music Album: Radiohead (Hail to the Thief). I don't believe I've even heard this album in its entirety, however the other entries in this category will (in my world) burn in the firesome grip of Radiohead's glory.
Best Female Rap Solo Perfomance: Missy for "Work It". As much as I hate this song, Missy easily outshines the other artists in this category (most of whom I haven't heard).

It's late here and I am not going "somewhere I have never travelled" but am, as usual, pulling out hairs hopping that brilliant ideas may pop out of the empty pores left behind. Somewhat akin to the way in which the tensions established in a (good) poem resolve into a positive unity through the interplay of the poem's parts, or the view that consciousness is an emergent property, I hope that from the ashes of my midnight fire will rise an eloquent and thought provoking analysis of E.E. Cummings "somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond" as seen through the lens of Cleanth Brooks' views on the nature of poetry.

Adieu

Ouch

It hurts to walk right now. That is why I am sittting down. But soon I will have to get I up, perhaps to get my textbook so that I may begin some work, and I will be reminded of how painful lifting weights can be. Today is day one of Evan tries to not be in such horrible shape. I plan to lift weights three times a week and not use so much bacon fat. If after a month or so, I've managed to keep with it, I may add some sort of aerobic exercise two or three times a week. I don't really expect that all of you find this especially riveting; my telling you has as much to do with establishing a sort of verbal contract as it with forming a part of the banalities of my life which I relate to you in this blog.

Classes are going well. I'm becoming aquainted with a new (to me) professor who thus far I quite like. He is at once interesting, eloquent, funny, and serious (in a good way). This, together with a decent mix of people, has made for very engaging classes to date. Here's a few quotables from the Prof himself (said during class):

"One should always be careful of people who appeal to the public; almost always what they're appealing to is the meaning(s) held by their particular coterie."

"Essentially what they're teaching you is kind of a series of Masonic handshakes in the guise of them being true" (in reference to a particular movement in Lit theory)

"The more people who are allowed in the club, the more democratic the club is, but one shouldn't necessarily mistake that for truth." (in refrence to the academic establishment)

I'm off to do some work.

I didn't burn down the house

Monday night, Dale, Johanna, and myself shared a very nice belated Christmas dinner. We had rack of lamb (cooked to perfection by my father, this is not an overstatement) and some assorted vegetables (including mashed potatoes, hmmmmm -especially tasty when mixed with the port wine sauce my dad concocted for the lamb). For desert, we had something called an Asian banana split. Johanna had discovered the recipe somewhere (I don't know where), and earlier that day had procured the necessary ingredients and done the prep (toasting the sliced almonds, caramelizing the bananas). Difficulty was, the final stage of the recipe involved flambéing the bananas with a goodly amount of rum. Johanna felt a bit apprehensive about this. Enter me - heat up bananas, toss in rum, tilt pan to light, watch the flames grow to about three feet, and yahooo, nothing else caught on fire.