Labels: food, joke, stories

Labels: Christmas, crazy people, food, Rachel, shopping, stories

Labels: blood, frightening thought, stories, work

Labels: frightening thought, joke, random, stories

"I bite what I fear,
I suck what I love."

Currently reading : The Eyre Affair By Jasper Fforde

Labels: joke, Rachel, stories, true

I told her that, in light of the fact that I'd quit/fired, it was unlikely for a little while. She said she was sorry and that I should apply at the bank. She didn't know how bad at math I am - finance in particular - so I can't blame her. But I wanted to impress upon her exactly how bad an idea this was.

I looked at her with a thoughtful face and, gesturing at her booth, said, "I'm sure that if I did that, I would find a way to collapse the Western World's economy."

She just looked at me, amused and a bit scared.

I perked up - "Have a nice day, though!" - turned, and left.

Labels: Maloney's, money, stories, true

My wife was giving me an example of a person who is (1) completely certain of themselves and (2) dead wrong when she said a co-worker adamantly proclaimed that the Blues came from Jazz.

No. That's like saying that Sumi-e came from Japanese landscapes - yeah, they were done at the same time, and they had some similar ideas, kind-of, but ... no. You're wrong.

However ...

They do tag along together sometimes, and the best example I can think of is the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack(s). There's a lot of versions, and I happen to have all of them. Ranging from Pop to Jazz to Blues to the positively quirky, it's really completely brilliant - not unlike the show, really.

In working on my own music, I've been toying with this sort of cosmo approach to genres, shoving in whatever works for whatever reason, and I'm back to having a good time with music.

Today, I had a bad migraine and so sat down to play guitar ('cos I can do it with my eyes closed and sitting up and closing my eyes is the least painful position to be in, for me, when a migraine strikes). Came up with a song that I'll share here with Myspace's new Podcast ability. I'm hoping that with this particular song I will actually meld a bit of Blues and Jazz. Though in its current state, it's much more Blues than Jazz. I'm hoping that with some unusually Jazzy bass guitar, and a more complex rhythm track, I'll have that. (Even though it's already pretty much polyrhythmic; the three instruments are all playing different rhythms - but it works).

The song is named Mars' Dirt. Fair warning - it's (exactly) 10 minutes long and 12 MB. Aaand it's mostly noodling. But I'm happy enough with it to post here. It will be replaced, eventually, with the finished version.

I guess my investigation into Romanian and Eastern European folk songs (i.e., from The Historian, mentioned in a previous entry) will have to wait few more days...

Impulse Nine - Mars' Dirt

Currently listening : Cowboy Bebop By Yoko Kanno

Labels: demo, idiots, Ignition, Impulse Nine, jazz, migraine, music, stories, true

My wife was giving me an example of a person who is (1) completely certain of themselves and (2) dead wrong when she said a co-worker adamantly proclaimed that the Blues came from Jazz.

No. That's like saying that Sumi-e came from Japanese landscapes - yeah, they were done at the same time, and they had some similar ideas, kind-of, but ... no. You're wrong.

However ...

They do tag along together sometimes, and the best example I can think of is the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack(s). There's a lot of versions, and I happen to have all of them. Ranging from Pop to Jazz to Blues to the positively quirky, it's really completely brilliant - not unlike the show, really.

In working on my own music, I've been toying with this sort of cosmo approach to genres, shoving in whatever works for whatever reason, and I'm back to having a good time with music.

Today, I had a bad migraine and so sat down to play guitar ('cos I can do it with my eyes closed and sitting up and closing my eyes is the least painful position to be in, for me, when a migraine strikes). Came up with a song that I'll share here with Myspace's new Podcast ability. I'm hoping that with this particular song I will actually meld a bit of Blues and Jazz. Though in its current state, it's much more Blues than Jazz. I'm hoping that with some unusually Jazzy bass guitar, and a more complex rhythm track, I'll have that. (Even though it's already pretty much polyrhythmic; the three instruments are all playing different rhythms - but it works).

The song is named Mars' Dirt. Fair warning - it's (exactly) 10 minutes long and 12 MB. Aaand it's mostly noodling. But I'm happy enough with it to post here. It will be replaced, eventually, with the finished version.

I guess my investigation into Romanian and Eastern European folk songs (i.e., from The Historian, mentioned in a previous entry) will have to wait few more days...

Impulse Nine - Mars' Dirt

Currently listening : Cowboy Bebop By Yoko Kanno

Labels: idiots, Ignition, Impulse Nine, jazz, migraine, music, stories, true

Let me tell you a few things that, in retrospect, are clear to me from my experiences with this situation.

First, you're right you will very rarely use algebra in real, adult life if you are pursuing a career in writing, graphic design, photography, philosophy, and so on. You will need arithmetic to balance your checkbook, figure out how much to tip a nice server (when youre in college, this can be interpreted how much to tip in order to ask for a date), and how much your student loans will cost you and for how long. You will need it from time to time if youre running a small business, or are figuring other things out that need the simple algebra like solving (7-1)² = 36. But thats the easy stuff, really, compared to matrices and calculus.

So now that you can feel good in that trademark cynical teenage way about being right about never using it, let me tell you why you still need to pass the class.

Situation #1: I have lately taken up the idea of owning and running my own business. Or at least, I'm moonlighting legally so that the IRS doesnt bang down my door and shoot me. To do so, I have to read many pages of very confusing documents.

Situation #2: I have also recently gotten my first car, a 62 Volkswagen Beetle (baja style). While these cars are simple to fix as cars go, I still have had to learn a lot about my car in order to properly diagnose and fix problems with the fuel tank, fuel line, fuel pump, fuel filter, carburetor, air filter, distributor, spark plugs, coil, speedometer, and so on and so forth.

Situation #3: And of course, theres my endless work on websites that force me to learn java, CSS, HTML, XML, server-side includes and so forth.

Why am I telling you about all these things Ive learned over the last year or so? Because just like your math class, they were hard to learn. They were a bone fide pain in the ass. That is to say, they took some serious consideration and thought and mulling over before I understood them.

This is why your math class is important for later. Yes, it teaches you how long it will take for Joe to meet Fred at point X when they take off at different times at different speeds. But much more importantly, it teaches you to sit down and comprehend something that is difficult to comprehend. I get the vast majority of my information quickly and easily on the Net via Google or by asking friends. However there are many situations youll face where there is either no-one to tell you and answer, or that the simple way of explaining something is still very complicated.

Math, then, for people who hate math, isnt about your ability to do math nearly as much as its about your ability to sit and comprehend things that are difficult for you. If you master this ability to be unafraid of complicated concepts, consider your math class to have taught you something more valuable than anything else youve ever learned the ability to learn.

Currently listening : Hôtel Costes: Quatre By Stéphane Pompougnac Release date: 12:00 AM

Labels: advice, high, random, rant, school, stories, work

Tuck: *knocks on the door*
Inga: Yes?
Tuck: Madam, your cats have been leaving their, uh, droppings in my flower bed again.
Inga: I assure you it isn't my cats.
Tuck: But haven't you noticed that the whole contingent will come downstairs rather than use the litter in your apartment?
Inga: There is no litter in my apartment.
Tuck: You mean to say you let your cats just leave their ... their droppings all over the outside world?!
Inga: Yes, it perfectly reflects my opinion of the outside world. *slams door*

Currently listening : X-Mas at the Point Depot By U2

Labels: anecdote, cats, fiction, old, stories

I decided pretty early on not to let the staff have some because there was a lot more staff than giveaways - and to do trivia questions.

Now, that's all well and good but not interesting enough to justify a blog post. The funny part is how people act. I don't generally like doing giveaways because I inevitably end up acting as a referee.

It's not all bad - one guy who answered first and correctly thought I had the new 'Stewie' movie (which hasn't come out yet). He already had the set he had won and so gave it to someone else. That was really cool of him.

On the other hand, one girl literally tackled a guy to prevent him from answering a question (I didn't accept her answer - I don't care if you're right, you have to pay consequences for being a greedy bitch). Another guy actually won one - he got the 5-episode DVD - but kept bugging me to 'trade' for the box set. I told him to answer a question correctly like anyone else. And honestly - you got a free DVD, man, what are you complaining for? Doesn't help that he was attempting to crawl into my ear the whole night.

I feel very uncomfortable even when a good looking girl gets into my little personal space, nevermind a greasy lookin' dude who wants favors. I'm still a little suprised every time a girl thinks that grabbing my crotch or showing more cleavage will get a song (etc.).

Currently listening : Timeless: The Singles Collection By De La Soul

Labels: DJ, idiots, Maloney's, music, rant, rules, stories, true, TV, work

She went to the U of A the same time I did, and went into the theater. I didn't see her a lot, but went to her shows (though often she never knew - I never did work up that nerve) when I could and have always suspected she'd do well. Since I've been looking up my old friends and aquaintences, I looked her up.

And she's been on "The O.C.", and "That 70's Show", and she's got a new movie. Awesome?! YES! Go Catherine! Woot! I wonder if I can even still contact her.

I also found Steph, whom I also had a terrible crush in my early years at UA, but hung out with me and introduced me to more super cool things than I could properly list. This is fun. I just hope they'll remember me.

Currently reading : BLACK SHRIKE By Alistair Maclean

Labels: Brophy, college, friends, movies, nostalgia, school, stories, true, TV

At this time, a girl I liked at the time came in towards the end of my shift. She was at the stage where she thought I liked her, but was still doing that whole "I might be interested but I'm not letting on" thing.

Since the schedule was always changing, she asked, "when do you get off?"

"All the time, baby. All the time."

She looked like a deer in headlights, but my co-workers were laughing hysterically. Er, I did not date said girl... But it was totally worth it.

Currently listening : Elevator By Hot Hot Heat

Labels: joke, memory, random, sex, stories, true, work

Assignment 1:

1 The influence of foreign languages - Latin and both Norman and Central French in particular - has always been important in the history of English. Explain in detail the patterns of influence of these languages (chiefly lexical but also orthographic, grammatical, and morphological) on English from the early Middle English times through the eighteenth century.

2 Suppose that the Beowulf poet, Chaucer, and Shakespeare were all seated in a room attempting to communicate with one another about matters in general. Explain in detail the advantages and disadvantages that each of them would have in speaking with the other two. Would any of those advantages or disadvantages be significantly different if they were writing to each other instead?

Assignment 2

1 Explain in a clear, orderly way the major phonological phenomena affecting the English language from Common Germanic times through the Old English period.

2 Clearly explain in as much detail as you can the major morphological features of Old English verbs, nouns, and adjectives that make those parts of speech different from their forms in Present-Day English.

um wow...

Currently listening : Led Zeppelin By Led Zeppelin

Labels: college, frightening thought, Rachel, school, stories, true

Also, in anime especially (think Ruroni Kenshin), it's easy to tell how 'tough' the person is by how much trouble the artists and creators took to create an interesting backstory and/or visage. A masked nobody is going to die no matter what - while the complex, detailed character won't go out for quite a while. The list I have of hero:villain ratios goes like this:

>100:1 - Fodder
50:1 - Nameless, faceless mook
25:1 - Mook (group name)
15:1 - Punk
7:1 - Goon
4:1 - Agent
2:1 - Henchman
1:1 - Villain
1:2 - Leader
1:4 - Boss
1:>5 - Archvillain

It seems about right to me. Of course, there are times that the distinctions get a bit fuzzy .. Agent Smith in the Matrix movies went from Villain to Fodder, at least for Neo.

Currently listening : Use Your Illusion 2 By Guns N Roses

Labels: anime, movies, random, rant, rules, stories

Labels: demo, Impulse Nine, Maloney's, mp3, music, stories, true

Labels: college, frightening thought, idiots, joke, stories, true

"Honey, what are you doing in there?"

"Experimenting on aliens. I found them in the back yard" (Note we have no back yard, as we live in a duplex).

"I see. What are you doing to them?"

"Usual stuff - dissection. I had moral issues about it but ... fuck it."

Currently listening : Long After Dark By Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Labels: aliens, conspiracy, joke, Rachel, random, stories, true

I have a lot of stories and I like to tell them, but any story needs background. Here's the background on this one:

I work at Maloney's on Fourth, a bar, as a DJ. To avoid traffic and pedestrians I go around the back in my '62 baja Beetle. It's loud, but not annoyingly loud, and very bright red with the engine hanging out the back (like most bajas).

I arrive at 9 in the evening and pull around the turn around the back. I'm going a good 25 miles an hour but it's a very broad turn at about a 60 (as opposed to 90) degree angle, plus, since I'm turning left, I'm on the outside of the turn. And I down shifted into second gear, creating a wonderful roar from my, er, 40-horsepower engine.

As I pull in, the other doormen are hanging out behind the bar, and I hear whoops as a police car's lights turn on. I figure they're stopping a drunk guy. I pull into a spot and get out. And then I hear it:

"Stay in the car!" I look around. The spotlight on the cop car is on me. "Get in the car!" I'm a bit bewildered, and look behind me. No, he's definitely talking to me. I get back in my car. I hope this doesn't make me late. This is stupid. Maybe I've got a tail-light out and the cop is bored. Either way, the doormen who are waiting for the shift to start are now watching.

And I wait. Get my license and registration. And wait.

Couple minutes later, cop walks up and says, "well somebody's dumb tonight." I just look at him. I'm floored. I wonder if my engine is on fire and I just didn't notice. All I can manage is, "What?"

"License and registration." I already have it in his hands before the sentence is out of his mouth. "Hmph. How old are you?" I tell him. He walks away without comment, with my license and registration. Probably checking it against their little database. I know I'm clean ... I've never had a moving violation ticket, and only once had an equipment violation (for a tail-light, 'natch). The doormen would like them to have me arrested, judging from the catcalls.

A different cop comes up. Unable to suppress my curiosity I turn around to see the other cop leaning against the car I'm assuming is both of theirs. "OK, what's your deal, man?" he asks me. I stare blankly. "I work here?" Hey, it's the truth. Maloney's must have me trained well to be still thinking of getting to work in time. "My buddy here said that when he asked you how old you are, you said, 'old enough'." Which of course is fine, except for the fact that it's a total lie. But now I'm not sure what the hell's going on. "I didn't. I said I was twenty-four." He scoffs. I hate scoffs.

"You know, you need to learn how to talk to cops better - I mean, I could give you five tickets right now."

Right. Try and I'll see you in court. Now I'm getting a little pissed. He continues.

"You came around that turn real fast, didn't you? Do you know what the speed limit is here?" It's 25 miles per hour. I told him so. He seems disappointed. Jeez, what kind of idiot wouldn't know that the street - which is essentially an industrial alley - would have that limit?

"I saw you coming around that turn at 45 miles an hour."

Ok, wait a second. There's a lot of problems with this. First, I am not a good enough driver to get around that corner that fast - with the gravel that inhabits the corner, I'm not sure Mario Andretti could do it. Second, I was in second gear coming around that turn. I'd have to be in my top gear to do that - that's 4th gear in my little bug. (Yes, I realize that it's sad that 45 MPH is my top gear.) Going 45 in second gear would make my engine go kablooey. Seriously - my 0-60 with those huge back tires, is about 4 minutes. The car had a top speed of about 65 miles per hour - 75 with a good wind and a flat road. And third, why on Earth would I want to go that freaking fast in a blind turn back alley when I know there's several hundred people milling about, possibly including my boss?

Thankfully, my head was filling with reasons to tell this guy what an ass he was so fast none of them came out of my mouth. And he keeps going.

"You know, if you're going to have a car build for speed..." - my eyes bulged in an effort to control my laughter - "... you better learn how to drive it. Here." He hands me my neat little wallet of registration and my license. "I'm letting you off but if I see you go just one mile an hour over the limit, I'll bust you for everything I can."

It's about this time I realized that he probably thought I was speeding because I downshifted and the engine revved. Still - "Built for speed" .. my ass. I am not in a Ferrari. It's a VW Beetle. Seriously, guys like him give decent cops a bad name and explain why I mutter when I see cops. I was not late.

Currently listening : Happy Songs for Happy People By Mogwai

Labels: Beetle, cops, DJ, idiots, Maloney's, road rage, stories, true

I was once upbraided by a (female) vegan while working at a smoothie/sandwich shop:
"I don't see how it's anything but fucking disgusting to get your milk from another species!"

"Have you ever tried to get milk from our species? [pause] Are you volunteering?"

I may or may not have been slapped for that. I don't really remember.

Currently listening : City of Blinding Lights By U2

Labels: idiots, sex, stories, true, vegans, work

Writing a story set in that world would be, I think, lots of fun. Imagine it:
There would be people that have been struck by lightning so many times that their graves get hit like Old Faithful. The primary mode of transportation would be on foot - and any other vehicles would be much more safety conscious than where I'm writing from.

Gambling would be the national pastime. Irony wouldn't be a sense of humor - it would be totally normal. Think about it - the odds of finding exactly what you need or what you really don't need are usually bad here but in this world, you raise your hand for a taxi and it's (ironically) even odds that a taxi will be pulling up just as you raise your finger - or that the entire city's taxi population is on the other side of town, you poor schmuck.

Currently listening : Hot Fuss By The Killers

Labels: anecdote, fiction, stories

The man and dog look very much alike - old and wrinkled, the skin droops on his face like cooled lava. His dog looks much the same.

On seeing the old man, the little girl's eyes grow wide and she wanders away from her distracted mother towards him.

"'Scuse me," she says. He lowers his eyes to meet her and smiles, in the way an old man's wane half-smile can be perfectly genuine.

"Hello." Her eyes grew even wider at the response. She is looking intently at the crevices in his face.

"Mister, are you melting?"

Currently listening : Peace Love Death Metal By Eagles of Death Metal

Labels: anecdote, kids, old, stories

These are small bits of a few stories I've had in my head for a little while.

~~

The old priest wiped off his face and turned to his friend. "Jacob, I feel like I'm going to Heaven through Hell."

~~

"Don't give me that crap, you goon!" It probably wasn't the best thing to say at the time, but Peter had had enough. The Agent adjusted his tie. "You don't scare me with your conspiratorial crap - we both know I'd been on that lead for years and know what's going on. I wasn't born yesterday." The Agent looked bored and looked over Peter's shoulder.

Peter woke up with a headache, still wearing his jumpsuit and sat up in his own bed. He looked around and saw nothing unusual in his room except that his wallet and keys were on his dresser instead of in the usual spot. He got up groggily to examine them and found that the only thing left in the wallet was the picture that had started the whole mess - with the Agent's face scratched out roughly.

"Damn." He got a few twenties from his stash in the closet and got into the car. He could just picture what would happen if he got pulled over - "I'm sorry, Sir, I don't have my ID because I was involved in a government coverup and they took my ID and seventeen bucks." He got his watch - it said 26 SEP, which meant he'd been gone three days.

He headed straight for the DMV.

"I need a new driver's license, ma'am." The bored-looking clerk accepted his credit card, Passport, and Social Security card. "There's a problem here, sir."
"What?"
"It says your birthday is on the 25th of September." Peter blinked. "I was born August 15th, ma'am."
"And that's what all your documents say, too but -- wait." She blinked at her computer. "It says you were born the 25th ... of this year."

There was a beat. And he muttered, "Fucking agents."

Currently listening : Siamese Dream By Smashing Pumpkins Release date: By 27 July, 1993

Labels: anecdote, fiction, government, stories