The Kindness of Strangers

I hadn’t listened to my Beth Orton CDs in a while, and I brought them out today on a whim, mostly because her brilliant song “Galaxy of Emptiness” was running through my head. I had forgotten about “Thinking About Tomorrow”, which is just as good in a different way. Great lyrics, great music. Give it a listen. Not sure how long I’m going to make the mp3 available… you never know who those RIAA laywer droids will target next…

I haven’t been sleeping well recently, for what I assume is a variety of reasons. It’s a weird experience, as I usually have no problem sleeping till arbitrary hours, but I’ve been waking up several times a night. And I’ve never been good at remembering my dreams, unless I try really hard (which I don’t). So normally they evanesce, and that’s that.

But now, as I wake up over and over, my dreams integrate themselves into my conscious memory, and only several hours later, as I mentally reconsider recent happenings, do I jarringly realize that some of them are entirely made up. It’s like anti-deja-vu: instead of feeling like I’ve been there before, I realize that I’ve never really been there at all.

—–

Speaking of places we’ve never been, chances are overwhelming that you’ve never been to San Sharma’s blog. I shamelessly promote his blog because he so kindly referenced mine, and also because he’s a good bloke and I like the way those damn Brits write.

So I had a couple of rants and observations* that I wanted to write about, but I’m not in the mood now. Here’s another reminiscence.

The other night I was listening to one of my Empire Brass CDs that I hadn’t heard in a long time. (Empire Brass is a great brass quintet. By way of analogy, Empire Brass is to Canadian Brass what Ed Witten is to Stephen Hawking: the real deal, the talent, the product, as compared to the publicly-adored yet inferior alternative.) So I was listening, and they were playing Faure’s Pavane, a heartbreaking piece that, like so much good music, defies written description (fie on you music critics!). The arrangement featured a gorgeous lead trumpet line, and was played to perfection with a dulcet vibrato.

Vibrato (to me) conveys feeling, emotion that’s un-notatable but somehow realized by your personal performance of the music. On some instruments, like the violin, vibrato is so routine that skilled players will often add it to nearly every note. On others, it’s more spontaneous, but you still have to make an effort for the vibrato to come out; for instance, when I play guitar, I have to move my hand back and forth.

As a wind instrument, the trumpet is a bit different. Most lines do not require vibrato. Some lines call for it; you can feel which ones those are, and you just will it to happen: you breathe the vibrato. Some people can fake it by moving their jaws. But the good kind of trumpet vibrato is the kind that just emanates from your body, carried by your breath, the kind that’s produced with no discernible physical movement. It just happens.

It’s been several years since I’ve played my trumpet, and I honestly don’t even remember how I did it. I’m not very good at expressing my feelings with words, but I remember during the best passages my heart clenched as I played, and the vibrato sang. I sat there that night, just listening but feeling the same feeling, my lips unconsciously pursed. It’s weird to think of that phase of my life as over. Why are words never good enough?

—–

You know, I have to dredge myself out of this maudlin state of affairs. My next entry will contain exactly zero nostalgic references, I promise!

It seems like The Verve’s “Lucky Man” is a good song from which to derive inspiration: lyrics | the song.

* by “observation” I mean “the standard crap that I usually mention in my blog that is patently obvious to the average person but that I nevertheless find fascinating”

The other day I mentioned to a friend that I’ve never kept a journal (except for that one time that I mentioned in my previous entry).

This despite the fact that I actually use Live”Journal”, and write many “entries” in it. I guess I’ve never though of LJ as a journal, strangely enough. It’s for random ramblings, even for keeping track of the things I’ve done (all very journal-like, no doubt). But I’ve always imagined a real journal as one in which you spill out all of your private thoughts — the kind of thing you hide away or password-protect. And I’ve never done any of that. It’s a romanticized view… I guess those Bronte sisters really did the trick on me back in high school.

Two cool stories:

http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/americas/02/04/cuba.car.ap/index.html

A floating vintage car chugging toward the Florida Keys from Cuba was piloted by two of the same men who tried to sail a converted truck to the United States last year, relatives said.

Marciel Basanta Lopez and Luis Gras Rodriguez, who were brought back to Cuba after they failed to reach Florida in a converted 1951 Chevy pickup in July, were allegedly at the helm of the newest vehicle-boat conversion.

The U.S. Coast Guard would not confirm the status of the tailfinned 1950s car.

Relatives told Basanta’s cousin, Kiriat Lopez, who lives in Florida, that they knew the men were planning a second escape attempt.

“My cousin isn’t crazy. He wants to be free,” Lopez said. “That’s how crazy he is.”

http://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/02/04/gay.marriage.ap/index.html

The Massachusetts high court ruled Wednesday that only full, equal marriage rights for gay couples — rather than civil unions — would be constitutional, erasing any doubts that the nation’s first same-sex marriages could take place in the state beginning in mid-May.

The court issued the opinion in response to a request from the state Senate about whether Vermont-style civil unions, which convey the state benefits of marriage — but not the title — would meet constitutional muster.

“The history of our nation has demonstrated that separate is seldom, if ever, equal,” the four justices who ruled in favor of gay marriage wrote in the advisory opinion. A bill that would allow for civil unions, but falls short of marriage, makes for “unconstitutional, inferior, and discriminatory status for same-sex couples.”

[Edit: the actual ruling, http://news.findlaw.com/cnn/docs/conlaw/maglmarriage20304.html, is really interesting.]

And some email:
———————-
Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2004 10:50:38 -0800 (PST)
From: AJ Shankar
To: xxx
Subject: Re:

yeah but they want my employment history for the last 5 years!
———————-

Date: Wed, 04 Feb 2004 18:58:15 +0000 (UTC)
From: xxx
To: AJ Shankar
Subject: Re:

year 1    _)
year 2    _)_____
year 3    _______)
year 4    _)
year 5    _)

i can fill out the rest of your app for you too, if you want.
———————-
I love that guy.

I have strong memory associations when listening to music. That is, the music evokes the first significant time I’ve listened to it, or memories of things I’ve been doing while it’s been playing.

When I hear “Broken Bones”, one of the most gorgeous love songs ever, I can remember lying in bed with the lights off and my headphones on, just listening. Luna’s The Days of Our Nights always brings to mind a particular scene: walking from class back to the Quad in the half-light of dusk, snow drifting down to settle on the Commons.

Sometimes songs are associated with emotion-laden periods. For instance, in eleventh grade there was a month during which I was pretty depressed (the most depressed I’ve ever been, I think), and started writing these outpourings in a journal. A couple of albums are inextricably linked to those hours over days spent writing and writing. And one piece, the Romance from Prokofiev’s Lt. Kije Suite, is tied to the happiness that followed (and the demise of the journal!).

The interesting thing is that thinking about an album doesn’t produce the same feeling; sure, I can recall when I’ve listened to it, but only on an intellectual level. When I actually play it, though, the feeling is sudden and immersive, and startling in its clarity.

I was compelled to write this entry by Mozart, really, as his last two symphonies just evoked one of those scenes for me. The CD just finished, and now I’m listening to the terrific new album by the Shins. I wonder what it’ll recall for me, years from now. Maybe writing this entry :).

A similar moment happened this weekend. Sunday morning I was jogging down to North Field to play some soccer. It was drizzling, cloudy, and cold, and I had my running shoes on… and it took me right back to lovely New England :) and my cross country running days. The strange thing is that I never really liked running, but I liked XC. The main reason is that the guys on the team were awesome, and we spent most of our time not running when we should have been, but looking back I’m realizing that there was a bit more.

Most sports I play involve either meeting expectations or screwing up. Every time I make a pass in soccer or ultimate, or even attempt to nail a spare in bowling or reject someone in foosball, I’m expecting to succeed. That’s just how it is, and either it works or I screw up. XC was about exceeding expectations. See, for me, stringing together two good miles in the 3200m on a flat track, even being paced on each lap, was tough work. But when I was out in some state park in late October, wearing next to nothing in 50 degree weather, faced with running three-plus miles up and down some bigass hills with nothing to pace me, I found myself running nearly as fast against all (personal) expectations. It just doesn’t make sense, but it felt damn good every time.

I think I need to play more esteem-building sports like that :). The only other one that comes to mind is table tennis, when sometimes you’re playing so fast that you can’t even actively comprehend what’s going on; you just react, doing stuff you didn’t think you could.

Along with OCaml and SC2, I’d like to add Keebler (formerly Duncan Hines) Soft Batch cookies. Best store-bought cookies ever. But no one’s had them, and they’re not sold in many stores. And speaking of […] I think I forgot to mention that I actually got around to writing that Boggle-beating program last month: Boogle. Of course, it’s written in OCaml. The dictionary creation, board generation, solving, and scoring routines are all done in about 100 lines of code. And it handles arbitrarily-sized boards and is really fast, all thanks to the big OC. Aww yeah. (Okay, I sound like Jeff Goldblum talking about Apple. I’ll stop now.)

If Myers-Briggs is anything like it’s cracked up to be, there should be a correlation between the following things:
1. your MB personality
2. where you sit in a classroom

I’m not a good data point, as I’m at best *NT*. But I always sit in the back, for what it’s worth. It seems, from personal observation, that people who sit in the front have obviously different personalities (at least in some dimensions) than people who sit in the back. Just gotta back this up with some data.

Went bowling with Jenny, Melinda, and Steve last week. Second time I’ve gone since I’ve been in California (two years!). Did okay (110, 147). We also played DDR at the arcade, which was a first for me, and cool. Wing’s spongy pads, while nice, just don’t compare :).

I’ve been coding like crazy for a paper deadline in early March. Feeling a hint of RSI in my wrists for the first time in a long time… not good. This weekend is basically time off, though: going to the city tomorrow for a birthday celebration and partying after, soccer and ultimate on Saturday, (one of) two parties on Saturday night, and then on Sunday Umesh and I are hosting a Super Bowl party. 64″ TV baby!

A more substantial entry to follow, perhaps, but:

OCaml is just like Star Control 2. Very few people know about either, but those who do universally acknowledge that they’re just the best at their respective domains. How is it that such brilliance is so easily overlooked?

(I could probably make some indie music reference too but nothing stands out as much as these two do.)

So I’ve been doing some research on poison oak, as my forehead is now red, swollen, and bumpy.

Poison ivy, oak, and sumac, all provoke a reaction by producing the same oil, urushiol. This is some potent shit, folks. Details:

• Only 1 nanogram (billionth of a gram) needed to cause rash
• 1/4 ounce of urushiol is all that is needed to cause a rash in every person on earth
• 500 people could itch from the amount covering the head of a pin
• Specimens of urushiol several centuries old have found to cause dermatitis in sensitive people.
• 1 to 5 years is normal for urushiol oil to stay active on any surface including dead plants

The good news is that the oil is the only contagious thing; once you’ve taken a shower and soaped yourself down, you won’t contaminate anyone else. The rashes and blisters that follow are harmless.

The bad news is that there’s no proven way to make the rash go away.; you just have to wait it out for the 2-3 weeks it normally takes to subside. There are creams that will stop the itching, but you’ll still look like a freak. Doctors will often prescribe prednisone or some other kind of steroid. The problem with the steroids is that they often don’t work, and also cause some wacky side effects: insomnia, anxiety, heart palpitations, hallucinations, etc. Great.

So I’ve just got to tough it out.

Oh yeah I forgot to mention that we saw Chris Rock live at the Oakland Paramount right after New Year’s. He was awesome, his set was a good 90 minutes and funnier than I had anticipated. My sisters, skeptics at first, were totally sold by the end.

Some cool links:

• This dude built his own Segway-esque scooter. A very reader-friendly site, and quite impressive.
• A nice video of some Sony robots dancing. Their movements are surprisingly lifelike. It must have been crazy to program. I remember when Wing used our sketch renderer, to make a short animated demo (which you should also check out if you have the time :) took us forever. And the movements weren’t even realistic, and there were far fewer degrees of freedom. Another difficulty with the Sony robots is that they actually have to live in 3D, on two legs. Balancing and not falling over is hard.

I have to admit that I was a little inspired by my last LJ entry. Jenny and I started playing Civilization 2 today. It’s one of the most brilliant games ever. I love it!

Recently I’ve mysteriously taken to saying “yeah, right” when I agree with someone. As in “yes, correct” but it sounds almost like the sarcastic “yeah right” so maybe people think I’m actually being contrary all the time and just happen to have a deadpan delivery. Despite this fear, I’ve been unable to shake the habit.

Went exploring by Tilden on Saturday. It was fun, and we had to hack through lots of plants and shrubs since we seemed to have a collective, unconscious aversion to real trails. The downside is that I now have this rash on my forehead that might be from poison oak or sumac or whatever.

UConn played some of their best basketball ever in a whupping of #7 Oklahoma. Hoooooooo!

I’ve been feeling incredibly lethargic and unproductive lately. My new electric guitar came and it’s quite fun to play but amazingly I seem to be allergic to the coating: if I don’t wear a long-sleeve shirt, my right forearm turns all red and itchy. Bizarre. The lethargy and the guitar are uncorrelated, as I don’t even feel much desire to pick the guitar up.

One fun thing is that I’ve been playing a lot of games lately: Scrabble, Boggle, Settlers of Catan, Scattergories, Taboo, and InPursuit, with a host of people, too: Meera, Maya, Umesh, Jenny, Melinda, Judy, Steve, Koto, Christie, Jonathan, and more. One thing I kind of nostalgically miss is those old role-playing/adventures games you’d stay up all night playing with someone just for the hell of it. You’d complete a bunch of quests, your character would move up a bunch of levels (or your city would be five times bigger, or whatever), and you’d come out at the end of it tired but satisfied that at least you accomplished something concrete, no matter how small.

The problem with life is that there isn’t such a feedback system. You don’t know exactly how much more work you have to do to get to the next level. And unlike the characters in those silly games, you can’t carry an unlimited inventory, or keep all your skills in perfect shape all the time. You have to pick and choose what to keep and what to throw away (both physically and mentally), what to work on and what to let rust. And if you happen to take a wrong turn down in the labyrinth, you can’t Load Game yourself back.

Okay, so that makes life more exciting — after all, sometimes you find a treasure without having to slay any monsters — but a little structure wouldn’t hurt those of us still looking for direction.

(Egads, I’ve out-trite-d myself this time.)

Did I mention that House of Freaks are staggeringly, amazingly brilliant? It almost defies description.