Review of "Changes"

Changes by Charles Colyott

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I read this book based on a glowing recommendation by Sara King, the author of the "Legend of Zero" series. Which is great, by the way. Unfortunately, this book is not.

I was going to give it one star, but I have to add another because I found myself thinking about this book for a couple weeks after I finished it. That doesn't necessarily make it a "better" book, but... it means something.

Mr. Colyott seems to be on a mission to remind everyone that Tai Chi is, in reality, a badass martial art. Those slow movements can be sped up with devastating effect. Because I spent a couple of years taking Tai Chi, the most entertaining part of this book for me was seeing the protagonist reference poses I knew in the context of serious combat.

His other raison d'etre is to proselytize for acupuncture, which is shown as able to fix pretty much any ailment. I reserve judgement about the merits of acupuncture, but I did get a little tired of being forever reminded of its efficacy. (I'm resisting the urge to make a "beating a dead horse, then bringing it back to life with acupuncture" joke. Oh, no, wait, I didn't resist after all!)

The problems I had with this book were mostly based around its cliches and unoriginality. The protagonist is a living collection of well worn tropes. The book is written in the first person, and the narrator is the standard "just can't help myself from making biting witty remarks, even though they get me in trouble" type. The plot is a classic "I fell in to this murder investigation by accident, but since I'm way smarter and more observant than the detective, he can't help but keep me around" situation. Practically everything that he encounters happens to fall neatly into his esoteric areas of expertise. He's inexplicably irresistible to the super hot young woman, who is of course much smarter and more dynamic than most people give her credit for based on her attractiveness. She has a quirky but adorable style, which is fascinating to him in its uniqueness. He is intrigued by her music taste, which is so different and interesting compared to his own; (the fact that several specific bands are name dropped comes across as shout outs to what are probably the author's favorites.)

When he was a young man in Hong Kong, our hero was trained in both Tai Chi and acupuncture by a nearly perfect teacher, who didn't want to teach him, but was worn down by his stubborn (but totally inexplicable) devotion. In famous Mr. Miyagi style, his mentor tells him to stand outside his door for months, occasionally coming out to correct his posture; when the neighborhood bullies come by, the narrator suddenly finds that he is un-push-over-able, and is well on his way to mastery of the ancient secrets.

I was truly irritated by a shameless deus ex machina. Although the narrator runs a dirty little acupuncture and herb shop (known to a few as a hidden gem), he never really works - after all, the author needs him free to have adventures. So how does he afford to live? Well, halfway through the book it turns out that he's independently wealthy, having inherited a bunch of money, but doesn't feel the need to spend it.

The chapters of this book are tiny, some less than a page, and often end with some bit of pithy observation or witty remark. This allows the author to avoid the need to craft actual drama by providing a constant stream of manufactured cliffhangers.

It may sound like I hated this book. That's probably because I largely hated this book. Nevertheless, there were moments of genuine enjoyment, and a couple of those witty remarks actually were witty enough to entertain. I laughed aloud once or twice at the antics of the character that was clearly designed for just that purpose. Also, I did feel compelled to find out what happened to (partially) resolve the mess of a plot.

I think that if you go in with appropriately low expectations you could enjoy reading this book, but there are a lot of better choices available. Check out Forging Zero.


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I never thought I'd get to see James live.

I never thought I'd get to see James live. Not only had they officially broken up a few years ago, but even before that they had very little to do with the US in terms of promotion and touring, so I was thrilled to see that they were coming to town. I only have one friend that has really shared a love of that band with me, and I tried to get her to fly in from out of state to see the show with me, but it just wasn't going to work out logistically and financially. I did have one other friend that was going to the show, but for some reason I kind of felt like going alone, which is actually very unlike me. I suppose it's because James has always been a band that was (with that one exception) pretty much just mine, as far as my friends were concerned, and so I felt like it was more appropriate to be solo for the concert as well. Considering what a wonderful experience I had that night, I think I probably made the right decision.

Many concerts I've seen have a very clear feeling of distinction between the performers and the audience, the observers and the observed. Even when an artist tries to interact with the crowd, it takes a certain skill and/or type of person to be able to break that barrier, and make the audience feel like they're really connected with the performer as an actual person, both sharing the same experience. James, and in particular Tim Booth, was able to create that connection more effectively than any performer at any other show I've ever seen.

The set started with with Tim and the guitarist (Saul?) in the middle of the crowd singing "Sit Down", and walking up to the stage as they played. It was a pleasant confusion not knowing where the music was coming from right away. The audience felt like a whole; all of us trying to figure it out - quickly letting each other know what was happening - all turning towards that central point where Tim and Saul had seemed to appear. It served to immediately break the fourth wall of the performance, and so from the very first note there was a feeling of being involved in the concert.

The next song was the gorgeous "Out To Get You", and it was performed sweetly and beautifully. After it was over, Tim paused to greet the crowd. He asked for a minute to talk to us, which immediately indicated that this was going to be something other than the usual "HELLO SEATTLE!" type of greeting. He then told us a story about his experience of playing a show just after his dad died a number of years ago; he talked about how bad that evening felt, and that in retrospect he felt that it was mostly because he didn't let the audience know what had happened. It's obvious that performing is a meaningful and personal thing for him, but during that show he felt disconnected from the music, from the crowd, and from the experience. He said that he didn't want that to happen again, so he wanted to let us know that a few hours before our show he'd gotten a call informing him that his mom had had a stroke. There was of course an immediate reaction of shock and sadness from the crowd, but he assured us that he was ok, and that we'd still have a good time together. But he wanted us to understand that if he seemed a bit emotional or off-balance, that it was because of that call. He then told us a little about his mom; that she was quite old, and that she had been living in a nursing home for some time. He said that the lyrics for the song they were about to perform, "Tell Her I Said So", were co-written with his mother about her experience of the last few years, and of her changing views of what it would mean to die. The repeated theme in part of that song is the line "Here's to a long life, here's to a long life", and Tim asked if we would help him to sing that part in particular. It was deeply moving, and I felt very emotionally connected to him and to the performance as I helped to sing that refrain.

It seemed moving for him as well, especially based on what happened during the next song they played, "Say Something", which is essentially a song about asking for emotional support and connection. Tim was walking along the stage, and people in the front row were reaching their hands towards the stage like usual. Fairly early in the song he walked over towards stage right, took the hand of one guy from the audience and held it tightly. He ended up holding this fan's hand for the rest of the song. Holding it like it was an important thing, like it was a meaningful connection. Again, it made me feel very much connected; this anonymous man represented us as a whole, and it felt like the crowd was holding Tim's hand.

The set list was great. James has such a large repertoire that there are dozens of songs I'd have liked to see performed live, but I was happy with the selections they made. Of course the new album was given preferential treatment with 4 songs, but out of 19 songs that's hardly the lion's share. At one point Tim asked rather sincerely if we were having a good time, since the set they had decided on wasn't just a collection of their big radio hits; he said that they try to make the set fit the city, and they felt like Seattle was a good candidate for the more esoteric set. This, of course, quite pleased our elitist sensibilities. :)

The highlights for me were "Ring The Bells", "Sound", and the absolutely wonderful rendition of "Sometimes" during the encore. During that song there was a period of crowd-only singing of the chorus, which was really powerful. The audience was so very into the show, and feeling so high from the performance, that it felt like everyone was putting all of themselves into the song. When you have a large group of people giving their full, synchronized energy to something, it creates a palpable, and for me, almost spiritual feeling; it's like feeling waves of energy crashing around the venue, washing over and through everyone.

The final song was "Gold Mother", which was always a track I could take or leave. They did a good job of it, though, and pulled some of the audience up on stage to dance for the last few minutes, making the crowd feel involved in the show right up until the end.

I had a wonderful time. I hope that I'll have more opportunities to see James in concert in the future, but if that ends up being the only time, I couldn't be happier with the experience.

Review of "A Tale of Two Cities"

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


As one reviewer stated after watching "The Wrath of Khan": "Now that was more like it". My opinion of Dickens is restored from the blow it took after "A Christmas Carol" ("Star Trek: The Motion Picture", in this analogy).

Like all Dickens I've read, it had that bombastic nature that characterizes a lot of English literature of the time. This tends to make the characters slightly unbelievable, as they are at any time utterly consumed by a single emotion or state of being. That said, this book has some of the most evocative passages I've ever read, particularly when it comes to describing the feeling and character of a society as a whole. I loved the personification of the cities and social classes as individuals.

I was also extremely impressed by Dickens' even-handed view of the French Revolution. He neither glorified nor denounced it, and he neither shied away from the horrors and insanity that characterized it nor discounted its importance and inevitability. He showed it as important, just, and horrific.

Something I always appreciate about Dickens is the fact that he'll inject humor into the most depressing and terrible situations, and will inject subtle horror and discomfort into otherwise light and funny passages. He reminds me of a mid-19th century David Sedaris - or, to be fair, I suppose I should say that in that way David Sedaris reminds me of a modern Dickens. You find yourself simultaneously laughing and disturbed.

My friend referred to this book as funny - personally I think that the word "droll" was all but invented for Charles Dickens.

Plus, as a Star Trek fan, I now hold a deeper appreciation of Star Trek II, which was book-ended by the opening and closing lines of "A Tale of Two Cities"! Only now do I truly appreciate Spock's sacrifice...



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Learned tonight while running

Tonight I learned many things while exercising:

1) If you clip your keys to the inside of your waistband, don't wear thin Jockey shorts.

2) Many people don't understand that running along an unlit path, at night, without a safety light, without reflectors, dressed in all dark gray or black, will make you hard to see. Remember that SNL Weekend Update skit from the 70s where Dan Aykroyd played the slimy Halloween costume maker, with costumes like a bag of oily rags and a lighter called "Johnny Human Torch"? There was one that was just an all black jumpsuit and hood called "The Invisible Pedestrian", which apparently is making a big comeback. (My favorite, by the way, was the bag of broken glass. I don't think it even had a name.)

3) Sometimes more even-paced music can help you get into a groove better than really hyper/hard music. I was zoning out to Joy Division for miles, and that is definitely not the band I would usually pick for a kick-ass cardio workout soundtrack.

4) Seriously, about the keys thing. Ouch.

Review of "The Secret Life of Words"

The Secret Life of Words: How English Became English by Henry Hitchings

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This should have been the perfect book for me - I'm a word lover, I love etymology, history, and social anthropology. Although I did enjoy reading it, I have to admit that I did have to force myself a bit to finish it. As many other reviews have noted, the book is exceedingly dry and has very little in the way of a narrative thread to connect the chapters. It feels more like a collection of articles in the same series, which becomes a bit tedious after a couple of hundred pages.

That said, I admit that my copy of this book is littered with dog-ears marking bits of interesting trivia or historical perspective. Many of the actual facts presented really are fascinating, I just wish they weren't presented as a series of facts.

Regarding the author's intellectually playful writing style, I can understand how it might irritate some readers, but I actually did enjoy it. Perhaps it's a bit of elitist pride showing through, but I admit that I did feel good about "getting it". There's a fine line between subtle ironic wordplay and eye-rolling punning, and I think Mr. Hitchings walked it pretty well.

Overall, I guess I'd say that I'm happier having read it than I was while actually reading it.


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Review of "A Christmas Carol"

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This was a little light. I read this hoping that it would be one of those "everybody knows the story, but actually reading the original is a wholly different experience" books. Nope! It was pretty much identical to the story you know.

Dickens is certainly capable of imbuing his work with depth and subtlety. The fact that there is none to be had here leads me to one of the following two conclusions: the cynical side of me concludes that this was a purely commercial venture, and a very successful one at that; the more hopeful side of me is led to believe that this was essentially a gifted author's Christmas gift to his readers, a nice, easy, simple and positive little story just meant to make people happy.



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On (not) seeing Joy Division

I went to see "Peter Hook presents Unknown Pleasures" Tuesday night. It was kind of an odd experience. There was no opening band, but there was a 30 minute video that they played on the stage screen before the show started, which was basically an odd little mish-mash of clips about Joy Division and New Order; there was no real narrative thread, and really no particular cohesion at all aside from the fact that they mostly featured Hooky.

After the video finished, he and his band ("Light", apparently) came on stage and started playing with no introduction or fanfare of any kind. Hooky's currently sporting a bit of extra weight & a short mohawk, and is looking every bit his age (at least), but that didn't really matter to me. At the first notes of the first song I was super excited, of course, for the same reason that I decided to go to the show in the first place: I've never heard a Joy Division song played live in person, and this was likely as close as I was going to get to seeing any modicum of the band itself.

The show itself was very hit and miss.

First, bad stuff: Hooky's voice isn't bad, but it's entirely unremarkable. For most of the concert - that is, for the entire actual performance of the album - he looked more like he was doing a job rather than actually being involved in the music. There was no audience interaction between songs, and I felt no connection to the performance. Hooky was never meant to be a front man. I was also a bit put off by the fact that he had a lyrics book out; granted Ian's lyrics are often very involved and don't lend themselves to memorization (I don't remember all the words to many of my favorite JD songs), but he's supposed to be a professional musician, for fuck's sake. During "She's Lost Control" he even came in four measures early on the second verse. The rest of the band pretty much did their best to be invisible, which is fine under the circumstances, and were adequately talented to play the music, though that honestly isn't really saying much since Joy Division barely knew how to play their instruments when these songs were written. So all in all, I was kind of disappointed by the end of the set.

Now good stuff: The audience was great, with the exception of the usual couple of assholes and weirdos. Everyone seemed to be big fans, and were extremely enthusiastic, which pretty much salvaged the show from the lack of passion on stage during the main set. That did change during the encores, however. As compared to the rest of the show, Hooky seemed to have a blast playing most of the songs in the encores, which were all Joy Division songs from other albums/sources. He finally seemed to be having a good time, and it changed the whole vibe of the concert. In particular, they ended with a freaking awesome version of Ceremony, which was a great way to end the show.

Now uncategorizable/personal stuff: I have to say, I felt a little uncomfortable watching Peter Hook sing these songs. I have a very personal relationship with Joy Division songs - and in particular with Ian's lyrics - and it felt a little bit offensive to see someone besides Ian singing them. I know that if anyone could be considered to have the "right" to sing JD now that Ian's gone it would be the surviving members of the band, but it still didn't feel right. I particularly felt that way about the songs with lyrics that were obviously intensely personal and/or autobiographical, like "I Remember Nothing" and (obviously) "Love Will Tear Us Apart". I hated hearing Hooky perform "Atmosphere" for the same reason I was happy that Anton Corbijn decided to end Control with the original version of that song - it just isn't "Atmosphere" with anyone else singing it. Ironically, I remember reading an article about that movie where Hooky said the same thing.

Overall, I had a good time, and I would go again if I had the chance, but it wasn't exactly the experience I was hoping for.

Insert song lyric about fire here

My apartment building caught on fire week before last, and I never did blog about it. For posterity's sake, though, I kind of feel like I should. THEREFORE:

At a little before 5AM, I woke up to the sound of an alarm bell ringing. At first it just insinuated itself into my dreams, as those kinds of things do when your mind is fighting to stay asleep, but sadly I can't remember how. Anyway, once the smell of burning residence started to accompany the bell, I figured I should probably at least see what was going on.

My first thought was that the bell sounded like it was coming from across the street, which I was pleased about, since it meant I could go back to sleep. It wasn't until later that I realized that was kind of a crappy thing to think.

As the smell grew, and as I could start to hear the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles, I figured it was really time to get up. When a peak out of my living room window showed that the people on the street were looking up at my building, I figured it was time to grab some clothes and get out. Now that I don't live with cats I couldn't think of anything that I really couldn't live with being burned, so I just grabbed my keys and went outside to join the milling-about.

I started seeing if there was anyone who had more info than I did, or if there were at least someone that I'd be able to talk to for a bit. I realized that I know not a single one of my neighbors now that Katie's moved out, which kind of depressed me. I did eventually end up talking to a pretty cool lady who was out there with a kitty carrier, so that certainly helped pass the time while watching the firefighters, in full regalia, march through the building in gas masks and snake their big-ass hoses in through the lobby. My worry was that they would have to enter the units, and mine was in a state of such messiness that I would have been embarrassed to be associated with it.

I sent a tweet/FB post from my phone saying "great, now my building is on fire", which people later told me was so calm sounding that they assumed was either a joke or a quote from something. I also sent a text to Donna, since she has a connection to the place having previously lived there, and just because she's always the one I tell first when I have big news.

Eventually the head firefighter came over and talked to us, and he was everything a head firefighter should be: in his early to mid forties, tall with a bit of doughiness starting to overlay a powerful build, and just the right amount of "grizzled", 'cause you just can't have a head firefighter who's not grizzled. He told us that the fire started in unit 103, which is happily about as far from me (in 408) as is possible in the building, and that the damage was limited to that apartment and perhaps the one next to it. His men were just checking the air quality throughout the building for carbon-dioxide and -monoxide, and that we'd be able to go in after about 10 minutes. At that point I was fully awake, so after we were let back in I pretty much just brushed my teeth, took my medicine, and headed to work.

I pretty much see it as an oddly positive experience; I got in early to work, my place didn't burn down, I got to meet a couple of my neighbors, and I got a story out of it.

Things I loathe: election season edition

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!

I don't believe that Rick Larsen eats babies!
I don't believe Patty Murray is a Nazi!
I don't believe Dino Rossi killed a man just to watch him die!
I don't believe Susan DelBene is a Romulan spy!
I don't believe Dave Reichert bathes in the blood of his enemies!

I JUST WANT TO WATCH THE EFFING NEWS BEFORE WORK! I HATE YOU ALL!

Why are you in my spot?

People's intense self-focus constantly amazes me. It also tends to infuriate me, but I've been working on being more accepting of the fact that I really don't know other people's minds or circumstances.

Every week I see dozens of examples, and they never fail to amaze. The bus pulls up to a stop, and before the doors even open people at the stop are walking up to enter; apparently it never even occurs to them that someone might be getting off the bus first, and they invariably have to back out (sometimes at the driver's insistence) until the other passengers have come out.

Waiting for the elevator in the lobby, as soon as they hear that 'ding' people are already walking towards the opening elevator doors; apparently it doesn't occur to them that perhaps there were people riding the elevator down, who will have to get out before they can get on.

In the bathroom, people will confidently stride up and pull hard on a stall door as opposed to looking to see if the latch is turned; apparently it never crosses their minds that the stall latch isn't made of reinforced titanium, and it's possible that they'll wrench open the door only to find someone inside in a compromising position.

It makes me want to shake them: "Other people do exist! The world wasn't built just for you!"

I don't have the perspective to comment on whether this phenomenon is a universal aspect of human nature, or if it's an aspect of Western or American culture, but it does remind me of a comment Eddie Izzard made in concert when a reference to some international event was met with a sea of blank faces: "You do know that there are other countries, right?"

Review of "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man"

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Text, Criticism & Notes by James Joyce

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I am glad that I read the edition of this book that I did, which also contained criticism, notes, and related texts. Not only was the literary criticism very well selected, edited, and arranged, it also genuinely added to the overall experience of the book to be able to see how reactions to it have evolved over the years.

The notes/glossary, though somewhat limited, also helped a great deal. It give definitions of particularly Irish turn-of-the-century idioms and colloquialisms, translates the sometimes copious Latin, and gives context and definition for the many references to the minutiae of the Catholic faith. It also elucidates some of the references to Classical literature and poetry.

Which leads me to the one thing about Joyce that really bothers me: the constant deluge of references. I appreciate the extreme usefulness of references to history and literature: it can instantly provide a complex, sometimes even ineffable backdrop or comparison to the situation. Reference "Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!" from Macbeth, and you call to mind a psychological and situational image with a single stroke that would be difficult or impossible to achieve by direct description.

The problem is that Joyce's references are often obscure, subtle, and essential to fully understanding the story. Without a concordance of some sort, Stephen's climactic shout of "Nothung!" in Ulysses - referencing a hero's sword from Wagner - would be utterly meaningless to me. References to the historic and theological differences between small groups of Catholic sub-sects would have been completely lost on me.

That said, James Joyce is unassailably a literary genius. He himself said that he could "justify every word in my book"; in my opinion anything other than a fully engaged reading of every word results in missing some nuance, some subtlety that was there by intention. It can be a bit daunting, since it all but guarantees that one will indeed miss a great deal of nuance and subtlety in the course of reading this book. At the same time, that can be said of most great works of art, in my opinion. It is the reason that continually studying them continually yields rewards.

I am both looking forward to and apprehensive about reading Ulysses.


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Catharsis, necessitated by jackassery

We hired three additional temps in my department to take care of some specific large volume tasks. One of the two guys is sorta ok, neither here nor there. The girl is also fine, not someone I'd be good friends with, but we get along. The other guy is a pretentious conceited jackass douche bag. With a Napoleon complex. They all sit together, and I get to hear their conversation all day long. It's come to the point that I grit my teeth every time this guy starts to talk.

In order to prevent myself from freaking out, I've decided to spend my first break of the day relating some of this morning's conversation.

Talking about biking:

• Douchey guy: "I rode all the way from Fremont to Redmond one day. That's like 28 miles."
• Other guy: "I've only ridden that far once, down to Kent"
• Douchey guy: "That's not bad, but my ride had a lot more hills."
• Girl: "It wouldn't do much good for me to ride my bike to work - well actually I don't have a bike,"
• Douchey guy, cutting in: "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't do much good then!"
• Girl: "Yeah, but even if I did, it's all steep downhill from where I live to work, and I'd have to walk my bike home, since there's no way I could ride up the James Street hill from here"
• Douchey guy: "You know, there's this other neat invention for going up hills, called a 'bus'"
• Girl: "Yeah, I guess that's true"
• Douchey guy: "When I was in Sweden they had this cool system that you could hook your leg into and it would drag you up the hill"
• Girl: "Did you yodel while you were doing it?"
• Douchey guy: "I don't know why I would. You do know that yodeling is from Switzerland, not Sweden or Norway, right? You do know that those places are actually really far away from each other, right?"
• Girl: "True; actually my family is mostly from Sweden"
• Douchey guy: "If you were from Sweden, you know that you'd be really offended if someone said something about people yodeling in your country, right?"

My personal favorite came while they were discussing which fast food places are from which parts of the country.

• Other guy: "There are a bunch of Popeye's Chicken places in Tacoma, but the nearest one to here is in Renton."
• Douchey guy, jumping in: "No. It's closed down."
• Other guy: "Actually I was there on Tuesday"
• Douchey guy: "Oh. Well you know there's so many in Tacoma because there's so many of something else in Tacoma too, right?"
• Other guy: "Huh?"
• Douchey guy: "You know why there's so many Popeye's in Tacoma?"
• Other guy, innocently: "Because people there like their fried chicken?"
• Douchey, racist guy: "Yes they do..."

I was sorely tempted to ask him if there were many watermelon stands in Tacoma.

Ok, I guess I feel a little better now...

Us v. Them, over and over again

It never even occurs to me to actually write in my blog. I'm not sure why, really, since I muse on things constantly - it's just that if I'm not actually talking to another person, I don't feel overly compelled to express them. Plus I have the feeling that my own standards of clarity and cohesion would make the process more of a trial than a pleasure, and take far more time than I'm likely to want to devote to the process. I suppose that the next time I'm thinking about something, I'll try to find a handy keyboard and see if I can't bang out something.

This morning I was thinking about the pervasive importance of "same" and "different" when it comes to human psychology. I can understand where it comes from a social evolutionary perspective: as humans became increasingly reliant on intelligence rather than physicality to survive, individuals became far more vulnerable than communities, and the Us vs. Them mentality strongly promotes bonding and cooperation in a group. The thing that I find so fascinating is the ubiquity and power of this tendency throughout our history. It seems like group identity has been one of the primary (or perhaps THE primary) constant when it comes to human interaction on any scale. Be it a sense of identity based on religious principals, geography (from the level of villages to nations), language, race and ethnicity, philosophy, age, sex, or any of a seemingly unending list of attributes and beliefs, people are constantly aware of who is one of Us and who is one of Them.

The correlate of the sense of bonding and belonging between members of the former is the sense of fear and animosity towards the latter. It is the essence of group conflicts of any level; it would be impossible to imagine a war that wasn't based on the idea of "same" and "different" because it is the definition of war that two self-identified groups enter into a conflict based on a shared value, whatever it may be. Perhaps Col. Hunter Gathers expressed it best in The Venture Brothers: "The minute God crapped out the third cave man, a conspiracy was hatched against one of them!"

It seems like the struggle to overcome - or at least to master - this basic principal of our nature is itself a defining aspect of our struggle to be a more mature species. In politics of any level you can hear the constant attempt to both respect and honor the group identities that we admire (e.g., culture, patriotism, faith, community) and to decry and denigrate the group identities that we see as detrimental (e.g., racism, sexism, distaste of the poor). The fundamental inconsistency is that these are all based on exactly the same ideal; "cultural pride" becomes "racism", "patriotism" becomes "jingoism", and "community in faith" becomes "religious intolerance".

None of this is new; as I said, it seems to be a fundamental aspect of our evolutionary history. The positive aspect of this struggle is that it does push us to be more mature as individuals and in our respective groups. It is of course easier for people who have the luxury of a first-world lifestyle to muse on the evils wrought by the "us vs. them" nature of humanity; the more stress a person is under, the more powerful the drive to form protective alliances and groups becomes, and for good reason. I think that's the best argument for the immense respect we should have for groups that have managed to maintain tolerance and compassion even when under incredible stress. The very existence of the Buddhist religion in Tibet is all but miraculous.

I am the biggest dork in the universe, and I invite you all to make fun of me.

I found my car.

While sorting some laundry this afternoon I found my remote door lock thingy for my car, and with a sardonic smirk I stuck it in my pocket. Later, when I was on my way to the store, I thought about a remark a friend of mine had made earlier in the day, that when his car was stolen he later ended up finding it himself just a few blocks away from where it was taken, so I thought it would be interesting to press the Lock-and-Beep button on the remote as I was walking. After all, it's got about a half-block range, and it would be funny if I managed to find it that way.

When I got to the store, I walked to the door via the underground parking lot. I pressed. I heard. I did a double take, pressed again, heard the horn again. I caught a glimpse of my car, and without even going over to it, I turned around and walked back to my apartment to grab the car key that I'd taken off my key ring. I walked back, went in the store without going through the lot, and did my shopping. Despite trying to think of all possibilities, Occam's Razor tore them all to shreds except one: that I had actually driven to the store, and walked home without my car.

I immediately remembered the very first thing that Donna asked me when we found that my car was gone, which was if it was possible I drove somewhere and left my car there. Well, actually she asked me whether I got drunk and drove it somewhere and forgot about it, to which I can still answer "no", but the essence is the same.

The scant points in my defense:

1 - I never drive to the store. I actually feel guilty driving to the store as it's only about four blocks away, and I can always do with more exercise, plus the whole environment thing. The only time I ever drive to the store is when I know I'm going to be buying something really heavy, like lots of liquids, or cat litter, or something else I wouldn't want to try and carry home. I can't even remember the last time that might have been the case, though. The only other time would be when I'm coming home from somewhere and decide to stop in for something on the way, and generally I remember it when I've been driving for the last 20 minutes before going in.

2 - I actually did try to think of anywhere I might have left it, and even checked in the parking lot of my doctor's office, which was the only place I could remember driving to where it would even be a possibility that I might have taken a bus home by accident. I wracked my brain for anywhere else I might have driven, but the only times I even use my car these days is when I'm going somewhere far. I work downtown, so I take the bus there and walk home, and most of the time if I'm going out it's either also downtown or it's somewhere that it's easier to take a bus to than it is to find a place to park.

3 - Hmm. Nope, nothing.

As I was finishing my shopping, I saw that there was a buy two, get two free sale on 12-packs of canned soda, so I picked up four packs of the heavy awkward things. I also started composing this blog entry in my head, since I knew I'd have to find a way to tell everyone of my idiocy.

Come to think of it, I guess I can fill in #3 on the above list: at least I didn't bitch and moan endlessly about how my car was stolen, or feel sorry for myself. In fact, everyone I did tell remarked that they would be far more upset than I was, so at least I can't be accused of playing for pity.

I called to cancel my police report, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell the cops that I'd just left my car somewhere (though I highly doubt it would be novel for them). I told them I found it in a parking lot near my apartment. Technically true, though I did say it was roughly around Western and Denny, which is pushing the definition of "roughly". As compared to all of Seattle, then yes, it was roughly by Western and Denny. I also told them that I didn't find anything that could be seen as evidence in the car; also technically true. I don't know why I didn't just tell them I was a moron, which would have been more than technically true.

At least I've learned a few things from this embarrassing experience. First, Seattle has a really good public transportation system, though getting to certain areas is a giant pain in the ass (how on earth could it take 50 minutes to go from downtown to the U District?) Second, I can get along just fine without a car as long as I have enough time, and don't have to bring much of anything with me. Third, if you need a place to leave your car for three weeks (which include multiple events at Seattle Center and Key Arena) without anyone messing with it, feel free to use the front spots in the Safeway parking lot, a few feet from the big sign that says "NO EVENT PARKING, LOT MONITORED 24 HOURS A DAY". And fourth, that I apparently black out and drive to grocery stores sometimes, then walk home without remembering.

I wish I could be a Whig - or - Glenn Beck ruined the word "Conservative"

Life is very hard for us Independents at the moment. "Fiscally conservative and socially liberal!" isn't a very effective rallying cry these days.

Assuming that there are two poles in politics – left and right, liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, etc. – I would like to still believe in the existence of a bell-curve in relation to Americans' relative association with either side. Unfortunately, it increasingly seems like what is emerging is more like a valley – people are piling up near each of the extremes, leaving as few individuals in the middle as there are on the bleeding edges.

My hope is that what is actually happening is what has been the case many times before, which is that the people near the extremes tend to be the ones who get the most attention; they scream the loudest, say the most outrageous things, and generally make themselves more of a spectacle then the majority of people. You don't generally tell your spouse about the 10,000 competent drivers you encountered on the way home from work, you tell them about the two jackasses who cut you off. The difficulty is trying to remember not to extrapolate that to "people around here drive like maniacs".

If there's one positive thing that could be said for the political atmosphere of the 80s and early 90s, it's that "Conservative Democrat" and "Liberal Republican" weren't immediately seen as oxymoronic.

Hope?

So I missed a day, sue me. I'm still writing a hell of a lot more than I traditionally have, even if I missed my "every day" mark.

I can haz awesome new therapist! Not only do I feel better simply having some forward movement in my life, but I'm so impressed by my counselor. She's very insightful, incisive, and she really seems to understand me when I'm trying to put very complex feelings into words. Those are the most important things, but for some reason a couple of relatively minor incidents were what really shored up my estimation of her: I mentioned something about feeling lost in my head, which seems at times to be hopelessly labyrinthine including the occasional minotaur. She asked if I knew who Ariadne was (I didn't, though I knew the story), and told me that she was who helped Theseus escape the labyrinth by providing him with the string he used to find his way out - I asked if that was her, in this metaphor :) We talked more along those lines, but I was super impressed by her being able to reference Greek mythology off-the-cuff. Then later on when I was trying to explain a certain feeling, I wanted to reference an early Sandman story; I asked her if she was familiar with those graphic novels, and I was so happy when she said she was a fan. I realize that these are comparatively unimportant in terms of whether or not she's a good therapist, but it made me feel much more understood. Plus I love the fact that she's familiar with such eclectic subjects.

Oh, and I was incredibly impressed by Regina Spektor. I was totally converted to a fan - she is extremely talented, intelligent, and I love her phrasing and diction. She reminds me a bit of a young Tori Amos, and a bit of Kate Bush. Both of those are big compliments.

Almost missed day 2...

I have to admit that if I wasn't supposed to post once per day for this whole NaBloPoMo thing, there's no way I would be writing this. To wit: I have not too much interesting to say. Well, that isn't entirely true, but I don't know that I'm in a big sharing mood.
I'm at the Regina SPEK-TOR show. I totally think her name sounds like a Transformer, which is one of the main things I like about her, actually.
On a marginally more dour note, I got an email from my mom this morning saying that the son of one of her close friends committed suicide. She said that she dreads getting that phone call about me - that the combination of being so far away from me and knowing that I've been depressed for so long leads to a scary place for her. It made me feel terrible, to some degree because I know that has been a possibility for me a number of times in the past, and I know how devastating it would be for her. All the more so because my siblings are such fuck-ups :P

NaBloPoMo

My friend invited me to NaBloPoMo, with the stipulation that I write a blog post everyday for a month, and I've already missed Nov. 1st! HA! Stick it to the man! Or something.

Short list:

I got a new counselor, and she's awesome, and it's super-weird being back in therapy, and I'm so glad to be there. She agreed to a reduced fee from $90 to $50 per session; $200/month is still a big extra expense, but it's something I really need.

My roommate has a new boyfriend, and so I have spent a grand total of an hour or two with her over the last week, at least. I hold my tongue, as best I can. I had been comparing it to a relationship I once had, since it's practically a mirror-image, but they do seem much happier at this point then I was at the same point with that girl. I think they've been dating about five weeks, so if they make it one more it'll be longer than mine lasted. I did find it incredibly amusing when I realized that her boyfriend drives the same kind of car that my ex did at the time.

I have another month or so on my current work contract, so if I can't turn this into a permanent gig I'm gonna have to look into finding new work. I've been with Amazon for a cumulative period of about a year, now, so I'd prefer to stay here.

Speaking of which, I'm at work right now, so I should go!

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Now playing: Fever Ray - Coconut
via FoxyTunes

Review of "Crush" by O.M.D.

Since I spent the time writing an Amazon.com review, I figured I would also post it somewhere that a couple of people I know might actually see it...

Crush by O.M.D -

This album has a bizarre dichotomy of songs; so much so that it's almost like it's actually two totally different EPs mixed together.

There's the über-saccharine, extremely fluffy pop album comprised of "So in Love", "Secret", and "Hold You", the latter two of which are so sweet as to be almost unlistenable.

Happily, there's also the complex, genre-defying (and sometimes downright creepy) artistic album comprised of "Bloc Bloc Bloc", "Women III", "Crush", "88 Seconds in Greensboro", "The Native Daughters of the Golden West", "La Femme Accident", and "The Lights Are Going Out". Thankfully, this album has more than twice as many tracks as the other.

So stark is the contrast here that I'm almost tempted to think that what this really represents is three attempts at commercial viability, and seven actual songs; this theory is strengthened by the fact that "So in Love" and "Secret" did end up being released as singles.

OMD always suffered from inconsistency in album sales, and have admitted that in order to keep making music, they have had to make many concessions to their record companies for the sake of marketability. So while I certainly don't blame them for making the decisions they were forced to make (and some of the songs they were forced to create), I wish I could recommend this album without having to say "but skip tracks 1, 2, and 9."

"Especially 9."

[confession - when I was 14 I really liked "Hold You"]

Silly fill-in-the-blanks type post: 50 live music shows you've seen

I'm not necessarily proud of all of these, mind you, but they all have memories attached.

Facebook intro, via Julz:

"OK, here are the rules. Test your memory and your love of live music by listing 50 artists or bands (or as many as you can remember) you've seen in concert. List the first 50 acts that come into your head. An act you saw at a festival and opening acts count, but only if you can't think of 50 other artists. Oh, and list the first concert you ever saw (you can remember that, can’t you)?

Should you choose this challenge, here's what you do:
Copy my note. Click on “notes” under tabs on your profile page. Select "write a new note" in the top corner. Paste the copy in the body of the note. Make your list. Change the number at the top, and add your title. Once you've saved, don't forget to tag friends (including me) on the right."

1 (First concert) Michael Jackson - Thriller tour (mad cred, but sadly I was only about 6)
2 Depeche Mode (times 9, as of Monday!)
3 The The
4 Nine Inch Nails
5 Julianna Hatfield
6 KMFDM
7 Moby
8 Peter Gabriel
9 Front 242
10 Echo and the Bunnymen
11 Erasure
12 Dave Alvin and the Guilty Men
13 Smashing Pumpkins
14 Sigur Rós
15 The Kills
16 The Horrors
17 The Faint
18 Suzanne Vega
19 L7
20 Shonen Knife
21 Moist
22 Fury in the Slaughterhouse
23 Goldfrapp
24 The Presets
25 Cut/Copy
26 Chris Isaak
27 UB40
28 Korn
29 White Zombie
30 Filter
31 Beastie Boys
32 Sarah McLachlan
33 Goldfinger
34 God Lives Underwater
35 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark
36 Editors
37 The Cure
38 Tori Amos
39 Crooked Fingers
40 The Orb
41 Jane's Addiction
42 Stereo MC's
43 Other Star People
44 Kenny Wayne Shepherd
45 Beausoleil
46 Christopher Parkening
47 The Pilfers
48 Belly
49 Captain and Tenille (sort of)
50 Blind Boys of Alabama

51 Eight ga-jillion shows I can't remember, many of which were probably way cooler than some of the ones listed here.