halfknot

And, since the announcement just went out for this as well, here is the first project I completed after starting my real job. Made it all myself... well, not the application or the massive amounts of scientific insight that went into it, but the site, that's me. If they are able to genetically cure malaria, now you'll know who to thank.

Eli and Edythe Broad just gave another hundred million to our (their) institute, doubling it to two-hundo. Larry Summers gave an interesting speech (the money will be going through Harvard), part of which included "I'm not a biologist, I'm an economist, and I can tell you that to double your investment in 18 months is to do pretty well," and another part of which related Cambridge today to Florence of yesteryear; not the biggest or best city, but the one with the brightest minds that will have the most effect on the world of tomorrow. Say what you want about the guy (and I've said plenty), but I was inspired and proud. Makes me want to pull a Holberg a la Grieg, or similar. Who was in Florence?... Monteverdi?, Vivaldi?... actually, Lully sounds good, being a transplant like me. Here's the first title that comes to mind: "Lullaby on a Theme by Lully, a Scherzo"

Which reminds me that I am coming up with an insane amount of ideas lately. Believe it or not I'm writing a lot, but writing something new every few days without fully continuing or finishing what I started. This could be good when I get around to completing them, because they're all of acceptible caliber. I feel torn between getting the ideas down as I have them before I forget and plugging through and finishing what I've started. I've always had a derision towards those who claim to be "idea men" and don't want to fall into being one in effect and practice. There, decision made.

Thanks Blogger, you truly are the King of Things!

Someone donated a ton of money to Yale to give free tuition to music students. Amen.

Nothing else to report nope.

In a meeting, one of the managers said, "Well, you guys should be prepared to work through Thanksgiving. Who likes football anyway?" Coming from where I used to work, it took me a couple of seconds to realize that he was joking, but it was apparent to everyone else there. I like it here. When I was consulting, I'd clocked a couple hundred hour weeks, and there's no overtime. Hour for hour, I'm making more here than I was there. But I was ok with my life being my job then, I'm not so ok with it now. Granted, we're doing some really great stuff here, but I'm a selfish bastard and want to work on MY stuff, nevermind hanging out with friends and what-not.

I'm listening to Caribou, Bees.

I would like some gravy, yes please.

I would like to present this informally, in words, in any moment of the day, by, you know, talking and stuff. There's too much in my head that never gets out.

And to start working out would be good. They used to have gaols here in Massachusetts. Convicted of a heinous crime? Here's a shovel, dig a hole, you've got 24 hours. Next day, jump in, we'll slap some bars on top, toss some bread in every now and then until you die. I'm accumulating parking tickets. If I don't pay them soon, and they reinstate gaols, then I'd be really cramped. Unless I had already been working out for some time... then the hole'd be nice and roomy. But it's getting cold out.

I suppose there are worse things than being stuck here from 9 to 5. I suppose there are worse things than not having the presence of mind and the courage of words to speak what I want to say all the time.

Now I'm listening to the Stone Roses, Fool's Gold.

Hunh. Try going by the Owl Creek Bridge.

This should keep me busy sound-hunting for the rest of the year. There's a bunch on it I already love that makes me need to find out about the rest that I don't.

The New Music Festival at tbc has ended, but the search party goes on. Speaking of it though, there was a lot of great stuff that I heard and performances that made me want to make myself better, much better. And now I'm at work, slogging, and dying to get out and attack a piano, slap on some headphones, and throw dots and letters around a screen and paper. Glad it's a short work week.

And speaking of that, went to a great pre-Thanksgiving youngun' feast amongst my roommates' friends. Tryptophantastic! First Thanksgiving getogether I've been at where I was the oldest one there. I didn't fall asleep mid gravy passing nor talk too much about walking backwards in the snow to kill some Nazis.

Smack dab in the middle of the NMF and RR has his new trio premiered in the Arbelos Trio's first performance. First rate. Piece and performance. Fit well in the concert. And damn, his last two pieces have been incredibly strong. This is a very good thing. Not good thing: 3 pea-brained undergrads sitting right in front of us who were obviously not paying attention to the music, just sitting through it to get their cards punched, turning around in their chairs and looking around like MTV-fed 8-year-olds, giggling whenever anyone makes a noise, and one of them even going so far as spending a good 47 seconds trying to pop a zit on his back, then apparently succeeding, and sniffing. Why would I relay such a thing? Because such things should not be implicitly tolerated and ignored. This is a temple for chrissake, or the closest I get to having one. Hell, I'll even capitalize Chrissake. At least have the decency to sit in the back if you are a complete moron, wearing a red sweater thing with a stripe across it, and a piddly little goatee, yeah you. And yes, I was passive aggressively tapping my foot to the beat against the leg of your chair for the last part of different trains. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Yes, I did close me eyes through most of it, and that always works, but these were my friends playing my friend's piece and I wanted to see it all. Anyway, tomorrow night Rize is playing Nish's piece and a solo. I'm looking forward to it. And I will be bringing my camera. I will capture any ass-scratching, cell-phone-game-playing, or generally boorish numbskullery and post wanted posters up on the school boards describing their crimes and rewards for further photo-documented punishment.

Or, just learn to let things go.

Pretty man, pretty music, pretty cover. (aka Lies, lies, lies.)

"Why do I do anything?" she says. "I'm educated enough to talk myself out of any plan. To deconstruct any fantasy. Explain away any goal. I'm so smart I can negate any dream."

can I change my mind about clapyrhands? this album is really good, just took some time

First of all, Prokofiev Sonatas when sick, and when not, my body remembers.
Second of all, sad when hand broke, but now healed, I play better than before broke. I think mental, what doesn't kill you.
Third of all, Ligeti etudes are tough and I am my my brain is stuttertuttering my in.
Q of Z, I sprnz my brain wrlud stop swelling inthyus my skull.
mnngmhyahy I feel like I look i look like below i bellow

are you sick of this yet?

just got a long and lovely email from one of my closest and ethereally aeriform friends from a past life



she is in paris right now... i hope she is ok considering... i wish i had not been insane this summer and remembered to try to get in touch with her while i was stuck back in my parents house

i had a birthday party recently and put together 5 mix cds, 4 my choosing, one with requests. one of my 4 contained imagined requests from people who weren't there... one track was souvlaki space station

i miss you slowdive

From an interview with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah:

Pitchfork: I wanted to ask you about the great influences question everybody brings up. In general, it seems like you tend to deny or play down any similarities between yourselves and the bands that people compare you to.

Alec: Sure, I mean, you know, as far as influences are concerned. In the Thelonious Monk documentary Straight, No Chaser, a journalist asks him what he listens to and sort of what his background is, and he says he listens to everything. And the journalist finds-- he seems to find that incredible and asks him again. And he said to other guy in the room: "This guy hear me? I said I listen to everything." So that's the idea. I mean like, the idea of shaping a particular type of song, or you know-- it has everything to do with the individual and the group that he's working with.

They also talk about how their "album" was pretty much spawned from a demo CD and thus only an album de facto. So I'll be less harsh on the hype... I was disappointed about only liking 3 songs on it... then again, one of those songs I've been listening to very loudly about every other night... my roommates can attest.

But ya gotta love Monk.

Biking over the Mass Ave bridge tonight looking over the Charles at about 1:30am, the water was placid, the sky was fogged and this color but its reflection on the water was this color and it made me feel alive in my small spot in the fold of the universe.

I'm glad I didn't have my camera. A facsimile of the experience is bound to be disappointing.

I had it and that's enough. And of other things I had, that's enough too. Ping pong goes the electron gradient betwixt my neurons. Ping pong and electrostatic. And memories spring double spirals from the sparkle-cloud from the sparkle-cloud.

It's that color because of the lights you can't see over the horizon. They are both behind you and ahead.

open your hands
stretch and reach
reach and touch

"And if you want me, you better, speak, up, I.. won't.. wait..
So you better...."

I can only address this in my own simple way, and not to the point:

Some blamed bird flu and took their weakened children to a clinic in a nearby provincial city, where a medic diagnosed human influenza instead. But other residents said it was witchcraft by the only village resident not born here, 53-year-old Som Sorn, who moved here eight years ago when she married an elderly local farmer.

When Mrs. Som Sorn's husband went into the jungle to cut wood one afternoon and she began cooking rice over a fire on the dirt floor of her hut, a local man with a machete took action and later collected $30 in donations from grateful neighbors, a month's wages.

It makes sense. Not the individual behaviors, but that this is what would happen to Cambodia after the killing fields. When 30% of the Cambodian people are wiped out, and that being the portion of doctors, scientists, monks, and inevitably anyone showing any sort of education or even compassion, what would you expect the country to be like 30 years later? dSF was telling me that when he was in Cambodia a few months ago, he did not meet a single monk that was older than he was. And now, the Khmer Rouge could have world-wide effects depending upon how and when the avian flu epidemic turns pandemic.

We've got problems. This isn't just Cambodia's problem. It's the way of nature that the innocent to come must inevitably pay the consequences of their ancestors. But it's unjust, despite any claims to the fault of lineage. There's no sense blaming and there's no easy fixing. No matter how much the world gets flooded with knowledge, there will always be disaffection, bitterness, destructiveness and even vehement oppression. I know that floods happen, disease happens, societies crumble... knowledge isn't the solution to everything in a world of limited resources; it ain't simple. I don't want to digress on the intricacies of this point though, just to illustrate that we are all connected. All space, all time. Everywhere, all the time. So don't forget to think back in the future and see why you are where you are. Or better yet, don't forget to look forward now and see how you can try to get where you want to be. Flu or no flu.

Besa Korn, a 51-year-old village resident who was not among those making donations to the killer, said the true cause of the summer illnesses might never be known. But life has clearly improved since Mrs. Som Sorn's death, she added.

"Everyone in the village has been very happy since then," she said. "And we have had no more illness."

Maybe I look at things this way because of my own heritage. Maybe it would be good to look back to Germany and how it was able to recover and become a strong nation again despite the horrors of its past.

Or crumble in the face of it all and just ride out the party while it lasts - go out in style. Pop the champagne, BANG! Who likes to whimper anyway?

But I'm off the sauce remember? So none for me, thanks.

Praise be internet radio.

Listening to my sometime favorite little radio and lo, behold, the theme song to Knight Rider comes on in between the Frames and Interpol. Thanks Dave.

Also, the universe seems to be an oreo sandwich of multidimensionality. I can't really grasp it all conceptually yet, but I'm relishing in the current high of a doubly-blown mind.

Gravity, meet Turbo Boost!

(p.s. - E is more than one page, click it)