Las Vegas

Where I stayed...Excalibur Casino

On my way to Mirage to catch the Beatles Love show... Paris and Ballys ahead

Yeah, I had to walk the BB in Vegas of all the places since I didn't here

Still walking in circles, Planet Hollywood on the right

The Forum Shops at Caesars

The Bellagio and it's dancin' fountains across the street

Can't remember what the pagoda was about, some Rockhouse it says

Flamingo, don't I love it when pics have the name

At the Mirage, playin the Wheel of Fortune (?) Lost 5 bucks

\

Aah, almost there in time for the show...

There. Amazing. No pics allowed. It is all in my head.

Made it back at around 1 am, thinkin' about the 6 am tour to the Grand Canyon.

San Francisco

Embarcadero 

The view I woke up to...

MoMA

Hyde St Pier... how I love ships

Seagull of the quizzical look

Lou's Blues, Fisherman's Wharf

Some parade on Market St, must be pre-St Patricks day celebrations

Walkin' against the crowd, Fisherman's Wharf

Flyin' high high... so free...

...and not so free... Alcatraz

Ghiradelli Sq, only if you wanna be trampled underfoot 

Under the bridge

GGB from the bay cruise

Some silver jellyfish, Aquarium of the Bay

...looks creepy

Some other kind of jellyfish. What's the right side up?

Think this is from some hill in Sausalito

GGB from Sausalito

Haight St, kinda like downtown NYC...except they don't check IDs and people smoke up in public

Haight Ashbury finally

Spring

What I'm supposed to be doing right now ('now' meaning this sunny, windy morning) is write 10 pages of my thesis, 3 pending assignments, walk my standard 20 blocks in half hour (not in that order), but here I am in my basement hole of a lab listening to Alice Cooper screaming 'Poison', drinking coffee and... writing... this... sentence. A starting system problem no cranking or jump start can solve. Maybe I should change the song.

Ok.

(Not changing the song, just on repeat).

Spring. The season, not the verb. New birth, new beginnings. Vernal equinox. Blah. The ides of March, March madness. Nowruz, Passover, Easter. April is the cruelest month. Blah. New sentence, old thoughts.

Every March - April, something happens. Not all good. If you're in school, it is midterms / end of the school year (meaning tests and exams again, depending on which part of the world you are in), or preparing for the dreaded passage to, or worse, rejection by engineering / medical schools / jobs. If you're 'lucky' enough to be working, end of 2nd quarter, possible promotions, salary hikes... or lay offs. If you belong to neither categories, something still happens. Mostly by proxy.

So this spring, since I belong to the afore-afore-mentioned category, I am supposed to be writing this paper to graduate. Instead I took a break and looks like it is spilling over. The western world calls this 'spring break', or a more apt description - 'study week' or 'reading week'.

Here's some of the stuff I read this break:

(This one's all hazy like the memory...)

... And why is this so clear? And polite?

 

Apparently, going to an Ivy League school means people assume you can read and make connections and correlations and conclusions.  So here's how it works. You see numbers and words - this translates into songs... think Rolling Stones, Manhattan Transfer and all your idols... and...

... you reach the only possible conclusion - next time take your guitar and hitch hike all the way to Chicago.

Oh, and I studied real hard too, take a look:

So much for spring break...

From San Francisco to Vegas to the Grand Canyon and back to a basement at the Big Apple...procrastinating.

Back to my paper.

Of Mice (and not Men)

Three blind mice. Three blind mice.
See how they run. See how they run.
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a sight in your life,
As three blind mice?


Three blind mice. Without tails. Someone was responsible for this mutilation, horrible amputation. And because of this, I'm disoriented. Dis-orient: Loss of locus, loss of alignment, position, etc., etc., etc. Disoriented by dismemberment. Dis-member: Loss of limb, loss of a thing in a group. So 'disoriented by dismemberment' would mean a loss of alignment caused by a loss of a member. 

I'm talking about Apple's Magic Mouse. I went to my department the other day to print something, and I see these nice-looking white things all alone next to the nice white keyboards. Not attached. Nice. Now I'm all for any form of freedom. It is how I am supposed to function with this freedom is what disturbs me.

I have used Microsoft's wireless mouse long time ago. That was okaaaay. I mean there were still distinctions on left and right-click and scroll. (And switch hands without confusion). This however... such smooth contours, I had to google to learn how to use it: one finger for scrolling, two fingers for navigating...now the details are so... you know what (don't blame me, blame the tech writers who churn out this stuff). A 360 degree scroll is different from swipe, thank you. Wonder who thought of implementing this gesture imitation in technology for better usability, baah don't tell me, I can quote the paper right now, shame on me.

Anyway, this thing sucks. I never needed to reassign right to left functionality anytime (I mean for the Microsoft wireless mice), but now I'm forced to for the 'Magic' mouse. Because the bloody thing has a f#$%^&* smooth body like... whatever. 'Ambidextrous' design apparently just means it fits in both hands and it feels like home.

Now what I did: I moved the mice to different laptops to see if they worked away from paired devices. HAHA. It does, but only if Discoverable or some such option is enabled in your System Preferences. I could be wrong here but I didn't have the patience to prove this by repeated experimentation and higher sample size. I don't care enough. I wasn't moved enough. Neither to find supporting evidence nor oppositions.

After using this device for a limited time, the first impression of how 'nice' it looks or how 'clean' the desks look seems kind of irrelevant. Nice looking things just get you lost. And make you spend more time to print that paper that was due 10 minutes ago. I am superficial, I like the idea of wireless and all, no clutter et cetera, et cetera, but forcing me to spend a minute more on something than what I'm supposed to spend - that is - um.. unforgivable.

Give me back the tailed mice. With the distinctive shape. Or forget the tail, keep the shape. Us laggards in technology need the old.... or 'real' new stuff. Not amputations disguised as development.

Rant

People make things up. They assume. We assume. Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. Or as someone said 'If you assume anything from what I said, you make an ASS of U and ME both.'


Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics illustrates this: if we see two things next to each other, we draw a connection from one to the other. Our minds construct a sequence, a connection, a relationship. Even if the relationship is obscure, we’ll eventually find it (or make one up). In space, we call this collage. In time, it’s montage. In real life, it's gossip. Some call it conversation, others call it news. Or discussion or moral discourse for the betterment of my child/ the common good etc., if god forbid your parents / professors / idols indulge in this sequencing of events. 


The reason for this sudden rant? I'm just peeved. I assumed someone would show up and they didn't; someone assumed I would have a certain drink and I didn't feel like it; someone else assumed something else just cuz I was sitting alone aaaaaaarghhh. So. 


So I started up my laptop, and typed all this bull just to stop myself from kicking my own butt. Should step out. Should step out. I will write the rest of this post later. 

Not writing.

Something for the wanderers...maybe

So it is now official. A new touch-screen tablet computer from Apple, 9.56 inches high, 7.5 inches wide, and 1.5 pounds. Now I am not a fan of technology in general - I don't even have a phone anymore. I am real old-school and think that a phone should be a phone, a camera should be a camera, an mp3 player should just be an mp3 player... no hybrids and 2 and 3 and 4 in 1 packages work for me. It is like combining a guitar and a keyboard. Ok I know there is a keytar, but that is just a keyboard or synthesizer that you hang on your shoulders like a guitar - just a change of form, but no messing with the function, the bloody thing is still a keyboard.

Anyway, the reason I like the idea of a laptop that is 9.5 inches is that it is more readable AND it weighs just over a pound. A MacBook is about 5 pounds and you can walk for about only 30 blocks at a stretch lugging that thing in your backpack. Also, you just can't whip it out everytime you have this amazing thought in your head and you want to write it down (if you are the kind to have amazing thoughts, or delusional enough to think so). Also, the keypad on your iPhone/iPod is just too small. Yes, I have heard of these amazing inventions called a book and pen, but I'm sticking to the tech thingies right now. And believe me, it is a tad uncomfortable to walk and write in a legible manner, you still need to make a stop at the nearest coffee shop. By then the thought disappears or has lost its original epiphanic feel.

Ok, so with this new thing, I still may lose some time jotting down my thoughts or whatever, but for me it is the mobility it allows that attracts me. I will be able to walk 60 blocks. Yeah I am aware that I can walk without the encumbrance of books, bag, laptop, phone, but that's beside the point right now. This reduction in weight and addition of font size and hit size on screen... it is cool.

The real reason why I like it - I get that much extra space for more books when I cross international borders... I wonder why airports don't seem to change that ancient rule of 50 pounds per bag and only 2 bags at that. Maybe they should start weighing people and those of us who are below a certain girth and weight should get to carry additional baggage. And vice versa. You don't think? I think.

By the way, Apple should come up with a new name for this cool thing. iPad sounds like some female hygiene product. Come to think of it, it sure will be funny to see that men will have to carry Pads around too.

...and the art of breaking ties, or how to lose friends and random others

#1: Move


Now there are a million reasons why people move from place to place, hop from job to job, bar to bar, and so on. Good and bad reasons. The majority consider the not-so-good ones to be forms of movement that hang on to prepositions (see previous post). These are construed to be cowardice or 'quitting' by the general public and also by well-meaning friends who question your motives (cuz they want you to stay... maybe you're the best thing that happened to them, who knows? Or, most probably they are just selfish and don't like the change your move could cause in their lives). In any case, moving from one thing to another may stem from your feelings of dissatisfaction, unhappiness, sheer boredom or hope. Yes, hope.

Whatever reason for the movement, you lose some good stuff when you pack your bags - the choices you make from what books and CDs to take and what to leave behind and so on. (There is a 44 pound limit). It is a well-thought out decision no matter how impulsive or irrational the move is.

Enough said, but the key to making a clean break is to move with one suitcase and a flight, and tell goodbye if you are so inclined.

#2: Stop answering calls. Do not call. Change your number. 


In addition to moving somewhere, even if it is just changing apartments across floors, it helps to change your number. The people you leave behind need not know, and don't store their numbers if you are the type who drunk dials at 3am. If you don't possess a phone, even better.

#3: Create fake gmail, FB, etc. accounts. Or delete existing ones.

Now this is one way to still know what people you know are up to without them catching you (depending on their privacy settings, and if you care to know). But then if you are the one breaking ties, why would you even bother? No one's holding a gun to your head to hit Reply. And the Ignore button is there for a reason, right?

#4: Fight


I don't think this needs much thought.

#5: Get caught stealing someone's partner


Messy situation this. But works real effective if your intent is to alienate your women friends for good. Word gets around too. Who cares, in some circles you may be known as a player... for better or worse.

#6: Be an ass

Now this is the easiest of the lot, especially if you are one, you just need to be yourself. Say all the rude (but true) things to people about people, make them look stupid or whatever in public and tada... you will be sitting at that bar for eternity with just your venom for company. Being an ass, or making an ass of yourself indulging in risque behavior is by far the least taxing and surest way to get rid of the crowd.

#7. Be yourself

Now no matter what the shrinks and your parents tell you, honesty is not the best policy. Which means everybody you meet is a dressed up shadow of what they actually are and not the real thing. Barbie is more real than the rest of the world, at least she is meant to be plastic and stays that way. Anyway, for the world and his wife, we are at a masquerade every second of our breathing lives. So, in addition to #6, just being yourself also works a dream to get rid of everyone around you. (And for most of us, #6 = #7).

Whither thou goest?

Being on the move is a great way to live. (My pronouncement of the day). Walk. Keep walking (or any other form of ambulation). It doesn't matter where, but as long as you are on the run, things don't catch up with you that fast, like age for instance. As far as I know, it is the minute you stand still that stuff like grief, doubt, despair, and a car hits you.

Motion shakes off things that cling and could later get stuck and drown you. Think about it. The stronger your heart beats, lesser chances of the bad cholesterol getting stuck. (I said stronger, not faster. And since I know nothing medical, disregard this analogy). Ok, it's like sex (now that I know). Anyway, being on the move lets the negative things trail behind you like a bride's train. At least it is external. It is when you are stationary that it engulfs you or you trip on it and break your nose at the altar as you say I do. Before that happens, do the Julia Roberts thing...run baby run.

Motion is good and I have JC to back me up on this (not that I need his backing for a blog post)... after all the gospels say he walked on water, not stayed put. And the hasty Peter did too. He started to drown only when he stopped and saw the waves and what not. See what I mean?

So, now I have come to peace with my constant need to walk, run, and relocate from apartment to apartment, job to job, place to place and country to country. It is just other people who add prepositions to my ambulatory words. Running (away), walking (out), moving (on), etc., etc., etc. To hell with them.

Lines I Like

Go lightly down your darkened way
Go lightly underground
I'll be down there in another day
I won't rest until you're found... 


The Ground Beneath Her Feet: U2, Lyrics: Salman Rushdie


...the right place was always the one she wasn't in. Always in the wrong place, in a condition of perpetual loss, she could (she did) unaccountably take flight and disappear, and then discover that the new place she'd reached was just as wrong as the place she'd left.


The Ground Beneath Her Feet: Salman Rushdie

Synesthesia

Does the word 'mischievous' look like a dimpled grin and a glint in the eye or is it just a problem with my vision? The word 'blue' sounds so perfect for the color, that I see the color. (Now I have auditory problems too). And 'yellow' looks wilted to me, or do I just associate it with dead daffodils instead of the sun? Oh, 'sun' is orange-red, not bright yellow.

Wonder why the song Everything Burns brings to mind a silhouette of a woman, the sound of wind ascending and a flame that casts everything into a purplish hue? I like the image in my head, I don't want to spoil it by watching the video.  I remember the first time I heard Desert Rose - I didn't even know the name of the song then, but the second I heard the intro and Cheb Mami's longing burden to the song, I told my friends that I hoped the music video would show a man in black driving a black Merc through the sand dunes into the sunset. Quite close it turned out to be (thank god), except that Sting was holding a camcorder or somethin' and the car was a Jag (I think).

This happens often. The images that rise from listening to a song I mean. Too often. But sometimes the mismatches are disturbing - what I see in my mind and what the reality is. Which is why I dislike gchat or whatever form of online communication. I hate cellphones too - certain voices (more often if it is an interview), sound like rocks crumbling before a landslide, or bread crumbs of the homemade kind. Dissonant in its presence and absence of sound.  Both in online, or real-time conversations, a single word or phrases in a certain pattern, brings to mind a particular tone of voice or face, or color that I react to...

I have now purchased a sense of humor. And I have trained myself to have certain blindspots. As for dealing with aural disharmony, I have my iPod. (I don't take calls if I can help it. I can help it).

There is an instinctive dislike to a certain kind of voice, that I avoid talking to the person with the voice. Yeah it is rude, and yeah, the person might be 'nice', but it is nothing personal. (Though in my limited experience, people with the certain voice turned out to be not so nice, or just a waste of my time. I did not say stupid. So there).

Most of these things perhaps stem from associations, or how we remember (or choose to forget) things. I can't remember why I hate the smell of Jovan musk perfume, but I remember punching someone for wearing that 'scent'.  Perhaps I hate the certain voice, b'cuz it reminds me of an unattractive mean woman. I don't know.

I shouldn't care too. Except that this problem spills over to other areas - I find that it takes me forever to write anything at all. What looks good on paper, doesn't look good online, and when I read it aloud, it sounds terrible - just no rhythm. Don't know if it is a good or a bad thing. Oh and what looks good on paper to me is something written in a black gel/ ink pen. Anything written in blue is not worth saving.  And once I post this, the blog template makes me 'read' different from when I write this on the text editor. Text editor = white, blog = black. I like black. And red. White is not a color, it is a fear... of blank pages.

1st Draft, 2nd draft, ....nth draft....wonder when all my senses be in harmony? Maybe if they were, I would be well-coordinated. Or my sentences will be.

Random

I don't make new year resolutions. First of all, who said it was 'new'? Or 'happy'? A 'year' I can pretend to understand - something that some people with lots of 'time' on their hands decided to do - count how long it takes for our planet to circle around a star once. Now this varies anywhere from 340 to 380 days. A 'common' year is 365 days. 


So hello everybody, 'happy', 'common', 'new' year. Now did I mention I hate adjectives? Oh it was adverbs. Well, adjectives are next on my hate-list. I can put up with things like 'beautiful' woman, or 'fast' car. But 'slutty/ hot', 'beautiful' woman, or 'cool', 'fast' car?  A car is just a car, a woman is just a woman... Aah well, ok, I will make exceptions, cuz after all not all beautiful women are hot, nor all hot women slutty. And I have nothing against cars, just that they are all fast compared to perambulation, but yeah, not all cars are cool.


Like I was saying, no resolutions. Just that I will post something on this blog. And drink more water. Less coffee. And no tonic. 


Find a new blog template. Consider leaving blogger for wordpress, maybe, something to categorize these musings. Or have both, what do I lose?


And write about the songs I love or hate, whenever I feel like, just cuz I feel like it. 


Well, someone told me yesterday
That when you throw your love away
You act as if you just don't care
You look as if you're going somewhere


Now I don't like this song, but the words, the words, this I like. Why? Don't know. We don't know why we like the stuff we like, but we sure can write a 100 words why we don't like something. And I don't want to get into explaining how our brains function when we listen to music, 'cuz I can't explain for one, and second, I don't care. Metacognition and all those fancy words may be considered cool (and is necessary)  when you're writing a thesis paper, but I don't think I'll graduate on the strength (or weakness) of this blog. I don't think I will graduate anyway, but this feeling will last until I graduate and that time shall come soon and this too shall pass.

Question for the day

Why does it seem as if my life is on playback, but I can't seem to deconstruct the pieces when I rewind and analyze? Reflection is overrated... and the more I indulge in it, seems like I miss large sections of the song. If life is a song that is. Is it?

What I have been learning

I've learnt that 'hi, how are you?' does not require an answer. That the definition of a bore is someone who tells you exactly how they are when asked. Then why ask in the first place I wonder. Frugality is not a strong point out here even in these hard times.

I've learnt that in this part of the world at this time of the year, a shining sun outside my window doesn't equate to wearing just a tee. Brrr.

I've learnt that I'm afraid of the dark.

I've learnt that North doesn't mean the sky and South the sewer. But I still manage to get lost. Oh well...

I've learnt that throwing snowballs at a 2 year old maybe considered abuse, especially if the guardian who wasn't doin a A-rate job at 'guarding' lacks a sense of humor. Thank god for... never mind. Don't blame me. The kid was there. The snow was there.

I've learnt that no matter how you change the variables in a relationship to make it work, there is always going to be collateral damage. Who cares about the dead ones anyway?

I've learnt that once you lose a gift, it doesn't come back to you. You pay a real steep price to get what was once free. Write and it drains your life. Stop writing and you have killed yourself anyway. Oh and by the way, my muse is a guy. And like most men, generally absent. But once in a while he comes along, I give in, and he gloats as I lie wordless.

On an upbeat note, I've learnt that my 30$ radio has a brain. Or rather, it has something that can read my mind. How the hell does it know to play Too Much Love Will Kill You just after that call you made to break someone to break you? (And where were you Brian May / radio when I was falling? You chose to play Alice Cooper then... what a poison...) Point is, the radio has a sadistic sense of humor. You make up your mind to be strong and pretend everything is just the way it's supposed to be, and U2 belts out 'with or without you.... and you give yourself away'.... what else can you do except howl in despair?

Ok, that wasn't so upbeat, but the point is I love my radio, and it loves me right back... now there it goes again... Comfortably Numb. See? Hear? I guess the radio deserves a separate blog post.

Oh, I've learnt that the only choices ever offered in life that is good no matter what you decide on are chocolates.

Breaking

Everybody knows this: people change. Things change. And you lose something in that change. Some things you gain (so they say, but don't ask me who the hell is 'they'). Anyway, in most cases, you are only cognizant of your losses. And these losses make you (again) lose focus, make you blind to the good around you, that maybe loss is a positive thing. Maybe there are no positives. 

When you were young, you listen to Pink Floyd. (I use 'listen', I know it is incorrect, just that in my head, I still listen to Floyd, thing is, the listening now is a lot different). Back to the past. You listen, discuss the lyrics, riffs, the million versions, the whole shebang. Your shelves (or your floor, in case you don't have space or shelves) are filled with:

1. Cassettes you've recorded from the radio (this being the late 80s and early 90s).
   
2. CDs (yes, you now have a job and the second thing you bought with your money is a Philips music system that plays both tapes and CDs *and parents think you are not careful with your money, sigh*... Oh the first thing you bought is a guitar, in case anyone is wondering).
   
3. Books on PF, album artwork, lyrics (aah, what a little more money can buy, especially if you live on coffee)
   
4. CDs with different versions of all the albums (no, this is not OCD, just Oh..CD).
   

Hell, you even cried when you heard Syd Barret 'died' on July 13 2006.

Then something happened. Somewhere along the line, something changed. You don't listen with the same obsession. True, now you have transfered all the music in your CD collection to your iPod... but it's on shuffle. If Hey You or Amused to Death plays as you walk down the street, great. You still get the lump in your throat but that is a basic reaction, you don't anymore seek out to get that feeling. You still know that if Coming Back to Life plays when you're in a bar, it is time to leave. (God help you if it never plays).


You have grown up. You don't spend days trying to get that new song, you have better things to do...or choose nothingness. You have forgotten what it means to love. To love something so much you can't comprehend how you would live in its absence. (We're still talking music and Floyd here). Growing up means you know that obsession of any kind will make life hell for you, and who among us would want our lives to be hell? Growing up means to be able to live despite this loss. But how do you live?


Change jobs, change cities, have different men, but move, move so fast that you can replace loss with something new. Growing up? Or breaking down? Maybe growing up is just being in control of the things that break down, so much better when you are breaking it. At least you know the cause of destruction and loss - it is you. Better to know who is responsible than having to wonder what the hell happened that caused you your loss. 


Does being grown up mean that you are now comfortable with the dying of things you love, or the killing of them?

Hoping

It is a terrible thing to have no hope. Or rather, to be aware that you have lost it. The despair that sinks in is so unbearable, the heaviness so tangible, you shrug to get rid of the feeling - but - it's hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless - this is different from less hope. There should be a better word to describe an absence of hope. 


Irremediable? No, that means it can't be fixed or cured. Despondent? No, that is showing / feeling extreme dejection. Maybe we don't need another word. 


Hopeless:  despair and the cessation of effort or resistance and often implies acceptance or resignation (Merriam-Webster).


Hopeless = despair + resignation...leading someone to acts of desperation? I hope not.

Adverbs, seriously?

I hate adverbs. (fighting the urge to write 'passionately' at the end of that sentence). So I'm looking for a stronger word than 'hate'. Detest maybe. I detest adverbs. There. That feels better. Sometimes I wonder why people write such things  - it puts me in a rage, stuff like, 'She drank her vodka slowly'. Slowly? Can't you just say 'She sipped her vodka'? or something like that. People who use adverbs are either cowards or have a limited vocabulary, or both. 'He closed the door loudly, and walked away angrily'. Oh please, please spare me. Just say 'He slammed the door and stormed out'? Doesn't that make you feel... free, like it's off your chest?

Don't get me wrong, I too have sinned and fallen short of that perfect sentence minus the adverb. And when words fail me (which happens far too often), I resort to adding the 'ly' to convey an emotion I am not sure about. Maybe that's what gets my goat, that we hide behind adverbs to lessen, or to deal with what we feel. Not everyone is capable of handling the sudden onslaught of emotion. Cowards I think I said earlier, those who sin in this aspect. So there we have 'angrily' to convey rage, 'slowly' for procrastination or delay...oh I could go on. But I will refrain.

I don't know why I started this rant, must be something I read this morning. But I guess I should be open-minded enough to make an exception. So this, just this. The one adverb I can tolerate is 'seriously', but again, when it is used as a question and/or to convey sarcasm. Seriously? Seriously.

On (Not) Writing Poetry

poetry: writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm.


Rhythm, not rhyme, language to evoke an emotional response, not coffee cups or substances. sigh. I mustn't have been thinking. So much for that 'concentrated imaginative awareness'... it was all diluted oblivion. (Whatever that means).


and my fonts are all over the place. What the hell is happening??

27 Sep 2009

what i remember:

18 cupcakes (18)

balloons of kings cigs (23)

wuthering heights (25)

macdougal's alehouse (30)

and today alone.

always remember what died 

each time

you hoped.

always remember what happened

when you thought

the water was yours.

always remember 

your thirst

made others salt.

Shades of Memory - 1

sipping vodka and remembering

the chocolate milkshake 

that magically turned fresh bruises

back to mocha.

no more bruises

my blood is now watered.