Changes

Tried to visit Hester but she's changed her site to "invitation only"
So, she's out.
Instead I've linked

Hilary Hahn

A terrific violinist and world class star.

Reading Habits,

Done reading the Emily Dickinson psychological profile and started in on a philosophical tome.

The density of word-to-meaning in the Emily book is far outweighed by the incredible verbal density of the philosophy book.
It's about "reason" least I thought it was when I bought it on line but it turns out that it's about somebody else's book about reason.
Trying to explain such a nebulous concept takes a lot of ink.
But it is fun trying to parse the sentences.

Fun because when one has untangled the polysyllabic nightmare of one of the sentences, one finds him (or her) self facing a rather simple and even mundane concept.
Just shows haw truly complex life can be when you try to describe it.

Like the centipede crippled by trying to explain how he keeps all his feet in order.

Try this; describe the difference you feel when you push "h" on your keyboard and when you push "p".
"h" is in the middle so that, depending on your typing habits, you might use tour right hand or your left hand.

Or maybe you just use one or two fingers.

But, nonetheless, it has to "feel" different because at least you have to mentally measure the the space between the two letters.
And to do this you have to have a mental map of your version of the keyboard that distinguishes between the two.

Which means that there is some brain chemistry difference.

So measure that and tell me exactly what the difference actually "is"

What does that word actually mean?

Or, worse, what exactly is "is"?

One interesting quote is from Karl Marx who seems to think that the "proletariat" needs to have it's "class consciousness" raised.
Obviously, he's never actually experienced proletarianess or he would realize that us of the dirty fingernail class are most painfully aware of the boots in our faces.
Most painfully from those who spend too much time in libraries fantasizing about their own importance.

Anyway, it's a fun read, not only for the satirical possibilities, but because it's work.
Which can lead to insights to the workings and history of human thought.

Also it feeds my stereotype of what "higher education" might have been all about.

Had I experienced it.

Also

My composition teacher David Mesler will be performing some new pieces at Nordstrom hall on the 14th for the SSO's "Day of Music".
I am partially tempted to ask the SSO if I might be allowed on their side of the street for that performance.
But that wound is still suppurating, oozing unseemly substances and odors.
As you who suffer to read this site are all too aware.

So it's just another nail in the coffin of my naive belief in the essential decency of the individual human being.

It's only you who read this who keep the lid loose on that box.

On a lighter note

helium

I went and looked it up.

Dignity

Aren"t I clever?

I'm going to go read it now, Bye

Inhale deep and hold it in.

So I went down stairs to listen to some of the speeches, knowing they're BS but why not suspend belief for awhile and just enjoy the entertainment?
I was getting a kick out of Barako's until he said that we all have the right (or the power or whatever) to "decide are own destiny" or something like that, then to shove it in even further he claimed that we have a right to "dignity"

Christ!

I had to leave the room before I chucked the fine pork roast Meredith made for dinner.

It was too good to waste on political slime.

So I'm hiding out here again with nothing worthwhile to say, again.

As usual.

I'm going over to Facebook for awhile and complain there.

Wait a minute, I just thought of more.

Naah...forget it, I'll do that later
It's about a book I just bought.

A miserable ride

After cleaning out the basement a little bit this morning, I decided that since it was a miserable day and I was (still am) in a pissy mood, why not go for a bike ride.
Just a little 30 miler to Q.A. Starbucks and back.
O.K. to almost there where I decided rather than slog all the way up 3rd west, I would walk through the park (it has a name but I don't care about that) still 15.5 miles out, it was.
Coffee, P.B. Cookie (I wish they didn't have cute diminutive name, makes me feel like some 5 year old asking for one)
The trip back started out O.K. 'cause it was down 3rd west at a nice speed, but I was knackered at the 20 mile mark (U.W.Campus)(I don't like that word "Campus, seems kind of "gooey, know what I mean?)(not as bad as syllabus, where did they ever come up with that? Unless its a freudian slip on the word "silly" that, I can buy)
So the trip home was awful only partially because it coincided with my usual nap time.

So, I'm home and, reluctant as I am to say anything that might be construed to be "positive" the new bike shorts were comfortable and really kept down the chafing.
So that made it less worse.

Miles, 31.3
Time, 2:57:19
Avg. spd. 10.5 (I did a lot of walking.)
Top speed 37.4
Total accumulated mileage 721

I hate physical exercise.
I hate mental exercise.
I hate typing.
I hate thinking.

My political predictions.

Gas prices will continue to go down till the election.
Osama Bin Laden will issue another video threatening us with horrible things.
The people who Gene Wilder described so well in "Blazing Saddles" (i.e. Morons) will piss their pants and splatter it around with their quivering knees and vote for McCain so we can have four more years of this B&D form of government.

The Demos (a demo is a practice product that is never meant to actually go into production) will find some way to lose, lose, lose.
Just like the L.A.D.A (isn't that a brand of soap?) managed to lose the O.J. case because their little knees were quivering in fear that if they convicted him the black population would riot or something.
So they shot the case in the foot and took a dive.

Apparently they couldn't tell the difference between 26 cops beating the crap out of an unarmed doofus and someone slicing up a couple of innocent (?) folks.
It's the smog.
The lead attorney on that one got a 30K reward, so she must have delivered what she was supposed to deliver.

and, while I'm at it I get about 50 hits a day here and only 2 of you ever leave comments (I'm not counting the imaginary folks, they are some of my best friends)

Ummm.......Gas prices, pollution, idiotic politicians, Doofuses, morons,

Screw it that's enough for today.

Meredith is downstairs listening to the speeches, "inspiring" stuff, like "ecstasy" inspires.
Like Heroin inspires.
Like a good drunk inspires.
Just look out for the hangover.

It'll be your children starving to death in the streets waiting for the cops to come along and taze them for not getting out of the way fast enough.

Well, that apparently wasn't enough for today.

Long trip in a short boat

I knew when I launched -
my Canoe -
Into the river of her -
Whitewater eyes -
That I was in for a troubling
Ride -
And wouldn't be back -
For Days.

Wrong side of the bed?

2 Comments - Show Original Post Collapse comments

Blogger butch said...

Wow, what a difference a good review can make. So the Seattle Opera scene is alive and in wonderful shape under Speight Jenkins, and the Seattle Opera House is one of the technically finest venues to sing in for the great opera stars; that's cool. I guess I kind of remember Glynn Ross days; ancient history, enit?

But straighten me out, please. The Seattle Opera company has no real association with SSO, does it? Don't they have their own orchestra? Are they the SOA?

Anyway, the positive ink with Seattle's name on it is great.

Glenn

5:46 AM
Delete
Blogger Lane Savant said...

The Opera orchestra uses many Symphony musicians but is a separate entity.
The SoSo orchestra hires musicians like Boeing hires machinists.

Neither the musicians nor the machinists are actually part of the hiring organization.

And in the case of the SoSo, they have no basic human rights.
Think of the SoSo as a form of Chinese government who like to go screaming to the cops anytime they feel a cool breeze of truth on their necks.

The SSO surrounds itself with security because, like the Chinese government,it is afraid that sensible, honorable, and decent folks will catch on to what a completely, totally disreputable, incompetent, and useless bunch of losers they are.
The musicians are only associated with these despotic loonies.
Although there are probably some who are loyal card carrying members of the party.
I wouldn't know, I've only had social contact with three of them, and they seemed like loyal Americans.

Even though, being professionals, they are too busy for my pathetic projects.

10:30 AM
Delete

I may post something serious later, but this one is a bit of fun, eh what?

Seattle Opera

Found this on somebody else's site

Is Seattle a Diva?

Jissaminnit, I'll go 'n' findit,.... Oh, yeah

Gathering Note

People who love opera and/or Seattle shouldn't miss.....

Is it just me?

So here's a poem of Emily's.
It's the first one I've ever read that is immediately understandable.
But it's given as an example of a totally incomprehensible one.

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang
Steady - my soul: What issues
Upon thy arrow hang!

How 'bout?

I woke up this morning full of energy
It's kind of scary, even
This is the kind of energy
That can cause great things to happen
Simple beginnings as this
Have created new countries
I've got to stay cool: Who knows
What will happen today.

Or even;

O! What a beautiful morning!
O! What a beautiful day!
I've got a (kind of a scary) beautiful feeling
Everything's going my way.

Or, What the hell'

Goodness - Gracious -
Great balls of Fire!!!

Go figure

Actually, I woke up today with a feeling similar to that.
I'd describe it to you, but I've just done that.

Besides, "feelings" are useless and have no practical value.

I'm sure that today will be no more than the usual click of the conveyor belt that drags us to the edge of the big garbage dump ("transfer station" these days) in the sky.

But I do feel "empowered" what ever that may mean.
I remember a feeling similar to this back in my school days about this time of year when summer vacation was near an end.
I would get psyched up feeling that I was ready, willing and more than able to tear school a new one.
Said feeling tapering off in the first few weeks to the usual boredom and ennui that did so much to ruin the other three seasons.

I find that the Psych book abt Emily was printed in '71 and written in '51
In those days it was considered useful to make up scary stories about "troubled" people and assign labels such as "neurotic" or "psychotic".
Today, of course, we've developed many wondrous drugs to make those who say things we don't want to hear shut up.

Any amount of serious reading about the time in which Emily lived will make it obvious that the only "sane" way to deal with the air headed stupidity of that society was to hide in the attic.
Come to think of it that pretty much defines the situation today.

Whoops! we're back to Thucydides again.
I'll be posting my take on that portion of history soon.

But don't hold your breath.

Reading

Reading this psychological analysis of Emily Dickinson's life is tough going.
Every description of a psychologically significant event triggers comparisons with my own formative processes and I drift off into waking reveries and wonderings about my life and times and find myself lost on the page searching for the sentence that threw me off the trail.
Quite annoying.
Because, of course Life is made up of significant psychological events and we all experience them all.
We don't all hide in the attic literally as E.D.did but to some extent we all seek a place of safety, job, power, political office, society, religious fantasy, art, "the future", "life on other planets", movies, etc
It futile, of course, and it's the degree of immersion in the dream that measures relative "sanity".
Because the reality is that your best and safest place is on this planet with your feet on the ground, your eyes, ears, nose, and mind open.
Turning your senses inward can lead to a sliding scale from mild amusement to suicide

So, anyway I think that analysis of this sort seems to me often to be looking at things from the wrong direction. Saying that traumatic events in one's formation "cause" psychosis is not as convincing as saying that latent psychosis makes certain life events traumatic.

The "old maid" stereotype, the physically healthy but sexually repressed older woman locking herself in her room fantasizing about rapists is a staple character of the arts of theater, movies, and gossip.

But, we are all born with legs a certain length, hair a certain color and minds of specific strengths and weaknesses.

Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, knowhattImean, knowhattImean?

We could be a little nicer to each other but religion and the law for their own subversive motivations make that a risky course of action.



AIDA was apparently terrific.
I personally was enduring a slightly runny nose a bout of lethargy and spent most of the show waiting for it to be over.
In retrospect, however the set, the acting, the singing, all of it was magnificent.

It just seems that all this genius could be better employed than to display the actions of idiots who "fall in love" and screw up their and everybody else's life.

O.K. "La Boheme" is about people who care about each other, but it's not much of a moral lesson that nothing can be done about disease.

In spite of the medical establishment's loony fantasies about it's own efficacy.

But I suppose the catharsis is useful, letting the monkey out in a safe and controlled environment has got to be better than "keeping it all in".

Better to cheer Aida and Rademes removing themselves from the gene pool than to take it out on me.

Let's face it, it's the ruling class that enjoys these things and if it keeps them from taking it out on us social inferiors, so much the better.

So, once again; "Screw the Seattle Symphony Orchestra".

Random House

I tried to send this message to R.H. but that never seems to work.
All I get are error messages.
Not that it makes any difference.

I hope Bennett Cerf rises from his grave and keys your Lexus, you accumulation of fetid swampgas.

There I posted for today now I'm going to go and throw all the apples form our worm riddled tree away.

Nike

Found a used part for the Volvo that makes it run much better.
We'll see in a few days how the fuel economy works out.

Back to the music.
Got a new Facebook friend, a flutist, and composer.
Made some significant improvements on the flute concerto.

Tomorrow its Aida at the Seattle Opera.

I think we've missed our chance for Ring tickets this year.

Later

today

Today included a trip to our financial adviser, we're O.K.
Then lunch at a restaurant we've never been to before.
Lemon chicken sandwich and a glass of pretty good chianti.
Next came the pick up of the new Volvo part that was to see us through the wait for the Prius.
New part worse than the old, didn't work at all.
Took it back to B n B auto parts who refunded even though its an electrical part and they don't always do that sort of thing.
Whew!

And Thanks B n B auto parts in Renton.

Trying to figure out what to do in the meantime.
With the bad gas mileage we're getting, it's cheaper to rent a car for out trip to Lake Quinault.
I wonder if they rent Smart cars.

Musically and Dukely nothing is happening.

But, I've got two Emily vids to watch so my poetic and psychological education can continue.

More about Emily

Call me for a good time and a wild night?

After Emily lost her father and suffered the civil war, she considered marriage to one Otis Phillips Lord, old enough, and nasty enough, to be her father.
The marriage that never took place, but one interesting opinion of our beloved girl came out of it.

When a visitor to the Lord house picked up a copy of some E.D. poems she was told
"Take it away. Little hussy - don't I know her? I should say I did. loose morals. She was crazy about men. Even tried to get to Lord. Insane, too."

Not the usual sort of opinion us her loyal and loving fans are familiar with.

I've finished Roger Lundin's "Emily Dickinson, and the art of belief" and have started John Cody's "After Great Pain, the inner life of Emily Dickinson"

Cody's work is much much more interesting.

The quote is from Lundin's book.

Random house caves in to terror, religious stereotyping

Sherry Jones wrote a book about Mohammed's 7th wife.
Random House paid her a hundred grand to print it.
then totally caved into paranoia and refused to print it because
they were afraid of Muslim reprisals.

No Muslims of Muslim organizations had complained.

Thanks for helping support terrorism, by helping it work, you quivering cowards.

And thanks so much for for your asinine assumption that the Muslim world would instantly turn to violence.

I believe that this is the publishing house that fought for "Ulysses"

No, on second thought, I can't believe that.

O.K. here's the Duke pictures.

This is the latest level I've been working on.



As you can see it's about a desert.
And some of the canyons you can get lost in.




This is a tomb that you have to find the secret to in order to get out of the game.
And a rocket propelled grenade launcher that you have to use to blast your way in.
If you look close, you can see that the pillars have been "blowed up" already.




This is the garden outside the tomb.




Mindless fun and catharsis.
Still doesn't keep me from waking in the middle of the night with the cold sweats,

Sometimes.

That's a lot better since I dumped my shop.

SSO didn't help, of course.

What can I say, I like to build things.

My musical career ain't goin' nowheres very fast.

Duke

They've changed my computer again, just when I was getting to like it!
They've dumped all bookmarks!
I can't load the screen shots from Duke Nukem that I was going to show you!

I'll be back

Post every day for some reason or other

1 quart flour
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup cream
1 Table Spoon Ginger
1 Tea Spoon soda
1 Salt

Make up with Molasses ---

This, to me is Emily's most incomprehensible
yet, somehow, most profound work.

More last week

bought this shirt at the chamber music festival

wore it to class wed.

david got a kick out of it, as did some total stranger on the street.

wasted a lot of time last week building a duke nukem level.

wish the game wasn't so obsolete.

i'm going to do nothing today but lay around and sweat.

the part i don't understand is double flats.

i can see no reason for their existence.

Hot stuff

Splog alert!

I've had a complaint that my bike posts are not interesting because "whocaresabouthowfastyou'regoingwhatdidIseealongtheway?"

Spell checker is having a fit.

See last bike post.

This one is about the weather.
My little counter also has a temperature reading.

As you no doubt recall, my last bike ride ended with an accumulated total of 666 miles, which Butch points is a diabolical number.

So in fear of my immortal soul, I decided a 34 mile ride would take me up to 700 miles, a reasonable goal.

At the top of the floating bridge (7 miles?) I had to stop for water. The temperature was a mere 91 there. At the top of the Mercer Island portion of the trail, I had to stop again. The temperature there was 95. I changed my mind about the 34 miles and decided to "just go home".
At junction of the I-90 trail and the Lk Wash trail, 12.5 miles I had to stop again. Usually, this is the only stop I need to make. Later going around Renton airport, it was 97! after 3 more stops, nearing the Holyoke climb to Waters, It was 99.

I didn't see any beautiful scenery.

I saw spots before my eyes!

I did see another airplane body on a train as I sloshed through Coulon Park.

Miles 24.4,
Time 2:12:07,
Average 11 mph,
690 total accumulated miles,
Temperature, 91 to 99.
I contemplated staying out a bit more to try to get the last degree, but I'm only pretending I'm crazy.


Now about this Holyoke bizniss;
As you know, I'm reading abt. Emily the poet babe Dickinson.
She attended Mount Holyoke Female Seminary for a year.
Point being, Holyoke is just about the coolest word I've ever had the sheer unadulterated pleasure to speak.

Heres a quote from the book.

Sewing Society has commenced again -
and held it's first meeting last week -
Now all the poor will be helped -
the cold warmed -
the warm cooled -
the thirsty attended to -
the ragged clothed -
and this suffering - tumbled down world will be helped to it's feet again -
which will be quite pleasant to all.

Later on the same page;

I don't attend -
notwithstanding my high approbation -
I am already set down as one of those brands almost consumed -
and my hardheartedness gets me many prayers.

Imagine what she could do with a blog site.

I always knew she was one of us.

I could see it in her face.

A week

This week was mostly sleeping, the only thing I would be good at except I don't do that very well either.
The Volvo decided to leave off running way too lean and start running way too rich.
I don't want to accept that the air flow meter is bad again already so I've been making little experiments to try to isolate the problem.

We bought an '09 Prius because at 306,00 miles the Volv' is due to be replaced anyway.
Getting a bit shabby even when running right.
We won't get the Toy' for a couple months but I don't want to drive the
Volvo as it is running right at the moment.

12 mpg is not acceptable.

So I put s restrictor behind the air flow sensor to trick it into thinking that the engine is going slower than it really is and feed it less gas.
So far, I've noticed an encouraging lack of black smoke and a slight hesitation on acceleration both of which indicate a leaner mixture.
I'm mostly certain that the problem is the airflow sensor, but I will hold off until I can get a good mpg reading.

We still have the Vespa, the VW and the bus.

Nice hot days, records. I like it (can't say that at home, there is no temperature that's to her liking)

I see no point in complaining -
of things you can't do -
anything about

Except for the fun of it -
the sport of it.
The sheer God like Joy -
of imagining that -
you could -

Nothing unusual on Wednesday's journey.
Except that while waiting for the #9 bus to go home, a guy sat down on the bench next to me and asked if it was alright if he smoked.
O.K. by me.
Oh yeah, had a little conversation with the barista at Victrola got to tell hin about my music a bit, he's a musician too.
Oh yeah, yeah, they were out of sandwiches, so no Zambelli.
Had a noodle salad instead.

That's all the news from lake Woe-shington. (ha ha ha)

Emily

I've been inspired by the New Yorker article to study Emily Dickinson.
I've done this before in an earlier post involving her face, which is very interesting to me because of it's lateral asymmetry.
I cut the famous picture in half in paint and reassembled the halves right to right and left to left.







Today on my weekly downtown adventure I checked out two books on the subject;
"Emily Dickinson and the Art of Belief" by Roger Lundin and
"After Great Pain, the Inner Life of Emily Dickenson" by John Cody.

I couldn't find the one the New Yorker was talking about.

John Cody is a psychiatrist a subject I am very interested in, as I state in my profile.

I don't know what Roger Lundin does for a living except write, but I am moved to quote the first paragraph of the foreword by Mark A Noll.

"One of the tragedies of modern life is the division of intellectual labor into disciplines. "Tragedy, though, is probably not the right word, for, while this situation is self-inflicted and filled with irony, it allows neither expiation for practitioners nor catharsis for readers. Rather, the rendering of thought and writing into discrete fields of study appears to be welcomed since it affords multiplied opportunities for cognoscenti to exclude uninitiated outsiders, aspiring authorities to set up fiefdoms, and the programs of annual learned societies to parade the latest fashionable clicheé The greatest loss occasioned by acquiescing to the rigid disciplinary boundaries is the distortion of reality.
In fact, poets pray, biophysicists take their kids to the movies, novelists cash their checks financiers bake bread, missionaries propagate the species as well as the gospel, jocks read books. no singular vocabulary, no single set of intellectual insights, can encompass the breadth and depth of lived existence. When academic discourses deny or underestimate the wholeness of life, they cheat their adepts.
And they cheat the rest of us, for readers will need all the help we can get, and from every resource imaginable, if we expect to have even a chance to understand even a portion of the world that whirls about us."

Put the word "music" in place of the word "life there and you have the core of my complaint of academic music.
The schools perform autopsies and provide Gray's Anatomy rule books.
Kids with their guitars in garages play music innocent of rule books.
The academics play rule books innocent of music.

Anyway, this is about Emily and her interesting face.
Looking at it, I wonder about the formative process. If the face is so asymmetrical what about the brain?
Is there a great difference between the right and left hemispheres causing a disconnect between perceived reality and imagined reality?
Yet with full awareness of both?
So that the deep recesses of the mind readily find counterparts in external stimulae?
It's something for contemplation, and I do.
Because of my interest in finding music that reaches an audience and affecte them to the bottom of their wallets.

Let's see if I can find those pictures.
Here's the New Yorker one.



You an see the fascinating duality even in this painting.

Bike ride, Friday, August eighth, two thousand eight. A day that will live in blogfamy

Meredith took the car and her sister to the Quilt show at the convention center.

So I took the bike to Queen Anne Starbucks.
Took the usual route, Lake Washington trail to the UW then the Burke Gilman to Fremont, across the bridge and up Florentia to 3rd West and the long pump to the corner of Queen Anne and Boston, past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.

Tall drip and a fat-free turkey bacon sandwich heated up in the microwave.

You remember last time I did this trip I complained that the trip down wasn't fast enough.
This time I decided to take 3rd West down, long straight ride.
I hit 37 mph on the portion that had been resurfaced in asphalt and began thinking, with a petit frisson of terror about the lower half that had been only prepared and not paved.
Prepared as in all dug up and chewed into rough patches and meandering ridges.

A petit frisson of terror not unlike the petit frisson of terror that I get riding past the house of the person who tried to run over me with a Toyota in a Seattle Symphony related incident.

The trip up had only been 15.5 miles, which meant that the trip home would only be 30.1 miles. so I started thinking of ways to add 10 more miles to the trip to make it 40.
While pondering that, I stopped at Recycled Cycles to check out brake pads to see if there was some new material that wouldn't leave gooey patches on my rims and make stopping all lumpy and noisy.
Turns out there are quite a few different kinds and styles and the ones that looked most like mine were $18 a one-wheel set. So phooey on that. The brakes hadn't been grabbing this trip anyway, only squealing.

So...on down to Lk. Wash, skirting the Arboretum (which is a fast trip going north but a vehiclularly intimidating slow slog sailing south) to Madison valley where I once got a ticket for having a turn signal bulb out in the ALFA, and back to curvy Ohlmstead legacy part of the the L.W. trail, past Bush school where they've planted the big sea-monster like "T" square on the lawn to the wonderful big "S" curve past the last house Kurt Cobain ever owned, and thence on to Mama Williebelles barbecue stand and Leschi.
During which I decided that a cut across the lake via the I-90 corridor trail would be just the thing to pad the mileage of the trip.
The trail to the bridge splits off from LWB at Leschi and follows more
Ohlmstead legacy curvy tree lined road, which is a nice way to travel even though it is a bit of a climb to the head of the floating bridge.
once there, however, its a long fast trip to water level, giving up all the potential energy gained on the climb, but, that is what it's all about, knowhattimsayn'
The ride through Mercer island is a park like pastoral run that is a lot faster west to east than the other way because the hills are long and gentle going down and short and steep going up so that you can gain plenty of speed to coast to the top of the short steep parts.
East to West is just the opposite, long slogs up and short opportunities for wind in your hair on the downward run.

Across the other bridge and through the Mercer slough wetland trail and the junction of the east side of the Lk. Wash. trail, otherwise known as 15 miles of fair to middlin' bike road.
The trail has become quite undermined by roots of the trees.
Keeps you awake, and I like the trees.
The trees are only on the east side of the trail, the other side is freeway.
Quite often it's possible to pass the freeway traffic, which sometimes (more often than not, actually) moving very slowly.

Now that I was headed south approaching Renton, it dawned on me that, ever since I started across the bridge, I seemed to be facing a headwind.
Also I was approaching the 40 mile mark and fatigue began to intrude on my otherwise idyllic peregrination.

I began to look forward to rounding the south end of Renton airport and having the wind in my corner.

Ah, well, that didn't work out, the wind, being free as a breeze decided to change direction just for me, thanks, God.

It was amusing, however to see a herd of goats helping with weed control along the airport periphery road.

Back up to Rainier Ave. I began to crave a frosted doughnut. Thought I might stop at The Ugly Mug, which I soon realized I had already passed, oops. Turned around found the Mug, tied up the bike, walked to the front door, read the "closed" sign, and yea, I wept.
Fortunately, there is a small grocery store on the same block, where I purchased a six-pack of little chocolate donuts (notice the difference in spelling, that's deliberate) and a root beer.
Not what I wanted, but life made out of things you can't have.
Music may be the food of the Gods, but compromise what us mortals, no matter how deserving, have for lunch each and every day.

At least the carbs fueled the climb through Dead Horse canyon on Holyoke st.

A short coast back home and rest.

A 44.6 mile trip.
Taking 4 hours 08 minutes and 32 seconds.
With a maximum speed of 37 mph (on 3rd west)
For an average speed of 10.7 mph.
Bringing my accumulation to 666 miles.

44 miles in 4 hours;
This compares favorably with 5 1/2 hours for the 50 mile trip around the lake last time I tried it....

At 66 years, I'm still capable of something other than deterioration.

Barbecue at Mac&Janet's yesterday, celebrating family values not found in churches.

A Nice Day

A few weeks ago, Meredith was invited on a tour by the school where she volunteers as library assistant. She came home with two free passes to the EMP.
Yesterday because David is on a well deserved vacation, I had no class to go to, so I thought it would be a good time to use the passes.
Bus downtown for the usual stuff then monorail to the center.

"Let's do it" she says.

The bus arrived just as we reached the street and took us down the hill where we had a choice of downtown bound buses. We opted for the #36 because it's a different route than the usual #7. Also the official language on the #36 is Chinese instead of the Spanish of the #7. It's less embarrassing to hear other peoples conversations when you can't understand what they are saying.
I ride the #7 so much I'm starting to feel like I can understand the language.

We disembarked on 3rd and Seneca and slogged up the hill to the library.
Meredith looked for knitting literature while I logged in and watched the Zappa clip over on Soho the dog ("Le Chien Soho" for people who like that sort of thing, Glenn)

We walked over to the monorail terminal, only to find Gideon's bible, sorry, I mean only to find that the monorail is out of service for awhile.
So we tromped back to 3rd and waited for a #3 to take us to the center.
After a wait of about 15 min, we got a ride to the center and used the far edge of the transfers we got in Rainier valley.
3 dollars total for a the whole trip.

As we approached the place, I decided that, inasmuch as I have to live with it, I might as well try to like the odd building.
Oddness itself is a plus for me, anyway.
Plus the curves, I like that, and the colors, all very nice.
And the little square female heads on the bolts or screws that hold the panels on gives the impression that it could be disassembled and repaired.
Or just disassembled ..

But, inside it's much like a cave.
A cave dedicated to the social phenomenon we were told to ignore at the schools we were going to when it was happening.
Stuff we were to consider "bad", "frivolous", anti American, even.
Rock and Roll as a communist plot.
Little miss J. Edith Hoover investigated the "Louie, Louie" because of its "indecipherable lyrics"
What a hoot.
The government doesn't seem to have gotten any smarter since, though, has it?

But we have, haven't we?

Having had little to eat and drink we spent the first half hour at the bar with a Coke (whoops, Pepsi, and a Caesar salad.

So after that we entered the paid for section and found the whole Jimi Hendricks saga thoroughly displayed

And the history of R&R and it's Latin American counterparts

And lots and lots of guitars.

Learning kiosks where one can practice various instruments
Little recording studios where one can record one's lack of talent.

In all the noise of the practice kiosks, I heard no one keeping a beat.

Charming, actually.

I didn't get to play with any of the displays, but I'm sure my talent would stand up to that, I can't keep a beat either.

After the music, we went to the Science fiction end of the building and examined another proscripted social phenomenon of our youth.

The difference between the two phenoms being that the music has had a powerfully liberating influence on the human experience and science fiction and its poor sad relation, science, has had virtually no useful effect at all.

But it was fun.
There are some awesome video displays covering projections of "the future" from "The Jetsons" through "Bladerunner" and beyond.

Plus lots of props costumes and robots from "Star Trek" and many other movies, magazines, TV shows and what all.

There was a special display of "Robots" (you know, the people who put your cars together) including a rack of toy robots.

While on the bus, a very crowded bus, back downtown we decided, since we didn't have to be anywhere, anytime, ever again, that dinner at the Pike Place Brewery would be an appropriate addition to our peregrinations.

Garlic shrimp and a Kilt Lifter for her and Salmon stuffed with shrimp and an XXXXX stout for me.

Molto Buon Gusto! (you can correct my Italian, if that's what it is, if you like, i don't care)

Once again the bus home was virtually waiting for us (they run a lot of #7s)
Not only that, it turned out to be a free ride.
Which didn't work so well because it was a "Rainier Beach" #7 which doesn't go up the hill, meaning we had to transfer to a "Prentice Street" #7 which they charged us for.

Still, the trip cost let me see here, $3 going out $3 to the Pike and $3.50 home,
What have we got? $9.50 against at least a gallon and a half of gas plus what, 3hours parking at the center plus another hour downtown, or four hours parking downtown plus two $3 bus rides to and from the center.

What a deal!

This is the Disney hall in L.A.

Where the L.A. Philharmonic gets to play.

The EMP doesn't look anything at all like this.

Nice place.

Summertime

And the livin' is lazy
I've been mainly sleeping
Although I did mow the dandelions yesterday.
Tonight is the "night out" block party thing.
We're bringing potato salad and some "chewy noels"

Ummm....

I got two cellists lined up only to find that I missed
getting in the salon this time.
Next time is December 5

Oops, 'scuse me, I nodded off there a bit.
Just resting my eyes.

I feel old as yonder stone...

hithering thithering night.

Vroom

Watching the boat races on TV today.
Eight full hours of coverage for five or six 5-minute races.
And lot's of advertising.
It was so much better when I was a kid and could just ride my bike down to the lake and watch Slo-mo 4 & 5 throw all the water around.

Now it's all blocked off and you've got to pay!

My brilliant idea is that the race should be ten laps around Mercer Island.
One race for all qualifiers.

That would be a real race.

I warned you

I feel a song coming up

Nobody wants you when you're down and out -
Nobody wants you when you're up and about -
Nobody wants you -
Nobody wants you -
Why don't you just go home?

Nobody wants you when you're looking like that -
Nobody wants you when you're wearing that hat -
Nobody wants you -
Nobody wants you -
Why don't you just go home?

You come around here with a face full of hair -
You got some vain notion that somebody cares -
You think you're so great -
But you can't keep a beat -
Do something useful with your big ugly feet -

(Dynamite guitar solo)

Maybe we're thankful you for all that you've brought -
But leave us alone cause you're starting to rot -
You sure fooled us once -
But now we know you're a dunce -
Why don't you just -
Why don't you just -
Why don't you just go home?

The tide comes up and the tide goes down -
We want you to take the first boat outa town -
You sang your song -
But you've been here too long -
Hanging around here only proves that you're wrong -

Why don't you just go home?

Why don't you just go home?

et cetera

Now's a good time to leave, 'cause the drummer and the bass player insist on having their solos too, and you definitely don't want to hear any of that.

Especially the bass.

He's even worse than the drummer.

I don't know what made me join this band.

I really don't.

I studied at Juilliard.

Really.

It's depressing...

Just fooling around

Just to annoy, Butch and Anonomann, I've done another one.
This is Butch's poem "Avian Armor"


Avian

To see it full size just left click on the picture.

To see what the poem is like all in a line rather than all at once go to;

Avian Armor

Diurnal rhythm

For some reason I woke up at 6:00 this morning.
Not wanting to waste the time I hopped on my bike and rode.
North on LWB until I got to the place where they've blocked off the road for the hydro races.
I had to do some creative route restructuring 'til I got back on LWB again.
Once I got to UW I switched to the Burke Gilman and Q A hill. This time I took the short steep route up and had to walk at least half of it.
The problem with going up Q A is when you go down again you can't go too fast because of the cross streets and the traffic, so you don't get the speed thrill you paid for going up.
So anyway it was a 33.4 mile trip taking 3 hours, eight minutes and thirty four seconds with an average speed of ten point six mph for a total since I got the computer thingie of six hundred and twenty one miles and a maximum speed of 34.7
I am still out of breath as we speak. (or type, actually).

Anyway, that's all that is on my mind at this point in time.

SSO disrespect

I'm just out of the shower after some wheel work on the V'vo.
Had to replace some lug nuts that'd stripped out.
One of the studs had damaged threads.
I had to get creative because the Volvo studs have a 13mm x 1.25 thread count and I have no similarly threaded tap
Fortunately, a 1/2 x 20 SAE thread count matches the metric thread count near as dammit.
An inch is 25.4 mm so 1/2 inch is just a bit smaller than 13 mm but I only needed to clear out the first 1/8 inch and let the new lug straighten out the rest.

Wasn't the only reason I needed a shower, however, this week has been a week of mechanical adventure all around.
Fidelio also got a new chain which finally seems to have improved its gear shifting difficulties.
Also some critical cable adjustments.

D'oh! I meant to get some mew brake pads when I was at the bike shop.

I havn't had a chance to give it a thorough road test yet so surprises are likely to still be in the offing.
Maybe a trip to the bike shop for the pads will be a good shakedown cruise.

Tonight is the final night of the Chamber Music Festival.

I know that you all rely on me as a source of SSO disrespect, and I have a post percolating in my head.
I'll get to it asap.

Also coming soon to a theater as near to you as you are right at the moment;
An astounding insight as to the nature of dinosaurs and their ossified remnants,
A thorough explanation of the Peloponnesian war. (I mention Thucydides a lot, only fair I let you know what I'm talking about)

More verses to my "Why don't you just go home" song.

Some irrelevant comments about the SFO (I just read an history by ummm... David Schneider)

Steve Martin once had a comment about Richard Nixon in exile.
Steve imagined Nixon with a metal detector walking forlornly along the beach at San Clemente.

I somehow can't keep myself from seeing Gerry Schwartz in that picture.

I'm starting to get the hang of enharmonic spelling....a bit of it anyway.