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Gallery: Palm Springs 2008
Posted 10:48 PM, Apr 28, 2008 |
As previously mentioned, a group of 10 of us (5 native Minnesotans included!) spent a weekend avoiding the duties of regular life by escaping to a rented house in Palm Springs, CA. It happened to be the weekend of the Coachella music festival, which we did not attend and were glad, as it was hot - one thermometer (that was, admittedly, in the sun) read 124F at one point. ‘Twas hot.
Saturday was the first day in possibly - almost certainly, in fact - at least a decade during which I, at no point, put on socks, shoes, sandals, or any other footwear. The entire day was spent padding around the air-conditioned house, the pool deck, or dangling my feet in the pool (swimming is for those who feel comfortable enough to tempt death). My feet were bare during multiple meals, all prepared primarily by the Swede, including pasta and a giant beef roast-thing, which is how giant pieces of meat are best referred to (as “roast-things”).
Many games were played, and even more drinks were consumed. The bottle of Jagermeister remained capped, but multiple bottles of wine, around 30 bottles of beer, half a bottle of vodka, half a bottle of whiskey, and various other mixers and liqueurs were disposed of. I did a completely inappropriate charades version of Helen Keller, one for which I will pay dearly in the afterlife.
The house was a fantastic find, and pictures follow.
Palm Springs 2008
If you follow this website at all, you probably know I’m not a big fan of taking pictures of people. Most of these photos were taken immediately upon arrival, when only 30% of the party was present. (30% population-wise, anyway, but maybe more, spirit-wise.) There were not enough masks to conceal the identities of all present, so most are absent from the photos.
Until next year, Palm Springs, you hot, sweaty city.
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Back to the Smog
Posted 9:45 AM, Apr 28, 2008 |
We all returned safely from a few days in the hot, hot desert. There will be some photos later, and some other notes, but not right now.
PS. I trimmed my toenails and am now two pounds lighter.
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A Long Day’s Journey Into Sand
Posted 9:53 PM, Apr 24, 2008 |
Tomorrow, the EC and I, along with the Rittonians, Dr. Dr., the Swede, and four others who don’t have nicknames (yet) retreat into the sweltering climes of Palm Springs, CA, where a house has been rented under an assumed name, the police have been put on notice, and the distillery workers have been putting in double-shifts for the past three weeks.
The plan is to spend the weekend there. Our bodies will return on Sunday, but our minds may not.
See you on the other side, Ray.
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Fiction Becomes Reality
Posted 4:42 PM, Apr 22, 2008 |
While watching Major League 2 the other day, there was a montage of the Cleveland Indians’ blunders throughout the majority of the season, filled with them making hapless mistakes. There were two instances (only one of which I actually remember, as it was late) of their “hapless blunders” actually occurring during the last MLB season.
At one point, the Indians get two successive runners tagged out on the same play at home plate, one after the other. An actual MLB team (the Dodgers, I think) managed to “accomplish” this feat during last year’s playoffs.
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Diagonal Tournament
Posted 9:57 AM, Apr 21, 2008 |
Yesterday was the Santa Monica Lawn Bowls Diagonal Tournament. During the Diagonal, instead of bowling side to side, where every end is basically the same length, the rink was divided into seven diagonal rinks, with the ones tucked in the corners being the shortest and the one in the middle, running from corner to corner (the green is square) being the longest. Teams moved like folks on a golf course, bowling an end and then moving to the next rink, bowling an end there, then moving on, and so on.
So my partner Bob and I won; we were the only team to win all 4 of our games (two 7-end games in the morning, two 7-end games in the afternoon, each game against a different pair.) We won $40 each (although $12.50 of that was the entry fee) and also (everybody) got free lunch. All in all, a good time except that I was reminded, as I often am at lawn bowls, that older people can be just as sore losers as, say, 8-year-olds.
There are people in our club that, when they lose:
1) insist that you got “lucky,” as if they never got a lucky roll, bounce, etc.;
2) make excuses;
3) quickly walk away instead of shaking your hand, which is the proper lawn bowls thing to do, as the game is thick with etiquette;
4) leave as soon as they’re done bowling in a tournament if they didn’t win, not staying for any sort of ceremony (or clean-up). (Perhaps they figure their $12.50 entry fee is paying for the clean-up, but it isn’t.)
In past tournaments, as an addendum to #4, when I have not placed in the top 3 (which is, well, all tournaments but two), I’ve always stayed around to watch the winning teams accept their prizes, congratulated them, etc., but more than half the people yesterday bolted immediately.
For a game that makes a big deal out of etiquette, I’m consistently surprised (which is hard to do, be consistently surprised, and may point to some daftness on my part) at how poor people’s etiquette - nay, manners - really are. And, sadly, some of the worst offenders are the best bowlers, including those that routinely offer suggestions, help, and lessons to novice bowlers.
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Return to Kirksville
Posted 10:17 AM, Apr 18, 2008 |
I’m not returning to Kirksville, MO, any time soon, but paying off the last of one of my school loans yesterday, addressing the envelope to good old McClain Hall, Kirskville, MO 63501 made me a little wistful.
The EC gets to patrol the grounds and general vicinity of her alma mater at will. It’s a little tougher when your alma mater is located in the middle of nowhere - nowhere in the Midwest, which, well, it doesn’t get a lot more nowhere than that.
You can put “Visiting Kirksville, MO” on my bucket list.
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Math Stuff
Posted 5:09 PM, Apr 17, 2008 |
A couple things:
1) One of the things in math that is both a mystery and relatively easy to explain is the distribution of prime numbers. Prime numbers don’t appear to have any order to their distribution - there are relatively large stretches of numbers in which none are prime, and there are “twin primes” (primes which are separated by only one number, like 41 and 43) scattered along the number line. There are an infinite number of twin primes (although this may not be proven, I don’t remember). But anyway, so it’s hard to figure out where primes occur without actually checking all the possible factors up to the square root of the alleged prime.
Anyway… so they found a new L-function. According to this article, L-functions may be connected to the Riemann hypothesis which deals with the distribution of prime numbers.
I don’t know an L-function from a social function, but it’s an excuse to talk about math.
2) While working on a Chinese Rubik’s cube, which is identical to a “regular” Rubik’s cube except that it comes apart in your hand and breaks within 12 minutes of attempted solving, the EC asked if there was an optimal solution given any random cube. (She asked it in a much less eloquent manner.) There probably is an optimal solution, but nobody knows what it is. It’s at least 26, if you’re counting by quarter-turns. However, the upper bound for quarter turns is 35. So the answer is somewhere between there. (A more thorough explanation, as always, can be found at Wikipedia.)
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Zero Poems Per Day
Posted 6:53 PM, Apr 14, 2008 |
So a lot of you have been emailing me today, asking, “Where’s today’s poem?”
Actually, no. You haven’t been.
There is no new poem today. There most likely will not be one tomorrow, either, or the day after. If there is one, you will find it here, in these pages, and not somewhere else.
It turns out I cannot write one poem per day. Often, writing the day’s poem was a task that kept me from sleeping, as in: imagine me all tucked in, lights out, and then, out of the darkness, a volley of curse words bracketed by “I forgot to write my” and “poem.” Bare feet padding to the computer, sitting down, writing thirty words about exercise equipment or a rusty faucet or something, then back to sleep. (Turns out, this is a difficulty I anticipated and was never able to work my way around. Having a blog in which you can go back and pat yourself on your back about your own predicted failures is a terrific pick-me-up.)
What’s the point? If it’s supposed to make me a better writer, I don’t think it worked.
If it’s supposed to show me that you can write a poem about anything, I already knew that. Note that that’s totally different than writing a poem about anything every day.
You know, nothing’s fun once it turns into work. At my old website (pause here to remember it fondly, if you were around back then), I posted every single day for a couple years (excepting days where I was not near a computer with internet access; in those cases, I hired guest posters at no pay except the allure and extra line on their résumés.) Then, that sense of obligation got old, so I burned the site down.
So I will continue to write on here, poems sometimes, normal things other times, on the same irregular schedule you’ve grown accustomed to. See you around. Sometime.
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M.U.S.C.L.E.
Posted 10:53 AM, Apr 12, 2008 |
It’s another throwback episode. Way back, before Magic: The Gathering and Dungeons & Dragons, but possibly after Fireball Island, us country kids used to get our thrills with M.U.S.C.L.E. men. (M.U.S.C.L.E. is an acronym for Millions of Unusual Small Creatures Lurking Everywhere, something I don’t think I knew as a kid.) They were these little rubber wrestling figures, maybe about an inch to an inch-and-a-half tall. Originally, they were flesh-colored, but later on they came out with colored ones which were not nearly as awesome (even though they were the same actual characters).
Looking at a list of M.U.S.C.L.E. men, it turns out that, between Q and I, we probably had about all of them. They all had names (it turns out they all had official names, but I mean we made up names for all of them, as I don’t know how we were supposed to know the real names), but I don’t really remember any of the names except one, which was, lamely, “Mr. Wild,” presumably because of his grass-made pants and his general look of cluelessness.
As with most action figures (G.I. Joe, He-Man, Star Wars), playing with M.U.S.C.L.E. men was mostly just making up stories. The weird thing about M.U.S.C.L.E. was that there was no background stories, no histories, unlike stuff like He-Man, where you already had this pre-populated universe that you could just expand on. M.U.S.C.L.E. was really a wide-open space.
It turns out that M.U.S.C.L.E. is based on the Kinnikuman cartoon from Japan. Kinnikuman (Muscleman in the U.S. toy series) was a wrestler who was always being challenged by other, intergalactic wrestlers. So that doesn’t sound like much of a history or universe, but there were at least 387 issues of the comic created (and it might still be going - it’s tough to tell). Here in the U.S., though, we just got the toys.
M.U.S.C.L.E. men came in packs of 4, 10, and 24, and the packs of 10 were actually plastic garbage cans. That was pretty cool packaging. There was also a wrestling ring, I guess, but nobody I knew ever had that. According to Wikipedia, there are at least 13 different games based on Kinnikuman and M.U.S.C.L.E. for systems including the original NES, PSP, and PS2, but most are available, again, only in Japan (and sometimes South Korea).
It’s tough to say how many M.U.S.C.L.E. men I had - I remember having a decent-sized plastic bag of them, all crammed in there. After I had stopped playing with them, I stuffed them all in a drawer under my bed.
A little personal history: our family used to host a New Year’s Day party every year for years and years. We’d have all the relatives over - maybe, say, 30 people? That seems like a lot, but it may have been more with kids and everything. Anyway, us kids would always get together and play, like, Nerf Mini Golf and stuff. This one year, one of my younger cousins found my M.U.S.C.L.E. men and was playing with them for most of the day - no big deal. No big deal, that is, until I was guilt-tripped into giving all my M.U.S.C.L.E. men away. It was pointed out to me that I never used them and my cousin was enjoying them so much, couldn’t he just have them?
I don’t know how old I was at the time, but not old enough to muster up the courage, foresight, (or selfishness, depending on your point of view) to say, “No, he cannot just have them, they are an important part of my childhood, a fond, flesh-colored memory.” No, I didn’t say that. What else could I say but, “Okay.”
Every once in a while since then, when I think about them, I wish I still had them. I don’t know what I’d do with them - set them up on my desk? Maybe just look at them (instead of having to look at digital picture galleries) and fondly remember. Sigh.
Or, I could sell them. On eBay nowadays they go for around $0.75 to $1.00 a piece (recent lots of 39, 8, and 84 have gone for $24.99, $5.50, and $80, respectively). But I probably wouldn’t sell them. Getting rid of my M.U.S.C.L.E. men and my original collection of Magic cards are two of my largest financial regrets. Hold on to your hobby stuff, kids.
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Lambs and Radiohead
Posted 11:38 PM, Apr 10, 2008 |
I had some other stuff to say, but forgot it. I can say that it’s a good time for a weekend. Also, I will think about writing posts about places I spent significant amounts of time at, like friends’ houses.
In the meantime, one more link: If you have a soul, you must love this picture of a lamb. Those long ears, that pink nose. Man, whatever, lambs are awesome. This lamb also reminds me of Yoda.
Oh, also (so I have more to say!) maybe I will go to a Radiohead concert, or maybe I will not, if the tickets are all sold out. If the tickets are all sold out, I will spend the time while the concert is happening playing in traffic and bemoaning my rotten luck.
What’s so great about Radiohead? Someone tell me. I liked, like, OK Computer, but that was about a hundred years ago. Since then, it’s been all this whiny business and electronic mish-mash. Radiohead are like this century’s Grateful Dead, with Thom Yorke as a much thinner and better-smelling Jerry Garcia (I imagine).
Possible food tie-ins for Thom Yorke:
Thom Yorkshire Pudding
That’s the only one I could think of. Sorry it isn’t better. Yep, just sat here for thirty more seconds and couldn’t think of any more.
Man, yeah. Just spent another two minutes on it. Still nothing.
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Odds and Ends
Posted 11:46 PM, Apr 9, 2008 |
A selection of things I’ve been saving that haven’t been good enough reason to drag out the old blog-updater, but now the collection has reached critical mass:
 Measure for Measure a New York Times blog written by Suzanne Vega, Rosanne Cash, Darrell Brown, and Andrew Bird.
A story about the jealous, violent side of octopus love. Sure, they aren’t dolphins, but you take what you can get.
A parachute recently found in Washington state, sadly, does not belong to famed hijacker D.B. Cooper. (I loved Cooper as a kid after seeing The Pursuit of D.B. Cooper tons of times - that guy was awesome… or was he?)
St. Paul’s Como Park Conservatory’s Corpse Flower (Amorphophallus titanum - man, what a great scientific name!) is ready to bloom. Unfortunately, the video requires some application/plug-in called “Microsoft Silverlight” which sounds pretty dumb, so the still pictures will have to do. For those not in the know, a corpse flower bloom smells, allegedly, like a rotting corpse, a dead dog, a dirty diaper, and vomit. Not all at once, I’m sure.
As many of you know, I have particularly mixed feelings about Duluth, MN, the alleged city of my birth and also the definite city of my growing-up. (Notice I didn’t say “maturing.”) I don’t know what the fact that I continually read this blog, called News Tribune Attic, says about my relationship with Duluth. (The blog consists of photos and articles from the Duluth News Tribune, once the Duluth News Tribune and Herald and, also, before that, the Duluth News Tribune, Herald, Globe, Sun, and Star… Journal.) Maybe my fascination with the blog means nothing, but I doubt it - there must be some reason I’m currently viewing a John’s Red Owl ad from December, 1986. (Thanks to my brother for the link a month ago.)
Also, tucked way down here at the bottom is a notice that YoG is like an old tree: some branches are dying, and new branches are being formed. In the sidebar, the old, dead branches are now gray. I guess there are no new branches, so maybe YoG is more like a, well, dying tree than just simply an old tree. But look at that list of archives, all those curvy, life-bearing hips.
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Paean: Dulcinea
Posted 6:04 PM, Apr 5, 2008 |
I think most people my age have some album that they picked up when they were in their musically-formative years and clung to. Mine was Toad the Wet Sprocket’s 1994 album Dulcinea.
Dulcinea had the songs “Something’s Always Wrong” and “Fall Down” (which, apparently, spent six weeks at #1 on Billboard’s Modern Rock charts at the time). The album went platinum. So those are the details you could find by, say, searching the Internet.
But, as with all albums that people cling to, there’s more than just that. I wish I could explain what it was. I don’t think I knew then, either. I remember I had this Sony Cassette Walkman back in high school and would often hang out after school with friends, playing Magic, and was always listening to my Dulcinea cassette. I listened to it so much the white lettering on the cassette wore off.
If I had to, as I listen to Dulcinea right now, say what appealed about it to me then and now, it might best be summed up in a quote I semi-remember from somewhere, saying, basically, that Toad the Wet Sprocket aren’t adventurous, they don’t do anything weird - they’re just a band without an unusual sound, but they’re very good at what they do. Does that make sense?
I don’t remember why I bought the album in the first place - maybe it was from the strength of “Fall Down” or “Something’s Always Wrong,” I don’t remember. I do recall hearing those songs on the radio - while working at the public library in town, a local station was counting down the top x-hundred songs of the year. As I was parking the car, “Something’s Always Wrong” was on. After work, getting in the car, “Fall Down” was on. At least that’s how I distinctly remember it.
I think Toad was a safe band - I wasn’t really into music as a kid - not at all. In elementary school, I remember being fascinated by The Bill Gaither Trio and also the soundtrack to Stand By Me, a movie I was not allowed to see. (Gaither is, according to Google, a Southern Gospel legend).
Into middle school, I liked things like Petra, PFR, and other Christian rock bands that were pretty good, but pretty safe, obviously. (Oh, man, I also loved Steve Taylor, this other Christian alternative album that got heavy, heavy play during church youth group trips. Man. That was good. Nowadays, it’s okay. But I can see the appeal of that, too.)
I owned Mariah Carey’s Music Box on cassette, and somewhere scored copies, without cases, of Warrant’s Cherry Pie and FireHouse’s Hold Your Fire. I don’t know where they came from, and I didn’t “get” them.
So, long and short, Toad’s Dulcinea was a nice, safe, quality album for me to absorb, kind of a security blanket for a neophyte music-lover. The album doesn’t get much play anymore around YoG headquarters, but I’m listening to it now and enjoying it immensely. Of course, it’s hard to tell if I’m enjoying it for nostalgia’s sake or for music’s sake - I suspect it’s a little of both.
You have an album - you only get to pick one - that you remember loving, wearing out on the record player / 8-track / cassette / CD player / iTunes. I know you have one. What?
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Beach Twitter
Posted 11:19 PM, Apr 1, 2008 |
I read this article today, which is basically about some Scottish boys playing on a beach with the severed head of a woman wrapped in a bag. Grisly stuff.
While explaining this to the EC, she interrupted with, “What kind of beach was it?” to which I replied, “A topless beach, apparently.”
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Like Riding a Bike
Posted 10:53 AM, Apr 1, 2008 |
I like riding a bike. And now I can.
The EC and I spotted a bicycle in the alley, unlocked, near the trash dumpster. After giving the person the standard statute of limitations (7 minutes) to prove to us that they weren’t throwing it away, we took it.
It probably was trash - the front inner tube was junk, and the back gearshift doesn’t work. I ordered a new inner tube from eBay, pried the tire off using spoons, replaced the inner tube, and took it to the gas station to pay 75 cents (where’s the cents key on my keyboard?! Who needs a stupid caret?) for air. All better now. I took it for a spin up and down the alley, did not hit any cars, and can report that the bicycle works.
It was a fifteen-speed (3 gears in the front x 5 gears in the back) but now has been reduced to a 3-speed as the chain won’t shift in the back. It may just be rust - I haven’t gotten out the WD-40 - but it feels like there’s no tension in the gearshift at all. Perhaps it needs a new cable or the existing cable needs to be tightened.
Even if that doesn’t get fixed, though, it’s basically a good (Specialized-brand) 3-speed bicycle that cost a total of $6.49 for air and the tubes.
I guess we’ll have to buy a helmet, even though it isn’t the law here. I did ride it on the street for about fifteen seconds, from the gas station to the alley, and felt as if my life was in danger. (Also, I know a couple Minneapolitans who have gotten knocked over by cars, causing one to miss an Okkervil River concert, sadly. I’d hate to have that happen to me.)
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