Category: tunes

Music. Bands. Songs. Concerts.

Posted on

butterflies

Cheek, tongue. Tongue, cheek.
Say, can I have some of your Taiwanese food?
Yes I’ve been eating it, two or three weeks now, haven’t got sick once,
That should keep us both alive.

This green island has become a fantasy-world to me, my life here being decidedly surreal.

So tomorrow morning it is. Packing the bags tonight for the journey home. Sharaun really digs Taipei, and I couldn’t be happier. I was a little worried that maybe she wouldn’t like the food, but she jumped right in and ate duck stomach and sea snail right along with me. We had a great time doing some sightseeing and hanging out with the bar staff. She experienced nearly all my usual Taiwan experiences: KTV, binge-eating, betel nut trying, Taipei 101, life at the bar, royal hotel treatment, and hot-as-balls sauna weather. She took to the city instantly, and is in fact right now out with a new friend of hers getting a manicure. Incredible. I guess the only thing she didn’t really get to experience was the multiple-hooker trapeze orgies… but then again I don’t think that’s really her cup of tea. But hey, she did surprise me with the betel nut and duck stomach…

Travel travel travel. It’s all I do. I will step off a plane, enter the vagina that is your country or state as a proud, erect, conquering penis. I will repeatedly pound you for all you’re worth, and then limp flaccidly back to my plane where I will get just enough rejuvenating rest before being whisked off to my next distant triumph. I may notch my bedpost for you if you are memorable enough, but I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you. Now get out of my bed, and leave your number on the table… I might want to call you in a couple hours if I’m bored. Beat it. Oh, and Shanghai, Denver, Austin, and Taipei – you’re in the queue that way, so hop to them Kegels and be good and limber upon my touchdown. Ahh… that felt good to get out of my system.

If you know me, you know my penchant for “non-commercial” music. I’m not one for the latest Top 40 and often couldn’t ID a chartopper if they shared a cab with me. But, I like to think I’m not entirely closed-minded, and I do indulge in the occasional prefab pop nugget. Usually, I end up liking these songs because I hear them at a key moment – and in the moment they sound perfect. That’s the case with this radio-tune I really enjoy right now, “One Thing,” by some chick called Amerie. Sharaun tells me that the super-slick production is the work of some hotshot guy right now, makes sense… programming managers must have been tripping over themselves to get this into rotation. No telling if this link will still work even tomorrow, but you can listen to the entire track here. It’s just so summery-fun sounding to me, it kicks the music snob in the ass and makes him listen. The stuttery pounding background instrumentation and cloppy beat remind me of vintage Utah Saints or Dewdrops era Deee-Lite.

Well folks. I think that’s it. I’m giving myself a day off from posting tomorrow, unless I come up with something on the plane. But… even then we’ll be in the air for close to 24hrs, so there may not be an opportune time to publish. I think I’ll join the regular crew down in Henly’s Ball for one more night of Taiwan.

Radio silence, 24hrs.

Posted on

i’m just here

Taiweezy streezy.
When it comes to travel, I am a machine. I swoop down on airports like I own the places. I know which security line is usually the fastest, and I have my laptop out and pockets emptied as I saunter up. I have my passport out when they’re gonna ask for it, I know which side of the plane seat 8H is on. I know where you can buy some chapstick if you’re near gate 37 in the Tokyo airport. I know where the airline lounges are in each airport, and even got a familiar nod from the lady that run the international shuttle in San Fran. I think, when airport staff recognize you from your last trip – you’ve officially made earned the “seasoned” tag. When I fly business class, I now understand all the buttons and knobs on the seats. Which one scoots out my footrest, which one pops out the TV screen, where the blasted hidden tray table is, everything. I tuck my napkin in the neck of my shirt to eat my prosciutto and scallops. When I’m traveling, you can’t fade me; you just can’t fade me. And I guess that’s a good thing, since I seem to be traveling a lot this year.

Anyway, if you hadn’t guessed by the exposition – I’m again in Taiwan. I got in Sunday night in the middle of a rainstorm that made for a bumpy landing. I didn’t sleep well my first night, had problems nodding off – which is unusual for me. Maybe my body will actually fight the time change this time, instead of sucking it up like it usually does. But anyway, it’s the morning here and I’m feeling beat. I think I’m going to cut out of the office early to go catch up on some Zs. For the first week I’m here, I’m actually staying at my buddy Eric’s apartment instead of the usual hotel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still at the hotel bar every night. It’s just that I struck an agreement with work to where if I save the cost of Sharaun’s plane ticket out in hotel stay (which adds up to one week), they’ll pick up the cost of her flight. Since Eric was out of town, he and Suzy graciously offered me the keys to their place for that week. It’s a little different than staying in the hotel, but it’s still close to work and is definitely homey.

I’m sitting here listening to this new album by The National, a group I downloaded and mentioned last week – but really only first “listened” to on the plane out. For some reason, walking down the moving sidewalks in the Tokyo airport with this album in the background made it sound perfect, awesome, and now I’m totally hooked on it. The songs are deceptively quiet and subdued, but are all really emotional and in some cases haunting. Anyway, it’s a spectacular-awesome album, really. I don’t know why I didn’t take to it more immediately… but I’m just glad I had the trip over to really sit through it and appreciate it. I’ve been listening to it non-stop since somewhere over the Atlantic… and am nearly ready to call it the hallmark album for this trip. It’s good for that too, kinda has a “Lost in Translation” feel to it. Luckily, you don’t have to take my word for it and can listen to the whole album online at this site. If you only plan to listen to one track, make it “Abel.” If you listen to two, check out “Lit Up.” But don’t be fooled by me throwing you a couple up-tempo numbers… listen to “Karen” for a dose of the lighter (and more poignantly perverse) side of the album.

I don’t know about you guys, but when I have to do a #2 in a public restroom – I use those little tissue-paper seat covers. I don’t know how effective they really are, and by that I mean that I’m not entirely sure what sort of “diseases” can absorb through the hairy skin of my butt and infect my bloodstream. I mean, I can understand catching some kinda skin fungus or something… but it’s not like my actual anus is touching the nasty seat, it’s the relatively thick and protective skin on my butt. Anyway, I use the paper things, even though I’d bet that microscopic “bad guys” that can penetrate my butt-skin could also likely penetrate this thin paper shield. Well anyway, I didn’t start writing this to talk about why I use the things; I wrote this to talk about a problem I have using the things. Here’s my complaint: I go into the stall, pull (first up, then down) one of the papers off the wall above the toilet, carefully punch out the perforated center section, and finally place the cover over the seat with great attention to coverage maximization. Then, I turn around to undo the pants and assume the position – and the damn automatic-flush toilet senses my movement as someone having finished their business. The toilet flushes, and sucks my tissue-paper cover down with it. So I always find myself trying to turn in such a way that the bulk of my body stays in front of the little sensor eye. I turn really fast, turn really slow, even try to hold my hand in front of the sensor… but sometimes you just can’t escape it. Automation is great, except when it automates away my germ-protection.

This cobbled-together thing is getting posted now, just so I can clear the buffer and start with a clean slate.

Posted on

shuffling papers and stuffing envelopes

Stacks and stacks and stacks...
Today was great, for only one reason – I was ultimate-productive. Not only did I have a great day at work, getting nearly all my pre-Taiwan tasks taken care of; but I also got a bunch of personal pre-Taiwan stuff done. I got a haircut, mowed the lawn, rigged up some drip lines to our new potted plants so they won’t die while we’re gone, laundered massive amounts of clothing, refilled prescriptions, and uploaded a bunch of new MP3s to my phone for the flight. It was awesome. The rad thing is, it’s only 10pm right now and I’m done. If I had to, I could pack up right now and be ready to fly tomorrow morning. But I gots one more day y’allz… one more day.

Today at work I was busy preparing for my impending trip. This meant taking care of any outstanding expense reports and whatnot I’d have to file before leaving. In doing so, I found myself shuffling through a large pile of papers, sorting them, paper-clipping them, and putting them in envelopes. It was fairly quiet around as I was doing this, so the sound of paper on paper was loud enough that I took notice of it. In the silence, as I lined up edges and slid on paper clips, the sound was somehow very attractive. In the background, a printer clicked and hummed to life. As the grains on my stack of papers slid against each other audibly, I was struck by the thought of how “business” it all sounded. The smooth dry papers in my hand and the sound, I suddenly felt very “incorporated” and insignificant… some small person in a huge living beast of a company shuffling papers and stuffing envelopes. I don’t get to do much “old skool” office-type work at my job. 99% of my time is spent in front of a computer, or on conference-call meetings (while in front of a computer). Just sitting at a quiet desk working with actual paper and envelopes and paper clips is not the norm – it’s usually much less tactile. I imagined it as a neat throwback moment to the offices of yore, where people actually used paper and other such physical items.

I recently downloaded a rip of a BBC radio show on which the Arcade Fire were the featured guests. The emcee talked to them a bit about their album, and then they launched into a few songs. What makes this rip so awesome is both the quality of the recording and the quality of the performance. The Fire are on point, they sound outstanding… no, better than outstanding. Just hearing them do a scant two songs serves to remind me how utterly effing incredible that album is. There are good albums, there are albums that may even be the best album out of a one-year period, there are even albums which some regard as the “top” of a decade, and then there are transcendent albums – albums which, upon years of reflection, are just head and shoulders above the rest. U2’s Joshua Tree, Nirvana’s Nevermind, The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, Radiohead’s OK Computer, etc. I have no doubt whatsoever that Funeral will become one of these albums – it’s just that damn good.

Looks like Taiwan’s gonna be kinda wet. I think I’m going to bed. Goodnight.

Posted on

e

Brought to you by the letter E, and the number quatro.
I went to the bar tonight with Sharaun, she goes most every Wednesday night to meet up with the Wednesday night soccer crew. I’ve been a few times, but usually the prospect of sitting at home on the couch is more appealing to me. I don’t know why that is, because I actually enjoy going to the bar a lot. Wednesday night is “pint night” and you get to keep the glass. It makes me wonder how many other things I miss out on because I’m just unmotivated. She wants me to buy her some pepper spray (we’re talking about Sharaun now). She says she’s deathly scared when I’m away on travel and she’s home alone. So, I guess I will buy her some pepper spray. I could just get her some shells for the .22 – but she’d hate that, and there’s a chance she’d have better luck with the pepper spray anyway… a misplaced .22 round might be less incapacitating. It makes me feel kinda bad, y’know? I mean, I consider the opportunity for travel to one of the awesomest perks of my job. It kinda bums me out that she doesn’t like it. I can understand though, I guess, being that I’m the one off on exciting adventures while she’s left to fend for herself.

I’m gonna talk about comment spam and scripts and robots and other nerd-stuff now. Feel free to tune out.

I have no earthly idea what my latest plague of comment spam is all about, but I think I’ve got it under control. Let me explain: Beginning, oh, about two months ago I guess, I began getting strange comments. They were posted with the name field blank, and contained no content other than the letter ‘E’ as an e-mail address. As far as I can tell, there is absolutely no purpose to this kind of comment spam, other than to annoy me and fill my database with crap. I mean, unless it’s some secret spamvertising campaign for the letter E perpetuated by the nefarious Sesame Street gang – I have no idea what the motivation behind such spam would be. There are no links in the comment, no text, no real e-mail address, just one single stupid letter. What’s worse is, because they really aren’t screaming “spam,” they were getting through my comment filters. The other day, I just broke down and added the “word” ‘E’ to my spam-block list in WordPress. I’m guessing this only blocks “whole words” of ‘E,’ and not any comment containing the letter E – and so far it seems to be working.

There are a few things which tell me that these are indeed bot-driven spam comments, and not just someone’s idea of messing with me. They are always on older, seemingly random posts, which is a sure sign that you’re dealing with a spambot. They come in rapid clumps, multiple comments within seconds of each other on different entries. And, they all seem to come from the same stinkin’ IP address: 24.2.95.195. Whois tells me it belongs to a Comcast block in Utah or something – but I’d bet it’s forged anyway. You know, I can understand spam comments that hype penis pills or poker or whatever… but the letter E? Even if your comments got through, what the heck are they doing?

The only possibly explanation I can dream up is that it’s some method the robot spam machines use to test the “strength” of my spam filtering. I would imagine some algorithm that first posts several E-only comments via an automated script. Next, it would parse my pages to see if its E-only comment actually posted where the public can see it. If so – it would then step it up a notch – this time perhaps posting an E-only comment where the E is actually a URL linked to some poker site (I’ve actually seen these “next-level” E-only posts). Parse again, if it made it through – uplevel the comment to full-fledged spam. Then, using the information it’s managed to gather on where a blog’s comment filtering kicks in and starts blocking comments – the robot can effectively mark a “filter strength” field in its site database. Every few days, go out and do the E-test again to keep the “filter strength” field up-to-date. This way, spammers can categorize blogs by how susceptible their commenting scripts are to spam.

And, if the blog-commenting spam business model operates anything like the e-mail spam industry, where people sell DVDs full of harvested, “guaranteed working,” e-mail addresses to potential spammers – then this kind of “guaranteed spam-accepting” list of blog URLs list might fetch a higher price than just a raw text list of URLs. I mean, if the URL harvester can give you some guarantee that your spam robot will get it’s comments through on 80% of the blogs on their harvest-list – as a spammer you may be more likely to fork out the money for their list over another that’s just a bulk harvest of open blog comment-script URLs. So that’s my theory on the E comments. It’s a filter-testing scheme to add value to a harvester’s comment-script URL list. If that’s not right, I have no idea what they are – other than malicious and annoying and taking up space in my database. Stupid spammers, why don’t you leave me alone? I hate you so much.

OK, I think I’m done with that. Believe it or not it’s 11:12pm right now… I should be hitting the sack, but I’ve been staying up later lately. Maybe my brain is subconsciously preparing my body for the timezone switch or something.

I was perusing my server logs the other day, and looking at who’s linked to my pages. I found an oddball reference to one of my 96 Tears pages from some girl’s blog. Thing is, the entry from her site that linked to my pages was great – kind of my idea of what epitomizes a good blog post. Read it, I think you’ll dig it.

In closing, I’m going to give you a shortlist of new albums I’ve been enjoying lately. Some you may have heard of, some not. Either way, here goes: The Cribs : New Fellas, The National : Alligator, The Ponys : Celebration Castle, Great Lake Swimmers : Great Lake Swimmers, Red Sparowes : At the Soundless Dawn, and Hal : Hal. Now, some of those are relatively new and untested – but some have already proven to be leaders from the outset. I’d recommend most all of them, but I need some more time on Hal and The National. Put it this way – if you’re going to buy an album this weekend – buy The Ponys; if you’re buying two – pickup The Cribs too.

Man, I’m fast falling asleep. Need to spellcheck, rearrange, add thumbnail image, and post. Goodnight.

Posted on

off the top turnbuckle

Work, you're goin' down.
Forgive the randomness of the post, I actually had a full entry written last night and just got too lazy to search for an accompanying image and post the dang thing. So there is a mixture of two days’ writings. It’s OK though, because I’ve learned I essentially write about the same crap over and over and over…

I’ll be honest, nothing happened today. I went to work and for eight hours I clenched my teeth and things sped by without me getting a chance to think. I don’t think I’ll have much to write, but I felt like sitting down to at least and knock something out.

You know when you have a wad of silly putty, pinch a thumbful in each hand, and pull them apart slowly, creating a long droopy thread connecting the two? That’s how I’ve been feeling after work lately. Just plain stretched. I don’t know what I was thinking, but a couple weeks ago I agreed to “cover” for a couple of my co-workers while they are out of the office. Turns out I’m covering for two guys this week as well as handling my own stuff, and it’s just about my limit. I’m doing it, and it’s working, and I’m not dying… but just barely. If the person who’s pulling my silly putty decides to do a fast yank instead of leisurely pull – the whole thing may snap clean in two at the center. I usually look forward to my Taiwan trips as small respites from the day-to-day grind, but I’ve got a sinking feeling that this trip will be anything but a lull. The way I see it, I’ve got to maintain what I’m currently doing on top of doing the normal Taiwan stuff… great.

Don’t you hate it when, you’re about to leave for two-and-a-half weeks in Taiwan and, you don’t even have any new tunes to carry you through your stay? Really, because I totally hate that. So tonight, I went a’scourin’ the usual suspects for something kind on the cans. I mean, I’ve got this NIN album, but I’ve been listening to it non-stop now for days. I suppose it might last through the trip, but it sure would be nice to have something else to kick off the trip with. But I got some stuff y’all! I got it. The Cribs, who are a less-afraid-of-pop Strokes (gee, I wonder if this sound is hot right now or something?); and The National, who are more subdued and lusher (is that a word?). Anyway, I think I like ’em both – so I’m happy. I mean, honestly – look at the current Phoenix that is rock ‘n’ roll rising from the ashes – then tell me this little tune wouldn’t eat its way right up to the front of the TRL line to share the laurels with the Killeraveryjetstrokes. Man… I want to make music.

I used to trade CDs online. I posted a wantlist, along with the list of things I could offer in trade, and I’d arrange trades with people who had things I wanted and wanted things I had. It all started out as a way to amass the completist’s Beatles collection, but soon blossomed into a full time addiction. Once I acquired every single Beatles item, I moved on to simply trading for things I needed. In college, and for my first couple “career” years, I was trading at insane volumes. Burning and mailing up to 50 CDs in a single week. I was shipping all over the world, and even spent several days on the job at my college internship writing a custom CD trading database to automate and track the trading process: printing shipping labels, sending confirmation mails, even updating the lists on my website. I can actually remember telling people I couldn’t do something with them because I had to stay home and “burn CDs.”

Soon enough though, the whole thing became more trouble than it was worth. In the beginning, I’d listen to everything coming in. I’d print out all the artwork from the “scans” disc which was requisite with each trade, and lovingly cut them out with scissors to fit them in jewel cases. In the last year though, I got buried. I began shelving discs in the little plastic or paper sleeves they were mailed to me in, without ever listening to them. I wanted less and less to spend my time burning, packaging, and mailing CDs. So, sometime a couple years ago – I quit. I left the pages up, but told the world I was done. And, up until a year or so ago I still had my last few trades in unopened mailing envelopes. I mention this now because I’m thoroughly wrapped up in my migration project as I type this… and tonight I “found” my huge pile of un-listened-t0 and un-cataloged CDs. And, it seemed like the perfect time to me to do some house cleaning. I’m ripping through it now, and simply tossing the discs as I archive them. Feels good, like I’m finally “catching up” on something I’ve let stagnate for several years.

On the way out of work today, I caught myself giving myself a virtual pat on the back for a good day’s work. In my time at Company X, I’ve come to realize that I’m very bipolar when it comes to the “how was your day” question. Some days, I leave that building feeling like I gave work a flying cross body chop off the top turnbuckle – like a damn champ. Other days, I leave the building with my tail between my leg because I F’d up. Something I did was dumb, or worse yet, something I didn’t do/know made me look stupid. I guess, then, that it kinda goes without explanation that I feel best on the days when I feel like I gave work the business. Those are the days I go home feeling like a star. The other days are the days I go home and am already counting the hours until 8am as I’m driving out of the parking lot.

For a random link, did you know Billboard magazine now charts ringtones? Of all things. Crazy.

Goodnight.

Posted on

second guessin’

Rippin'
It’s 11pm now on Sunday and I wrote most of this entry throughout the weekend while I was sitting at the computer. The more I listen to this new Nine Inch Nails album, the more I really, really like it. I mean really. For real. No foolin’. You should get it and check it out, it grows on you something fierce. You should check it out; no, I’m serious.

Since I last wrote about it, my disdain for retrieving and sorting the mail has grown. I have come to dread sorting through the piles of paper that I get every week. My frustrations are compounded by the fact that near 90% of what I get goes straight into the dustbin (What? “Dustbin?” I’m practicing should the Queen Mother mount an offensive to take back her colonies). It’s got the to the point where the things I used to save, the stock statements, the medical insurance statements, whatever – I now just toss them directly. I used to keep them for some reason, and I still don’t know what that reason is. When I can, I’ve switched my billing options to “paperless” statements – keeping only online records. I’ve switched all my bills to auto-debit, and keep track of all my finances online. I really only need the mail for one-off ordered items and very critical stuff. Man how I wish there was some way to restrict the incoming flow to that stuff only… and get rid of the ~5lbs of paper I just waste each week.

I’ve been back at my ripping project lately, finally having the guts to tackle my Beatles and related discs. I purposely left them for last, for a few reasons. First, there are so dang many of ’em. Second, the majority are bootlegs or rare releases, and their information tends not to be in the automatic FreeDB database. See, when you put most commercially available CDs into a ripping program, the program goes and queries the huge FreeDB database and automatically names the disc and songs. Then, when you rip the disc all the files are named and tagged correctly. If a disc isn’t in the FreeDB database – you get a bunch of songs called “AudioTrack01,” and so on. You then have to go in and somehow rename these, which is an extra and laborious step in the whole conversion process. Anyway, I started ripping through the solo and group Beatles material a couple weeks ago, and at my estimate I’m about 20% through the task. Considering I’m already at about 9GB of MP3 – I estimate I’ll end up with somewhere between 50GB-75GB of just Beatles and related. Impressive when you consider that my everything-but-Beatles tally was only ~120GB.

In other news, I waffled once more on the ripper I’m using for the project. I know it seems sorta silly to switch mid-project, because it’s like admitting any pre-switch rips are inferior – but I couldn’t help myself. Partway into the Beatles ripping, I started noticing CDex throwing a few “jitter errors” on some of my discs. Not CD-Rs, not discs in bad condition either. So, for the millionth time in the span of this project, I went online to search for information about jitter errors and ripping. And, also for the millionth-and-oneth time, I decided to re-download EAC and try using it. Turns out, EAC is much better suited to high-quality ripping than CDex is. It auto-detected the features of my CD-ROM drives and actually recommended the drive I haven’t been using as the better drive for ripping audio. It then pre-configured my LAME codec with some research-proven “best” settings for MP3 quality (which, to my surprise, was using variable bitrate encoding – I’ve been using a constant bitrate of 192Kbps up until now). So, midway through my project my MP3s have become variable bitrate and ripped with a different drive and program. Being incredibly anal, you’d think this would grate on me until I finally submit and re-rip the entire pre-EAC library. But no, I’m not doing it. I’m happy with the rips I’ve done so far, and if I ever find a rotten one – I’ll just re-rip with EAC (providing I haven’t yet sold the source CD, in which case I’ll just download it).

Friday morning at work, my little Gmail notifier popped up saying I’d got a new mail. I only needed to see the little hovering summary box to know what it was – Sharaun and I had won the World Cup 2006 ticket lottery. Out of the three individual matches we put in for, we won tickets to only a single match – #7 in Nuremberg. Since a group of friends had also cast their lot in for tickets, I fired off a message proclaiming my success. Almost right after, Ben replied that luck had also been on his side – and he’d scored a pair of tickets, amazingly, to the very same match in Nuremberg. Out of the others who applied, I think only one other couple managed to get a match – and a different one at that. Seconds later Ben was over at the desk delivering a high-five for victory and talking about World Cup Fever. Too bad the thing is a year and half away. Anyway, it has the makings of an awesome vacation… and Pat later sent out an e-mail where we could see what our odds of winning really were, I was even more pumped.

Goodnight.

Posted on

D is for dreamer, A is for actor…

Down the rabbit hole.
Welcome to 11:30pm on my Monday night. ‘Twas a busy Monday at work, where I win my bread. It seemed I was no sooner in the office than I was on the phone or on the computer or on the tiles, meeting and working and walking and talking and thinking. I have to go do it all again tomorrow, and I wish I didn’t… have to, I mean. Enough with the exposition though; shall we?

I’ve been listening to the new NIN album the past couple days, and I really like it. In particular, there’s a part in the song “Right Where It Belongs” that’s really rad. From the beginning of the song, the vocals have a muted, in-the-background presence which is slightly off-center to the right in the stereo image. Then, about 3/4 of the way through, they totally morph, taking on a much warmer, foreground presence that’s dead-center in the image. At the same time, a crowd noise sound effect is ramped up in the background, and the “wetness” that’s added to the vocals also gets layered on the instrumentation… along with the addition of a little bassy synthesizer. Very cool effect, almost like the song “comes alive” just then. You can listen to it if you want. Just take the URL of this page, and change the root by: adding 18, subtracting 8, subtracting 2, adding 9, and finally appending ’12.mp3’. Neato.

When I was in high school, I used to like to write things down without actually writing them out. Meaning, I liked to write little cryptic things. I think my inspiration came from the back pages of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, where Carroll closed the book with a poem, which, when read every-first-letter acrostic style, spelled out Alice’s real name: Alice Pleasance Liddell. I adopted this, and variations of it, to write down secret things in my journal. So, what seemed like a semi-poignant limerick about some thoughts or feelings was, to me, really an admission of infidelity or something more exciting. My favorite, and most challenging, was to write a small poem where the lines’ first letters read forward spelled half of what was really being said, and the lines’ last letters read backward finished the hidden message. Care had to be taken: to manipulate the shrouded thought to contain an even number of letters, to split it in half and write the opening and closing letters of each line, and finally to fill in the gaps with a cohesive thought. I masked things like that all the time, but only the most super-secret – the stuff that should only be thought, not recorded. When reading back over my journal, I can spot these instantly. In fact, they stand out to me as only the intended text, the contrived filler only there to protect what shouldn’t be put down on paper. Useful, if you’re into that kinda stuff.

Saturday night was a party at Ben’s house, in honor of Ben now having the house where the party was. We went there. It was good. After the crowd dwindled, and all that was left was what partygoers sometimes call the “hardcore crew,” we set a fire in Ben’s backyard. Not on the grass, but in a pre-fab firepit that came in a cardboard box from a warehouse store. Ben had gotten it as a gift, and he and I had spent some time earlier that day assembling it. Anyway, the box of Hot Wood purchased at the grocery store up the street was set alight, and six or seven people huddled in chairs around the fire. It was a chilly night, so the pre-warmth period of the fire was somewhat of an endurance – but the few powered through for the sake of conversation. Something about sitting around a fire brings out the best conversation. Staring into the stuff. Pat said it was because that’s all there was to do at night for ten-thousand years. Maybe. Maybe it’s something primal, pre-conditioned into our consciousness at birth. Although huddling around the sub-$100, assembly-line, terra-cotta and metal firepit, burning our purchased-at-Albertsons, came-in-a-cardboard-box firewood (with kindling) wasn’t exactly recalling caveman days. Anyway, it was one of those moments for me where I was just…. complacent. Good friends were around, and the planets aligned around a little firepit in Ben’s backyard. I’m a sucka for flames.

Did you see that paragraph about the firepit? That’s writing. That’s what I used to do. That’s what was gone. That’s what I feel slowly creeping back into my hands as they click the keys. Keep the faith, it may be back… it just may be back. Also, today at lunch we went on an adventure to the 150 year old abandoned Chinese mines. I’ll write about that tomorrow OK?

Goodnight.