Folks reported they were on my face yesterday when I left the workshop, but I searched the car and the house and everywhere else high and low and my new Zenni specs were nowhere to be found-- until I checked the pocket of the sports bag and there they were! but why there? Why . . .
Middle School Kids Don't Need Nice Things
I actually did some work today-- the college writing team met up at the middle school, zoomed with our Rutgers liaison, and then planned out the year-- but my main concern was not pedagogical, my main concern was that the middle school has INCREDIBLE air-conditioning, it was so cold in there we had to take a walk outside . . . and this is absurd-- why do skinny little middle-school kids doing earth science need such excellent climate control while the larger high school kids doing AP Physics have to endure the heat (and the heat is coming, yuck).
My Sternum Hurts (But Our Dished Are Clean)
Yesterday, I removed a dead dishwasher and installed a new one-- and it works!-- but my sternum hurts (the same thing that happened to me when I surfed a bunch in Costa Rica) from lying on my stomach fiddling with plumbing and drainage hoses and hot water spigots . . . anyway, we're trying to get back to the same amount of possessions we had before bad luck and the pandemic supply chain screwed us over . . . but used car prices are still through the roof and there is still a bike shortage, so while we're back to saving water and doing less dishwashing related labor, we're still not back to normal transportation-wise.
More Bang for Your Butt?
I got my fifty-year-old physical this week and the doctor was really pushing the colonoscopy-- I asked him about pooping in a box but he said that's not as reliable and you have to do it every year-- while a colonoscopy is good for ten years and because of the prep, it is a "complete reset for your colon"-- yuck-- and then he drew some pictures that made me dizzy and said that of any procedure, the colonoscopy is "the most bang for your buck" and then-- and he was trying to be optimistic, but I found it disturbing-- he said, "we like to start them now at 45, so you get one at 45, 55, 65, 75 . . . and then you're done" . . . so four colonoscopies and then you get to die!
Ouch (Momentarily)
Just before my son and I were about to play tennis, a wasp (or a yellowjacket?) stung my ring finger-- and it really hurt-- but just for a minute and then it totally went away (and wasps don't leave their stingers behind) and I think this pain and suffering inspired me to hit some excellent forehands.
New (Old) Music
I rerecorded an old song of mine with my new DAW (Logic) and my new AI mastering software (Ozone) and the AI drummer that comes with Logic and the result is pretty good-- I wish I could find the old version to play them side-by-side, but I'm positive the end result wasn't as crisp and couldn't played as loud without distortion-- while I'm definitely down on most pop-technology, especially Facebook and Twitter, it's a great time for audio-- whether podcasts, your own music, or the stuff your friends make and immediately post (and you don't have to LOOK at audio, which is the best thing about it).
Yuck
After a lovely respite for vaccinated folks, mask-wearing is required again for all humans at the East Brunswick Library.
Sci-Fi Twofer Tuesday
I read two excellent sci-fi books recently, and they couldn't be more different in tone:
1) The Humans by Matt Haig is one of those "from-an-alien-perspective" stories that begins with ironic detachment-- wow, these humans are silly and they really can't handle technology and they're dangerous to themselves and the galaxy so we've got to deal with them-- but then, with the help of a dog, the humans start to win over the narrator and things get fun and romantic and profound and complicated . . . a compelling plot and great reminders of why humans are absurd and wonderful;
2) Moxlyland by Lauren Beukes is a cyberpunk novel of the near future set in CapeTown, South Africa . . . and the apartheid is between class, not race; the government and the media is complicit in this and very oppressive and powerful, in a revised Brave New World sort of way . . . I'll just put a few quotes up that I highlighted on my Kindle and you'll get the idea-- but warning, you don't want to read this if you're a vaccine-hesitant-conspiracy-theorist (or maybe you do . . .)
Don’t be fooled by the cosy apartment blocks lining the highway, it’s all Potemkin for the tourists.
Compared to what the corporates have done? >>10: What do you mean? >>skyward*: corrupting govts with their own agendas, politicians on their payroll, exacerbating the economic gaps. building social controls and access passes and electroshock pacifiers into the very technology we need to function day to day, so you’ve no choice but to accept the defuser in your phone or being barred from certain parts of the city because you don’t have clearance. you tell me how that compares to you hacking an adboard.
“Repeat. Do not be alarmed. The M7N1 Marburg variation is only fatal if you do NOT report to an immunity center for treatment within 48 hours. Repeat. It is NOT fatal if you present yourself promptly for vaccination treatment. Vaccination is 100% effective within three hours with minimal lasting side-effects.
Epic Stuff for Old People
I played a two hour plus tennis match today against my friend Cob-- I beat him handily in the first set, 6-1, but the second set kept going and going-- there were points that I was so winded that I didn't recover for the next three points-- and finally, when we were tied at 5-5, we decided to call it a tie and give up before we got hurt (and then, later in the day, I accompanied my wife to Home Depot!)
Back and Narcoleptic
We drove home from the beach today-- and on the way back we picked up Lola from the Barker Lounge-- and everyone was so tired from all the skimboarding, surfing, boogie-boarding, basketball, tennis, pickleball, frisbeer, cornhole, packing, unpacking, lugging of beach equipment to and fro, etc. etc. that most everyone in the house (including a very tired dog) took multiple naps (and Catherine was excited that a cashier complimented her on her tan).
The End of an Era . . .
Our favorite dive bar in Sea Isle, the Springfield, is no longer-- it's now an outdoor tiki bar-- and so our favorite cover band-- LeCompt-- now plays at The Oar House; we went over there Sunday night and while Catherine and I escaped the ten dollar cover charge because we arrived early-- we did not escape the crowds and the insanity; the place with jammed with very young people and the girls were all wearing halter-tops and no bra-- that is the look, whether your boobs support themselves or not-- and while it cleared out a bit between bands and a few older people wandered in, it was mainly a mass of young people; Cat and I snagged a spot at the bar, with my brother and Amy, but most of the cousins beat a hasty retreat when they saw the scene-- we could barely see the band from the bar-- we never realized what a great set-up the Springfield had (the band played inside the horseshoe shaped bar, elevated-- so everyone could see and it was in the round) and while Catherine did mosh her way to the front once, she said it was very gross and sweaty and she touched a lot of braless boobs (which of of wildly varying quality) and there were no dive bar drink specials-- a Bud Light was six bucks instead of two-- and for the first set, LeCompt just played the hits-- when we talked to him outside, after he overshared about his narcotic and alcohol recovery he told us he'd be playing the good stuff on Monday, outside, but that he had to play songs "for the kids" at this kind of show-- so that's it for the Springfield and the weird LeCompt shows where he would play all songs about rain (because it was raining) or all Who songs or just take requests written on napkins-- and while they sounded fine, it was more like hearing a good band in the distance-- we all decided we would not be back to see him there . . . but we'll find some other venue where the band can screw around more, but, sad to say, there was nothing like the Springfield and there may not be anything like it ever again.
Once Upon a Times
CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties is Tom O'Neill's twenty year investigation of the Manson murders and while it is a stupendous work of reporting and obsession (and O'Neill is the main character, not Manson or the sixties) the book is in the end, unsatisfying because O'Neill does such a good job of connecting the dots when he can and avoiding conspiracy theories when he can't-- but you will be certain at the end of the book that the "Helter Skelter" motivation of the murders is a gross oversimplification or perhaps a cover-up of something much more sinister; meanwhile, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Quentin Tarantino's alternate history of the Manson murder timeline is as satisfying as Chaos is unsatisfying-- this is Tarantino's favorite trick, which he uses in both Django Unchained and Inglorious Bastards-- let's write history the way it should be, with the indignant rage and ultra-violence directed towards justice and new, better outcome; I recommend taking in both perspectives and remembering that we are just living in one particular timeline (and hopefully, it's not the darkest timeline).
In The Dark
When Darkness Loves Us by Elizabeth Engstrom contains two weird novellas; in both stories, small-town life becomes even smaller-- the stories are macabre, full of plot holes, possibly allegorical, and oddly compelling-- and they will really stretch your empathy muscles and let you see from two very unique and very strange female perspectives-- a tunnel dwelling troglodyte of a mom and a lonely, dimwitted, traumatized old woman without a nose . . . and according to George R.R. Martin, this is the point of fiction: “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies . . . the man who never reads lives only one.”
OBFT XXVIII
The 28th annual Outer Banks Fishing Trip was yet again a great success, here are some things I remember:
1) Gormley and I crushed everyone at cornhole but the field was weak-- the lack of Jerry, Marston, and Old made a decided difference;
2) once Bruce and I made a plan, we took all comers at Frisbeer;
3) Bruce collected change for sixteen years in order to save money to buy a car for his kids to use-- and he did it-- but he won't let his kids use the car that he bought;
4) in a strange Tortuga's bar over/under we learned that nearly half of those present had "stolen corn" . . . from a cornfield;
5) I had a good time trying to keep up with Baldwin on his dobro style guitar . . . in the background I could hear Rob and Coby arguing politics;
6) the water was lovely and cool, the sand was hot, hot, hot;
7) we set up two canopies and had lots of beach time, despite the hot western wind, which picks up every day in the afternoon, according to Bruce (and empirical observation)
8) we mainly drank Guinness, Red Stripe, Truly, Pacifico, and peachie-weechies;
9) Ethan proffered much knowledge on environmental issues in Florida;
10) we played QB54 and Bruce didn't like it;
11) Charlie cooked up a storm of seared tuna and shrimp;
12) we were shushed at the bar at Tortuga's by some youngish bartender;
13) jokes were told, but they are not to be repeated;
14) Swaney fell down the steps to the shower, but didn't break his hip-- just suffered a few scrapes;
15) a good time was had by all, thanks again for hosting Whit, job well done!
Knee Stuff
I went to the knee doctor (Dr. Kinshasas Morton . . . who I also visited ten years ago!) but this time it was for my right knee and it seems I have "patellofemoral pain syndrome/chondromalacia patella," which isn't so bad-- it means my kneecap goes out of the groove and occasionally rubs against the bone on the outside of my knee-- so I have to do some exercises and wear a sleeve knee brace-- which has worked wonders . . . and I went to the gym today and ran an 8-minute mile on the treadmill-- which at my age is some indicator of heart health, and while I worked up a sweat doing it, it wasn't all that bad and my knee held up without any pain, so while I might not have the bee's knees, I at least have ant knees or some slightly lesser insect's knees.
What Are the Chances? Fuhgetaboutit . . .
I wish I was holed up in a taverna in Italy today-- how often does a nation have finalists in Wimbledon and the Euro Cup . . . on the same day?
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