make your own fate

I got caught up last night; I watched in on tv and now know everything you know--about Lost. I'm not exactly proud of it, but at least, today, I don't have hours of streaming video to tempt me away from some quality introspection and musicking. On the continuum of "good/evil" to "everything-is-relative", turns out it is, in fact, somewhere in between. There seems to be a clear evil but good is ambiguous. Which seems more like our experience: we can all agree on certain acts as evil (maybe not unanimous, but close enough), but there are as many paths to righteousness as there are religions. Maybe to be good is to not be evil. It's like, we can all agree on what silence is, but we can't agree what music is. And, to continue the metaphor, we need silence to define the music, to give it a shape by which we can perceive it.

The show also talks a lot about "good people" and "bad people", often redefining the same person several times in an episode. According to my above interpretation, there are only bad people and not-bad people. And many of the not-bad people think they're good, but few can agree on what that means.

I feel like I've been writing a lot of not-bad music, living a not-bad life, but it's maybe time to get on some path for good. But, considering I tend not to stay on the path if it's laid out before me, I'll have to get my machete and find my own way, make my own path. I feel like I've said something similar before--like when I started this blog.

I went for a bike ride again this morning. Spring is here with conviction; flowers are pushing up through the dirt and birds are scrounging for food. And ants and mice are again exploring the house. I find it ironic that the traffic noise is almost louder here than in the city. We're about a mile from 94, so we get a lot of truck noise, depending on the room. Sometimes, though, the wave noise from the lake beats out the truck noise, depending on the wind.

some people have pets; i have bikes

I took my fixie on a date to show it around the area. And on the way, Spring came in from across the lake, with its embracing temperatures and pungent smells. Riding it was like visiting an old friend, and I realized that my bike was like my pet. Rather: just one of my pets. First I took it on a test ride to make sure I had cleaned and lubed the chain well enough. Then tooled around until I found this picturesque train crossing. Then to the beach. The lake was wet! I missed the ice cracking and thawing, so it was like visiting a wholly different beach.

It was good to get back into the real world from the Lost world. I felt more like an addict last night as I had to watch episodes from the current season on some random, probably off-shore, website. I'm not sure how it was legal, but I had no other choice; they were no longer on abc or hulu. I'm not totally caught up but getting close. Ironically, just as I posted the other day that Lost transcended good and evil, now it's starting to appear that no, in fact, the whole thing is just a struggle between two people--one more good than the other.

hanging out at the beach

so

much

can change

in a month

a week

a day

good and evil

This weekend, my last moments in Chicago for the next week, has been about recuperation and Lost. I've watched all but 3 episodes of season 5 in the past few days--am hoping to finish tonight. Yesterday, I felt slightly ill all day from the night before, so it was just about all I could do. I'm not sure how I got so drunk; I guess that's what I get for hanging out with homebrewers--was out of my league.

And in the nearly 11 hours of Lost, I realized that this show is just as much about the post-9-11 age as 24. I never got into 24, but from what I know about it, they're similar shows. The major difference is that in 24 you always know who's good and who's evil--the Fox News version of the world. In Lost, you think you know, but then are turned around so many times, that it becomes clear that: there's more than just 2 sides, the sides are nested, creating internal conflicts, and none of the sides are wholly good or evil. 24 seems more about the outmoded worldview, while Lost is perhaps a prescient view of the future.

Somewhere around episode 5 yesterday, I finally at some food.

And somewhere in between episodes 9 and 10, I went to Sarah's going away party as she heads of to NYC with a 3-month layover in Cali to meditate and do yoga.

I'm hoping to finish tonight so I can get on with my life.

I had flashes of brilliance towards the end of the week, am hoping to continue tomorrow once re-ensconced in the simplicity of Michigan.

You say fail; I say win.

windy city

frozen fingers tell no lies. four trips on the bike equals forty cold fingers. wicker park and back to see laura. filter is back and better than ever. got my credit card from handlebar; nice of them to open. somehow wrote a song in the few hours on the 14th floor. almost done. electronic, repetitive and transformative.

sushi with darick and selena at Hama-Matsu. a different laura was there too. good food, good tea (sweet ginger and cinnamon). the real story, however, was in the bathroom. try anything once, and if you like it, try it again. i would buy one of these if i had a house. here's a close-up of the controls.

now time for sleep. early, not even midnight yet. been up till 2 writing reviews this week. gonna hit the ground running in the morning. tomorrow starts tonight.

heroes and villains

i

am

sitting

in a room

different than

the one you are in

now

i

have

nothing

to say

because i have

already said so much

hand wash

The end result of this mornings trials and tribulations is me wearing wet clothes to dry them and hanging the rest in the bathtub. And some by the windows. No pictures, 'cause I'm too modest.

Tant pis.

Coïncidences just make me laugh these days and I had a couple good guffaws today. None that I can tell you.

Schade.

I just watched Inglorious Basterds (to continue my obsession with WWII movies) and could understand the French and some of the German. The way to get to Carnegie? Practice. After the string of serious, fact-based films, it was such a joy to see some levity--and to see the Nazis get beat the eff down. And it was just a fun, quirky movie.

Let me tell you to cement it in my head: the time for words is afternoon or evening; the time for sounds is morning. I need to reverse my schedule so that I'm back to blogging at night and composing in the morning. And only checking emails a couple times a day not every 5 minutes.

Progress.

I think Brad Pitt's character in Basterds is still resonating in my head; I can hear his voice having an influence on my writing--but I'm filtering most of it out.

monkey wrench

I am in desperate need of clean clothes. I wanted to do laundry today, but right now outlook not so good. I came down from the 14th to the 2nd floor with my duffle bag of stink only with my wallet and pocket full of change. This being the age of the internet, you need to buy a laundry card but you can't use real money; somehow you have to add value over the phone or the net. Not impossible for me; I've been online quite a while. So I go back upstairs and get my phone. BUT. The machine that gives out cards requires a pin number that you have to get from the phone, and to set up a new account over the phone you have to enter the pin from the back of the card. It's a snake eating its own tail, and I know I need to jump in somewhere--but where?

A woman came in. Help! I asked her what to do, and she said: first you have to go to their website. What? What kind of bullshit system is this? Then, randomly, I found a card on top of a machine with 1.25 left on it. Phew. Now I have a card, but it's not set up to my account, whatever that is. So I call them and use the number from the back of the randomly misplaced card and go through about 15 extra menus of "enter your card number", "enter your pin" and "press 1 if this is correct." Finally, they ask me how much to add. 5, 10, or 15. There is no 2, 7, or 11 available. More bullshit. I only want to do 1 load and 1 dry, which would be about 2 dollars more than what's already on the card. But that's not an option. I go to get my card. Not there. My credit card is somehow missing; I feel uneasy and nervous. I use my debit card, enter all the numbers, and then hear "all systems are busy right now, please try again later. goodbye." Goodbye?! What kind of broken system is this? If you're busy, make me wait a minute. But disconnect?!

I retreat. This is not meant to be. I get back upstairs and call the Handlebar to see if they have my credit card. That's where I was last time I used it; I must have forgotten. But they're not open. Well, they're open but they're not open-open. Someone picks up and says they are "spring cleaning" and are not open today or tomorrow. And for some reason, he doesn't have access to the register, and no one else does either. S.O.L. Ok, I'll call back. When will there be someone. Tomorrow at 8am. Really?!? (Say "Really?!" in your highest pitch inner voice. And repeat, even higher.)

So then I check my account balances. No charge from the Handlebar on Saturday night. But there is a 5-dollar pending charge on my debit card from the shenanigans in the laundry room.

[insert steam sound coming from ears]

So let's schlep back down there and see if it worked. Or else all my clothes are dirty and I have a coffee date at 4pm. Which means lots and lots of Köln.

It's a good thing, by the way, that Darick gave me some of this month's payment in cash the other day. Because now, with my credit card AWOL and only $20 in my checking, I would literally have next to no money while I wait the transfer from ing.

[insert me going down to try this all again here]

Ok. Nope. Didn't work. Fortunately, I saw the same woman again on the way down. And when I realized my card didn't actually have any more money on it, I had a creative thought:

"I don't suppose I could give you cash and use your card?"

"No." Said sweetly and with a smile.

I don't understand! This whole experience has me confused by technology, people, and most of all laundry. I may just boycott laundry from here on out. Give away my clothes and start fresh every week.

Koyaanisqatsi

One big item of big news I can't talk about, another I'd rather not. I could go on about Health Care Reform (#hcr), which, by this point, is more of a relief than a specific joy.

And so I'll share other things:

• I wrote a pretty good blog post on ChicagoNOW yesterday regarding the past, present and future (demise) of opera.
• I've been spending a lot of time at Intelligentsia because: Last week I was feeling weird; I thought it might be the espresso (or the maker). I feel better now, so today I'll try the espresso maker again and see how it makes me feel.
• Did I tell you about the orgiastic play festival devoted to Dionysus on Saturday? Some amateurish acting, some pretty good, and just good stories from Greek mythology. Gratuitous swearing too.
• This is my 11,146th day alive!
• And finally, I found last night's Simpsons on hulu thanks to Huffington Post on Twitter. And then watched the whole episode only to find: a cultural reference to Philip Glass!

what [not] to say

This morning I was accosted by two Mormon missionaries. After beating me senseless and taking my wallet, they wanted to talk about Jesus Christ. I indulged them, partially because I don't think many in Lakeview would be at all sympathetic. It was my act of charity for the week.

In hindsight, this is what I would have liked to add to the discussion:

• Jesus who?
• Have you ever seen that one South Park?
• I just read this thing about Mormon men coming back from there mission and thinking they're gay because they haven't had any real contact with women for 2 years. (Now if I could only remember where I read that.)
• Is there a form that I can fill out to request NOT being converted after I'm dead?
• Do you have an answer for everything?
• I don't even discuss my beliefs with close friends and family; where do you get off thinking I'll discuss them with you?

But they're such nice people. Yes, but nice people become the cogs in the machine run by people who know what they want and aren't afraid to crush a couple egos to get it.

n'importe quoi

I never thought I would say this, but I even like living in Lakeview. I've always had a prejudice against it, but I think I also confused and conflated Lakeview with Lincoln Park with any other bougie, white neighborhoods. This stretch of Broadway that I'm off of right now has a lot going on and is actually pretty diverse--but noticeably gay.

Speaking of tight clothing, I picked up my uniform for XXX last night. Hawt. I rode my noticeably inferior bike to Get a Grip, all the way out on Irving by Pulaski. The shop specializes in racing bikes and has Cervelos adorning the walls like art. But unlike art, these bikes are formed by their function, achieving beauty through practicality and efficiency. I saw some guys I know--like the ones I rode with on the Apple Cider Century and one I competed with--but no long, drawn-out conversations. I really would like to do some road racing this year--if I'm anywhere near the city.

This bike, for instance, is $4000 and is not the most expensive on the site.

Good news about ChicagoNOW blog; I got 20-something visitors yesterday without even trying (tweeting). Bad news: I need an average of 333 1/3 daily views for 3 months before I start getting paid. I'm going to stop worrying about page views and just try to find creative ways to create community. It's interesting to see how the payment model can shape how you think about what and how to write: you see a lot of short, catchy drivel on the site instead of serious, recherché prose poems, paens to Apollo. If I got paid per second that people were on the site, things would be different.

There's a ChicagoNOW tweet-up next week; I'm planning on going and trying to infiltrate that community. It's at Rockit, which I've always prejudged as an LA-wanna-be, surface-over-substance, Prom King & Queen hangout. Actually more of a judgement than a prejudgement.

P.S. The photo of my jersey I took with an iPhone app that makes much more beautiful pictures than the standard camera. Called ShakeitPhoto, it's worth 99 cents.

a spoonful weighs a ton

I went to bed laughing. Sometimes it all comes together in such an unexpected and mystical way, I can't help but think my life is being written by the writers of Lost. Thankfully, without the constant stream of death.

Last night's plot twist had me believing in the Secret. It's not terribly difficult to get me to believe in things, but this would have caused the most materialist scientist running off to study the mysteries of quantum mechanics.

Unfortunately, I can't tell you about it (out here on the internet). Suffice it to say that the two seemingly disparate worlds came together.

What I can tell you is that Twitter is a powerful tool. Coïncidences are real, but don't mistake coïncidence for fate. Expectations set you up for disappointment (Sound of Silent Film). Every single girl I know is on okcupid. Maybe not every but enough. Espresso dehydrates me like nothing else; faut que j'ajoute de l'eau quand je le bois le matin pour faire un "americano". Morse code is really interesting sounding; I wish I had this when I was writing a piano piece in undergrad that used Morse code to make rhythms. I really like staying on the 14th floor. It's been a good week--one more to go.

I remember thinking this song was pretty lame. It still grates on me a little, but I've come to accept it like some distant family member who you have to get along with. I like the part that sounds like Led Zeppelin. The title and chorus refers to the density of space stuff--black holes and stars and such.

you are part of we

I continue to be above it all. It's strange living on the 14th floor. It's a lot like living alone in a cabin with different scenery. And I've been getting out more.

Yesterday was my sister's baby's birthday. For which I was hoping to finish the song I started last year. Close, really close; soon. So last night, I joined Corbett and Grace at Uncommon Ground for an open mic to play it there--as much as I could remember (the second half--verse, pre-chorus, chorus--is mostly the same as the first but with different words--words I can't remember right now).

There was a time when I would use a lot of ellipses. I think it said something about my personality, something about prioritizing fragments over complete thoughts. Now, I use dashes, which I find more "legit".

Random Coïncidences:

• I went to see Corey Dargel on Saturday and met a girl who knew of the salons in Hyde Park and whose best friend played violin at the most recent one. She also plays in my old friend Mark's theatrical post-glam-goth chamber rock band: The Dead Superheroes Orchestra.
• I crossed paths with Pierce, old friend from the co-op while riding through downtown on Monday.
• Laura walked past the Subway where I was eating after the 8bb concert. The concert was a prelude to a dinner at the Publican, but tickets were 250. I got invited to see the concert and then bought myself a 5-dollar footlong. [Is the song stuck in your head now?]
• I went to MusicNOW on Monday and am apparently quite the celebrity for booing last time. Here's my review.
• That last one isn't really a coïncidence.
• I met a guy who I follow on Twitter at the MusicNOW concert. We introduced ourselves, after which we both said: "Ah, YOU'RE that guy!" Then he learned that I was the one who booed.

I started the 4th season of Lost last night. I have been realizing that I don't have enough time in a day to blog (personal), blog (music), read (this verdammte required reading for the bike tours), write music, watch a movie or Lost, go to concerts. Say no to say yes! Pick a couple for every day. So I might not update this blog every day for a while. Don't worry.

scheduling fail

I really wanted today to be different. I wanted to start in on things early and have a day to process all that I've been doing and then channel that into something sensical. But here I am at 11:30am finally getting to a quick post and then showering before a coffee date. And then I got invited to 8bb's concert at 5:30 before going to MusicNOW at 8. AT EIGHT O'CLOCK. I'm pretty paranoid about getting the time wrong (or the date), having mixed up details in the past, but I've gotten pretty good in recent years.

This weekend, however, the details are shifting under my feet. On Saturday, I went to a concert that was supposed to be at 1250 W Foster. I got to that address, found apartment buildings, none of which having that address. Then I got a text from some random friend saying "that's the wrong apartment." I thought he had the wrong Evan, but no. He was apparently driving by and saw me looking confusedly at addresses. I checked Twitter. Yes, Twitter. According to the tweet, it was 1250. I searched with an "app" for the name of the church around me and found it: 1650.

Then Sunday, I went to a show at 8pm but it was at 4. That one, I'm still confused about. I am completely certain that somewhere on their website said 8pm. I even put it on my ChicagoNOW blog as such. Their website is NOT the most accessible, more about aesthetic than readability. And Laura saw 8pm too. At some point, over the weekend maybe, they changed all the times to show the correct time. So when I got home, it said 4, and I started to think I was going crazy. It shook my wide-eyed faith in the universe.

My coffee date just canceled. I think that's actually the universe giving me what I need--based on what I expressed in the first paragraph. I'd love to sit in a coffee shop for the afternoon, go pick up a book at the library downtown (required reading for bike tours this year), and then to the concerts. But I think I'm going to spend 4 hours polishing some music; maybe you'll get to hear it tomorrow.

Did I mention coffee grinder in my list of needs? I know that sounds bougie, but, after this morning's failed experiments, it's on the list now.

Sun: take 2

I feel like a secret agent: keys to doors I've never opened, passwords stored in emails somewhere in the ether found by searching on myPhone. I feel like I'm on vacation in my own city, moments away from friends and former lovers, crossing paths and connecting the dots.

[I'm at Nicole's. 14th floor of a building on the Lake. Two blocks away from Tina whom I'm going to try to get to speak some Deutsch this week--and teach her a lesson. A piano lesson. I found parking right in front of Tina's. I must be getting luckier. Do you believe in luck?]

I also feel like I'm camping, foraging for basic necessities in strange places, looking for utensils in strange kitchens. Here is all that I need to survive: Oatmeal, potatoes, brown sugar, cinnamon, frying pan, microwave or pot for oatmeal, coffee and method for making it, olive oil, salt, eggs, cheese (cheddar or swiss), internet (wifi), iPhone. Can anyone think of anything else?

Here's my view for the next week. I took this with a new app on myPhone that stitches together individual photos to make a panorama. Click to make it larger.

I'm confused. Does that mean that when I woke up at 11 this morning, it was really 10? Either way, technology and a flexible schedule makes it such that I don't even have to pay attention to daylight savings time ending. Which is mostly sad but a little happy. Like this.

Last week, I hung out with a bunch of Algerians, today it's the gays at a coffee shop in southern Andersonville. Next week, it could be you.

I moved out of the housesit and back into the drift. Darick's last night, Nicole's this week, maybe next, and back to the cottage some time later. The strangest part of the housesit was the transition between them getting home (at 4am, me sleeping on the couch to allow them their own bed) and me packing up and leaving (at 4pm after the meeting at Bobby's). I think it was strange for them to see me feeling "at home" in their home, and it was strange for me to see anyone but myself in that space. But it only lasted a few minutes.

I somehow managed to subsist yesterday on coffee, coffee, an almond croissant, oatmeal in the afternoon, and a slice of pizza in the evening. And totally sleep deprived. Hence my relief to sleep in till 11 only to realize it was really 10. And yet I still went to two concerts back to back. One was a flutist friend who I mostly know through Twitter but also in real life. It was at a church 4 blocks from Darick's, so it seemed destined for me to go. But then she had the address wrong, and I had to iPhone it to figure out the right address. The point of the recital (I'm not used to concerts having points) was to raise money for TEAM in training, leukemia and blood cancer research. A guy spoke at intermission about how he somehow survived leukemia (as an adult) thanks to stem cell research. No, not like South Park shows Chris Reeve doing it. If I could pick just one cause to support, I would be a happy man. But, medical research doesn't do it for me. I think we support causes based on what frightens us the most--what we perceive as the greatest threat to ourselves. For me, I think natural disasters are, well, natural. But the injustice that humans perpetrate on fellow humans is both more easily preventable and more disappointing.

And then to a concert where the point was music. I went because this guy represents one of the things I'm trying to do with music. I've been hearing about him for a couple of years through articles and find his music much more like Pop songs than what I've done--more hooks, more catchy--but arranged in a beautiful way. The ensemble was also like what I've used: flute, clarinet/bass, violin, cello, piano, percussion. But he's much more of a singer than I am, much more of a performer. His performance was spiced up with theatrical elements that came and went, blips on the radar. I'm really glad I went: interesting arrangements and it helped me realize what I both love and loathe about pop music. A lot of it reminded me of a more angular, rhythmically-complex Sufjan Stevens.

After the performance, I saw some friends. Through them, I met this girl who had been to the salons in Hyde Park (and whose best friend played violin on Friday) and who plays violin with my old friend Mark in the Dead Super Heroes Orchestra. We're all connected.

Now, the time to procrastinate is over: I have to go drop off my stuff at Nicole's place and get my bike. I'm getting really good at logistics.

For more Zoë Keating, click here.

The sun is shining; it's a beautiful day.

against my will

I think I already wrote something today, but here's another. I'd rather not be blogging right now--I'm tired and would rather watch Valkyrie--but if I don't write this now, it'll get lost into the ether--or wherever it is that go all my good ideas.

It's midnight in Chicago, and I just got back from a salon in Hyde Park. Not to be confused with either a saloon or the salon where I got my haircut, this salon is more akin to the 18th-century Parisian salons--performances of music, poetry, and whatnot. This was my second. My first, I wrote about in January--here on embody the struggle. Because this is my journal of all things me. An overwhelming stream of mental diarrhea that I'm pouring into moulds, making bricks, and trying to build a chapel. Not like Sainte Chapelle, more Romanesque, like a chapel made out of poop-bricks. And in the chapel there's an altar on which to sacrifice living humans to please the gods of the internet. And the living humans are digitized and turned into avatars--but only in 2D. All in a temple of poop.

[I guess I've been thinking a lot about poop lately, having to pick up Jack Jack's poop 4 times a day.]

Tonight, at the salon, I was practically part of one of the performances. Not really Me-Me, more like Avatar-Me, the one who you imagine writing this right now. You see, in the post that I linked to up top, I gave a summary of my experience at the salon: overall positive but fraught with academicisms. Which then got brought up as an introduction to one of the performances tonight. Something like: "At the last salon there was a critic, who blogged about the salon..." und so weiter. Fortunately, they stayed away from being too academic this time. But I realized that that word is too imprecise, so if I'm going to complain about being annoyed by people I should be clearer: I'm annoyed by people who use language in a litigious way, being overly precise with words, getting lost in the letter and not the spirit. Some of these people become lawyers, some become academics. It leads to a lot of posturing without a lot of substance.

At the moment where I was the unnamed subject of conversation, I had thought that I had written about it on The Seeing Ear--you know, one of my other blogs, the music one. And I was reproaching myself, thinking that it was maybe the wrong place to write about something that is ostensibly a more private endeavor. But no, it was here.

Interesting coïncidence: before the salon I was joking around with Laura, somehow thinking it would be funny for her to start introducing me as "Darkness". But not half as funny as "Mr. Darkness" or "Your Darkness". Then I told her she might as well just call me "He who shall not be named", which I then became.

I thought of this video because of the lyrics. And, it's pretty catchy. But musically, it might as well be right out of the 80s. Why is this happening? Are we stuck in a time loop, or are we just regressing?

Contrary to usual, I'll start with the big news: finished Lost Season 3 last night. You probably know this if you follow my Facebook stream with a fine-tooth comb. And it ended in a way that was such a downer. Somehow, they managed to contrast the usual flow of the show with scenes from another part of the timeline, creating an existential disconnect, leaving me with a feeling of hollowness that is unusual for the show. The ephemeral nature of life on the island, its fragility, the intensity of each moment suddenly became a mid-life crisis of a man whose meaning is redefined by a society that has left him behind. The naturalness of the motivations (basic survival) on the island become the twisted web of lies and simulacra that our economy uses to keep us in line.
I had dinner with Corbett and Grace last night, which ended with me slaughtering them in Scrabble. The letters I was getting seemed so much more flexible than normal. Good vibes.
My ChicagoNOW blog got 40-something unique visitors yesterday thanks to a post on Facebook. I need to figure out how to monetize it. And see more shows. I'm going to email the Symphony today. Tonight begins a slew of concerts. Tonight is a salon, tomorrow a flute recital before seeing a composer who's been likened to myself, Sunday is Winterreise after pizza for Corbett's birthday, and then Monday is MusicNOW. Tuesday is open, but Wednesday is Sound of Silent Film. All good things! I could get used to seeing a lot of concerts if they are this promising.
I gave the cat the steroid today, which I've been avoiding because it seems like a lot of effort and suffering for something that she might just regurgitate. Last day of housesitting, which comes at a good time; I'm not getting much good stuff done right now. I've had a deadline of tomorrow, for which I think I'll come up with some draft--but nothing final.
Oh and I got a haircut at "sine qua non", a salon in Andersonville. I never know where to go for haircuts; there's something in me that revolts at the idea of spending more than 20 or 30 for a cut, but there's something else (memory of failed cuts) that keeps me from wanting to be too cheap. So it was more than I would like to pay but I'm pretty content with it. And then I got a consultation on "product", which all cost more than I would like.


I'm starting to think that verbal thinking reduces musical thinking, the latter being more abstract. I'm thinking of taking a day off from words altogether, so if I disappear it's only for a moment.

mundane

In reverse chronological order, starting from Thursday morning at 10am:

-Cat's back to puking again

-It's raining, not looking forward to next time I have to walk the dog

-Realizing I can't decide what verb tense to use

-Ate breakfast (oatmeal, coffee) with cat on lap

-Saw cat (Mousie) eat her food

-Walked the dog, fed hm

-Got awoken at 7am by dog (Jack-Jack) wanting a walk

-Two more episodes to go before done with Season 3

-Went to bed at 1am after watching an episode of Lost

-Watched an episode of Lost after watching an episode of Lost

-Brushed teeth

-Walked dog, gave him a snack

-Watched an episode of Lost

-Riding back from Bobby's with Brian, who is fluent in German and has seen all the movies I watched last week. Coïncidence.

-Pizza and catching up with co-workers

-At Bobby's Bike Hike for meeting

-Riding fast down Lakefront Path

-Leaving for meeting, may be late

-Walked dog around 5pm; fed him too

-Rushing home in my car

-Deciding whether I need to get timing belt replaced

-Paying $530 for oil change and rear struts

-Hoping they finish my car so I can go walk the dog

-Watching Man U vs. AC Milan; Man U wins 4-0 with brilliant goals!

-Waiting for car at Tissili Cafe with all-male, all-Algerian crowd

-Eating a Omlette-Frite sandwich

-Walking down Pulaski toward Lawrence around noon

-Leaving Starbucks, feeling over-caffeinated

-Blogging on my iPhone

-Reading the Introduction to Adorno's writing on music

-Getting to Starbucks

-Walking from car place up Lawrence

-Arrived at car place at 9:45am

-Walked dog

-Ate breakfast (oatmeal, coffee)

-Walked dog, fed dog

And that's about it.

Jack-Jack

Mousie

Closed systems

I'm in a starbucks. Odd. But the music here is so much better than at the Common Cup the other day. At least it was. Now it's sappy Country schlock. Before it was Jazz. Nothing crazy but still stuff like Miles Davis.

I'm waiting for my car to get a $500 makeover: rear struts. Apparently they're blown and leaking grease. And I just had to transfer $$ from my savings to pay a credit card bill. And last night I spent more than I wanted going to a couple restaurants with Darick. You would know already where if we were friends on foursquare. Darick and I are in competition; it's neck and neck.

But I'm not going to worry about money. The universe will provide. Or so I keep telling myself.

I'm still trying to figure out what lesson I'm looking for in Nazi Germany. Right now, my conclusion is that we would all have been in one of 5 camps: Active supporters, passive supporters, passive resistance, active resistance, or in the more literal camps. And we could speculate where we would have been, but our hindsight is too clear for it to mean too much. I, for instance, would love to think I would be a Sophie Scholl in the active resistance, but I think I would be more of a passivist. I think it's more helpful to think about what today's holocaust is and which camp we're in now. But there are so many good candidates that we may not all agree on one. Which seems fine; to each their own. But I think it's important to at least define [what we perceive as] the problem. And then choose a camp.

The other lesson that I'm taking away is the difference between a closed system and an open system. I was reading this introduction to a philosophy book that called Hegel's system a closed system, one that follows an internal logic to pursue absolute truth. Which sounds like what Hitler did. If you believe that his system was reality, then his actions follow logically. But his (closed) system, like all closed systems, was merely a reflection (and distortion) of reality in the warped mirror of his mind. I have such a hard time understanding this because I don't believe in absolute truths--at least not ones that we can know. But that's also because I'm comfortable with uncertainty--very. So maybe this whole exercise is about me trying to understand a mind that I not only disagree with (and am revolted by) but whose process is diametrically opposed to mine.

It's not like we don't have absolutist thinkers in American politics but thankfully they are (currently) balanced by relativists.

But let's be vigilant. Closed systems require a foundational truth from which all grows. To close the system, then, requires leaps of logic. If the leaps are not big and are taken very slowly, any country could become absolutist.

I think we're also saved by the fact that we are required to think in so many different systems just to survive in the contemporary world. How could any one beat out the rest?

Ok, too much lite Country dripping with high fructose corn syrup. I rescind any praise of Starbucks music.

on silent haunches

I'm still adjusting to my new life. It's like my composition teacher used to say: some things change, some stay the same. Hopefully, for me now, that is: the unimportant things are open to change, revealing the core that is immutable. Really, though, it's all open to change, just to varying degrees. Like a weather balloon tethered to the earth, we blow in the wind. Everything from the balloon down the tether is wandering with the wind, except for the one spot that is anchored. Like an inverted pendulum.

Speaking of nonsense, I saw Alice in Wonderland last night--in 3D. Pretty good. But I came out feeling almost drunk or stoned or something. It was like being in a hyperreal dream. Worth seeing if your visual cortex can handle that much stimulation. Made me feel a little like I was in Clockwork Orange. I could look away but I couldn't.

And on the way back, the fog was cold and thick. My glasses were all fogged up just from riding in it. Nice that I had my lights and there wasn't much traffic.

I'm back into Lost, Season 3. I am appreciating this time away from work and regularity because it allows me to observe how various factors have an affect on my well-being. Too much Lost makes it difficult to work on music; I sit and think and try things out but nothing comes. I think Lost and movies like Alice work out different muscles than music writing requires. Good muscles to have--and in me they're just now getting a good workout--but contrary to what I'm trained to do. Still finding balance by exploring the extremes.

Good news. I just got an email from Bang on a Can. I'm an alternate. Which is better than last year. I'll know yea or nay on March 30.

And if you're in Chicago, you should check out the Sound of Silent Film tomorrow (Wed) and next week (3/10, 3/17). I wrote a quick explanation to it on Beyond Words. Thanks to all those who visited yesterday's post. Hits will one day equal money.

Post 62

I just happened to notice that this is my 62nd post. And then it struck me that I've been doing this pretty regularly for a while. Decide; commit; follow through. I'm working on it.

I've been adjusting to my new life. On Saturday, I came back to Chicago with enough time to pick up the keys to the condo in Rogers Park and take the Red Line to meet my mom at the opera. I saw the Marriage of Figaro, "a timeless romantic comedy," and then rode my bike back to Rogers Park. I really enjoyed the opera--much better than I had expected. I generally don't find comedic opera funny, but this was different. If you do visit the blog, be sure to go through the photo gallery; every picture view is a page view, hopefully leading up to me getting paid per page view some day.

Saturday night when I got back (at 1 or 2--after a drink with Darick at Konak's) I realized that I had to walk the dog. A week with responsibilities! How will I manage? So far so good. I walked him again on Sunday and will have to walk him every 5-6 hours until Friday night when they get back. There's a cat too who I have to force feed a pill every morning. Yesterday, I got her to swallow it; today, after a great deal of trouble, she swallowed it only to later throw it up. I think she's sick. I mean, I know she's sick--she has a tumor--but she's also been throwing up. Sad. And gross.

Today, I went to The Common Cup, and they were playing the WORST music--something like Adult Contemporary from the 90s and today. Absolute shit. Revolting. I couldn't listen to it. Fortunately, I had my headphones; fortunately, there was Grooveshark. And I wrote the post about Figaro, coming back in time to walk the dog.

I've gotten back into Lost, watching a bunch of episodes yesterday and 3 today already (2 with breakfast and 1 with lunch). It's still pretty good, but I think there is still a little too much violence and death (by murder mostly). It desensitizes me to it. I'd rather focus on the inherent complex of emotions pulling each character in so many directions.

I took a break from music, but I think I'm going to do a little this afternoon and then try to finish up a song this week. It's close, but I'm deep in the mire of the middle section, which is where I like to be the most creative--and chaotic.

Check out this Facebook.

trifecta

Those of you keenly following my facebook stream may have noticed that I have been watching a lot of movies this week. No Lost, just movies. I decided at the beginning of the week to give myself a break from Lost, and then the break stuck. After two straight weeks watching it, it was nice to have something new. I'm still, however, planning on catching up so I can watch the Series finale in May, even if that sounds impossible. [I realized that Season 3 has 25 episodes like 1 and 2, but the last 3 Seasons only have 14 or so episodes. Easy peasy.]

This week, I watched 3 great movies about the Nazis--German movies. I'd seen several American movies about the War--The Pianist, Schindler's List, and so on--but these German movies gave the rest of the story. It started out with Downfall, which, honestly, I first learned of and wanted to watch because I find the Hitler meme so verdammte funny.

Then I watched the The Goebbels Experiment which was different than I expected. Really, it was a documentary. Kenneth Brannaugh reading from Goebbels diaries and footage of him mixed with news pieces. If I had known, I might not have agreed to the journey into the mind of a lunatic, but I think I came out better for it. It made me realize that Goebbels needed Hitler just as much as Hitler needed Goebbels. And helped me realize just how totalitarian the Nazis were. And it made him sound almost human. Which, of course, he was: for as many times as we like to think of them as "monsters", they were still just people, but people who were consumed by a false idea. Literally, consumed. To dehumanize them would be to imitate them.

The whole thing made me see that it was really a perfect storm. In the movies, everyone makes reference to losing WWI and seeking revenge. Hence not surrendering, saying things like: "there will never be another November 1918." And then there were the Russians. They all make reference to them too. I think the totalitarian example set by the Russians helped stir the pot of frenzy--Goebbels even mentions Eisenstein as a model--pushing them to "compete". I still can't quite figure out why Hitler thought it a good idea to invade Russia. In Downfall he says he doesn't even want to occupy it, just destroying Moscow and Leningrad would suffice. That's another point in the crazy column.

And then I watched The Final Days of Sophie Scholl. The only mention of her I can consciously remember was in Downfall: based on the diaries of Hitler's secretary, it had an interview with her at the beginning and end of the film. She first talked about not knowing anything but National Socialism and so didn't feel guilty for her (in)actions. But then she realized that she was born in the same year as Sophie and could have followed her to the gallows but instead went to work for the Nazis. Then, waves of guilt.

Sophie helped spread pamphlets condemning the war as part of the White Rose resistance movement. For this she was beheaded. It's an amazing movie, an amazing story, and is really worth watching. Recently, she was voted one of the most important Germans of history, beating out Bach and Goethe. For me, after Downfall and Goebbels being told from the Nazi perspective, it was cathartic to see a (small) group actively resisting. And in contrast to the Holocaust movies, it was helpful to focus on the tragedy of one sole death in Munich as opposed to the overwhelming horrors elsewhere.

Sophie in real life

In other news, I continue to make progress, writing the actual notes of a song. I'm headed back to Chicago today to housesit for a friend, so no cottage for a few weeks; don't worry I'll still blog. My new blog got noticed by people at the Lyric; they want me to see their productions and write about them. So I'm going tonight with my mom to see Marriage of Figaro.

good signs

So far so good; this week is better than last. Yesterday was productive, and by the end I was finding a good balance between big picture and details--one informing the other.

I've alluded to some instances of happenstance and coïncidence. Sometimes things come in threes. Recently, there's been a spate of mid-century German information coming in: from my choosing to watch Downfall to random articles in the NYtimes about Nazi propaganda films. And along the way, I randomly decided to pick up Adorno again, realizing later that he had to flee the Nazis and come to America in the late 30s.

This morning, though, there's a coïncidence that may make you believe in fate. I woke up, and had this song in my head, including the lines:

"must own video game system"
"neurotic and lonely average height"
"emotional problems....medicated"

Und so weiter. It's a love song. Obviously. From the perspective of a 20-year-old Jew living at home with his parents. It's part of his CraigsList Leider, a song cycle based on personal ads on CraigsList. Some can be really funny. Most, actually. I saw the guy who wrote it at a art space in Wicker Park--the one on North Avenue that used to be a church like Saint Somebody or Other. I think I went because there was an article in the NYtimes about the composer/songwriter/performer. And because it was a couple blocks from my then house.


So I was singing that song while doing the dishes, and then started breakfast. And in looking at the most read NYtimes articles, there was another article about this very guy, Gabriel Kahane. Funny, because I couldn't even remember his name, only the bit about neurotic and lonely.

I've noticed this before, enough to notice and be on the look-out for it. When I was in college, I woke up thinking Rocky Raccoon, and then, sure enough, it came on the radio later that day. Of all Beatles songs, that must be one of the least likely to hear on the radio.

This was, as far as I can tell, only the second article about this guy in the Times. And it happened to be Most Emailed? That part is actually the hardest to believe. I mean, he's a quirky composer/singer-songwriter. Not someone most people have heard of or care about. Strange days.

I've been noticing more of this type of thing this week. And I'm in a good mood--productive. I'm not totally sure how I got here, but I'm not complaining. Suffice it to say that from time to time you have to reflect on who you are and where you're going, but then you have to let go and just go. And then things just go your way. I should probably go to the casino on the way out of town. It's the same kind of spirit I had last time I went to one--in Detroit with my family. I had two dollars, gave one to my sister and we each played the slots. I won 5 bucks; she won 10.

pink noise

From the clouds of ideas I've been brainstorming, I'm mobilizing the forces in a blitzkrieg of productivity. That is, I put notes into the computer.

And then I watched Downfall, the story of the final days of the Third Reich in the midst of the Russian onslaught. You may recognize the actors from a ubiquitous internet meme:

And after that, I read some about the main characters. Before the movie, I didn't know a Goebbels from a Himmler, so it served primarily as a history lesson, a perspective from inside the bunker, told by his secretary whose memoir informed the screenplay. And then I watched the last half of a South Park episode in which Cartman pretends to have Tourette's so he can go on national tv and swear--and say bad things about Jews. I've never really liked Cartman's gratuitous anti-Semitism; it grew old long ago. But after watching the movie, it seemed even less funny and more dangerous.

Apparently Goebbels was the propaganda chief, rising through the ranks of the Nazis in the 1920s and ascending to power with Hitler. He and his wife loved their country--even more than Sarah Palin and Glen Beck love the US--professing typical all-or-nothing, with-us-or-against-us statements like:

"Our glorious idea is ruined and with it everything beautiful and marvelous that I have known in my life. The world that comes after the Führer and national socialism is not any longer worth living in and therefore I took the children with me, for they are too good for the life that would follow, and a merciful God will understand me when I will give them the salvation"

She really came off as the crazy one. And, yes, she killed her 6 children; after drugging them to make them sleep, she put poison capsules in their mouths. The whole of them seemed so utterly in denial that they were losing. And that is something I think we can all relate to. The trick is knowing when to surrender to prevent civilian deaths. That's the other thing that the movie impressed upon me: at this point in the war, Hitler didn't even care about the German people. All or nothing. Total war. Keep fighting until the last bullet.

And now we have wackos flying kamikaze planes into IRS buildings and a resurgence of the mid-90s militias. And this violence against the government is condoned by Tea Baggers and wing nut Republicans. We all have a need to feel a part of something greater, but for some that need becomes and addiction to God and country. Generally, I find comparisons to Nazi Germany to be too sweeping to be helpful, but in this case I think there are specific similarities: zealous patriotism and acceptance of violence as a means.

And then, randomly, my German friend, Tina, texted me to discuss a piano lesson this weekend. And then, also randomly, I read an article in the NYtimes about a commercial movie made in Nazi Germany called "Jew Süss". Not even a propaganda film, it would be like if Avatar had a specifically racist or political message. And it mentioned Frau Goebbels and her murders-suicide. But, to quote one of my favorite lines from Lost: "Don't mistake coïncidence for fate."

bend to my will

I have this friend Jay from high school. We weren't that close back then but got close afterwards through the intercollegiate ultimate frisbee scene and then playing in leagues in Chicago. We both got invited to taste some wines at Rodan in Wicker Park before it opened. Little did we know that our friend's place would do so well. He used to marvel at how things worked out for me with, seemingly, little effort and would then retort: "Once again the universe bends itself to your will." And this was before the Secret got big.

I'm in Michigan again, but this is my last week here for a while. The weekend in Chicago was one of the more inspiring, starting with a mediocre Classical concert with Laura, which turned into me going with her roommate as his +1 to a sold out show at the Empty Bottle. That was Saturday. I drank more than I needed to, but I saw some pretty above average music. There's nothing like above averageness to make me think that I can do better--and need to.

Sunday started with dim sum with the Northwestern profs where I learned that, according to statistics, there is a correlation between high I.Q. and atheism. And between high I.Q. and promiscuity in women. And between high I.Q. and monogamy in men. Interesting food for thought. I think there's more to life than I.Q., which is a form of intelligence that we need but only in moderation to other kinds of intelligence. Just like we need atheism but not too much. Where we need it most is in government. Public decisions that affect *everyone* shouldn't be informed by faith; they should be informed by science.

Then I somehow ended up at Corbett's for dinner. He lent me an album by St. Vincent which sounds pretty good so far.

Somehow, by the end of the weekend, things seemed to be going according to plan--whose plan remains to be seen. At the coffee shop on Monday, a song came on that I liked. Thanks to Shazam, I found that it was the album Corbett had just lent me. I asked the barista about another song, and it turned out to be Victoire, a band formed by Brooklyn composer Missy Mazzoli, whose music I don't remember liking so much. And then, bookending the weekend, I rediscovered a song by Fond of Tigers that does basically what I want to do but more jazz/rock than electronic/rock. Good to have models. I just forget who they are sometimes. Or look for new ones.

Which brings up today and the way in which the universe does my bidding. My friend Nicole had said that I could stay at her place for the next few weeks, a notion that made me realize that I was getting burned out on solitude. A few weeks of city time sounds nice. Then, last night, I learned from facebook about another friend, from the co-op days, who was looking for a dog/house-sitter in Rogers Park. So now I actually can make some money for a change. The universe keeps outdoing itself.

Let's party like it's 1985 with one of my favorite songs from my Paris days.