K Records band Dub Narcotic Sound System had a rollover accident last week in Montana. Please check out the K Records site for updates on their health and information about benefit shows and donations to cover medical costs:
I am both pragmatic and idealistic and when people do favors for me I reciprocate, even if I'm not inclined to do whatever they would like. Byron has helped a lot with the domain transfers and he will be watching the kids while I go to New York. He also has a research paper due while I'm gone.
This means that I am sitting here reading a Latex document with tiny script, squinting at terms like Boolean function and Cartesian approximation. I don't have a vague clue what I'm reading, which isn't a huge problem since I like to read esoteric things. Phrases like automatic iterative abstraction refinement do not scare me.
But I'm reading for word choice. And you know what? Computer scientists do not share a common language - the people Byron works with grew up speaking a dozen human languages and they program in a dozen other mechanical languages. If they don't know how to describe something, they don't go to a thesaurus. They just make stuff up. Need a new word? Add a prefix! Still not clear? Add a suffix, or maybe two!
I spend most of my time red-lining words that I am later informed are common usage even though they do not exist in any other academic field.
I'm about 3/4 of the way toward the happy ending of this massive domain migration. Some sites are showing up on the new server earlier than others. The projects with interactive tools like message boards are more complex and will require extra assistance, but I expect them to be back up soon.
Hipmama.com, foment.net, and consumptive.org will go down next. This may impact email accounts for many people. Cross your fingers and send me good luck wishes if you have any to spare.
RIP Neil Postman
If anyone is expecting mail, please pardon; I am about a month behind on anything related to the zine or personal correspondence. I have 57 urgent messages paused in my outbox right now, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible!
This week I wrote a lengthy essay, finished a big chunk of one of the books, poked at the stolen manuscript again, started a secret new project, and decided to move all of my domains to a new server. I did not find it easy to sleep with so many thoughts ricocheting through my noggin.
I love to work.
I am so tired I decided to do enforced recreation. But I could not even choose a video to watch. I stood in front of 9 to 5 for about twenty minutes before deciding that I've seen it too many times.
Bands Against Bush shows will happen in the following places on October 11:
There is a complete schedule at:
Have been missing Rome. Must be the fall. Missing both Rome and that feeling of visiting different places. I enjoyed the light as much as the food, coffee, and company. Yes, the paintings, architecture, and history were lovely as well. Miss Palestrina's wicked butterfly. The narrow darkness inside the buildings offset by the light stone stairways.
Last year as we settled in this new home I missed the quality of light in Italy and wondered when I would be able to go back. I have not been able to plan another trip; it seems that I am always too busy these days.
Gabriel also wondered about Thanksgiving plans. It looks like we will have a full house again: Marisa will be home from tour, Anne has accepted the invitation, and Stella and All will be here too. I'll have to turn the zine laboratory back into a kitchen.
I was rifling through files looking for the Hip Mama tattoo logo heart without much hope (if you have seen it in one of the features or something, please share!) and ran across a picture of the Chorus singing to Michelle Tea.
Michelle and Clint Catalyst had scheduled the event without knowing that Powell's was about to have a union walkout. When I tipped her off she said that she would do the reading outside, on the picket lines. Crisis was averted but the Chorus came anyway and we sang a bunch of radical labor songs and then crowded around Michelle to do She's So Fine. Then to make sure Clint felt properly appreciated we did Homo's.
Sometimes I really do miss my Portland friends.
Yesterday Byron spilled a tasty beverage on my keyboard. We unpluged it and cleaned it up but now the keys are sticky. I may never be able to type a parentheses again.
A couple of hours later he was innocently working on his laptop when it flashed the blue screen of death.
Obviously not his night for technology.
My son, dressed in a red cowboy duster and red cowboy hat, just rollerskated over and said:
Look at me, I'm so tall. When I was a little I was like a plate of lettuce!
Then he skated away.
I've lived across the water from my hometown for over a year without ever running across someone I knew growing up. When I go out I often see Hip Mama friends or college friends or people I know from the tech world. But I never see anyone from the reckless teen years.
Yesterday I was walking down Broadway with AEM and glanced in a store. I found myself staring right at one of my friends from back home, the only queer punk skateboarder in that dismal junior high school. He was looking back at me.
I kept walking.
This was a kid I really liked. When it was too dangerous for me to ride the bus home we walked to his house together after school. There were only about six freaky kids in that institution, and no more than a few dozen in the consolidated high school. Whatever solidarity we enjoyed was based mostly on the principle of safety in numbers. We were friends until graduation, when the crew of misfits split up and went off to have real lives.
I would have liked to say hello to my old friend, but I just didn't know how.
Al is curating this and my daughter will be introducing acts:
Bands Against Bush
8-10 pm Free
Dub Narcotic Sound System
From the New York Times: In what is believed to be a first for a public college, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill announced on Wednesday that it would cover the full costs of an education for students from families of the working poor without forcing the students to take on loans.
Son (age six): What is a lackey?
Daughter (age thirteen): Kind of like a minion.
Son nods and goes back to playing with chopsticks.