# 02 Sep 2002, 11:33AM:
Scott McCloud is bashworthy enough for everyone! Also, Seth is eloquently and entertainingly unhappy with Dave Winer, and Andy
articulately shares a sensation that many of us have shared. Sometimes it does feel as though social interaction is a totally learned skill and that one is terrible at it. But most of us, at some point, looking back, marvel at how much better we've gotten, and I like the way Andy puts it: "When did I get so strong?"
# 03 Sep 2002, 01:54AM:
Thanks to Danny O'Brien's advice, I'm currently reading "Lobsters" by Charlie Stross. A huge chunk of minireviews is coming up shortly.
Today, for the first time, I dealt with a customer who really got on my nerves. I gritted my teeth and wanted to physically harm him. I didn't, and I stayed relatively calm, and no voices were raised nor purchases averted, I think. But he reminded me of my dad. One previous customer also reminded me of my dad, come to think of it, my second-most-annoying (all-time) customer. Two in two months -- a good average. I can stand this.
I really enjoy a few parts of my job, such as recommending books (someone bought 21 Dog Years on Saturday!) and meeting celebrities. I'm torn on telling you names and details. Crazy people exist who would like to find out that some obscure celebrity shops at Cody's so as to facilitate stalking. So you can ask me personally and I'll tell you stories. I just don't want the relevant names to go on the Internet.
I got to see my sister and Anirvan today. I gave her a birthday gift, also facilitated by my job: The Slate Diaries, which she's been wanting for years, and The Salon.com Reader's Guide to Contemporary Authors. She practically squealed with delight. How to reciprocate? she fussed. And no Fruit Roll-Ups! she added.
Evidently I gift-wrap pretty well now. She was impressed.
# 03 Sep 2002, 03:26AM GMT+5:30:
I just heard The Cure for the first time earlier today. Neat! Like Belle
and Sebastian meets Ben Folds with a dash of TMBG, I say, trying to
analogize to the five musicians that I know.
So! A few book reviews are in order, what with me tearing through
volumes like mad.
Midnight's Children by Salman "Slammin'" Rushdie. Confession: I
didn't even know till a few months ago that Rushdie is Indian. I thought
he was an Arab. But No Doubt He's Indian*, and I enjoyed his thoroughly
Indian tale. Midnight's Children follows a boy and his family
before, during, and after India's Independence (and simultaneous Partition
with the new state of Pakistan) for around 500 pages. Rushdie does
magical realism, but well, and
his plot twists are more than adequate. I tired of his Connie Willis-like
subplot(s) and style, but quite seldom, and overall I recommend
Midnight's Children to other Indians. I'm not sure others'
patience would be rewarded.
The Chain of Chance by Stanislaw Lem. Enjoyed! Recommended!
Confusing, but in a good way, and the mystery was fair. As in some Asimov
mystery, more of the Black Widowers and less of the Robots series,
Chain of Chance is not that sci-fi, more of a straight mystery
with a few slightly futuristic plot devices. I can see how some people
might be bewildered and turned off by the first half or so, but if you've
enjoyed such Lem as The Futurological Congress, you'll probbaly
like this. It's not as bewildering as Memoirs Found in a
Bathtub, which I gave up on twenty pages in.
The Futurians by Damon Knight. One of my supervisors laughed
over this in the break room, so I borrowed it. It's a relatively quick
read chronicling the intersecting lives of some Golden Age sci-fi writers
in the 1940s and 1950s. The personalities turned me off, since I already
run into too many snarky neurotic clever people. But I found some lovely
insights in his descriptions and interviews. Worth it for me, since I
just borrowed it from someone. But don't seek it out unless you thrive on
sci-fi biography, as my supervisor does.
No More Dead Dogs by Gordon Korman. Fantastic. I started and
finished it tonight. A lot in common with The Twinkie Squad
(athletics, the school play, a stand-up honest kid whom no one believes,
detention with geeks as punishment (loosely), point-of-view shifts,
middle-school setting), even above and beyond the usual zany antics,
believable gimmick characters, fast plotting, implied celebrity cameo(s),
and understated romance
(sort of) I've come to expect from Korman. I practically fell in love
with the main character. I imagined him speaking in Leonard's voice. Er,
Leonard, speaking of which, I recommend that you read this.
$5.99, paperback. As per usual, especially with Korman, the back-cover
blurb gives away plot points and misses the whole point and theme of the
book, which
has a lot more in common with Avi's And Nothing But the Truth**
than with the Sweet Valley Babysitters Klub bilge that takes up space we
could use to stock more Philip Pullman.
Hey Korman, I really enjoyed Son of Interflux, in which Simon
Irving hesitates to let his classmates know that his father heads the
biggest corporation in the world. Now I see that you've written Son
of the Mob, in which "Vince Luca is just like any other high school
guy except for one thing -- his father happens to be head of a powerful
crime organization." Er, I hope the rest of the book takes a completely
different riff on the similar premise (a hope strengthened by the plot
twist giveaways in the blurb), and that you make at least one
self-conscious Sopranos reference.
In Cody's Deals, I've seen Susan Love's Breast Book
(self-care for women) and
Don DeLillo's Underworld in our Bargain Books section for about
$5 or $6 each, and a hardcover biography of Tesla for about $4. Neat!
Oh, and isn't Kris's "Leonard Could Play
The Banjo (It Was Found Beside His Body)" lovely and clever and
saddening? It's the first time I've ever heard myself referenced in a
song. About seven in-jokes, and several reminders of mortality, all in
4:30.
Gosh, I should sleep.
* From the headline of an India Currents story on the
Indian-American drummer for No Doubt.
** And Nothing But the Truth, which I started writing as
To Say Nothing Of the Dog, takes place entirely in the
primary-source text of the plot universe. E-mails, memos, diary entries,
transcripts of conversations, newspaper stories. Even at twelve I could
tell this was neat. Also, the plot concerns free speech and patriotism,
and shifting perspectives. Always relevant.
# 03 Sep 2002, 03:36AM GMT+5:30:
Excerpt from No More Dead Dogs -- page five -- that sold me
on reading the whole book:[Our hero hated a book
that his English teacher forced the class to read. Our hero said so,
plainly, in the assigned book review.]
...Fogelman pounced on the comment. "It was sad. What a
heartbreaking surprise ending!"
"I wasn't surprised," I said. "I knew Old Shep was going to die before
I started page one."
"Don't be ridiculous," the teacher snapped. "How?"
I shrugged. "Because the dog always dies. Go to the library and
pick out a book with an award sticker and a dog on the cover. Trust me,
that dog is going down."
# 05 Sep 2002, 12:48PM:
I fought with a hidebound and reactionary haircutter yesterday to get the
(quite short) haircut I wanted. I fear that she took her revenge on me by
making one side longer than the other and that I'll need a costly
adjustment.
Yesterday, while driving on a highway, I pulled over to help a stranded
motorist. (It turned out that the car was empty.) As I sat on the
shoulder, waiting for a traffic lull to pull back onto the road, I
discovered
that when a semi doing 70 passes a Corolla doing 0, the Corolla
shakes for a few seconds. Scary.
# 07 Sep 2002, 09:16PM:
People have different song-related reactions to this book, entitled The World is a Ghetto. Leonard thinks of "The world is a rainbow / With many kinds of people." I myself am reminded of that Smashing Pumpkins song that starts "The world is a vampire." Leonard reminds me that this song is entitled "Bullet with Butterfly Wings," and notes that even cooler would be a depleted-uranium anti-tank armor-piercing butterfly with bullet wings. In any case, I stand by my position that the world can be a vampire, or a rainbow, or a ghetto, or possibly a vampire ghetto, but not any other combination, and certainly not all three.
Leonard quibbles with my prohibitions, but he has his own damn weblog.
# 09 Sep 2002, 10:19AM:
Coming soon: reviews of The Seven Samurai, a repeat viewing of O Brother, Where Art Thou?, and the book The Best of Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine.
# 10 Sep 2002, 12:31AM:
Today my sister took me to a terrific restaurant at Dwight and San Pablo.
Tallulah is like Venus was a few years ago, before people discovered it
and it got busy and the preparation got rushed. I had a terrific
home-fries-and-portobello-mushroom dealie. Recommended! Thanks, Nandini!
I also visited a bar with a coworker and her girlfriend. My three selections on the jukebox (3 songs for
a dollar): "Don't Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)" by Fleetwood Mac;
"Basket Case" by Green Day; and "Hook" by Blues Traveler, in that order.
All rather important songs to my cohort, I think -- self-aware, self-loathing,
reminders of Clinton, and catchy.
As per discussion at the Information Desk: what would Deepak Shakur be
like? Also as per reminiscences at the Info Desk come memories of the
customer who asked for the Odyssey "in the original Latin."
# 10 Sep 2002, 09:41AM:
Students at the University of California at Berkeley have long known
that Wurster Hall -- the architecture building! -- is astoundingly
ugly. Sure, we idly debate the demerits of Wurster vis-à-vis
Evans and Barrows, but the irony and sheer awfulness of Wurster win
out every time. And now our beliefs are confirmed in a Slate
slideshow on ugly
buildings and security! Woo! Go Bears!
# 12 Sep 2002, 11:28PM:
My birthday came and went, and only afterwards did I think to be thankful that I've gotten to live another year.
# 13 Sep 2002, 12:11AM GMT+5:30:
The past few days, I've had great times hanging out with friends and
celebrating my birthday. I've seen Zed, Adam, Seth, and Zack, among other people.
Zed appreciated Leonard's and my suggestion that the Bible's Apocrypha are
history's first fanfic, and suggested Cain/Abel slash. Adam gave me a
decorated mix CD. Seth and I went to see Michael Newdow give a terrific
speech -- we weren't expecting him to sing! (Very interesting fellow.
The ultra-skeptical sort that I wouldn't necessarily want to befriend, but
I admire him and am glad he's on our side anyway.) Zack and I wandered and
did errands and ate and reassured each other about anxieties business and
personal. More on personal anxieties later.
Perhaps crepe restaurants, like gas stations, cluster at intersections,
for two different crepe places live at the intersection of east Shattuck
and University in Berkeley. Crepe de Vine is now called "The Lying Crepes
of Marrakech" or something. Zack says that he suspects it's been bought
out by the restaurant Marrakech, since once he saw a waiter
there whom he had previously only seen at Crepe de Vine.
Coincidence...or merger?
I also saw the film Rivers & Tides, about the artwork of Andy
Goldsworthy. He works in nature, in ephemera. And I enjoyed the film,
and later was reminded of it by a line in "110 Stories": "It goes, like,
something mighty, and despair." I think the author is referring to
"Ozymandias," and Goldsworthy avoids the Fundamental Ozymandias Fallacy,
as Leonard might put it; Goldsworthy embraces the eventual
destruction of his art, he welcomes it. He looks death in the eye
each time his work collapses or fades or washes away. A worthwhile
lesson.
I visited friends a bit on Wednesday, and visited the peace rally "Our
Grief is Not a Cry for War" in San Francisco. I learned how to make paper
cranes, and folded a few. I wore a t-shirt with "Peace" in many languages
surrounding a globe, and I met a fellow with the least LiveJournally LiveJournal
ever, and I signed up to help Food Not Bombs sometime.
Non-profound stuff break: I love having a salary. Like the man
said, newfound wealth! Whee!
I've long been meaning to quote this passage from Arthur C. Clarke's
Imperial Earth, published in 1976:
"...Despite Colin's efforts, I don't really understand Terran economy.
But I'm learning many things, fast. For example, there are some smart
operators around, on the lookout for innocents from space. Yesterday I
was going through a display of Persian carpets -- antique, not replicated
-- wondering if I could possibly afford to take a small one back to
Marissa. (I can't.) This morning there was a message -- addressed to me
personally, correct room number -- from a dealer in Tehran, offering his
wares at very special rates. He's probably quite legitimate, and may have
some bargains -- but how did he know? I thought Comsole circuits
were totally private. But perhaps this doesn't apply to some commercial
services. Anyway, I didn't answer.
Nor have I acknowledged some even more personal messages from various Sex
Clubs. They were very explicit, and I've stored them as mementos for my
old age. After the carpet episode, I was wondering if any would be
tailored to my psych profle, which must be on record somewhere -- that
would have made me mad. But it was very broad-band stuff, and the
artwork was beautiful. Perhaps when I'm not so busy..."
Back to intimacy: I'm a woman. I'm in my early twenties. I have
never been pregnant. Especially recently, with reminders of death nudging
me at the anniversary of the terrorist attacks, and with my birthday, I've
wished I were a mother. I'm not going to be a mother for years, if ever,
and I worry that working with kids would only exacerbate these desires,
not calm them.
I need a hobby.
# 13 Sep 2002, 09:15AM:
So I was skimming Craigslist,
looking for a place to hang my hat come October (1st or 31st, I'm not
quite sure yet), and in the midst of all the "$650 -- 11X17 bedroom in
the oakland hills, great view, movein Sept 15" I saw
WHY DOESN'T ANYONE KNOW ABOUT ALAMEDA? IT'S RIGHT NEXT TO
OAKLAND!!!
WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT ALAMEDA, NO ONE EVER SEEMS TO KNOW
WHERE THE H-E DOUBLE HOCKEYSTICKS IT IS!!! I WISH MORE PEOPLE KNEW
WHAT A NICE AND PEACEFUL TOWN THIS WAS. AND HOW CLOSE IT IS TO SF AND
OAKLAND. BUT NO, THEY ONLY PICK OAKLAND! I FEEL DISSED YO! I'M JUST
TRYING TO MAKE A DOLLA OUTTA FIT-TEEN CENTS!! SO PLEASE..EXPLORE
ALAMEDA! I COMMUTE FROM THERE TO SF...IT AINT NO THANG CHICKEN WANG!
IT'S JUST AS CLOSE AS OAKLAND AND A WHOOOOOOOLE HELLUVALOT NICER!!!!
Amusing!I'm almost done reading Irving Yalom's (Love's Executioner)
new book, The Gift of Therapy: An Open Letter to a New Generation
of Therapists and Their Patients. I enjoy skimming it for
anecdotes.
# 15 Sep 2002, 12:16AM:
I've been working on the cash registers, all the livelong day. I got worried when I realized that register work left me with black marks on my hands that would not wash off. My colleague Sarah reassured me:
"That's ink from the register tape [receipts]. Comes off with nail polish remover. Back when I worked the register every day, I always had a black mark on my thumb from where I ripped off the receipt. I always thought that if I dropped dead in the street, the police would know I was a cashier."
Thanks to Zack for pointing to a George Orwell site that contained "Bookshop Memories". In a rather low-key way, I hope, I've been following in the footsteps of Orwell and other writers in working blue-collar jobs and soaking in observation. And -- as I should have guessed from Keep the Aspidistra Flying -- Orwell once worked in a bookstore!
Many of the people who came to us were of the kind who would be a nuisance anywhere but have special opportunities in a bookshop. For example, the dear old lady who ‘wants a book for an invalid’ (a very common demand, that), and the other dear old lady who read such a nice book in 1897 and wonders whether you can find her a copy. Unfortunately she doesn’t remember the title or the author’s name or what the book was about, but she does remember that it had a red cover.
# 16 Sep 2002, 12:46AM:
I live within the boundaries of the geographic area serviced by the
Interesting Times.
- An enthusiastic customer gladly followed me to Alternative Health
to pick up a copy of Healing Sounds. He oohed over the cover
art, which resembled a mandala draped over a Hindu idol. He unzipped his
fanny pack, extracted a small cloth pouch, removed from that a large
crystal on a string, and swung it over the cover, happily pronouncing the
cover full of good, strong energy.
- A young man asked directions to the postcards, and then asked
directions -- just making sure -- on where to place the stamp, address,
and personal communication on postcards. I mocked up the structure of a
model postcard on a blank piece of paper, and he took it for reference.
- After I gift-wrapped a slightly challenging package for a customer, my
boss asked, "Did she just tip you?" I looked back. On the desk surface,
she had left behind a handful of change.
I had never been tipped before.
Listening to some used CDs recently acquired from Rasputin. Greatest
Marches is unstoppably peppy. Everclear's So Much For the
Afterglow seduced me with its title track years ago, when I listened
to Dan's copy. Tonight I put away Thursday's New York
Times and I boogied down, tried to dance it all out, all the
mourning and the wage-slave alienation and the grief.
We never talk about the future
Yeah, we never talk about the past anymore
We never ask ourselves the questions to the answers
that nobody even
wants to know
I guess the honeymoon is over
So much for the afterglow
Thanks for reading this, and I care about you. Remember that, and see you
tomorrow.
# 17 Sep 2002, 11:29AM:
Naomi Klein, of No Logo fame, speaks tonight at Cody's at Haste and Telegraph in Berkeley. She'll appear at 7:30 pm to discuss her new book, Fences and Windows, which I momentarily conflated with Bruce Schneier's Secrets & Lies when talking with a customer yesterday.
A slightly wacky day.
- Steven Hill, author of a new book on fixing our (he says) antiquated and harmful electoral system, talked at the store tonight. I got to give the intro speech. It went okay, and I got the most excited I've gotten in weeks over something requiring no physical exertion. Wow, I really need to get back to doing stand-up.
- A customer with whom I'd conversed a bit asked me out. I turned him down nicely, and I hope he got the niceness at least as much as the rejection. I certainly enjoyed the compliment.
My supervisor must think I'm a weirdness magnet.
I feel better than I did a few days ago.
In other news, I'm taking a tiny stand against a Blockbuster video store, the one at Telegraph and Alcatraz. They made a mistake a few weeks ago and in recompense put a credit on my account, but they won't transfer the credit to other Blockbuster locations. A crock! I say.
Note: the only reason I even went to Blockbuster in the first place is that I got a two-for-one coupon. Otherwise it would most certainly be Reel.
# 18 Sep 2002, 03:28PM:
Just finished acquiring and preparing Adam's birthday gift. Happy
birthday, Adam!
In addition, happy birthday to Leonard's sister, Susanna.
Today I went so far as to pre-condition my hair before showering.
I massaged olive oil into it about half an hour or an hour before
bathing. As soon as I opened the bottle and sniffed, I remembered
a hundred times when my mom sat me down and rubbed the oil in my
hair and my sister's hair, and maybe our faces and arms too, to keep
the hair and skin soft. It works. Thanks, mom.
# 18 Sep 2002, 05:25PM:
I'm actually rather interested in going to Friday's car free party as long as it's not too militant.
# 19 Sep 2002, 11:27PM:
At one point today, I thought that I don't live a life of quiet desperation -- how quiet can desperation be when you have a weblog?
Yet: today I met Lynda Barry! She autographed a bookmark for me, and told me that she really likes autographing her work, "because you get to write in books!"
Lasy night, courtesy of Adam and Josh, I tried ouzo, a Greek liquor with an anise (read: black licorice) flavor. You may be familiar with ouzo from the Moxy Früvous song "My Baby Loves a Bunch of Authors", in which the narrator is "pounding the ouzo / with Mario Puzo." I enjoyed it. I also found out, disconcertingly, that when I stray beyond "tipsy" into -- I hesitate to say -- "drunk" territory, I really throw around the "damn you!" and other such general castigations. I don't know why.
I'm listening to a lot of Dar Williams at the moment. Hey, she's playing in Berkeley in late October! I hear a Seth Trip...
# 20 Sep 2002, 12:13AM GMT+5:30:
Reviews!
Retief: Emissary to the Stars: I read a set of Retief short
stories by Keith Laumer. I borrowed them from Leonard in a hasty "find
something to read on the BART" snap. They're rather enjoyable in a P.G.
Wodehouse-ish space-farce way or as Spaceman adventures, and the writing
is cute, but the uneven collection contains some really annoying pieces.
The clever space diplomat Retief always saves the day, but -- in the worst
Connie Willis style -- stupid, annoying, hypocritical, selfish,
narrowminded characters (practically everyone except Retief, including his
superiors and opponents) and their stupid, dragged-on miscommunications
take up too much space. Dramatic irony just isn't that funny for that
long. If Laumer was trying to satirize US foreign policy, well, that
makes me mad on its own, and I don't need sci-fi to propagandize me.
The Best of Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine: I picked up
a copy from a free box a few weeks ago because I wanted something to
read at lunch. I read some good stories, notably the uplifting and
"Aventura" by Jacqueline Lichtenberg and "Dragon Three Two Niner" by Peter
L. Manly.
However, the introductions gave me pause. Of course, I mean no insult
to the late Ms. Zimmer Bradley, but her introductions to individual
stories made me wonder about her perspective and beliefs.
A few examples. From the introduction to Mary C. Aldridge's
Nebula-nominated "The Adinkra Cloth":
In the final balloting, it did not win the Nebula. I have no
idea what won it that year, but I'll bet a ripe peach -- or plum, or any
other piece of fruit you prefer -- that it wasn't as good as
this.
Basically, Ms. Zimmer Bradley is claiming that "The Adinkra Cloth" is
better than any other arbitrary story published that year (five years
before the publishing date of this volume). How hard would it have been
to check what won that year? Did she simply feign ignorance so she
wouldn't have to read the winner or make a judgment call on what was
better?
And several other rambles, whines, and concealed insults await in other
intros! In the spoiler-laden introduction to Dorothy J. Heydt's
"Moonrise," a good story that I like partly because I'm a sucker for
stories set in Berkeley, Ms. Zimmer Bradley uses extremely flawed
anecdotal evidence to claim that "maybe" sci-fi fans are "intellectually
superior" to nonfans. What the? And so on.
Two different sci-fi experts (i.e., "People who have been to at least one
WorldCon") affirmed that sycophants surrounded Marion Zimmer
Bradley in the last years of her life, possibly distorting her judgment.
But still. One raises an eyebrow.
The Seven Samurai: Leonard and I really enjoyed Kurosawa's
classic tale of fighters who protect a peasant village from bandits. It's
about four hours long, yet it gripped us all the way through, even though
it featured no musical numbers! Bollywood, take note.
As McWhorter mentioned to his Linguistics 5 lecture several months ago,
we should revisit classics not just because they build virtue or
intellect, but because they're fun. Indeed, The Seven Samurai
has great characterization, dialogue, and choreography and pacing. Even
though Leonard and I were watching through cultural and linguistic
barriers, the film only mildly confused us. Recommended!
O Brother, Where Art Thou?: I'd like to see The Man Who
Wasn't There again to be sure, but this may be my favorite Coen
Brothers film. Leonard heartened me by laughing out loud (!) at
the dialogue, especially the pretentious vocabulary that the main
character (George Clooney) employs. The music made me say "wow" more the
first time, in a theater, but I still like it a lot.
Nitpicker's Note: Just remember that this film has even less relation to
The Odyssey than does the Demi Moore Scarlet Letter to
the original Hawthorne, and enjoy the occasional references. Yes, they
conflate Circe and the Lotus-Eaters and the Sirens into one bit. But it's
a funny bit, as are all the bits. Recommended!
I wonder what Leonard and I will watch tomorrow! Only our future selves
can tell.
# 20 Sep 2002, 10:21PM:
Cody's Deals: Upstairs, in our Bargain Books, we have C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, John Bear's Send This Jerk the Bedbug Letter, and Double Down by Frederick and Steven Barthelme, each for $3.98.
# 22 Sep 2002, 01:26AM:
Today I scored at the church thrift shop (Wednesdays and Saturdays, on
Dana between Durant and Channing): three great pairs of pants for a total
of $8.50. Yes, that was the most triumphant moment of my day. Other
exciting stuff: seeing my coworker perform at Blake's a few hours back. I
really enjoyed Clockwinder's performance of "groove funk" (as though I
know what that is).
# 22 Sep 2002, 11:07PM:
Today: my first industrial accident. Well, second if you count getting bumped on the noggin by a falling book. Today, while giftwrapping a book, I used scissors to curl the ribbon and cut my hand slightly.
# 24 Sep 2002, 12:01AM:
I got to introduce Sarah Vowell to a room packed with adoring public-radio fans. Then I went back downstairs and told people that cookbooks are in aisle 24 and helped a kid find a science fair project and suggested about thirty books for a woman running a book group.
# 24 Sep 2002, 12:41AM:
Today, for very little reason, I wore a formal white button-up
shirt and light khaki pants. Every time I look down I feel like
someone else is inhabiting my body. Possibly someone entering
business school.
# 24 Sep 2002, 11:53PM:
I read in the New York Times this morning that an avalanche in
Russia may have killed Sergei Bodrov, star of Prisoner of the
Caucasus (the later one) and Brother. Quite sad.
A sample of my many friends (and of Nandini's) met my parents this
evening, and my parents seemed to like everybody! Relief! The main point
of the
get-together was to show my parents that my sister and I have cool friends
and support networks, and, in my case, that not all of my friends are
white guys. Laura and Leonard made baked goodies that were quite tasty; I
really should learn how to bake a cake at some point.
# 25 Sep 2002, 09:33AM:
Two recent amusing dreams:
- I tutored a few young girls, focusing on the history of Watergate. In my
dreamworld, Watergate had an exciting finale where Richard Nixon rode to
the Supreme Court to give an impassioned speech defending his actions, and
only at the last minute did he decide not to use the military to stay in
power.
- I signed up for a research experiment involving an hour of therapy. I
went to the research institute and arrived in a room of scientists. One
of them said she would be my therapist, and that she would now go prepare
the experiment room and call me when it was ready. So I just waited and
waited in this room full of researchers for hours, pacing and making a
phone call and so on. Eventually I realized that the point of the research was
watching me wait. A few minutes later the scientists confirmed this, and
gave me copies of their notes on what I had said and how I had acted
(e.g., talking about my bike). I was unhappy with this, and talked about
it with Professor Fish (Russia After Communism, summer 2002) at some large
outdoor party.
From last night, while sharing a big scarf with Jade: "I feel so
jaunty!"
# 25 Sep 2002, 11:13PM:
So I watched The West Wing season premiere today --WORST...EPISODE...EVER!!
Okay, maybe not. But far too long, and badly written and filmed. And these jerky characters miscommunicated and peeved their neighbors so systematically that Connie Willis must have cowritten the episode.
I hereby wash my hands of West Wing loyalty. Enterprise was okay, so I'll still watch TV on Wednesday nights, and I may watch West Wing to while away the hour between Enterprise and the first two minutes of Law and Order (where two extras find the body). But don't count on it.
# 27 Sep 2002, 01:08AM:
A woman called the store and kept me on the phone for about twenty minutes
trying to find a book for her book club. They talked in the background --
"oh, I've read that," and so on. I read her the bestseller lists and made
suggestions. Pretty well-read people; I was impressed.
Today a woman came in wearing a hijab. I asked her whether she had made
it and where one could acquire such a garment. She said, "Well, I got
this one in Jordan, but it wouldn't be too hard to make," and took it
off to show me how it was constructed. I was very surprised!
Somewhen I had assumed that women who wear the hijab don't take it off in
public at all.
It would be very easy and malicious to make a burqha for a Hallowe'en
costume.
# 28 Sep 2002, 11:39PM GMT+5:30:
Hooray for socialization. Tuesday was the 'rents party. Last
night I got to wish my main man Seth
a happy birthday. I met Ben Pfaff, among others,
and helped teach some people how to play the game Set. It's Mensa-approved!
And then today Leonard and I saw Adam over crepes. That's all fun.
The problem: all Tuesday and Wednesday I ran errands, and then watched
the West Wing season premiere, which counts for work in my book.
Ergo, I'm tuckered out. I could use a weekend. Well, soon enough.
I just finished Owen Hill's The Chandler Apartments. I've
heard that an alternate title floated was A Sea of Kooks (it's
set in Berkeley, much in Telegraph). I'll have to read some more mysteries,
especially noir, to understand why the hardbitten prose of short
declarative sentences attracts me so. I want to understand how writers
convey that mix of inner conflict and sureness with narration that
borders on sentence fragments.
Next up: possibly Wittgenstein's Poker (the author comes by
Cody's on Telegraph this Monday) mixed with Tamora Pierce's Protector
of the Small quartet.
# 28 Sep 2002, 11:44PM:
Dragonfly, formerly and possibly still known as Bison Brewery, resides at the corner of Telegraph and Parker. I haven't tried the booze, but the food is excellent. Think Venus-style prices (not "out of this world," but rather, akin to those at Venus, the "urban comfort food" fusion place at Shattuck and Bancroft; $7 to $10 for an entree). I've been there twice now; I've had and greatly enjoyed the sweet potato and feta flautas, the DragonFries (my term; just yummy fries with ginger ketchup), and the eggplant pizza. I'm hungry just remembering!
# 28 Sep 2002, 11:57PM:
So, stuff I learned today:- Mitch Kapor signs his autographs, "Keep cyberspace free!"
- If someone calls asking for a book called "Fecal Incontinence," it behooves the bookstore
employee to find a way to keep her on the line besides the phrase "please hold."
- My ex-boyfriend
is engaged to be married. I wish I could meet her and her daughter and wish the new family luck.
Of course, that's not the only thought I'm thinking or emotion I'm feeling,
but it's the only one I would actually act on.
# 29 Sep 2002, 12:14PM:
A few months ago Leonard and I saw an SUV with an unusually-placed US flag sticker -- on the gas tank door. I thought that was a clever political statement. Then, yesterday, Leonard and I saw a car or two with a peeing-Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes) decal on the gas tank door. Has the gas tank door simply become, like the rear windshield, another place for bumper stickers and decals? Or is he urinating into the gas tank with that wicked grin?
# 30 Sep 2002, 02:53AM:
Did you know that "Greensleeves" has words? I only found out Saturday night whilst browsing a book of songs for kids to sing on long car trips. Including "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Dixie."Nice
wordplay, Frances. Yes, she's a Scrabble master.
Also; yes, I'm still up. I finished the first two books in Tamora
Pierce's Protector of the Small quartet. Sometime I should
compare-and-contrast that and the Harry Potter series. Seeing as
Ms. Rowling has up and gotten hitched, and the fifth, sixth, and seventh
Potter books still don't exist yet, by the time I could write such an
essay, we may actually have an elected president.
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