Cogito, Ergo Sumana for 2003 February

# 01 Feb 2003, 01:57AM: Here on Fibber Island, We Use Turbans Instead of Poker Chips: I lost the Apollo Amateur Night regional competition. However, I enjoyed meeting the other performers and the Apollo crew, and I know that my performance did not cause my outcome. By the time I went up, the audience would have booed a ham sandwich, so hungry for "execution" were they. Extremely talented acts found themselves cut off after a minute, victims of this quite saddening phenomenon.

My friends and I had a cool afterparty, during which I gave them the routine I would have performed for a civilized audience. And did. As it happened (not the CBC show), I dissed the audience back: "You would boo yourselves! ... You're like Raiders fans, booing whether it's good or bad!" But no one could hear me, due to the aforementioned booing.

I did enjoy the work of the winner, Cherelle Fourtier (sp?), a courteous singer. I wish her well, and hope that I'll get my claim to fame some other time.

Filed under: Comedy

# 02 Feb 2003, 09:33AM: Dry T-Shirt Contest: I realized various things I could have done to improve my reception at the Apollo Amateur Night.

Upon entering the stage: "Here's the deal: if you give me two minutes, I'll take my shirt off."
Made more Indian stereotype jokes.
Cartwheels?

On the one hand, I believe that successful adaptation to different audiences is a mark of a good comedian. On the other hand, if I were to make an audience laugh by potty-mouthing and talking black, I'd be glad to make them laugh but disgusted at them and at myself.

On the upside, all this is moot, since, as Leonard pointed out, I never would have won anyway. I wasn't singing a song that everyone likes, with lots of high notes.

I felt disoriented yesterday. I had hoped (and thus secretly expected) that I'd win, and instead I came nowhere close. The night of, my expectations changed, and I was glad to have retired gracefully. But now I don't have a ticket to fame, and I'll have to keep working if I want it.

Filed under: Comedy

# 02 Feb 2003, 09:56PM GMT+5:30: Finally, Some Reviews: Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (IMDB entry): Leonard liked it, and I was glad, since I had been dragged to it and loved it four years ago. Dr. Evil really seems a separate character from Austin. Spoiler: Austin shows himself to be an honorable man when he refuses to take advantage of Vanessa when she's drunk. That's always been the sweetest moment in the film to me.

The Hidden Fortress (IMDB entry) by Kurosawa: I found the film rather boring and long. After The Seven Samurai I expected something more absorbing, with more sympathetic characters. I hated the buffoons, the two main characters (or at least framing-device characters) who just schemed stupidly. And why did everybody yell all the time? Bad microphones? I guess it must be good, as it's Kurosawa, but I didn't see the qualities that recommended it to George Lucas. (The story goes that Lucas thinks of The Hidden Fortress as the ur-Star Wars. Then again, I don't much care for Star Wars either.)

The Producers (IMDB entry): This film is definitely funny. It takes place in the comedy universe, as Leonard puts it, and doesn't try too hard to explain improbabilities. By my just-invented Some Like It Hot-o-meter, where the entire comediness of a film can be measured in the average funniness of a scene, The Producers shines. Most scenes are funny, and there aren't that many of them, thus shooting the film up to about a .75 or .8 Some Like It Hot ranking: about Some Like It H.

I would actually see the Broadway production for twenty or 25 dollars. I assume that Nathan Lane plays Zero Mostel's role and that Matthew Broderick plays Wilder, right? Oh yeah, that reminds me: as I watched Wilder, I thought, "I can't help thinking of him as Willy Wonka from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." That passed. A week later, when I showed Leonard Willy Wonka &c., he said, "I can't help thinking of him as Harold Bloom from The Producers!" [Update: He said Leo Bloom, not Harold Bloom. Whoops. Yeah, I work in a bookstore.] Oh, and Leonard can't stand Willy Wonka, except for the line where Mike TV jumps into a stupid situation and Wonka lazily calls out, "No, stop, come back."

My notes for The Producers contain the phrase "SF in spring", but I don't know why.

Adaptation (IMDB entry). Saw this with Joe, and it's quite good. For the Gödel, Escher, Bach crowd. Yes, it's gimmicky, but also immensely entertaining, and you probably will like the ending better than I did. I would see it again, with you, even!

Sarah Peters asks:

"so what's the deal with "dr. zhivago"? when is it set? is it actually about a doctor? like ER but with lots and lots of snow?"

Well, Sarah, Boris Pasternak set Doctor Zhivago around the Russian Revolution eighty-odd years back, with an actual doctor or two, but very few explicitly medical scenes. I haven't *cough* er, quite *cough* finished Dr. Zhivago yet. I put it down a few weeks ago and haven't come back to it. It's good. Pasternak writes a fine scene and sets up scenery wonderfully. I save about a paragraph every twenty pages that I simply must quote to Leonard. And, since I haven't seen the film, I really must finish the book to find out how it ends!

I have finished some books in the interim, despite my preoccupation with stand-up. I read a Routledge pocket introduction to Karl Popper, which strengthened my rather Popperian convictions on science and knowability. And I'm almost done with Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart series, of which more soon.

I also skimmed Zoya's Story, an astonishing memoir by an Afghan woman working with RAWA. It brought tears to my eyes. How brave, strong, and resourceful these women are! The narrator notes briefly that she's my age and has already renounced marriage for the cause of the people of Afghanistan. Wow. What would I sacrifice, and for what? I am a coward.

Filed under: Reading

# 02 Feb 2003, 10:28PM: Poetry Slum: Another trick to not getting booed by hostile audiences: rap or recite poetry at them so quickly that they hear no pause to fill up with booing. In that spirit, well, in a completely different spirit, I present the poem I wrote my ex-flatmate to get him to return my stuff. ("I'll bring it back given the appropriate ransom (let's say, a limerick about shampoo).")

I told you that our word "pajamas"
Originates in Balarama's
land. So does "shampoo,"
and "karma" does too
So gimme it back, or your mama's!

(Balarama is a character in Indian mythology. Krishna's brother, I think.)

And then there's the lovely note I saw hanging from my doorknob a week back, "Ode to a Phase-Shifted Roommate":

Every night
   except a few
I sleep at home
   and so do you.

We both wake up
   and check our mail,
And look for food
   to no avail.

We both have weekends
   off from work,
And both enjoy
   this little perk.

We often walk
   the same small street --
Some day, we
   might even meet.

Filed under: Apartment Life

# 03 Feb 2003, 09:00AM: Mr. Sandman, Give Me a Break: More weird dreams. Yesterday somehow the US had 1063 states. What does 1063 mean? Anyone? (Maybe if you add up the provinces of all of the US's client states?) And Captain Kirk was warning Cody's that we were being attacked.

Last night I dreamt I was going to change the oil in my parents' car but got sidetracked when I saw a total stranger reading my weblog, possibly a publisher of educational materials.

Oh, and a few weeks ago, I dreamt that I'd miscalculated on class units and hadn't graduated after all. This sort of dream feels even more urgent when this has actually happened to you. By the end of the dream, I was resigned to taking some night classes to fulfill the requirements, and woke up proud of my level head.

I should go get my diploma sometime soon. You know, just to be sure. I could hang it near my bed in case I ever have that nightmare again.

# 03 Feb 2003, 03:12PM: Bald Ego: The Oakland Tribune featured a wacky photo of me on Friday along with the eerily prophetic "Boo? Yeah".

Having never seen "It's Showtime at the Apollo," Harihareswara has been experiencing people saying things to her like, "Hey, what about that audience, huh?" followed by a nudge and a wink.

More happily, the Tribune includes my banter with Chancellor Berdahl near the end of its "Bear in Mind" coverage. Soon to come: links to the transcript and RealAudio recording!

Berdahl: Obviously this isn't your first venture into the world of comedy. What else have you done? How did you get to this point?
Harihareswara: My therapist asks me the same thing.

Filed under: Comedy

# 03 Feb 2003, 08:03PM: I hereby confess that, when I was about ten, my favorite film was Flight of the Navigator. There, now you can't blackmail me with it.

# 04 Feb 2003, 07:09PM: Staying home thanks to a disease meme. Coming soon: I cite Emerson!

# 04 Feb 2003, 11:59PM: Her Stage Name is Sumana Somebody: Eventually the statute of blogitations will run out on Adam, Leonard, and Zed, and I'll post an Apollo Night Roundup. But until then, you can read the transcript or experience the photos and RealAudio recording of My Dinner With Bobbie B.

Filed under: Comedy

# 05 Feb 2003, 07:56PM: I hear Saddam Hussein is trying to get these forbidden aluminum tubes. Well, of course! He's trying to construct a nuclear bong!

Leonard says that's more of a Kim Jong Il thing to do. World's biggest, yadda yadda yadda.

Update: I meant to reference Ralph Nader's optimal running mate here.

# 06 Feb 2003, 12:23PM: The Onion: William Gibson stops by Cody's Books tonight at 7:30 pm, and I get to introduce him. He'll be reading from his new book, Pattern Recognition, which sounds interesting. As per his wishful thinking/request, I'm making NEO-CRAP? NOPE! stickers. Hope he likes them.

# 07 Feb 2003, 09:34AM: Democracy Now: See, I thought the Apollo audience's input would affect the outcome indirectly, through the filter of somewhat Burkean judges. But no, as one correspondent put it, it was Lord of the Flies, meaning really unpleasant direct democracy. Some contestants were more bitter than I. Political Science Major Sumana only now really taps into the uneasiness some competitors felt with entrusting even a talent show, much less government, to the masses.

Filed under: Comedy

# 07 Feb 2003, 09:40AM: All Tomorrow's Smarty-Pants: He liked the stickers.

Cody's was great, last night; the very funny woman who introduced me had made up "NEO-CRAP? NOPE!" stickers, some customers availing themselves of these when it came time to have their books signed.

Another fragment of usefulness in my nefarious plans: the fact that William Gibson has mentioned me in his work.

P.S. Perhaps the best line of my introduction: "Good evening and welcome. I'm William Gibson."

# 07 Feb 2003, 11:24AM: I am currently rearranging a stack of purchase orders. Soon they will be in order by PO number. As Jon Carroll once repeated to himself (more like this), "Man shall be saved from repetitive labor."

Update: Whenever an order number contains the sequence 1077, I automatically think The Bone.

# 07 Feb 2003, 01:04PM: Linkrot Guaranteed!: The UC Berkeley front page, for today only, prominently features my mug! Pretty jolting.

Filed under: Comedy

# 07 Feb 2003, 11:32PM: Hilary, Nandini, and I tonight participated in an Asian American Theater Company event at "Romeo 5" in San Francisco. I put "Romeo 5" in quotes because that title rightly belongs to a band or a cyberpunk novel of the eighties, not to a bar/performance venue in Japantown. Anyway, Nandini spoke a bit of lunar new year traditions, and Hilary and I acted in Michelle Motoyoshi's enjoyable one-act farce "Lasagna to Meatloaf".

Our endeavors at entertainment paled in comparison when Vienna Teng, a dynamite singer/songwriter/pianist, took the stage. Hilary and I agreed that she reminds us of Dar Williams, although Hilary also mentioned Paula Cole. She's still half-underground, as far as I know, so you can still feel indie by discovering her, and you should.

Music works like this now? You put out some MP3s, you half-produce the CD yourself, some little label signs you, you and your fans publicize the heart out of everything you do -- seems pretty standard, now. Would that work for comedy?

# 09 Feb 2003, 10:14AM: I have never smoked marijuana, and yet it often appears in my dreams. Maybe it's the equivalent of wiggling fingers and whispering "wooOOOooo": a "this is a fiction" signifier.

In last night's dream, I thought, "perhaps this is a dream, or maybe it's the pot, but I think I'm engaged to marry former Vice President Al Gore." But my peers assured me that this was, in fact, the case, and I believed them. I didn't want to marry Al Gore, and therefore I made up my mind to break off the engagement. "Wow," I thought, "I'm glad I have the self-confidence to know that he's the wrong choice for me."

Oh, and I have only thirdhand acquaintance with the art and science of potsmoking, so that fostered some in-dream hilarity (or at least foggy "is this right?" musings). At some point toothpicks were involved.

And I saw Leonard briefly. Leonard, come home!

# 09 Feb 2003, 10:04PM: Welcome Back, Leonard!: Your present to celebrate your return from the wilds of Marin: How to Talk Like Sumana.

# 11 Feb 2003, 10:00AM: Johnny's Cabaret of Curiosities: Woke up thinking, "What am I doing tonight? Besides the A Cuppa Tea open mic, besides some Cody's event. There's something else..."

Then I remembered that, in my dream, Zack Weinberg, who resembled Lieutenant Reed from Enterprise, had received an assignment from an editor. This assignment included visiting many area open mics, including the Mango Mic and some event known as "Johnny's." "Johnny's" had a reputation for enabling awful poets and other bad performers; I read a sample of poetry read at Johnny's and indeed it was terrible.

I think I thought I needed to go to Johnny's tonight.

# 11 Feb 2003, 02:16PM: Software Saviors: Man, I wish these class schedule generators had been around and well-known when I was at UCB! So cool! Like Google, or Bookfinder, or NewsBruiser -- easy-to-use applications that help you enormously when you only faintly recognize the possibility of help.

I actually choked up at the end:

Shyu, for one, says he'd gladly donate his scheduler to the University for use in Tele-BEARS. "I'd give it away. It would be good just to get Final Distance out there, so people can benefit from it," he explains. "That's more important than money."

# 11 Feb 2003, 11:27PM: Tonight's open mic went well and badly. The audience actually came with me when I started, "I'm reading a self-help book. It's called The Prince." However, later I was a jerk and partially enabled an ugly altercation between a comedian and an offended audience member. Sigh. Yes, I do have buttons you can press even if you're not my sister (whom I love very much!), and I made rude comments about the fact that I am an Indian, and that referring to American Indians as "Indians" just confuses.

Several other performers were very funny, although none quite achieved the same level of transcendent "what the?" as did my improv experiences this weekend; stay tuned.

Filed under: Comedy

# 13 Feb 2003, 01:21PM: The Imperative Mood Swing: DJs complain that techno-loving youngsters just tune into FM92.7 ("The Bay Area's Party Station") instead of hiring DJs at parties. I complain of the between-song segues that end: "Ninety-two seven. Party!" It sounds like a command. "Uncle Sam Wants You...To Party!"

# 14 Feb 2003, 12:40PM: Last night Joe and I went to Cobb's Comedy Club and saw Bill Santiago, Greg Proops, and Dan somebody. Lewis. Dan Lewis. We had a ball and laughed our teeth out, and I recommend the combo, which continues through Sunday. Albeit, bleargh, $18 admission and 2-drink minimum. I tasted a concoction known as a chocolate martini which resembles a martini not a whit save the martini glass. Leonard notes a worse possibility, a chocolate Gibson. Even worse would be a chocolate William Gibson.

I'm very happy for Brendan. So happy.

Filed under: Comedy

# 14 Feb 2003, 01:20PM: A Roundabout Tale of Inadvertent Rage and Mollification: The other day, Leonard and I were doing some research on various US government web sites. I felt more rage than usual at whitehouse.gov, especially when I discovered that the White House dog's name is India. Leonard says I missed a flap about this that occurred a while back, and noted that I was creating the flap anew all by myself. I don't usually find such things personally insulting, but you don't name a dog after a less powerful country! (Note that dogs don't have the warm happy associations for me that they do for most US natives; my family considered dogs pests.)

Only now do I see that India is not a dog, but a cat. Now the "lapdog" metaphor doesn't relate and doesn't anger me, but still, the White House should not contain pets with the names of other countries. If Bush wanted to honor Mr. Sierra, he could have called the cat "Indio" -- less insulting and more directly relevant.

Leonard suggested that I try poking around some other government web sites that might reassure me. So I tried out FirstGov.Gov, which greeted me with the twin banner headlines: "National Threat Level Raised to High" and "Welcome from [honorific] Bush." That didn't help my blood pressure any.

However, I did eventually find a wonderful, awful, fascinating kids' guide to taxation, within the IRS for Kids section. I think. Now, any given US Cabinet-level department "For Kids!" site is, by definition, funny (examples: Department of Justice, Agriculture, Treasury (Mint)), but this one stands alone. The main attraction: Taxes in US History, concentrating on the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794, the protective tariff issue of the 1830s, and the income tax's introduction in the early 1900s. "Sherri was beginning to see the light. 'I guess taxes really are necessary to help pay for things the government provides that help us all!'"

And then Leonard and I ran across The Whiskey Rebellion Activity Zone. Leonard started dancing around and singing "The Whiskey Rebellion Activity Zone!" polka-style. He says he needs an accordion to make it sound right. Even writing it makes me smile. So I guess Leonard was right.

Filed under: Taxes

# 16 Feb 2003, 09:29AM: A Clean, Moist Panic: I, a guest, stepped into the well-appointed bathroom. I prepared to shower. I stepped inside the tub, noting corners and a wall caddy flush with bathing product bottles.

And then it came time to soap up.

Shampoo. Conditioner. Exfoliating scrub. Conditioner. Facial mask. Hand soap.

I eventually discovered the bottle of foaming body wash, as imaginary waves lapped at my ankles.

# 16 Feb 2003, 08:48PM: My Life as a Sundance Festival Award-Winning Independent Film: A long time ago, Saturday the 8th, I was puttering around my house when the phone rang. I whimsicoracally accepted, sauntered over to Memorial Glade, and started tossing the old disc around. Just as my legs and lungs started to give way, I fortuitously bruised my left pinky (you can check!) and gave myself over to less strenuous pursuits, such as dozing, eating licorice, and refereeing a game of Three-Up. Mirth: I actually heard one player say, upon missing a catch, "Ah, fudge."

After mondo agua frescas at Cancun Taqueria (the good, quick one on Kittredge, out of the million Berkeley gives with similar names), we strolled to Bem's place. We watched some Matrix trailers and the quite good The Second Renaissance (Part 1), part of the "Animatrix" series (anime stories set in the Matrix universe. When I revealed that I had never seen Invader Zim, we of course also watched the first episode of that cartoon. Amusing, but I don't feel the genius yet.

Since Bem and Adam live near each other, I happened to call up Adam for socializing possibilities. Adam asked me if I'd like to visit a variety store with him -- a "Business"-themed party comprised his evening's plans, and he was borrowing a garment that didn't match his existing tie (he has one fewer tie than I do!), so, off to find a tie. I readily accepted, and not only did I find a nice tie and silly book (101 Wacky Computer Jokes) for myself, I also discovered a fine inventory of formerly free t-shirts. Karaoke nights, high school graduations, sexiestgeekalive.com; if you want to pose, thrift shops are your poserie.

We were both spending our evening in Albany, and so combined our outing. Adam came with me to Cafe Eclectica to Zed's improv troupe's show. (I know they have a name, SF Improv, but I always think of them as "Zed and those other people.") As per usual, a quite funny and suspenseful show. Towards the end, in an audience-assisted elimination round, the improvisateurs performed too well, and the audience found no cause to boo them off the stage as we were supposed to (by yelling "Die!"). The host had to urge us to greater bloodthirst and encouraged us to punish even minor flubs. We took to this task readily, surprising the performers with our friendly, eager hostility. Apollo Night all over again.

Adam agreed to take me to this party where, as far as I knew, I could fulfill this unusual "theme" requirement by wearing my tie. We wound our way up near-deserted Albany streets, at one point asking directions of the Act I&II Midnight Movies guy. Adam helped me put on my tie. We found our way to the top of a hill, a strange apartment building, and thence to #9, and hesitantly knocked.

A woman in a power suit opened the door. Profit-and-loss graphs of imaginary investments lined the walls. The door held a notice that Wednesday is Hawaiian Shirt Day (mandatory), as well as the Glengarry Glen Ross reference "Coffee is for Closers Only." Above the dirty sink I saw a sign apologizing for the stopped-up sink, signed "Mgmt"; below it, another sign upbraiding the fellow workers who didn't clean their own dishes, signed, "Herbert Kornfield." In the living room, a few suit-clad men and women were razzing each other about getting fired at the evening's "company meeting." One man played a womanizing legal counsel. I claimed to be in accounting; Adam, breathtakingly handsome in his suit, called himself a shareholder.

More guests arrived, some quite dressed to the occasion. One, "Jim James -- Jim Squared [strong handshake]", sported a huge cell phone that resembled an eighties car phone. (His briefcase proved full of Budweisers.) And then we saw the CEO [the guest of honor], who stood in front of five doleful graphs, one for each of the company's accounts, and told us off for putting the firm in the red. "The Dow Jones is our bread and butter," he intoned. "When we win, we win big; when we lose, we lose big. Last year, we lost big." He said much in that vein. Adam and I shared indecipherable eye contact -- mine, at least, meant, "what in the world?!".

After he spoke at length, he revealed that he had hired a private investigator to search out the cash drains in the company. The CEO disappeared into another room. Within a few minutes we were meeting Sam Brown, a foulmouthed, arrogant, and charming P.I. in a fedora and houndstooth. He and other conspirators mouthed some lines I seemed to recognize from Mamet, and he dazzled the crowd by hurling elaborate and hilarious accusations at the five "officials" in charge of the failing accounts. There were props. It was a wondrous thing.

At last, Sam Brown charged us to get drunk and get our hands on the true villain who had schemed to steal the firm's money -- the CEO himself! And thus the party proper began.

Adam and I only stayed a little while longer at the party. Certainly the people were quite personable (one even began a conversation by recognizing me from my interview with Chancellor Berdahl), but the hour was late and the experiences wanted digestion. I had looked out on the balcony at the mysterious apartment No. 9, and caught my breath -- it was a sight to inspire hubris, if you saw that every time you glanced up from sipping coffee. The valley lay dark and alluring below us. You could improvise a world, and I finally understood what role-playing games were about. I finally connected Zed's world and Dan's, and only now do I see that the realization made me too sad to stay.

# 19 Feb 2003, 08:36AM: The Audience of One: Two recent exchanges that have left Joe saying, "You're such a freak, but in a good way":

Joe: So you know about the Tibetan monks' tradition of ritualized debate?
Sumana: I was just reading about that today!
Sumana: I just read the entire DNA Lounge changelog.

Filed under: Comedy

# 19 Feb 2003, 09:00AM: I'm heading to the East Coast next month. Leonard will speak at PyCon in Washington, DC, and I'm traveling with him to sightsee and cheer. If you live around DC and would like to meet or hang out with me, email me; I'd welcome the chance. I'm thinking of making a 1- or 2-day side trip to New York City if that's financially and logistically feasible/convenient, so NYC readers should email me too.

(Inner thoughts: Who am I, Aaron Swartz?)

# 19 Feb 2003, 02:01PM: In Soviet Russia, the Weblog Updates Me!: Sarah invited me to hang out this weekend. One suggestion: "I could come by and watch the Simpsons. Or vice versa!"

Of course, I immediately thought, "In Soviet Russia, The Simpsons watches you!"

# 19 Feb 2003, 04:41PM: Hey, Alan! "In a supposedly live online chat with an SBC technician, Mizokami concluded that he was in fact 'speaking' with a machine."

# 20 Feb 2003, 06:26PM: YAGPG (Yet Another Google Party Game): (or: Guess Dr. Lucky)

This one's like Hangman. The Searcher picks some word and googles it and any number of Guessers guess the top result. I think category guesses, e.g., "a band" or "a furniture store", are perfectly all right. If you're going to give out points, then consider giving out a little something for guessing the number two or number three sites. Winning Guessers become Searchers, or something. Devise your own variants.

# 21 Feb 2003, 08:17AM: Skit and Skittishness: When I discovered that Colin Powell's son Michael heads up the Federal Communications Commission, and that (according to Leonard) he's actually quite qualified and everything, the following skit presented itself:

Michael: (comes home, hangs his jacket on a chair) Hey, guess what, Dad! I'm FCC Chairman!
Colin: That's great, son! I'm proud of you.
Michael: Now I'm a Cabinet-level official, just like you!
Colin: Uh, I'm sorry, son, the FCC isn't a cabinet-level department.
Michael: But you can make it one, right, Dad?
Colin: Well, only with Congressional approval.
Michael: Bush never needs Congressional approval for anything!
Colin: Yes, but we're black, son.

Danny O'Brien has this-can't-be-happening anecdotes about the incredible, awful things US officials have been doing to Canadian citizens who happen through the US, e.g., deporting them for no valid reason without talking to Canadian officials about it. Oh, and did I mention they got deported to other countries? Namely, Syria and India (the latter via f-ing Kuwait)?

What is this, Wheel of Habeas Corpus Fortune? He's a Canadian citizen. You have a problem, you send him back to Canada.

This kind of stuff first completely outrages me and then reminds me that I'm Indian, and my family is Indian, so if I leave on a trip somewhere and disappear off the face of the earth and the net, please track me down. I'm not kidding.

# 21 Feb 2003, 08:55AM: A Dutiful Finger in a Swiss Cheese Dike: Last night I thought, "I wish I could transform tasks I have to do into food I could eat." And now I'm going to transform some outrage into some action. We should try to avert this scheme to gather data on any airline passenger, since it does not allow for correction or even viewing by the passenger, among other reasons. (Via Kuro5hin.)

# 21 Feb 2003, 05:29PM: Refreshing Breeze From the Past: "I think many civil libertarians have gotten this idea from mathematics about epsilon-delta proofs of limits and thought that you could have a moral bounding box around an act..."

"Hello my name is Jeremy I am 8 years old I like to play your game Rockin Rocket on my mom's hiptop..."

# 21 Feb 2003, 06:45PM: Sumana Suggests Signifiers: I should distinguish between the signifiers "woooOOOOooo" and "doodley-oodley-oodley".

"wooOOOooo" tells the audience, "this is a scary story; feel scared." For my purposes, "woooOOOOooo" is appropriate for supernatural tales even when the story is not really scary.
"Doodley-oodley-oodley" is the "wacky! irony!" sound between a sitcom character's statement "X will never happen" and the occurrence of X. (See Punchline Prima Facie, "wipe transition" paragraph in the 18 Sept 2002 critique.)

Also, once a character notices the circumstances that would produce either of those sounds, he may say, "X Sense... Tingling!"

I am so extremely boring.

# 21 Feb 2003, 07:05PM: The Language of Film is the Roundup: Bend it like Beckham. I got to see this a few weeks back because my sister is a mover and shaker and got preview screening tickets. What a country! The plot: think American Chai plus Girlfight -- Indian daughter of Indian Immigrants to Britain wants to play soccer but her parents don't get it. No, I haven't seen American Chai or Girlfight.

I enjoyed Bend it Like Beckham a lot -- music, characters, situations, dialogue, plot, cinematography, the whole shebang. Non-Indians would also enjoy it, although with some backburner suspicion that they're not getting all the jokes.

Every Indian immigrant movie I've seen (except American Desi) is about Indian parents who just don't get their kids and in the end the parents adjust and everyone gets along. There are other plots about us, right?

Lost in La Mancha. I walked into the theater and saw a Squelch staffer and a DeCadence singer, of course.

I'm just not used to documentaries. You watch them differently, and I looked for journalism when the documentarian chose suspense and vice versa. Maybe if I'd seen more Gilliam before watching Lost I'd have got more out of it. As it happened, it just got me morose about the obstacles to articulating one's creative vision.

Emerson wrote in "Self-Reliance" that it doesn't make sense to base your worth on the judgments of others, and that struck my ninth-grade heart with a force I've never forgotten. But stand-up can really suck when the audience won't converse with the performer, when they won't trade their laughs for your jokes. How can I be a self-reliant performer? How, to cite Krishna's first lesson in the Bhagavad-Gita, can I do my duty without worrying about its fruits?

I must stay rooted in my own aesthetics. My favorite performers cleverly present their clear, unique perspectives -- I want to do that, and if I'm good and I hustle I'll achieve a little fame.

Russian Ark. I admired the technical wowness, but the most exciting moments were picking out places in the Hermitage that I'd been and telling Leonard what the subtitles didn't.

# 22 Feb 2003, 07:45AM: Brief Fierce Conversations in Hideous Climates: One nice thing about living with Michael is that he has many neat friends and acquaintances. I meet them and they guest star in my life for a few hours. The cameos have rarely turned into recurring gigs, but it could happen.

Last night I met Geordan Rosario, who played for us The Moog Cookbook, which I dubbed "They Might Be Esquivel" (or "They Might Be Weird EsquivAl"). It's mindbending and wonderful and I recommend it. Geordan is quick on the riff and quite observant: during our meal at Cancun Taqueria (tasty nopales), he pointed to a mural featuring a many-winged bird and said, "Did it drink Red Bull?"

Ladies, he's single!

Filed under: Apartment Life

# 23 Feb 2003, 09:53AM: I Live in Vaudeville:

I am introduced to a stranger as "a comic."
"You're a comic? Really?"
"Yes. Actually, I'm Beetle Bailey."
A stranger points to my tie. "Tie?" he asks.
"No, I'm Indian."

By the way, Beetle Bailey has been very good lately. Mort Walker gets how technology affects everyday people as well as Foxtrot's Amundsen gets how it affects geeks. I used to think of Beetle Bailey as a present-day Hagar the Horrible as far as actual humor goes, but it's getting meta and reference-y and everything.

I saw a collection of German-language Hagar the Horrible yesterday (more on my excursion later). Maybe it's funnier in German. Oh, and the comics page could really consolidate Wizard of Id, Hagar the Horrible, and Prince Valiant into one strip, don't you think? Or at least feature non-canonical crossover storylines.

In For Better or For Worse, a small-business owner is being robbed. I feel as though I should report this to someone, but then again, the crime is taking place in Canada, out of my jurisdiction.

# 23 Feb 2003, 09:59AM: My town of Satellite reminds me that someone recently searched for "speed of seattlite spinning around earth" and hit my site. Are there any residents of Seattle currently orbiting Earth?

# 23 Feb 2003, 05:19PM: Shopping for Present and Future Nostalgia: Yesterday I finally got to substantively hang out with my school-friend Sarah. We've both changed in the nine years since we met, but then again we haven't. We brunched, visited yard sales and the Ashby flea market, and visited Leonard, who made great pasta and played many songs for us on the banjo and guitar.

One sidewalk sale on College Avenue creeped us out. A guy had set out a lot of stuff on sheets on a lawn, and as soon as we started looking, he started talking to us. He told us that this was no ordinary sidewalk sale, and that much of the merchandise was brand-new, but that he couldn't tell us where he had gotten it, except maybe if we talked longer he could. At least once he used the phrase, "Now, you may be asking yourself..." Sarah caught on to the shadiness before I did. We started backing away pretty quick. What the? Thief, con man, loonie, pimp, racketeer? My hypothesis -- he was looking for people to blog about him.

At the Ashby BART market, I avoided David Wexler's awesome book stall, since he has so much stuff I want. But I did buy a CD and some tapes at a great music stall, where I got a pretty good deal on No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom, the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou?, a Firesign Theater tape, a Weird Al tape, and a tape by a mysterious local band called Game Theory. I'll tell you how that last one goes.

I'm listening to Tragic Kingdom (which I just misspelled "Tragic Kingdome"), and it takes me back to freshman year in the dorms doing homework in Dan's room, listening to music on his Mac, thinking "Different People" was Our Song, and saying so and singing as we walked near Kroeber Hall, and him telling me it didn't sound right without Gwen Stefani's voice. I must be misremembering that; what else is new?

# 24 Feb 2003, 03:00PM: In Soviet Russia, the Cult Warns You Against the Nonprofit!: Zed relays scary news on the Cult Awareness Network. Don't trust them.

# 24 Feb 2003, 03:02PM: As you know if you've met me, I sometimes enjoy socializing. This snarky article, like other pro-introvert books and articles I've recently seen, concentrates on the "we're so persecuted, everyone else is a boor" angle and not the "how to facilitate a happy introverted life" tips that would actually help us all. So here's my contribution.

Tip to couples comprising an introvert and an extrovert: both of you should take the initiative in talking about that difference when it causes problems. Oh, and when it comes to extroverts wanting their introverted friends to "get out more" -- bend over backwards to be nonpushy and consensual about it. Don't be a nut pusher.

# 24 Feb 2003, 05:22PM: Leonard and I shared a Googlewhack with Adam over brunch on Sunday. He momentarily thought that we should have rot13'd it.

# 24 Feb 2003, 11:14PM: Music, Please!: Snatches of songs lend superficial symbolism to my internal monologue.

Leonard's new almost-finished opus, The Whiskey Rebellion Activity Zone, or WRAZ. WRAZ would be an East Coast station specializing in obscure and grandiose threats -- "Dub-raz, where we raze you to the ground -- with whalin' tunes!"
"The Tower" by Vienna Teng. Michael bought Waking Hour and I found myself aggravated to hear other instruments in those songs! Her voice and piano were enough for me when I heard her live. But I've adjusted.
Curiously enough, the song's called "Tower," but you shouldn't buy it there.
"Pretty Pathetic" by the Smokin' Popes. Too perfect. Either I'm the narrator or I'm his ex.
Weird Al, "Everything You Know Is Wrong". Josh Brockman quoted this in an email to me six years ago, and only now have I heard it. I should have listened to it before, and not just because it's unusually good.
Leonard points out that this is the Weird Al song that most resembles a They Might Be Giants number. Today's TMBG fans all listened to Weird Al when they were 12. Also, lots of my acquaintances say, "Oh, yeah, my brother was really into Weird Al." Evidently I am that brother.

# 24 Feb 2003, 11:43PM: A Reader in Every Port: The trip plans have solidified. I'm going to Washington, DC, and will stay in the DC area, arriving the night of March 25th and leaving the afternoon of the 30th. I'll get to meet a friend or two of Nandini's, tour leisurely, see John again and meet his wacky friends, and meet you, if you're a DC-area CES reader.

It's good to have this trip as something to look forward to.

# 25 Feb 2003, 07:54AM: McWhorter Update: His new book, Authentically Black, is available at Cody's now and has landed him on today's Forum with Michael Krasny (KQED 88.5FM in San Francisco, 10-11am). McWhorter also makes it into Slate's yea-or-nay-on-war roundup, where political pundits and culture makers talk about the reasons for and against invading Iraq. As usual with McWhorter, even when I don't agree with him, his points and style aren't obnoxious.

# 25 Feb 2003, 12:40PM GMT+5:30: It Takes Galt's Gulch to Raise a Child: Libertarian children's books, from The Hobbit to Heinlein.

Update: Man, I hadn't thought about Galt's Gulch in a long time. For those of you who haven't wasted hours of your life on Atlas Shrugged, Galt's Gulch is the hidden libertarian paradise (the one Seth Finkelstein calls Libertopia). If I could stomach reading the thing again, I'd write up the outrageous childrearing practices of Galt's Gulch inhabitants, or you could do it yourself. I feel ill just thinking about it.

Filed under: Reading

# 27 Feb 2003, 08:57AM: Time to Weep: Ada Norton has been born and Fred Rogers has died.

# 28 Feb 2003, 11:10PM: The Man Makes the Clothes Dirty: Every so often, I go through a stressy hectic mopey spell, during which my laundry builds up to a seemingly unmanageable mound of slight stank. And so about every year I treat myself and decadently pay someone else to do my laundry. Perhaps someday I will be rich enough to resent even the time I must spend assembling dirty clothes for delivery to the laundry, but today, I nervously splurge.

This year I chose Frank's (?), a courteously run tailor and laundry on Telegraph south of Parker in downtown Berkeley. Frank's charges 80 cents a pound for wash-and-fold, which is forty cents per pound cheaper than Cal Cleaners up the street. (Incidentally, Cal Cleaners features a rack of used clothes for sale at $2 per garment, which both amuses me and incentivizes me to pick up my laundry on time.) As well, I dropped off the laundry at 10 am and it was ready by 4 that same day, and my clothes came back very neatly folded and smelling of nothing at all.

My back & arms hurt from lugging the clothes there and back. Caution: wheeled contraptions substantially facilitate the use of this innovation (laundry for pay).