The Primus show was cool. They played for almost three hours, but there was an intermission that was weird for a rock concert and a little annoying, but more on that later.

This was my first Primus show and I only own one Primus album, so I only knew about half of the songs. Regardless, I’m a big fan and I couldn’t miss this opportunity to see Les and Co. in action.

I didn’t expect them to go into Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver because it’s ‘the hit,’ but I was hoping they’d play my personal favorite, Those Damned Blue Collar Tweekers. Primus did an amazing version of the song at Woodstock ’94 and it came out great. The studio version doesn’t do it justice. I knew I was in luck when I heard Ler strike those two chords, each panned to a different side of the stage. After a few rounds of guitar, Les chimed in with his two-note march and the crowd broke when the band let the beat out at full throttle. Watching Les hobble around the stage in that goofy knee-raising hop is quite a sight.

But the song to get the crowd the most active was, or course, Jerry Was a Race Car Driver. As soon as Les hit the first few notes and the lights came on, everyone pogo’d in unison and it didn’t stop for four minutes (or whatever it is).

Les and Ler are obviously talented and creative musicians but I had never their various drummers much attention. Well, they gave Brain, their new drummer, the stage for twenty minutes and he rocked, giving us a good dose of classic Primus beats and other innovative rhythms. The dude also had an unbelievably crowded drum set – two kick drums and umpteen toms. I’m sure every drummer in the audience was in awe.

Musically, the band was tight and the set went smoothly. The Austin Music Hall is exactly the best sounding venue in town but all the levels sounded ok to me.

And how could I forget all the antics…some guy got on stage in a suit and a Dubya mask and played an air-powered miniature keyboard, saying he’d gladly give up this politics thing if we (audience) liked his music. Also, Les wore a Planet of the Apes-type mask for a while and hobbled around the stage with a homemade one-string bass – basically a metal rod with a string and a pickup. The only semblance of stage ‘effects’ was two giant white balloons (“how ya like the balls?”) hanging from the ceiling that functioned as screens for two projectors. We got to watch all kinds of wacky film clips and animations, one of which got played over and over during Here Come The Bastards: people wearing monkey masks doing various and sundry normal activities such as riding a bike and exercising. Primates seemed be a theme in the show…

The show was a tad pricey but worth every dollar. They played for well over two hours and looked as excited to up there as if it were their first show. If they end up in your town, give them a try even if you don’t consider yourself a hard-core fan. They are all creative musicians whose music is anything but formulaic – it truly is art. But do be prepared for the unexpected. Les’ goofy sense of humor comes through loud and clear.

After a five-year absence from rowing, I have returned to the ergometer. I spent much of my freshman year of college rowing in boats and on ergs. It was on the erg that I discovered what my version Hell would be like: sweltering heat, no fans, no A/C, an erg, and a feisty coxswain yelling obscenities at me. I joined the gym at work and have decided to conclude every workout with an erg session. I lasted five minutes today with the difficulty setting at ‘3.’ For the rowers out there, my average split was 2:11. For the non-rowers out there, yes, this is terrible… but hey, it’s a start.

"It's late at night, I've got class at 8:00am, and I'm drinking up a storm by myself in my apartment while listening to country songs, all for no good reason."

The members of Primus gave themselves the luxury of a 20-minute (est.) intermission in the middle of their concert. This is the first rock concert I have ever been to in which the band gave themselves a break mid-set. Intermissions are normal for stage works such as plays, operas, and ballets, but rock concerts and intermissions don’t really go hand in hand. Part of the thrill of a rock concert is that the musicians are up there slogging away at song after song with no break. You know they’re tired. They know they’re tired. Everyone knows that everyone is tired. But they keep at it anyway because the music is there and they’re having a good time.

But, if the band ended up playing longer, I'd be ok with the intermissions. Let's set the longest tolerable intermission at 30 minutes. So...

To put things in computer programmer terms:
IF ((intermission

This is nothing to brag about, and I probably shouldn’t be talking about it in a public forum, but my apartment smells. I got home from work on Wednesday and was hit by a wall of blue cheese-smelling badness. My apartment is a little weird in that the front door is downstairs and the actual apartment is upstairs. The smell started downstairs by the front door but slowly disappeared as I ascended to the apartment. That was Wednesday.

By Thursday, the odor migrated up the stairs and into the beginnings of the apartment. It was no longer downstairs by the front door. Today, Friday, it is not in the staircase at all. It is now outside my room. It is slowly trying to invade my space and suffocate me. I have opened windows and the porch sliding door to combat its unruly behavior. Hopefully it will eventually migrate its way the hell out of my apartment. I even told my landlord but I found the maintenance guy’s note: “Don’t smell any mold.”

Throughout the ordeal, Russell has made no comment except, “What the hell is that? Smells like blue cheese dressing.”

Neither of us owns any blue cheese dressing...

my horoscope, according to Comedy Central:

This week parking a car will be perilous! Beware of skateboarders rolling by as you open your door and beware of cat dung on the curb as you exit your car. Cat dung, you ask? Yes, cat dung. The stars say some totally whack Cancer is emptying out full litter boxes into the streets for kicks. Really? Yes really. This week Cancer and ya'll are like oil and water. You are not meant to mix, but if you do the effect will be a lot like a rather tasty vinaigrette.

Snapfish deleted all of my Spain pictures. They said I hadn’t bought anything in three months and sent me several notification emails warning me of the impending deletion. Thing is, I had an old email on file and didn’t get any of the notifications. Sending an email just isn’t sufficient. I would have gladly spent $5 if all my pictures and work would have been saved.

So I sent them an email suggesting they not only notify members of deletions by email, but they should also display some text when members log into the site that says something along the lines of: “Your photos will be deleted unless you buy something... BUY SOMETHING!!!”

addendum: turns out i still have most of the pictures on my 128 mb memory stick. but it's been so long that i'm having trouble figuring out which picture is from which city. anyway, i'll be sure to give Snapfish some money every now and then so they don't delete my pictures again. uploading 200+ pictures is quite a chore.

I found out that the black shirt I wore to work today was actually dark green. It's a shirt I've owned and loved for several years under the impression that it was black, which makes the news especially disappointing. I thought that maybe it just faded after three years of washing but, alas, the damn thing is green. End of story. The news came after mentioning to a coworker that we were wearing the same color shirt. His was black. I thought mine was too. He kindly informed me that it was green. I panicked, asked three other people, got three greens, and gave up. I was wearing a green shirt.

I'm definitely going (am already?) color blind. The next thing to go will be my hearing (concerts). Then hair. Then wits. Then... i'll stop now.

In other news: Supermodel Personals (link via evhead). I need to get my blurb together.

We were rich once Before your head exploded Imagine doing just what the Big Bang did The whole world Knew it was loaded Wave bye-bye 'cause it ain't ever coming down now

I just wanna get along
I just wanna get along

I look up
The heads fly over
I see a boy I know: his hair's on fire
The whole world I discovered
If you're so special why aren't you dead

I just wanna get along
I just wanna get along
I just wanna get along

Wave bye-bye 'cause it ain't never coming down

I just wanna get along
I just wanna get along
I just wanna get along

Today’s post is a mutt.

A fun discussion of the origins of the word “foo” (and much more) is going on over at nerdygirl’s blog.

I’ve spent the last five or six Thursdays going to an Indian restaurant for lunch. I have now developed curry cravings that show up at around 11:00 am. The thought of Tandoori Chicken and stuffed naan sends my taste buds on a tingly adventure.

I am finally able to move my arm to a full elbow-lock position after several days of pain-induced non-movement. Not working out for six months followed by two days of intense working out is stupid and painful. Funny thing is, I think I learned this lesson back in college. I obviously didn’t document my findings.

Fresh from the referrer logs, some nifty new search strings:

I’m driving from San Antonio to Houston tomorrow to drop some excess furniture off at my parents’ house. Russell and I have too much furniture combined, so I stored quite a bit of it at Chris’ (thanks Chris) and I’m finally getting off my ass and driving it to Houston. The riddle here is what my parents are going to do with it. Some of it breaks down into smaller pieces (thank you IKEA) but some of it doesn’t. I imagine they’ll put my futon to good use one way or another. But there is absolutely nowhere to put my TV stand/entertainment center thingy. They’ll probably pawn it in an effort to recoup some of the cost from all the Micro Machines I demanded as a snotty eight-year-old.

The rest of the weekend will consist of hanging out with the ‘rents.

“What, you want to go to Israel?! Holland?! No, we won’t let you. It’s too dangerous.”
"Um, hi, you can't do that anymore."

Oh, the memories.

in other news: i see the lines blur.

"Astronomers at the Space Telescope Science Institute today unveiled the deepest portrait of the visible universe ever achieved by humankind. Called the Hubble Ultra Deep Field (HUDF), the million-second-long exposure [eleven days] reveals the first galaxies to emerge from the so-called "dark ages," the time shortly after the big bang when the first stars reheated the cold, dark universe."

I totally failed. I'm 47% hipster. Go figure. I thought I was hip. The one question the survey is missing is: Do you run a blog?*

Last night i dragged my parents to a play at the Alley Theater. We caught the 8:00 pm performance of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night.” I’ve never read the play and knew nothing about it, but I’m a fan of most of Shakespeare’s plays and figured it would be a nice change of pace from the usual Saturday evening activity: a movie.

I found the play a total riot but I don’t think my parents understood what was going on – they’re not down with the Shakespearean English. My dad nodded off during the first half but perked up when the story gained momentum. All the gender twisting/sexual innuendos made for some serious hilarity and awkward moments. The cast did a good job of bringing the characters to life; the actress playing Olivia turned her character from an icy 'lady of the house' into a silly horn-ball. I might just do some investigative work to see if plays of this nature are being performed in San Antonio.

*running a blog might not be hip anymore, and I probably don’t have the authority to make that call anyway…

It's midnight and I just got back from Austin. The one known as Tarflet and I saw Sonic Youth and they were great. A proper write-up is forthcoming.

I also finally finished Under Western Eyes. Commentary is in the works.

I won tickets to see Missy Elliot, Beyonce, and Alicia Keys tomorrow night so the one known as Tarflet will be in town for that. I'm sure some kind of write-up will follow.

I'm leaving to Arkansas to see my sister and co. on Thursday morning, so posts will be thin during the weekend.

All in all, there's lots going on but I gotta go to bed now. You'll hear more from me next week.

I obviously need to get an "overheard at work" category for my blog. Some of these are really, really good. (link courtesy of the one known as Skorloff).

The first installment of what is quite possibly one of the best sci-fi series ever written, Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game will make it to the big screen...eventually. I found a link to a draft of the screenplay on the Ender's Game community on Orkut.

I went on a three-mile walk around the neighborhood with my sister and Maya ("papaya") yesterday afternoon. While she slept, my sister and I talked about life, our parents, the girlfriend I haven't met yet, the graduate degree i haven't gotten yet, the book club she doesn't have time for, and the 6-packs of Guiness and Tsing-Tao she has in the fridge.

As soon as we get home, I poured myself a Guiness and her a Tsing-Tao.

Life is swell.

I offered her a sip of Guiness but she said, "No thanks, no chocolate milk for me right now."

link via nerdygirl, then bluishorange, then a whole lotta nothing. image hosted by flickr.

I spent most of yesterday hanging out with two of my sister's friends in Hot Springs, a horse-tracked, blue-haired, old-timey town 40 minutes from Little Rock. There is also a lake and said friends took us out on a boat to the nearby Botanical Gardens. I was not armed with a camera so i have no pictures. My bad. Brother-in-law, however, did have his camera and took one picture of us on the boat, but it didn't come out very well. We're obviously not camera-inclined people.

And just for good measure, the latest in search string technology:

I finally downloaded Mozilla 1.6. I am no longer a slave to the Evil Empire... at least not in the browser world. Everyone else's website looks fine, so that's reassuring that I didn't download a total POS. But, as it turns out, my website looks totally fucked up. The fonts are all out of whack (well, they already already were, actually) and the spacing is all crazy. I think this is concrete evidence that I took Chris' perfectly functional design and, uh, ruined it.

I took all kinds of programming and database classes in college. Why didn't i take a "Basic Fonts in HTML" class?

Oh, that's right. It was a pre-req. Nobody bothers with pre-reqs.

I finally finished Under Western Eyes. I don’t really know why it took me so long… no, wait, I do: too much quality time at the Flying Saucer and other similar establishments. Hey, at least I’m getting out more...

Overall, Under Western Eyes was a good read. The story dragged some in the middle but picked up considerably towards the end. The writing wasn’t particularly complex or overly simple; Conrad found a happy medium. The several extra English Lit courses I took in college have cursed me into a lifetime of overanalyzing everything I read, so with that, here follows some armchair analysis.

I almost wish I hadn’t read Crime and Punishment before reading UWE. The similarities between Raskolnikov (C&P main character) and Razumov (UWE m.c.) kind of impinged on my ability to let Razumov develop as a unique guy, but only because Raskolnikov was such a memorable (read: “whack”) character. The way Conrad painted Razumov helped the reader empathize with his lot in life – no family, no name, no support group, living in a foreign land, and yet, he is thrust into a difficult situation that would be easiest to get through with the help of a family. Though he does associate with a group of peers (Revolutionists), they can hardly be called a ‘support group.’ The reader wants to jump in and help Razumov when he stumbles but he inevitably voices some abhorrent and cocky opinion that turns the reader off. It’s a constant conflict between pity and contempt.

One recurring theme I noticed was Conrad’s use of the words verisimilitude and Mephistophelean. Perhaps it was intentional, perhaps it wasn’t; either way, they are very fitting. UWE is based on the covering up of a lie – or, several lies intertwined. Mephistopheles was “the devil in Faust’s legend to whom Faust sold his soul” (thank you dictionary.com). Verisimilitude, the quality of resembling truth, fits in well devils’ common literary role as antagonist. And if there was one battle that Razumov consistently endured throughout the novel, it was with his demons.

I’m sure finding where these words are used and noting their context would probably add to my point. Feel free to help me out below.

One more thing worth noting is the role of the Chateau Borel, the self-exiled Russian Revolutionists’ tactical and residential headquarters of Geneva. Everything about this supposed safe-haven reeks of death. People who live there are pale and ghost-like (Conrad actually uses the words ghost and ghoul). There is no heat. Time passes unnoticed. The fences, gates, and grounds are dilapidated and in need of maintenance. Concrete statues and steps at the entrance are unwelcoming at the least. What is supposed to be a home feels like a gloomy, deserted, and neglected shack. Leaving it after a pivotal interaction, our main character is washed clean by a thunderstorm. While the cleansing is kind of clichéd, it does work. Much like Raskolnikov in C&P, a man stumbles into inclement weather after a cathartic scene.

If you have an interest in translated Russian novels, you might want to consider giving yourself a ‘warm-up,’ as it were, with Under Western Eyes. It’s less of a time commitment but still provides a good taste of the Russian literary world. And if you’ve already covered the major Russian works, give Conrad a try for a different albeit refreshing point of view. Particularly enjoyable was Conrad’s narrative style, firmly rooted in the voice of an Englishman twice displaced: once for living in Geneva and twice for socializing in Russian circles (not that there’s anything wrong with that). If you’ve ever wanted to read a novel that ‘took’ you someplace but didn’t leave you standing when you arrived, try this book.

If you've gotten this far, I congratulate you. Please let me know if this review is helpful, total gibberish, or gives you the warm fuzzies.

A friend from Austin came down to SA for the Missy Elliot and Alicia Keys show last Wednesday. Beyonce closed the show but Alicia wore us out and we’d had enough, so we split after Alicia finished her set. Missy was a total let down. We couldn’t hear a word she said, the bass was insanely loud, and the stage was overrun by dancers to such a degree that we lost track of where Missy was. And she changed outfits after every song, which made it even harder to figure out who was who.

Alicia, on the other hand, was phenomenal. I’m now an Alicia convert (and just ordered two of her cds). I knew she was talented but I didn’t know she was that talented. She danced, she played piano, and she sang like next month’s rent depended on it. Her voice has that thick and soulful tone that commands your attention and screams, “shuttup and listen ‘cause I’ve got something to say – and it sounds good.” She belted out her style of vocals for about an hour, which was a lot considering she wasn’t even the headliner. I really enjoyed her set and it appeared that she felt comfortable and very much in her element when on stage.

Oh, and one more thing (warning, this is of the TMI variety)… she also happens to be a gorgeous knockout and I want to have her children. Or something.

After working out last night, my friend Mike convinced me to go get some beers. I said I was down for one or two. So we walked to the Saucer.*

My ‘one or two’ beers turned into four, but not just any four. The first was Paulaner Salvator, an 8% masterpiece. Following it was Spaten Optimator. Then came Anchor Porter. Then came New Belgium Trippel.

Please keep in mind I hadn’t eaten since lunch, had worked out, and it was already 8 o’clock in the evening. It’s now 8:00 am, I have to go to work, and my head hurts like a son of a bitch. Damn you, Flying Saucer.

*We live in an apartment complex across the street from the Saucer. Hence, the frequent trips. And falls.

taken straight from her blog:

3.24.04: Maybe you run like a girl, throw like a girl, catch like a girl. But there's one more thing you do like a girl, and no one's complaining about that.

thank you Google. you can now search through all the BS on this site via the Google search engine. here's the code.

Alicia Keys' Songs in A Minor arrived today and it's kickin'.

Russell and I got a pretty good deal on our apartment. There were all sorts of discounts for being gainfully employed at a major local company and not being complete deadbeat losers (you may contest this very soon). After the calculations were done, the total pro-rated rent came to eight hundred something dollars and a few cents. We went back to sign the lease a couple days later even though neither of us kept track of how much the rent actually was. But, oh no, that didn’t keep us from signing a binding legal contract. Informed buyer, my ass.

When the time came to pay the next month's rent, neither of us had gone to find out what the rent was. So I made an educated guess and got to within $1.50 of the actual amount. Despite my excellent guesswork, they demanded the balance. What nerve. They managed to snag Russell and he paid them the $1.50… with a check. Fans of The Big Lebowski, take note. We have a solid apprentice over here. The 67-cent check-writing champion himself, His Dudeness, would be proud.

So here we are at month three, rent is due in a few days, and neither of us knows how much we owe. And I don’t even remember how much we paid last month. I think that’s what the register in your checkbook is for.

Aw, crap. That’s what the register in your checkbook is for.

I think we're charting new and amazing developments in Just-in-Time accounting practices.

PS: nuclear power is so last century.

If you like port and live near a Central Market, you need to get hoppin’. The CM in Austin is clearing out all of their port at 25% off. Rumor has it that the other stores will follow. The wine steward told me that they’re changing their liquor license to allow in-store wine tastings, thus negating the ability to sell alcoholic beverages with content over 17%. So, the port has to go.

Me and my bottle of 1992 Warre are very happy.

I felt a sore throat coming on last night and knew chances were good that I was going to get hit with a virus of some kind. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and work has been all long hours and stress this week. So I wasn’t too surprised when I woke up at 4 am to an even more sore throat and general body aches. I took two Tylenol, chugged a glass of water, and stared at the ceiling until the alarm went off. I’ve had umpteen gallons of water since and I’ve become a walking water fountain. Hopefully this will blow over in a day or two. Until then, I feel like ass. So what did I do to help me relax? Why, I put on some John Williams, of course.

Spanish Guitar Music is all Williams and all perfection. He plays with the accuracy of a machine. The album covers music written from the 16th century all the way to the 20th. One might think that 74 minutes’ worth of solid classical guitar would get boring, but Williams picks pieces that vary in structure, style, and key to an extent that it stays interesting. It’s great background music for surfing the web, dozing off, writing for your blog , or calling Dell to complain that your laptop won’t freaking shut down.

Here’s the fix: if you have a new Inspiron 1100 that won’t shut down, go to Device Manager and click on the properties for the USB Root Hubs. On the Power Management tab, uncheck “Allow the computer to turn off this POS to save power.” Also, go to Run and type msconfig. Uncheck everything except Load System Services and Use Original BOOT.INI. Then go to the Services tab, check Hide All Microsoft Services, and then click Disable All. Now reboot. Viola. All fixed.