You mix old school jazz with modern electronic music? Cool shit. It’s called Verve Remixed. Some of my more musically up-to-date readers may chide me for once again lagging so far behind the trendy music curve, but hey, I mean well. I’m listening to Volume 3 right now and it’s rockin’. Highly recommended.

Caution: legal mumbo jumbo ahead.

What’s also interesting are the legal ramifications of this music. The Verve has a copyright on the original jazz recordings and, from what I understand, could not or would not release the rights to other musicians wanting to use the Verve’s music. DJs were of course using the tracks anyway, but probably without permission. What’s more, the question of whether sampling of this nature amounts to fair use or a derivative work is a whole nother issue. If you want to know the answer to that one, you’ll need to borrow a copy of my notes from Copyright class, or take the class yourself.

Consequently, they’re flying out of my butt.

Seriously though. This is bad news. Since when are terrorists allowed to run a nation? Oh, who am i kidding.

i don't even need to wait for all the other redesigns to come in. i already found the winner. cherz drew from deep down and created what is perhaps the most advanced, modern, and tech-savvy blog in existence.

while some bloggers are all about complimentary colors, sans-serif fonts, and trendy logos and banners, cherz rejects such indicia of the "in" blogs and forges his own path. i challenge all of you to match the wit and daring that is cherz.com.

i called the landlady. she called a plumber-guy. sixty-five of her dollars later, this is the culprit. oops. (we kinda feel bad).

Exhibit A: Five-Year Old Grip Tape

Exhibit B: New Grip Tape

See how much brighter and prettier? Too bad it only took me 30 minutes and four re-wraps to get the first side wrapped right. After I learned from my mistakes, the other side went much more quickly.

And remember my old, gnawed cleats?

Exhibit C: New Cleat, Old Cleat.

Hopefully these will keep me attached to the bike. I offer no guarantees that I’ll actually ride the bike any more than I usually do, though.

Now I remember why I never went to Highland Mall when I lived in Austin. It’s fucking impossible to find. Girl and I spent a good 50 minutes total in the car last night getting to the Indian restaurant where we met some friends (the restaurant is across the street from the mall). The food was great, the company was great, the drive sucked. Someone needs to mount a big flashing sign with an arrow that says “HIGHLAND MALL HERE” at the main entrance. That would be great. Thanks.

Also, "Girls On Film" by Duran Duran has been stuck in my head since Thursday.

taking a list of book titles with me, i set off for Half Price books on my trusty Schwinn and returned with one lonely book. All of the cool and hip books heather and skorloff reccommended were not in stock. turns out they sell as soon as they arrive. they didn't even have harry potter 2! they did have #3 in paperback, so i'll probably go back for that one tomorrow.

the one book i did find was The Coffee Trader, a suggestion on nerdygirl's list. and since i like historical fiction, it was a gimme.

there's a book on my shelf that i've somehow managed not to read for many years - Great Expectations - that i've added to the stack. so those two, plus the Hawking book, will comprise my extracirricular reading for now.

part of me really wants to read books like The World is Flat and Freakonomics, but part of me doesn't really give a shit about what some guy thinks about global or domestic economics. i'd rather just read a good story, especially one set in the past.

but i really enjoyed Fast Food Nation, which was partially an economics/marketing book, so who knows. i'll probably cave in and read The World Is Flat.

maybe the root of the issue is that i don't want to get caught in a book that sounds like one of the many law school textbooks i've read and have to read. i get enough lecturing from scholars as it is.

He lives in Austin somewhere towards the end of the Barton Creek Greenbelt. He caught me hauling ass down the trail and stuck his blades out from the bush and dug them into my forearm. Though the cuts are fairly close together, implying the blades are close together, implying they came from a smaller hand, implying they came from Wolverine’s son. Yes, I found Wolverine’s son. Sonofabitch let me have it.

I was good last semester. On my two off-days (Tuesday and Thursday) I read and did all my homework. Sure, there were breaks, but the work got done. This semester seems to be different. I didn’t have class today. I went to a coffee shop for three hours and read for maybe two of those hours. That is all the work I have done today.

The rest of the time has been spent by:
1. riding The G Ride around the neighborhood
2. channel-flipping
3. coming up with a tracklisting for heatherfeather’s and erik’s mix cds
4. waiting for Lost to come on
5. looking for jobs
6. see #1
7. reading Jane Eyre

You see, one of my teachers goes too slowly, so I’m already where I need to be for tomorrow’s class. Another teacher assigns cases for each student, and my case isn’t for another couple weeks. Another teacher asked us to read the “introductory” chapter, and after about ten (of 25) pages of that junk, I had had enough. So I occupy myself with the above seven activities.

Oh yeah, I also did a load of laundry. And charged my cell phone.

I finished Jane Eyre. And I think my appetite for Brit lit has been quenched for a while. The introduction quotes a review from a June, 1855 publication of Sharpe’s London Magazine saying, “Imagine a novel with a little swarthy governess for a heroine, and a middle-aged ruffian for hero.” That just about sums it up. I thought ‘swarthy’ meant something along the lines of saucy, surly, or smart-alecky. Turns out it means having a dark complexion. But from my reading, Jane was a pasty lass. Hmm.

Anyway, it’s a nice little book, if you can stand having to turn to the back for the occasional definition. I still think if you’re after a wild story and graceful writing, you’d do better with Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, et al.

I also finished the Lance Armstrong book. This was his first book, the one in which he describes his beginnings with competitive cycling, his fight with cancer, and the marriage to his x-wife. It’s an inspirational story to say the least. That guy is not human. He did nonhuman things. If you’re looking for a quick read and a touching story, this is it.

Up next, I plan to slog through the rest of the Stephen Hawking book and then head to Half Price to see what I can’t find. I’ve heard this book and this book are good. Any other recommendations?

First class starts at 8:40. Last class ends at 7:30. Tuesdays are going to suck this semester. Thankfully, Thursdays end a little earlier. I'm not complaining though. I only have school Tuesday and Thursday, which means i only have to go that 'place' twice a week. Halleluya. Hopefully i can get a job to fill the other days.

In geek news, i upgraded to a newer version of Knoppix and am acquainting myself with basic Linux commands. Did you know that the way to install a new application in linux, you don't have to find a website, download a setup file, find the .exe file, and go through a series of inane windows? You just type “apt-get install 'application name'” and you're done. Linux goes out to the web and finds the application for you and installs it. Sweet.

In politics news, i'm going to a Law Students for Choice Roe v. Wade luncheon next week with Red Hot Mamma. I have no idea what to expect. I'm hoping for some good food. Yes, i have a one-track mind.

can someone tell me why apple has to name all of its products "i-something"? i know it helps with marketing and brand recognition*. i just don't get the i. and i also don't think it's that cool, but if you do, i suppose you're entitled to your own opinion.

* see also: Ford "Ex-whatever" SUVs and other nauseating branding schemes.

if this blog had a post category for "geek," this post would go into that category. i am posting this from the new linux partition on my computer. i'm running a version of linux called knoppix, which is basically beginner's linux. i've got linux and win xp dual-booting from lilo.

for those of you have no idea what i just said, don't worry. before a couple years ago i didn't know what i just said either, but it just so happens that the roommate is a former linux hacker and helped me get this set up. it's just a way to play around with customizing an operating system like windows to make it do what i want, and make it not do what i don't want it to do. it's also safer in terms of viruses and other bad stuff on the internet.

now i've got to figure out this console thing so i can install firefox. i'm using an old version of mozilla and the fonts look all whack.

Fifth installment of the "things that happen to you while" series.

You wake up the morning of the flight with the beginnings of a sinus infection. You are thankful it’s not anything serious that could make flying difficult, like stuffed sinuses or ear issues. Oh, yeah, it’s a sinus infection, so you have stuffed sinuses and ear issues. You call GF at 5:50 am and explain the situation. She says, “Talk to my dad.” Dad is a doctor. Doctor Dad says I’m sending daughter over to your house with drugs. Take the drugs.

Drugs given to you by GF’s dad work. You fly on the big airplane and eat the breakfast of cereal and a banana. You are happy and sleep on GF’s shoulder.

Instead of having to pay money to stay at a hotel, GF’s cousins are kind enough to open their home to you and GF. They also open their fridge, which is a blessing. They also lend you a car, which is blessing upon blessing. You are very thankful for GF’s cousins. Thank you thank you thank you GF’s cousins.

You spend the night and following day recovering from the sinus infection and pop Advil Cold & Sinus like Reese’s Pieces. You are a useless lump of boy during this time. You drink so much water your bladder effectively becomes the size of a pea.

After the worst of the infection passes, you gather your strength to meet the GF’s family for Chinese food. Only part of the family of is present, which equates to about 10 people. You are particularly impressed by an 80-year-old member of the family named Bob who eats more than you, and takes longer doing it. He, like you, is thin as a rail. He, like you, stores the food in his hollow legs. The table marvels at the amount of food this man can put away.

You and GF decide it is your duty to find an In-N-Out Burger and purchase hamburgers for lunch. You do so. The burgers are good and you are happy. Mission accomplished.

GF goes with dad to Tijuana, Mexico to have a look around. You rest at the house and pray they come back safe. They come back and you expect wild and crazy stories of ligers and four-toed sloths. They say, “People tried to sell us stuff. It was kind of crowded. Sort of boring, actually.” Your heart sinks.

You and GF make an attempt at visiting the famous San Diego Zoo to no avail. By the time you get there, you only have an hour because you have to be somewhere else very soon to get ready for another Important Family Event. Instead of spending one hour at the zoo (and paying lots of money to get in) you opt to look at the seals on the beaches of La Jolla. They are fun and cute and smelly. You wish you were a seal so you could hang around all day and bask in the sun on the beach and be protected by national gaming laws.

You head to GF’s Parents’ hotel room to shower and get ready for the next Important Family Event, which happens to be the most important Important Family Event of the trip. One of GF’s cousins is getting married.

The wedding ceremony is beautiful and goes off without a hitch. GF even has a part in it, reading an English translation of some meaningful Hebrew passages whose meaning you have since forgotten. Thankfully, you got pictures of it, so it’s all good.

After the ceremony, it’s time to dance the Hora, the traditional Jewish dance originating in Europe. The Hora normally consists of a circle of people dancing around other people in the middle of the circle. Those other people in the middle could have their own circle or could simply be dancing with one or two partners arm-in-arm. Since only five people at the wedding actually know who you are, you feel compelled to make yourself known by throwing yourself in the throng of Hora-dancers. You work up a sweat and, satisfied you sufficiently contributed to the dancing, seek out the food.

The food must wait. First come the toasts.

The Bride’s parents and sisters toast the newlyweds as do the Groom’s father and sister. The final speaker, the Bride’s grandfather, gives a moving and witty speech on how the Bride and Groom met. The grandfather forms the speech in Biblical language – that is, for example, “Sam met Amy, and Amy was a comely young woman, and Sam was smitten, and Sam wed Amy, and it was good.” Etc etc. His speech steals the show and there is a flood of applause.

Afterward comes the food. You feast on salmon and mahi-mahi and pasta and salad and potato, and it is good. You and GF score margaritas, and they are good. Your bellies are happy.

You once again find yourself on the dance floor. The Deejay is playing music to which everyone can dance. Namely: disco, R&B, and Motown. You manage to avoid stepping on GF’s toes and, to you, this constitutes a successful dancing evening. You close the place down and are in bed by midnight.

You and GF and hop in the car and make another attempt at the zoo, this time allotting about two hours for yourselves. You take the guided bus tour to see as much as possible in the short time you have. Your favorites include the polar bears, the elephants, the Alaskan brown bear, and, of course, the Pandas.

You then head to the Bride’s parents’ house for a quick brunch before you leave for the airport and the flight back home.

The sinus infection is all but a memory and you reflect on all the amazing people you met and the fun you had.

Once upon a time, a fellow by the name Particleman lived in San Antonio. The year was 2003. His friend, Skorloff, informed him of a most interesting sale taking place at the Central Market, a purveyor of fine foods and libations. Central Market had made the business decision to rid itself of all forms of liquor with an alcohol content above a certain amount. Such a move would allow Central Market to legally serve samples of other wines to customers.

Particleman took heed of Skorloff’s words and visited a Central Market when he was in Austin for the weekend. Particleman roamed and roamed the store until he came upon the rack of liquors to be liquidated.

“Hark,” Particleman exclaimed, “I have found the booty, and it is good.”

Particleman aimed to buy the whole lot. Alas, his willpower held him in check and he resolved to choose one – just one – bottle of port wine. He browsed, he compared, he analyzed, and finally settled on one bottle.

Vowing to save the bottle for a special occasion, he returned to San Antonio and to his hum-drum existence at the massive EnormoCo at which he labored.

Months passed, and still no worthy occasion rose to motivate Particleman to open the bottle. Particleman’s sister had a daughter, and still, he was not moved to open the bottle. He was accepted to law school, but still, he left the bottle to collect dust.

The years went by, and the existence of the bottle passed into distant memory.

Then, something surprising and not at all expected happened. Just last night, Particleman was out to dinner with a friend, and he suggested he and the friend return to Particleman’s abode to relax, drink wine, and converse with the roommate. The roommate was not present upon their arrival, but presently entered grasping his own bottle of newly-purchased wine.

Soon the three were drinking from the roommate’s wine and having grand old time. It was then, at this very juncture, that Particleman sought out the long-forgotten bottle of port wine and presented it to the group. They were awed by its age and mystery.

“Open it,” they implored. Particleman obliged. They drank from the wine, and were happy.

By the end of the night, the roommate’s bottle was nearly empty, and the bottle of port – the bottle that had waited all these years – had finally tasted fresh air. It now lies in wait for the next such occasion.

after umpteen months of not working out, i went to the gym last night. the first thing i noticed was that the guys started eye-balling me. they looked me up and down and then looked away. granted, i don't think these guys were the types that dig guys, so that couldn't have been the reason for the glaring looks. i think it had more of a territorial feel. as if i were invading on their space, looking at their women. i half expected them to beat there chests and urinate on the closest stack of weights.

the next thing i noticed happened this morning. when i woke up, i couldn't fully straighten my arms. when i stood up, the elbows stuck out. i walk like an ape now. when i try to straighten out my arm, i get grimacing pain in the inner-elbow area. this is what i get for being a slacker for so long - stiff muscles. and an ape-man gait. i guess i fit in with the chest-beating yahoos at the gym. sweet. excuse me while i pee on the bench press.

First was San Diego. Now it’s Austin. The girl and I showed up at her sister’s place in south Austin on Thursday afternoon and plan to stay till Friday. We already went to Amy’s Ice Cream, Whole Foods, Malaga, Thai Passion, and Sullivan’s. Please note that each of these sites involves food. Food is really all we care about. We also went to Esther’s Follies and watched what is perhaps the most democratic comedy routine I’ve ever seen (well, we are in Austin).

I also had to introduce the girl to my old mountain biking stomping grounds – the Barton Creek Greenbelt. We hiked for about two hours. There was just enough water in the creek to skip rocks. Girl also happened to get dehydrated because I didn’t bring enough water, and the water in the creek was not suitable for drinking, aka, nonpotable (whatever that means). Girl and her sister are into scrapbooking, so while they do that on Monday, I’ll go for a ride at the Greenbelt.

We’re having a BBQ this evening. What else is there to do on a Sunday evening in January when it’s 75 outside?

if you're curious, she'll be in houston on march 16th. i will be there.

thanks to aaron, and by proxy, jon.

Before my roommate and I moved in last August, the only TV shows I watched were The Simpsons, Seinfeld, and Family Guy, none with any regularity. Now, however, things are different. First came The Office. Then Lost. And the newest addition is 24. These TV shows are like crack. The more you get, the more you want.

What I’d like to point out is this: the main characters on Lost and 24 are named Jack. Why is that? Why Jack? Is Jack a name of authority? Does it connote honor? Humility? Strength? Leadership? All of the things that make a hero?

To me, no. When I think Jack, I think “jackass.” Or Jack from Jack In The Box, the guy with a big white ball for a head. When I think Jack, I think “jack squat,” as in “nothing, nada, zilch.” When I think Jack, I think “jackalope,” that deer-like creature I learned about on the Discovery Channel. And, of course, there is “jackolantern.”

Can anyone tell me why the brilliant writers who have written some of the most intelligent and creative TV in the history of TV have chosen Jack as the names of their heroes? I need answers. And I need answers as to where Walt is and who framed Jack Bauer.

A Schwinn Stingray. Roommate and I split the cost.