Turns out I wasn’t so novel with my Paranoid Android hypothesis. But of course, it only makes sense. Somebody else has to have read the book and heard the song. I guess it’s both cool and not cool to know that I found something cool that many others have found.

I think I know where Radiohead got the title for their song Paranoid Android. In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the book I’m reading, there is a human-like robot. It was given a personality by its manufacturer. The personality is a new feature and has yet to be perfected, so the robot does not know how to control its emotions. It is, in a sense, paranoid. The characters in the book ask whether or not they have to take the robot with them to a nearby planet. Specifically, the exchange is as follows:

“Are we taking this robot with us?”
“Oh, the Paranoid Android…Yeah, we’ll take him.”

A friend introduced me to Taboo sometime during college. In fact, I think he introduced a whole lot of people to Taboo during college. Over time, I noticed its uncanny ability to get a party moving (party of total dorks, that is). When alcohol is added to the equation, things get even more uncannier.

So, imagine my satisfaction when I was at a pot-luck dinner last night and someone busted out a Taboo game. Whole chapters of my college career came flooding forward.

Last night’s Taboo session was a little tamer due to an unfortunate lack of alcohol, but one guy in particular had been drinking and therefore supplied plenty of entertainment. I’m talking about Russell. When the other team was trying to guess words, he would butt in with random explicit comments. For example, for the word ‘cocktail’, the exchange went as follows:

Tracy: why do you go to 6th street [downtown Austin]?
Russell: (suddenly) DICK. COCK.
Tracy: Shutup! Yes, kind of.

Kyle: What’s the Weezer song titled “In The blank”?
Kyle’s team: (dumbfoundedness)
Particleman's internal dialogue: GARAAAAAGE!!!
Kyle: C’mon, you know the song, “In the blank, I feel safe, da da da da da da da”

ACL was awesome. I ‘discovered’ some new bands and was thoroughly converted. Ween, Ben Kweller, and Yo La Tengo were all very impressive. Special mention goes to Ween for innovative lyrics, vocals, kick ass drumming, and killer guitar solos. David Garza was a pleasure to watch. Liz Phair, however, was considerably less energetic than I was hoping. Then again, I don't know her music very well.

REM was phenomenal, as always. This was my third REM show and likely my favorite so far. They played songs that were released when I was a toddler as well songs that are so new they have not yet been released. Some gems were Fall On Me, Begin The Begin, Drive, Man On The Moon, Finest Worksong, Don’t Go Back To Rockville, Losing My Religion, and The One I Love. They closed with a charming version of Nightswimming and It’s The End Of The World As We Know It. For a full setlist, go here.

I saw an old friend I hadn't seen in ages and finally met her sister and boyfriend. A bunch of old college buddies were also in attendance, so I spent a lot of time with them (and bummed rides – thanks much). I also ran into a gaggle of random people, including my Management professor from senior year.

Overall, it was a great weekend despite the crummy weather. Oh yeah, and Will Wynn (the mayor of Austin) and senator Lloyd Doggett introduced Lance Armstrong, who introduced REM.

Austin City Limits Festival is this weekend. Three days of music in Zilker Park ought to give me the shot of music I’ve been craving for the past 7 months. REM is headlining, and other bands I’m psyched to see include David Garza, The Gourds, Liz Phair, The Dandy Warhols, and G Love and the Special Sauce. My friend Erin is coming in from NYC to see the show and hang with her sister, so it will be good to see her again.

Now beginning The Case for Israel by Alan Derschowitz. Here is a brief review of it and a similar novel by Yaacov Lozowick, Right to Exist.

Via nerygirl: “Blogger has some tips on how not to get fired because of your blog.” Good stuff, especially since paychecks should always trump your blog.

semaphoria must have a really cool job.

Is San Antonio weather on crack? I went to bed last night and it was like 60. When I woke up this morning it was 33 (and my nose was stuffy again). A friend from work told me how he went for a ride on his motorcycle out in the country and saw a line of dark clouds in the sky. A few minutes later, the temps dropped “a good 20 degrees” and the wind almost blew him off the bike. He hit the gas and raced the cold front back to his house, weaving in and out of it as the roads wound through the Texas hill country. When he got home, he saw it tumbling towards his neighborhood and WHOOSH the wind blew and the temps dropped. Cool stuff, weather.

It just occurred to me that Rid of Me by PJ Harvey is 11 years old (recorded winter ’92, released ’93). After that, Steve Albini recorded two more of my favorite albums: In Utero and Last Splash. Why are most of my favorites from the ’90-’95 era? I must be getting old. Pretty soon, I’ll be listening to a classic rock station playing Mudhoney. I rue the day.

This web site is on my referrer list under four different URLs. What gives? How did it find me? Strange.

Cool new exploding dog drawing [click above link].

As long as it gets above 40, I'll be going mountain biking with a friend from work today. I'm a little concerned because i don't want to get sick before the trip, but i really want to go ride. I need to get outside. I was cooped up in cubicle land for 50 hours this week and i'm ready to let loose.

addendum: I just found out The Special Goodness [link on right] has signed with Epitaph Records. Congrats guys! From the humble beginnings of recording on Pat's laptop in his garage to a contract with Epitaph...not bad at all.

Thanksgiving with the family in Little Rock was good. Lots of food, lots of Maya, lots of lounging. She’s starting to resemble a unique person rather than just any baby (babies all look the same to me). The greatest thing is making her laugh. Making funny faces, singing random tunes, and doing silly dances all bring smiles to her face and occasionally, she laughs. Her laugh is the best laugh in the world.

On a sad note, some morons in my sister’s neighborhood decided her husband’s car was in need of a new windshield. His car was parked on the curb, so they drove by and launched a 20-pound landscaping boulder at it and peeled out. The rock put a ginormous dent in the windshield, bounced off of the roof, knicked the fender, and fell to the ground. We called the cops but all they could do was file a report. Bummer, especially considering it happened the night before Thanksgiving.

In other news, I gave Protection by Massive Attack a second listen. I think I was overly critical (what else is new). Protection really isn’t that bad; it’s just that Mezzanine so completely eclipses it in creativity and execution that it seems like it’s a moot point. I just found out that the vocalist they recruited was Sinead O’Conner – no wonder I didn’t care for the vocal tracks. I returned the cd to Chris having not copied it. I’m quite content with my copy of Mezzanine, which is probably the best album I’ve heard all year.

Travel update: I was supposed to meet my Dutch buddies Daan and Jaap in Spain this December for a two-week jaunt through Barcelona, Madrid, Lisbon, and wherever else we felt like going. First Daan canceled; having been awarded the honor of placing at the top of his graduate program, he was asked to give some kind of speech in some kind of ceremony. Jeez, isn’t bouncing around Europe with a backpack and two friends more important than being recognized for outstanding scholastic achievement in mechanical engineering? OK, maybe not. Then, last week, Jaap informed me he got into a disagreement with his graduate advisor and wouldn’t be able to make the trip. It looked like I was on my own.

I debated on whether or not to go, and if I should go, where exactly should I go? I was no longer tied to Spain. After some research on New Zealand ($$$) and a mountain biking trip in Cyprus (dumb and $$$), I decided Spain was the place for me after all. I’ve seen 99% of Western Europe; the only remaining behemoth of a country left for me to conquer was Spain. So I booked a flight to Barcelona for December 12th and returning the 26th. That’s two weeks of me, a backpack, and Spain. The weather forecast is a tad worrisome: rain comes and goes and temps drop as low as 40. Not exactly what I call vacation weather, but I’ll be in Spain which is enough to be thankful for. I’m already preparing for the climactic uncertainty by buying a pair of waterproof shoes, a good rain jacket, and other wintery items. Most of what I used for last summer’s backpacking trip will work nicely for this trip, so that’s a plus. Now I only need to figure out how to cram winter gear into a pack that, last summer, was filled (to the brim) with just enough summer gear to get my by. I may be doing a lot of sink-washing on this trip.

Pictures from Thanksgiving and Tarfia’s and Amanda’s party will be posted tomorrow (or sometimes this week). For now, please take a look at the adorable Maya, sticking her tongue out in a typical display of her photogenic-ness (word?).

On page 206 of Come As You Are:

(‘Macleod’ is Alex Macleod, Nirvana’s tour manager.)

Dave, who is not a “morning person,” began rooming with Mecleod [in hotels while on tour]. But as the tour went on, Macloed acted more and more annoyed at Dave. Finally, Dave couldn’t stand it anymore and confronted him.
“What’s your problem? What’s wrong?” Dave asked.
“Fuck you!” Macleod shot back.
Apparently, whenever Macleod would try to wake Dave up in the morning, Dave would yell in his sleep, “FUCK YOU! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! THIS IS BULLSHIT!” then settle peacefully back into his pillow. Later, he’d go down to breakfast and wonder why Macleod was scowling at him.

I have a record player and some random Nirvana 45s. At the time I bought the 45s, I didn’t have the plastic adapter needed to play them, so I just shelved the records for when I got the adapter.

It’s been about four years and I still have not gotten the adapter. About 90% of that time has been wasted forgetting that I even had the 45s. So now I’m finally getting off my ass and looking for an adapter, and it turns out these things are extinct. I called Radio Shack, who referred me to Hermes Music, a local guitar/audio store, who referred me Bjorn’s, a local high-end audio equipment store, who referred me to Electronics Services, an unheard-of local electronics services store. Electronics Services is open 9-5:30 during the week and 9-12 on Saturday.

This basically means that I will never be able to get the adapter. In this day and age, it feels good to support your local music/electronics shop instead of automatically going to the internet, but you know what, the local music/electronics shop has some crappy hours.

Results from the office party last night: the most embarrassment I brought upon myself came in the form of a sad game of darts. I couldn’t hit anything with a number on it. On the bright side, the BBQ was good, the beer was plentiful, and I hit on, or got hit on, by the boss’ girlfriend. Sweet.

also – plans are in motion for particleman to visit Portland, Oregon. Beer will be consumed. Thai food will be inhaled. Geeks will lose glasses at rock shows. World problems will be solved. The Northwest will never recover.

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 just finished Ben Mezrich’s Bringing Down the House, I’m listening to Turn On The Bright Lights [courtesy of a friend from work], and the floaty guitar riff on track one has somehow brought me to the keyboard. I must write about these card-counting whiz kids.

Mezrich’s book tells the story of a dozen or so MIT students and dropouts that, under the guidance of an MIT professor and the financial backing of undisclosed investors, take Vegas for millions playing Blackjack. They crack the system and do it perfectly legally. It’s not cheating – it’s outsmarting.

The aspect of the book that struck a chord with me the most was in the time management skill these kids demonstrated. It seems all too easy to screw up something in between weekdays in Boston spent taking care of a full course load and weekends in Vegas spent trolling the strip – not to mention the inherent difficulty in keeping the double-life secret from family, friends, and significant others. While the winnings were enormous, there’s no telling what kind of damage to said relationships occurred as a result of the secret life. But in the end, there’s not much to say other than “they did it to themselves.”

And if things weren’t difficult enough, the team broke ranks when the dangers of unorthodox play got it into trouble. Friendships built on weekends in Vegas and Atlantic City crumbled as friends got their teeth knocked out by questionable characters in casino restrooms. To some, Blackjack was just a weekend hobby. But to others, it was how the rent got paid.

So how did they do it? It’s not so much about counting the cards as it is tracking them. If you can keep track of when most of the low cards have already been dealt, you can figure out when to bet $10 and when to bet $5000. This is obviously an oversimplification, but that’s the general idea. It also takes a significant amount of calculations that, as it turns out, require MIT whiz kid status to perform on the fly.

Totally unrelated but very informative: FAQ on recording industry basics [via sellout central.]

Second installment of the “things that happen to you while” series; alternate title: “too many p’s: p-man in p-town”; written after a five-day excursion visiting four bloggers I had never met [in person] with three friends I met at my [now previous] employer.

Note: The links don't actually send you anywhere, they just pop up witty witticisms.

- - - - - -

On the way to Portland, you sit next to a woman speaking a language strangely familiar to you. It’s Russian. You talk with her for the duration of the flight about living in Russia, traveling in Europe, how your Jewish parents are basically the same, how writing code gets old, how lucky her kids are that they get to travel the world by age 10. You exchange information. You have now made a friend in Oakland, California.

After several bumbling mishaps, your friends meet you at the airport and whisk you away to a five-day vacation. Your friends say they’re in an orange car. When you see an orange car carrying your arms-flailing-hands-waving friends, your mind flips when you realize the orange car is a bright orange Mustang convertible. Your friends have rented a speeding ticket waiting to happen.

You and your friends drive like maniacs [safe maniacs]. No tickets happen.

You proceed directly to an establishment called the Kennedy School and wonder how long it’s been since you went anywhere with a name ending in “school.” You are oddly excited because this place apparently serves beer. What a great combination. You meet your blogger friends there and you discover their blogs are accurate representations of who they really are: interesting, cool, witty, fun, and just a little bit saucy. Or is it snarky? Both.

You, a couple of the bloggers, and a roommate continue the drinking at another bar. Upstairs, Sonic Youth is making a racket – a beautiful racket you would love to hear in a venue you would love to see. One of the bloggers happens to be a well-known bartender and musician in the Portland area and gets you and your friends in for free. Sonic Youth slowly gets louder as you climb the staircase and walk into a historical gem of a music venue. It’s a ballroom complete with chandelier, frescoes on the wall, and a spring-loaded wood floor. One of your friends says “Welcome to Portland!” as Kim and Co. do their thing onstage. You wonder why the hell you aren’t already living there.

An afternoon spent wandering the many trails of Washington Park reminds you why you like being outside and how much cube life sucks. You find a bench under a redwood and sit. For a long time.

Sushi Happy hour results in many beers and several rolls of rice, seafood, and vegetables. One of your blogger friends ingests an ungodly amount of wasabi. You laugh. He cries. You laugh more.

You spend the evening at one of Portland’s many brewpubs, Bridgeport. You take pictures of your friend’s simultaneously hideous and glorious parallel parking job. Imagine: right next to the pub’s patio sits a bright orange Mustang convertible with half of its nose sticking out into the street. The patrons gawk in amazement: “who the hell are these people?” You enjoy yet more delicious new beers.

Two of your friends leave the next morning, and with them, the ‘stang. You and the remaining member of the Texan crew rent a Taurus to explore the Gorge. Within thirty minutes of leaving Portland driving on a picturesque highway [only a little more picturesque than I-10 in San Antonio] you arrive at mountains and waterfalls. You ogle the waterfalls, want them to be thirty minutes from your door, wonder if you’d ever get used to them and stop visiting them if you lived in Portland. You pinch yourself and think, “stop daydreaming, asshole. there are waterfalls here that need your attention.” Your friend’s new motto for the trip is “that doesn’t suck.” You agree.

Over the next two days, you continue to consume refreshing beers and visit places like the Pittock Mansion, The Japanese Gardens, and The Chinese Gardens. During those two days, you end up at the Kennedy School once again and wander off the beaten tourist path to a pub called Bonfire.

You spend Monday morning wandering the many stacks of Powell’s Bookstore. At 1, your friend leaves for her flight back to Crap Antonio. You hug and realize this trip basically changed your lives. Now you’re on your own with one more night and no hotel room, you wander the streets of downtown in search for lunch and a good time. You invariably end up back at the bookstore.

Your friend's husband calls you and invites you to the park to see if there is any kickball to be played. Looking down at your feet clad in sandals, you wonder if that’s such a good idea. You say, “Fuck it, worse comes to worse, I can play barefoot.” You meet a lot of cool people and head over to the Portland version of a dive bar called the Triple Nickel for beers and music geek talk.

A show at Dante’s featuring the Short Bus Dub All Stars is waiting, so you head back to the house to change and pick up your friend’s wonderful wife, the one that let you crash on their couch. While the husband plays pool, you and the wife skank to the opening ska band and wait for Short Bus to come on. While the bands are loading/unloading from the stage, a high school-esque drum line entertains the audience with cool beats and crashing cymbals. The crowd starts to pogo; you pogo; everyone is getting into it. For a split second, you wish you were in marching band in high school. Then the next second arrives and you’re glad you weren’t. Jazz band was way cooler.

You end the night at a strip club down the street from your friends’ house that oddly has one dancer that isn’t stripping. It’s late on a Monday night and she’s hanging out and talking to the few patrons left. You aren’t the biggest fan of strip clubs but you like this one. You talk with your friend, the dancer, the bartender, and the patrons till late.

The next morning, you and your friend eat cheese and crackers and watch the best cartoons since Transformers. Imagine the old Hanna Barberra cartoons on crack. And a couple 40s. After a short drive to the airport, you pull up at the departure entrance and tell your friend he and everyone else are always welcome in Texas and to drop you a line if they ever go, but as soon as you say this you realize chances are better that you will end up in Portland before he or his Portland crew will end up in Texas. Lo and behold, he says just that. You agree. You say thanks again, shake hands, and hop out of the car.

On the flight home, you sit next to an elderly nun. There is an empty seat between you and her. You spend the entire flight engrossed in one of the many books you bought at Powell’s and gaze out the window at the black sky, a little fidgety in anticipation of getting home. The nun spends the whole flight motionless – she stares at the seat in front of her blinking for the duration of the flight. Doesn’t move. No book to read, no magazine, no music, no journal to write in. Just sits. You wonder what kind of thoughts she has that keep her entertained or if she needs anything at all to be entertained, or if, more simply, she needs to feel entertained at all. She just is. You wonder why the hell you can’t do that. You look at her and notice you’re staring. She turns her head and smiles. You smile back. You look at your hands and try to think of nothing.

And then all the badass people you met and all the badass things you did in Portland flood your brain. Hey, doesn’t Portland have a law school?

In response to a short article about a website listing famous guitarists and their guitar/amp rigs, the following exchange ensued:

Person 1: Juliana Hatfield isn't listed, so the site is worthless.
Person 2: It is well known that Juliana plays Evan Dando, or at least used to.
Person 3: 1994 called. They want your lameness back. Juliana Hatfield, Person 1?

PS: I actually kinda like Juliana Hatfield, but anyway…

PPS: the post category formerly known as "contact" no longer exists. my condolences. it never did much anyway. it has been replaced with a new category, law school. since that is where i'll be in about a month's time, i figured a post category was in order. also note its strategic placement - between "beer" and "about." excellent. [actually, that's just where contact used to be.]

in honor of contact’s demise, my friend aaron donated his spiffy email form, which I have placed in the official “about” post.

Richard Posner, pinch-hitting for Lessig, says in his last post:

The uncertainty concerning the proper scope of IP rights is magnified by the onrush of technology. As I said, repeating a Lessig point, law is relative to technology; technology can disrupt a balance carefully struck by law. But if we have no clear sense of where the balance should be struck, this makes it difficult to know what stance to take with relation to encryption technologies that enable IP owners to obtain greater protection from copiers than IP law would give them.

Any volunteers?

all the shit that's important is right here ==>

i now return you to your regularly scheduled whatever.

I have officially moved back to Houston. After leaving it six years ago for college in Austin, I never thought I'd return. Funny how things work out.

But six years can make a difference. I can [legally] drink, I know where I can catch all the hip bands, and the museums rock. I know a few people here and will be meeting more in law school.

So I think I'll give Houston a clean slate. No pre-conceived notions, no expectations [aside from the heat, humidity, traffic, yadda yadda].

One thing’s for sure – I’ll stay far away from my old high school. They tore half of it down the year after I graduated for health violation issues. Seriously.

click the above link. it takes you to a recent exploding dog drawing called "i can't hear you." then tab back to this page.

see? i may be a huge dork, but this just might be what i need to establish my hip indie cred. and everyone knows one cannot operate a hip indie blog without hip indie cred.

in other music news, i've been listening to Gorillaz a lot lately. imagine Blur, but stoned, and with an array of sampling devices and other instrumentation. if you aren't familiar with Blur, imagine good music. and go buy this album.

--------------

i posted the other day about Summerland and i'm happy [? or not?] to report i was right. the book stays corny. rebecca, that doesn't mean you shouldn't finish it, though. it does pick up pace towards the end. i think you'll like it.

there is one last thing i want to mention: religious allusions. the book alludes to several religious ideals about the beginnings of the universe and whatnot. at one point, a character says: "Back when old [guy who created the world] was making the Worlds, separating out all the Something from Nothing..." [page 437]. this comes straight from the Old Testament - the concept of separating two groups of matter as part of the creation process. i don't know why Chabon felt it necessary to make such allusions. if you're writing a fairytale story, why borrow concepts from common religious thought?

I would have liked to say “anywhere but unemployed” but i figured i ought to not embarass myself so soon in the semester. Here’s approximately what happened.

On the first day of orientation, the Dean gathered the entering class of 350 into an auditorium and gave a “congratulations on getting into law school” speech. Then, with spare mic in hand, he took to the aisles.

So imagine my surprise and slouching posture when the Dean began to discuss his desire to learn about where some of the students went to college, where they saw themselves in 10 years, and what kind of law they wanted to practice. As he spoke, he proceeded directly to ME, an aisle-seat occupant. Yes, it seemed I would be the first student to speak publicly to the entering class. I was thrilled. As he spoke some more about the various fields of law available to us, I prayed and hoped and swore to all that is holy in the world that if I was absolved of this task, I would perform an untold number of community service hours, study my balls off, stop drinking, post more to my website, so on and so forth.

The praying didn’t do shit. Never let anyone tell you praying helps. It doesn’t. He chose me.

The exchange, as best I remember it, follows.

Dean: Mr. [Particleman], tell us where you went to school and what kind of law you see yourself practicing in ten years.
Mr. Particleman: I went to UT Austin -
Audience: [cheers]
Dean: Oh, so we have some UT Grads? How about A&M?
Audience: [hands raise, more cheers]
Mr. P: [mumbles] Put your hands down, people.
UT Grads: [chuckle]
Dean: So, Mr. Particleman, now that we’ve given you some time to come up with a good answer, what do you say?
Mr. P: [internal dialogue: whatever you say will be held against you for the next three years. better make it good.] I’d like to get involved in copyright law dealing with music and the rights of musicians. [man, that was cheesy].
Dean: Ah, were you a music major?
Mr. P: Uh, no, but I play music.
Dean: Interesting... [commentary on the new wave of issues affecting copyright law resulting from the internet].
Every female in the audience: [internal dialogue: hey, he’s a musician, he’s gonna be a music lawyer, and he has cool glasses. i must flirt with him later.]

Overall, orientation so far has been very exciting. I already have plenty of reading and bar-exploring to do. I went out on Saturday night with an old friend and he introduced me to some local bars. And you know what, all that doubting I did earlier was unfounded. Houston has some cool hang-outs. I think I’ll be all right here.

Not what you'd expect.

In other news, do you remember Student Government aka SG? High school had it. College had it. Your job probably has it or an equivalent thereof. I always thought: Why spend more time than necessary on school stuff? Why spend more time than necessary at school?

I was never an SG person. The above questions were relevant to my decision, of course, but there was an underlying theory at work here: laziness. I had a bass and a guitar waiting at home. I sat in class all day anxious to get home and make some noise. School activities just weren’t part of my agenda at the time.

But law school is a new phase in my life. I’m not [quite so] lazy anymore. Law school’s version of Student Government, operating under the clandestine moniker “Student Bar Association,” is a great way to meet people all over the school. I’ve met some of these SBA people and liked them, so I’ll apply to join. From what I understand, SBA involves meeting people, notifying your class of happy hours, and getting plastered on the school’s rooftop terrace. I can do that, I think.

check out the above link. very cool site; a blog-not-blog with handwritten letters.

more linkness:

1. the real death star. kind of. [via mattsylvania]

2. chapelle is back for two more seasons. you may now rejoice.

3. while i move to houston, others move to better places

4. the latest in barbie technology

5. stepsss

6. bike against bush - a thesis. [via volokh]

also - once again behind the trend, i have finally discovered stereolab. why have i never heard this stuff before? and why don't i speak french? this will have to be remedied.

One large step for independent musicians looking for a cheap way to get their music disseminated.

Following the lead of a lower-court decision last year, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Los Angeles said on Thursday that peer-to-peer software developers were not liable for any copyright infringement committed by people using their products, as long as they had no direct ability to stop the acts.
...

The decision marks a substantial--if not entirely unexpected--setback for the big record labels and movie studios, which have tried hard to win legal rulings that would clamp down on anarchic peer-to-peer networks such as Kazaa or eDonkey.

Of course, none of this is consistent with my whole “want to be a fair and just lawyer” thing. Where do we draw the line? Is it a big deal if a moderately successful artist is hurt or only a massively successful artist? Who are we to judge how successful an artist needs to be before they fall off the “we feel bad that you’re losing out on album sales” list? Who are we to meddle in the capitalist nature of our market? How is music different from other intellectual property products, e.g., literature and software? Software is easily transferable via the internet but printed literature is not. But what about technology that could scan a document and produce an electronic version? People would trade books like they do mp3s.

My worlds are colliding. Something obviously needs to be done about the structure of our intellectual property concepts and markets.

I feel compelled to put something new up here but strangely have nothing of substance to say (do I ever?) I spent many hours today in a coffee shop doing homework and continued to spend many hours at home. The best part is that I still didn’t get everything done that I wanted to. You should not end sentences with a preposition. Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue is playing on the stereo. I think I’ll have another beer.

addendum, five minutes later: behold the power of the male bartender.

It’s become readily apparent law school is having several strange effects on me.

Ashley, one of the instigators who helped prod me to go on the infamous Portland trip, sent me a surprise care package last week. Its contents were: a cd of the pictures she took, a Lifescapes “Sleep” cd, Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime tea, a vanilla candle, and a sweet bottle opener I ogled over when drinking at her house one night. Better yet was the nifty artwork on the package and the purple and green confetti stuff on the inside.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ashley. You are awesome. Friends like you are a rarity. The care package is slowly working its magic and I am starting to get more sleep.

it's too good to be true. aaron has enlightened us to the glory that is They Might Be Downloads. can you believe it? TMBG downloads for $.99/ea. how cool is that? when my broke ass gets some cash, i'll let you know how cool it actually is. at this point, beer trumps music, but only barely.

Currently slogging through my paper and listening to lots and lots and lots of Fugazi.

Sometimes, you find yourself studying in a spacious and stale cube with whitewashed walls otherwise known as a study room. You and your buddy inadvertently end up trading mp3s via the wireless network and doing everything you can not to study. Then, you look up at the ceiling during one of your many neck-craning five-minute space-out sessions and notice one of the ceiling panels is made of perforated metal. You can see straight into the air ducts. You wonder what it would be like to jump up into the air ducts and crawl around until you ended up in another room, like they do in the movies. You could surprise some other students in the midst of their mp3 study session, have a good laugh, smile and nod, and head back to your corner of the library.

Sometimes, you could really use a margarita.

and you can download the whole thing, sample it, and do whatever else you want with the tracks. and it's totally legal. artists include beastie boys, david byrne, spoon, chuck d, and gilberto gil.

thank CC Mixter, creative commons, and wired.

[via slashdot]

After some initial confusion, my new years ended up at The Continental Club, which featured a wild and crazy band and, a rarity on new years for any club, no cover. I met up with a law school friend and one of her friends. One of the highlights of the night was watching a bunch of college-aged girls shake their tuchuses on stage when the band exploded into an impassioned version of “Secret Agent Man.” What can I say, I’m easy to please. I don't think the club invested much in the champagne because I (and everyone else i saw) made the most horrible face when we drank it. Ugh. Cheap champagne is something to be avoided.

Listened to it on repeat for hours last night.

I’d write more, but I’ve got bookoo stuff to do.

The person upstairs is taking a shower and I can hear the pipes sqealing. And I think someone just turned on a freaking generator outside.

Paper, write yourself.

I talked to the old roomie yesterday. We both graduated from UT with the same degree at the same time and got hired at the same company at the same time. I left in July of last year for law school, and he stuck around to figure things out. Well, he figured things out. He’s off to L.A. to see about that screenwriting passion of his. I wish I had the balls he did. If it were me, I’d have left corporate life and toured with a band. I went to law school instead. Yeah, I’m really interesting.

Good luck, dude. You gonna start a blog or what? “Poker-Obsessed Screenwriting Philippino Ditches TX for CA.” And don’t worry, blogs are free. (Hah).

Lower courts have sided with the P2P companies, but there's no telling what the SC will do. Chances are (and the article says as much) that the loser will take their grievance to Congress.

This has been a crazy weekend so far and everything I wanted to get done hasn’t gotten done yet, but I still have 24 hours.

Friday was the usual happy hour at Front Porch. I managed to avoid getting towed this time, but my friend didn’t. Bummer. I feel his pain. I left around 7 to meet up with a couple other classmates to see a sweet bluegrass band, The Greencards. They consisted of a violist, mandolist, bassist, and guitarist, and they all shredded. Well, maybe except the bassist, but her vocals were excellent. If you get a chance to see them, do so. They played a great two-hour set complete with encore.

Aside from random cleaning up around the apartment, which you don’t wanna hear about anyway, I spent most of today working on/thinking about a paper and taking pictures at school. More on the pictures thing later. I don’t want to jinx myself.

I’m going to see Sophia for the first time in six (?) months tomorrow. She and her man will be in town for lunch on their way to Austin, and we’re getting together with another UT friend at La Strada. I’m psyched. I haven’t seen them in ages.

After that, I’ll try to get outside at least a little bit and enjoy the weather. But I’ll most likely end up at my desk working on that paper that’s due Tuesday, which coincidentally won’t get done Monday night because I’m going to see Steve Miller Band! Can you believe it? I never thought I’d get a chance to see SMB. My only memories of SMB revolve around high school and its various questionable activities at house parties and/or riding around in someone’s car. I don’t really listen to SMB anymore, but I know all the songs on that greatest hits album everyone has.

Law School Prom is this Saturday. Well, it’s technically called a Banquet, but it’s affectionately known as the Prom. People dress up, eat at big tables, drink mixed drinks, dance horribly to a band, and drink mixed drinks. Did I mentioned they drink?

Drink. Mixed drinks.

I’m very excited. Apparently, a good number of the teachers go and actually stay for the band (and the drinks). I’m extra-excited for that. I’d like to see my profs throw a few back.

But before I can revel in the glory that is law school prom, I must wallow in the misery that is my appellate brief. Oh yes. I’m about ready to pull out my eyelashes one by one (seems worse and more original than “poking my eyes out”).

i uploaded the image to flickr and added lots of notes. still working on the band list which is now at 84 entries. but i also have 24 pages for my paper, so i'm pretty much done. thank the lord.

i forgot my friend's birthday. i forgot my brother-in-law's birthday. i never forget birthdays. chances are, if you've ever told me when your birthday is, i still know it. if not, i can get one of the numbers right and probably the month too. so i'm not too happy that i forgot my friend's and my brother-in-law's birthdays. my only excuse, and it's a lame one, is that school is pretty much an all-consuming thing lately. i have dreams about it. how messed up is that? it's not that i'm bitter or anything, it's just that i'm sitting here in a coffee shop studying on a friday night.

ok, so i might be a little bitter, but only because i have a twenty-something page paper due monday and finals to study for.

i'll get back to my rage against the machine and torts now.

i'm making a list of every band / show i've ever seen. one hour and forty-nine minutes have been used up so far and i have 81 bands. i know there's a lot missing too since i saw a ton of shows at Emo's in Austin that i know i'm forgetting. when the list is done, i'll post the Word doc.

shawshank redemption sountrack
qotsa - songs for the deaf
ben folds five - unauthorized biography of reinhold messner
jawbreaker - dear you

drugs are bad. i saw Ray last night. great movie, great man (aside from all the cheating), scary lifestyle.

i'm going to austin this weekend with E, and after that, next week is my first week of work. that's right, i get to play lawyer for three months at a small law firm here in h-town. pretty exciting stuff. unfortunately, i don't plan to post about it at all for confidentiality reasons, and because i don't want to risk putting my foot in my mouth (please reference: my entire life).

one thing's for sure - i have some serious shopping to do. i have about four good ties, and most of my dress shirts worked well for a computer-y/IT work environment but are not of law-firm caliber. i need to look a little snazzier. so i did the smart thing and enlisted the help of someone who knows how to dress me.

my mom.

just kidding.*

E. we're gonna hit the mall in austin on sunday. hopefully it won't take too long because 1) i'm kind of impatient when shopping for clothes and 2) malls make me nauseous.

* but you would have believed it, wouldn't you have? actually, i don't blame you. my mom bought me a great shirt/tie combo a couple months ago, and i didn't even have to go with her.

enjoy!

Like most people, I maintain a spreadsheet containing a list of all the movies I’ve watched over the last 4 1/2 years. This is the first in (hopefully) several mass reviews where i draw upon my recent viewings and help you make the right decision about how to spend 90 minutes or so.

Led Zeppelin pman reviewed this before. i don't think he was effusive enough in his praise. it's an amazing document of a slice of history that just does not exist anymore. they're freaking powerful, i don't just mean that they're loud, i mean they friggin pwn. in addition to their own songs, they run through some badass blues standards and robert plant's hair has a 9 minute solo.

Veronica Guerin based on the story of a murdered irish journalist, this one is relatively accessible, but still harrowing. i first heard of this story on a 60 minutes profile. The acting is great, and even features a great cameo by colin farrell. the writing is predictably didactic but not preachy. moving up in the queue is a previous re-telling, When the Sky Falls, might make for an interesting double feature.

strangely enough, the movie really makes me want to visit ireland even more than i had before. it's so green.

A Dirty Shame john waters is back, baby. interesting exploration of fetish, sexuality, gentrification (or should i say, gayification), decency and head-trauma. it's over the top and has great, fun performances by tracey ullman, johnny knoxville (yes, that johnny knoxville), chris isaak (yes, that chris isaak), and selma blair (google her yourself). if you like john waters, rent/buy this one immediately to help remember why he was so friggin revolutionary (as that goes). if you don't like john waters, rent/buy this one immediately so you can remember what pissed you off so much, you uptight sob.

Double Dare<