turkey etchings
because i have yet to replace the journal i lost/left in portland this summer [i blame portland], and i’m not wont to take photos these days, this was thanksgiving 2008:
- a rust-glowing husky stadium along the twosday shuttle express route [destination: ray’s boathouse]
- a three-hour fancy pants dinner
- a winning lotto scratch ticket
- a failed 6a shopping excursion
- long, barren hours of non-productivity
- one abstract dragon, slayed
- two trips to the airport
- this evening, seattle fog like i’ve never seen it
- a ratcheting up of homesickness. i’ll be ready in 12 days.
interface explosion
the last two nights (or last week, even, if practices count) have overloaded my sociability circuits.
two fora, two audiences with different cultural narratives, rationalities, and operating assumptions.
1.
if PCN had been a big part of my college life and if the scale of that extravaganza had been 1/8 what it was, i imagine it would have been like the final show put on by my tagalog class: numerous planning sessions; power-infused leaders of the pack who are Seriously Serious (which i don’t mind — someone has to lead, and it won’t be me); hours spent at practice, half of which entail most of us sitting around; the catharsis of the performance itself. and cheesy jokes. many cheesy jokes about filipino-ness revolving around puns and mispronunciation (for which i admit i’m a sucker — here, some validation of my filipino-ness).
this is to say, i’m still OK with not having been in PCN. but i see how such things can cement a community of filipino folks on campus. the affair requires interactions structured by some hierarchy and delegation of labor, but it’s all organic enough so that one feels an attachment to the final product and the people who share it.
2.
last night multo/A and i played at jaime and neil’s (of world history) apartment-warming party. redbear, blanket truth, craig salt peters, and (eventually) world history also played. it was lovely hearing everyone’s music, and being heard by a small group of listeners in an intimate space. j and n’s place is cozy and well decorated, to boot.
since i’m relatively new to playing and taking in music this way, i was both charmed by and jittery about it all. music and musicians for me have been off in the distance; i go to shows and, whether the show is large or small, make myself inconspicuous and my ears and eyes all-enveloping. my mouth doesn’t usually get any exercise at these things. the imperative to interact is something to get used to, maybe. the setting seems like an ideal way to really listen to music, to listen and appreciate carefully, to let music-makers know they’re loved.
j and n were gracious hosts. i hope their apartment has been warmed accordingly.
—
for now, back to being a recluse. it’s that time of the quarter — for grading, reading, writing, and otherwise shutting myself off from the outside, save for those trips to the coffee shop or gym, at which i can pretend to interact with people by virtue of being around so damn many of them.
scrabbel is looking to be my soundtrack for the end of the quarter. file them/him under Things I Wish I’d Done/Heard/Seen While I Was Living In The Bay Area. that’s far too long for a blog category.
i could use some bonking
if i were back in seattle right now, i would surely partake of the Cardboard Showdown, courtesy of the Cardboard Tube Fighting League. or more likely i’d take it in from afar, perhaps from behind a tree.