Music Will Provide the Light You Cannot Resist

[Added from journal notes on the road, but published with the appropriate date]


Spent the evening watching The National, Modest Mouse, and R.E.M. A good evening for music. Modest Mouse was more rock in concert than I expected. R.E.M. gave a stand out show, and one of the real highlights was their stage design which was one of the most stand-out I've seen at a concert. I wish the picture could convey it, but then, you'll just have to trust me. It was an awesome show, with lots of old favorites thrown in (check out the set list if you don't believe me). And since the night had a few extra guests including Scott McCaughey (of the Young Fresh Fellows and the Minus Five) and Johnny Marr (of the Smiths).

If you get a chance to check 'em out, by all means do. It even made sitting in the parking lot for an hour worthwhile.

Hyah, mule!

So today as I was sitting in my office, taking advantage of the A/C on a post-gym visit, my department chair stopped in. We talked about cell phones, student registration patterns, upcoming events, writing the posting for our new line, and it was all very cursory. And then, the bomb was dropped.

"How would you like to chair the search for our new line?" he asked.

Without blinking or laughing, I replied, "Not a bit." And this seemed to stun him. There was a long awkward pause.

"I thought it would look good on your C.V."

Now this, my friends, is such a load (and loaded) moment in Senior/Junior faculty relations. This particular bit gets spread so thickly and regularly, you'd think they were trying to grow prize roses. It's code, though, and it can be roughly translated to "I don't want to do this. You do it, sucker."

"I'm not hurting for service," I said. "I advise 40 students; I manage our website. I'm still on the college's strategic planning committee, and I'm going to be helping with the honor society this year. And that's just the stuff I'm doing on campus."

More stunned silence, then "I just thought you'd be good at it."

"I probably would be. But do you really want me potentially talking to someone about salary? Or about tenure requirements when I haven't gone through the full process? Do you really think I should be in charge of all the contact with them, particularly when I'm going to be on an overload one of the terms? Doesn't this seem like a Senior Faculty sort of thing?"

There was no response. And that isn't surprising, really, because it's been a very rare moment that I've said no to anything. But by year four, I think it's a word that needs to get some exercise in my vocabulary. And part of why I'm so irritated is that often times these missions I get sent on wind up being enormous wastes of my time, and this request came hot on the heels of an e-mail from another colleague about the conference I was drafted into helping with, that handily dismissed all but one word of the work I'd been asked to come up with.

I guess perhaps my chair didn't recall me explaining a few weeks ago about the conference - which he's not helping with - that I felt like I'd been chained to a plow, blinders on, and been set to work doing the tedious stuff, never mind what I thought about it.

And that's probably not going to change, as his parting words out the door were, "Well, think about it ,and get back to me."

Setting the Record Straight

Just a few things that are worth noting for future reference. If you're guilty of any of these or know someone who is, please stop them now and have them read this. Because I'm going to start carrying my bat when I go out. You have been warned.

First, yes, Texans are used to dealing with heat, but not in the way people up north constantly seem to suggest. We air condition everything, shade everything, and drink cold drinks. We go to pools that are shaded. We dress appropriately. None of this un-air conditioned, cut down the trees, sipping hot coffee and complain. Yankees, at least in this, we're more sensible than you, so stop saying we're used to it like we've evolved into non-sweating, solar-powered versions of you. We just understand that if you live in a climate with bad weather, if you don't use the tools at hand to deal with it, you shouldn't bitch about it.

Second, if you're going to bring children into public, show some common sense. Two year olds don't get logical proofs. They do, however, recognize that if you say you're going to spank them the next time and then don't, that they own your sorry ass. Now if you don't believe in spanking, cool on for you, don't threaten it. If you do, when you do threaten it, then you'd better dish it out as promised. Telling a kid there are consequences and then not giving them any is going to explain why they're destined to steal your car in ten years.

A good rule of thumb it seems to me for these moments is if the kid is fidgety and anxious, they've got too much energy. Try taking them outside and letting them use some of it. And you know what? Too much energy is normal for a kid. What isn't normal is having a two year old out-think you and expecting the rest of the world to have to listen to it. And while we're on the subject, it's not the kid's fault he's cranky if you bring him out to an appointment with several of your slow relatives and then expect the child to wait quietly till the bitter end for their turn. Show some sense.

Third, if you wait to get your hair done until an hour before you're "due in the limo," then you'd better be prepared to suck it up and take your hair how it turns out. No calling back, fifteen minutes to Cosmos in the car time to yell at the manager because you got home and didn't like what you saw in the mirror. As a side-note, going to Super Cuts for this sort of thing might be the first step in the problem.

Fourth, don't use the express lane if you have to pay with change. In fact, unless you're on a pension, homeless, or just broke your piggy bank to buy a Hot Wheels, don't pay in change. Go to the service counter and get real cash. Or the bank. Or a line where it's expected you're going to slow the world down. And if you must pay in change, learn to count. In the U.S. dimes are ten cents, nickels are five cents, pennies are one cent, and quarters are twenty-five cents. That should take care of most of the difficulty.

Honestly.

Why'd You Put Your Quarter Down On Me?

The universe loves irony. I know this because after venting my dislike for James Taylor along with a complaint about basketball, the start of the NBA Finals tonight featured James Taylor singing the national anthem. It was, if I may say, awful. It sounded like what I imagine a rehearsal in James Taylor's garage might: off-key, a lot of loose plucking of strings, no cheering. And it was acoustic and mellow which is, of course, exactly what you want to pump up the crowd before a game.

As I commented on it, my roommate noted that he was named for a James Taylor song. So there's that irony, too.

It's getting ready to storm here.

This may be because I'm considering getting a cell phone which would be one of the bigger shocks in the world. The main reason I'm thinking about one is that I'm planning on doing a little (a very little) traveling, and having an easy way to be in touch with folks when I'm on the road might be nice (though to be honest, I only call people before bed when I'm traveling) .

It's funny to me because an off-hand remark on another online site I frequent about this consideration has earned me more responses than anything else I've done there. People, it would seem, feel very strongly about the need to have cellphones. It's a bit like the way married couples - most at least - feel the need to hound you like the Furies if you're single (hm, both are weird sorts of long term contracts...). Of course, none of my cellular-enabled friends has yet tried to fix me up with a phone or a carrier or anything like that, but I think the comparison is apt.

I've never had a desire to have a cell phone before. I like being out of touch when I want to be. Yes, I know you can turn them off, but you all know that once you have a cell phone people react differently when you don't take a phone call. I like that when I make a plan to be somewhere, sometime, that plan is more likely to be stuck to because no one can call me and tell me they're going to be late. I like that I'm not one of those people who thinks that whatever I'm thinking at a particular moment is so important that I must speak about it in the car or the grocery store or the bathroom.

I love that people with cell phones all think they can react just as fast when they're talking in the car as someone who's just driving in spite of a ton of studies that show it isn't the case. I think people should be offered a choice: you can use a cellphone in your car or you can use a gun. I'd love to be able to take a shot at someone who cuts me off because they're too busy talking about what they bought at the store to actually check the lane next to them. But I'm from Texas, and this may be some sort of genetic condition that requires me to want to shoot at someone sometime.

And anyway, cell plans are ridiculous. A two year commitment? Honestly, you cell users stand for this? Does your cable provider demand a commitment that long? And how do you figure out how many minutes you need during the day for a month? It seems to me like that's dependent on whether your friends and family feel like they can reach you any time of day.

But still, the part of me that loves to press buttons is intrigued by this. I love me some Internet searches (I served as a sort of unofficial reference librarian in my shared grad student office because I could find good information more quickly than anyone else - or maybe it was just because I was a sucker who liked playing on the Internet enough that he didn't mind being taken a little advantage of). How could I not be intrigued at the possibility of doing those things unobtrusively in a boring faculty meeting?

And did I mention that I really, really love to press buttons? Once, when I was in second grade, I managed to get my parents to let me leave the sermon in church to go to the bathroom. On the way back - the long, long way back - I found a hidden light switch at church. Now I knew the fact that this was hidden probably meant I shouldn't touch it, but honestly, could you resist? Interestingly - and I think this was a design flaw on someone's part that totally absolves me - the light switched activated the fire alarm.

But I probably didn't have to turn it on a second time.

Anyway, the storm's starting, but that's no indication that I've come to a decision on this whole cell phone issue.

RBOC: Make Up Your Own Category for This

There's probably a lot to say here. But instead, you'll get bullets.

• Saw my the first student while I was working out. To make matters worse, the little monster took the Elliptical I was planning on working on. It was great because twice as awkward is twice as much fun. But I'll remember it come reference letter time. Oh, yes!
  
• Just flipped past a PBS commercial for some James Taylor special. As if James Taylor wasn't bad enough, there was a quick edit of someone getting into the James Taylor groove. There's nothing sadder than the site of someone finding rhythm to James Taylor.
  
• Received a cranky e-mail from the university president noting I've not yet attended my sexual harassment seminar and informing me the next seminar is in a few weeks. Would it be impolite to reply that I'm on a nine month contract? Would it make matters worse if I gave them my hourly contracting rate?
• Worse than my Spurs losing to my roommate's Lakers, the university department he loathes the most has vanished, taken over by the one I loathe most. This is like when my friend beat me in Risk last year after I forced him all the way back to Irkutsk on the longest streak of rolling sixes I've ever seen.
  
• just received the Paris rejection, where I - without ever hearing about it - evidently made it onto the "long short list." Ah, well. On the bright side, the first viable job for me to apply for this next year has turned up. The job search is dead. Long live the job search.

And that's the news.

Who Do You Love?

Musical legend Bo Diddley died today. If you've not heard him, you've been missing out. His style of play was both original and fun, and became a major influence on modern rock. As the New York Times article on his death mentions, he carried a sense of humor with nearly everything he did. But his influence went well beyond rock and blues. Like a song where there's name checking? Bo knows. Like artists who strut their stuff and keep the competition in place? Bo knows.

You've heard the beat before. You'll heart it again. But no one played it like he did.

I first stumbled across Bo Diddley on a blues compilation I picked up the summer before I went to college. I could tell the man had a booming voice, even though the recording itself was pretty weak. And that beat. I'd heard some of his songs before, I'm sure, but it was the range and the wit - the way he played while he was playing that was such a draw to me. How can you not love the wordplay in "Who Do You Love"? How could you not grin just a little at a line like "When Bo Diddley comes to town the streets go empty and the sun goes down."?

So with that in mind, here's a link to one of my favorite Bo Diddley tracks, a simple little number with pianist Otis Spann (maybe most famous for his work with Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf and other staples of the Chicago blues scene).

Click here to hear: Signifying Blues (xtended Version) - Bo Diddley

Thoughts from a "Lost" newbie

So, I'm sitting here watching the first part of the pilot to "Lost." I've not seen the show before, I'm not convinced I'll like it, and I'll fuck you up if you reveal anything about the plot to me because I'm not one of those people who is okay knowing the details of shows/movies/plays/books that I might be interested in seeing. This is directly contradictory to the story I told my best friend years ago about always reading the end of a book as soon as I get it so that if I die, I'll at least not have missed the ending.

Believe it or not, it was the only way to get him to stop telling me crucial plot details. He's my best friend: it was lie or kill him. Besides, he should have known better. I'm a fast reader, and if the book's good enough, there's no way I wouldn't finish it, death or no.

But that is all beside the point.

Having managed to avoid anything "Lost" related for ages, it occurs to me that the big mystery to it must be that it'll all be a dream in which someone copes with their fears of flying following September 11. I know. That's all so "Bobby Ewing" (for you kids, that's an old TV reference: go look it up - it'll be useful pop cultural knowledge for relating to your aging superiors and will help you understand why they distrust anything that smacks of dream sequences. Take your time. We'll wait.) .

Back? Good.

It seems to me that the mystery at the heart of the last twenty years of "big reveal" media is this: at the end of it, it's all about how there's something we distrust within ourselves. For ages, our stories were about how we battled nature. Or how we battled each other. Or how the things we created made us vulnerable. And, of course, us versus ourselves isn't new. It's the pervasiveness that fascinates me. So how do you make a disaster show a mystery if you don't make it about trust in ourselves? In the case of "Lost," what I find interesting is the start where we're thrown into the story immediately. And we're instantly confronted with a broken airplane, flames, screams, disaster. And disaster is a word that's taken on a different definition, a different meaning for most of us in the last seven years.

In the show now, there's a noise - maybe music, maybe something creepy in the forest in the dark. No one's sure what they saw. It sounds like a howl. Were I the sort to talk to the characters and offer them advise, I'd remind them that we always confront ourselves when we walk into the forest.

I like that in this show - as in "Heroes" - they've taken a chance and had characters speaking in a different language, that we're forced to grapple with another language. One of the things that was so compelling about "Heroes" to me was the brave choice to try and make us identify with people - by making us follow their story lines - who don't speak our language. Sure, eventually they gave in and had them learn the language, but they held out for awhile in the first season. And Season two, whatever else was wrong with it, made us grapple with multiple languages. That's worth commending, particularly when we can still read reviews that suggest it's laughable that contact with other cultures might make us smarter (it's true - check out the (admittedly out of full context) review from Cynthia Fuchs on Rotten Tomatoes.com of the movie "The Visitor" (a movie that is well worth checking out).

Anyway.

A colleague of mine commented that most of his students don't have the visual fluency to view a movie with subtitles because they can't keep up with reading and watching at the same time. He claims - and I've no real reason not to believe him other than hope - that most of the students in his class have never seen a foreign film. But beyond providing some additional skills to students, I like the use of multiple languages because it makes things a bit more like the world I live in. Now if we could just get subtitles for all those accents I don't understand plus all those languages, TV might be awesome. Even better when there are scenes with no subtitles - just language and intent and the need to muddle through it.

So anyway, what I think is this: you start a show with an unexplained plane crash, survivors are left to make sense of it, there's not only a looming threat but there are people you're not sure you can communicate with who your survival may well rely on. How is this not a microcosm for the world we live in now? How could America not deal with its fears but through media?

I ventured a theory in high school, in the midst of a short story we had to write, after reading "1984" and "Brave New World" that asked us to venture our own utopia/dystopia for the future (awesome assignment, Mrs. Hall!) and what I wanted to write about - and maybe I did, though I remember thinking that I couldn't pull it off then - was about a future world where all America could do was produce entertainment. It was all amusement parks and studio backlots; it's what we did best and what we valued most. And now I think it's where we think things through. This is why I'm so distressed by reality TV and "American Idol." If media is where we think things through, then reality TV represents our worst "what were they thinking" moments.

Anyway, I'm assuming members of the group must betray each other. That they'll have to turn on each other. If my metaphor will hold, then the lesson becomes not just that the Others (yes, I've heard much about the show) must be wrestled with and made familiar and understandable, but that we must as well.

Anyway, I should really pay attention to the show. This pilot episode - part I - is long. But I suppose thought provoking.