"There is no band"*

I came into my job thinking of it in Seven Samurai terms—you know, train the farmers to defend themselves against the bad guys, build a little camaraderie, celebrate our community. And I have progressed to Kill Bill terms—working solo and scratching off enemies one by stinking one.

Mind you, it is not really the academic matters that cause the strife. While most people today seem truly turned off by academics, I still find that magic in the classrooms, the books, and the conversations—those things that academics participate in when they’re not filing paperwork. Indeed, my love of debate is my five finger exploding heart technique.

But it’s been a wearying way lately, and I’m none too keen to follow through on the thoughts I've had about Donald Trump, Diddy, Ozzie Guillen, Steve Jobs, and Larry Brown. Nor can I comment on the entire section of books devoted to "leadership" at Borders. I won't even speculate on my evolving connection of Gramsci and John Dewey or hint that I am fascinated by the paradox of democratic leadership. I won't even wonder aloud why Nicholas Kristof feels the need to defend Mao in the latest Times Book Review. No. Pumpkin pie is in the oven, and the tea water is on the stove. It’s a night at home with no deadlines or meetings tomorrow.

_________
FWIW, I recorded an instrumental version of Fleetwood Mac’s “Think About Me” today, but I’ll keep that one to myself. It’s not quite soft rock and it’s not quite—how would you put it—good. But if you are in need of an instrumental fix, I suggest this. Really. It’ll put you in a better mood.

*Diddy

I'm Thinking... I'm Thinking

It's still Monday where I sit, so here I am. Monday is house-cleaning day, so I've just spent the last few hours scrubbing tubs, sinks, dishes, etc. Shannon's been sick (she's got what I had last week) but still did her part. Right now she's playing "Super Smash Brothers Melee" on the Gamecube but I'm going to bed as soon as I finish this. Plus she can totally smoke me at that game anyway.

So I've been taking a psychology course at UW on the Physiology of the Brain. It's been a challenge. My day job is a series of barely-defined "projects" that hardly have start and end dates. Instead, projects get pushed slightly forward each day; new tasks start so small and usually morph into other projects that either repeat or get pushed elsewhere in the org. All this is difficult from a sense-of-completion standpoint, but, as the class's assignment due dates is proving, my job's lack of focus on end results has also atrophied my ability to complete clearly-defined work by specified deadlines.

Still, I'm learning all manner of things! For example, "We Only Use 10% of our Brain." Total myth, dudes! We use 100% of our brains – there's no way us chimps would have survived with an organ that was 90% deadweight.

Also, as a left-hander I'm 40% more likely to recover full language ability after a stroke than a right-hander. That's because the brains of left-handers use both sides to process language, whereas right-handed people handle language function on one (the right) side of the brain only. If that side is the one that suffers the stroke, s.o.l.

See? I'm learning stuff! But now ask me about the 48 different sections of the brain, what does what, throw in the endocrine system, and I'll be the first to tell you that the reason I can't remember this stuff is… that I only use 10% of my brain!

Make-Up Post

I'm quite proud of The Withholders' wee little soft rock show.

But I don't just love soft rock...

So here's a mini-mix of songs I've been enjoying lately.

1. Chicago- Sufjan Stevens (Illinoise)
2. The Art Teacher - Rufus Wainwright (Alright, Already - Live In Montreal)
3. The Sporting Life - The Decemberists (Picaresque)
4. This Isn't It - Giant Drag (Hearts & Unicorns)
5. King Harvest (Has Surely Come) - The Band (Box Set)
6. Because of You - Kelly Clarkson (Breakaway)
7. Dragostea Din Tei (Original Romanian Version) - O-Zone (Ma-Ya-Hi)
8. Crescent Moon - Mika Nakashima (This Is Jpop)
9. Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple (Extraordinary Machine)
10. For Today I'm A Boy - Antony & The Johnsons (I Am A Bird Now)
11. Do You Want To - Franz Ferdinand (You Could Have It So Much Better)
12. Stone In Love - Journey (Escape)

KZA - I like the new Fiona mixes, the Jon Brion work sounds a little too "When The Pawn..." Not a bad thing, but she clearly changed her mind as she went along and, compared to the early mixes, the final album sounds very well-realized.

P.S. Not to re-open this hot-button topic, but all of these songs except the Jpop track are available on iTunes. Jpop... as a lover of disposable pop culture, goonie dance music, and Hello Kitty, it's just too weird that I hadn't gotten into Jpop YEARS ago!

Les Coeurs Sont Cassés

The skillful nymph reviews her force with care:
'Let spades be trumps!' she said, and trumps they were.

I grew up in a card playing family. My parents are champion Bridge players, and my older relatives used to smoke us (quite literally) in boozy poker games and rounds of Pinochle. My imagined version of those gray, Toledo days never strays far from Uncle Henry's goading voice and my grandfather--forever bald and t-shirted--announcing he'd had enough. He once put a fist through the side of his television, protesting his sour luck yet again. The younger generation played Euchre too, but also in a competitive spirit (my mother likes to claim that she never loses). In fact, other than thumbing through catalogues and cross-stitching, there is nothing antsy Campbells like to do more than plow through another round of solitaire.

And so it's not suprising that I sometimes shuffle a deck and test my luck. But, of course, living in a hollowed out, lonely world, I tend to do so via computer. First it was Omar Sharif's Bridge on my Mac Classic--[in Omar Sharif's thick accent: "West commences the bidding"]. Lately it has been online Hearts.

But Hearts is, as you may know, a cruel game in which each round consists of thirteen little dagger cuts and one big stab to the stomach. Instead of "winning" Hearts, you deliver losses to others. It brings out the anger in people. My sister, Ang, still refuses to play with any of us because of some betrayal from long ago.

So it doesn't surprise me that the "kibitzing" sometimes turns cold and mean. But something did surprise me and, I guess, this is a post about that. You see, one day I changed my profile to the vaguely African-American icon you can see above. What startled me is that, as soon as I did so, the comments directed at me became virulently racist. And these were not isolated occurences. Actually, almost anytime I play and win, someone will eventually start to resent it and toss me a comment about "my people" or about how they wished I had drowned in Hurricane Katrina. It is astounding. Look closely at the picture above and see how the adorable Forever20 begins to IM me with whatever offensive garbage she can think of. I could sermonize here about the still dreadful state of race relations in America (or indeed the world, as many of my opponents are not in the U.S.). It is just unbelievable that strangers would so quickly reveal their hate. I tend to get all English teachery with them, questioning their intelligence or their courage and suggesting that I am tracing their Yahoo ID as we play. Strange little battles ensue and, remarkably, a card game continues. What I can't tell is whether this is just a new generation's edgy banter, the coded anti-boredom devices of people who are just playing roles in a virtual world, twenty minutes at a time. I am not African-American; maybe Forever20 isn't a girl and isn't a homophobic racist. But if this is the look of postmodern smoke-filled rooms, it gives me the shivers.

Hey, Emile, I like Bicycles too.

Tube Socks

Enough about iPods. Let’s talk about a truly durable technology. I bought a guitar amplifier this week, even though my previous two amps are still going strong. The 40-watt Crate amp I got for my high school graduation present almost (gulp) twenty years ago still works as well it did that first day. It played a role in most of my playing out days and survived countless beer spills, drops, and sarcastic comments about its red trim and prickly black fabric coat. Sure, its two sounds are crunchy-nasty and bright-brittle, but I never did hock my Crate amp.

My Fender Deluxe Reverb is older than I am. It rolled out of the Fender factory in January of 1967 and, after forty years, Fender’s best little amp is probably the Deluxe Reverb mid-60s reissue, a replica of this little guy. Mine takes almost a full ten minutes to warm up, and it truly warms up—emitting a distinct but mellow burning smell, the scent of overtaxed vacuum tubes flush with electricity. But it’s not just the romance of “vintage” things at work when I praise my beloved Blues Jammin’ Mama. This little 20-watt doohickey has moods—bad days and sore throats and coughing fits and unnecessary trips to the doctor. But it is also offers direct access to the non-verbal part of my mind, settling—if just for a moment—the turbulence created by my brain pistons and those almost incessant words. My lovely wife depends on meditation and yoga to pull her away from life’s ragged claws; I spend time with what Jimi Hendrix called the “sowwwwwnnnnnnddddsssss.” (He also called headphones “ear goggles.”)

My new, smaller, more versatile solid-state practice amp (a Fender Princeton) offers a reasonable facsimile of the matriarch’s moxie without all the negotiations. I sacrifice plenty of mystery, but I can get on without horrifying the neighbors. We’ll see how it works out.

But I miss playing with others. Doesn’t anyone want to swap GarageBand files and work on a collaborative something? I can (probably) do more than just circular Jeff Beck-isms. I used to know some chords.

Another technology note: “Tacking” is only just barely indexed by Google at this point. I wonder if/when we’ll get the full treatment.

Think Of Me Babe, Whenever

First of all, please scroll down and read Frances' post first, since she is letting me borrow her day. Thanks, FV!

So Shan & I spent a lovely weekend in Vancouver... she is the coolest ever. Keith & Vince (and all) --> can ya believe it's been a year since Shan & I got married? It seems like just yesterday the Withholders played their first show and there was much booty-shakin' at the Lake Union Café.

Vancouver looms large in our romantic mythos: it's where we went after only a few months of dating, after which we decided to tell our friends we were an 'item' (early on, we took it slow and kept it d.l., but after Canada, it all changed). Canada's also where I proposed, as readers of Taste Life already know.

So it was the obvious choice for the 1-year. I surprised Shan by showing up at her work and whisking her away. Her boss and I had been in cahoots – Shannon's shifts at the boutique were 'somehow' already covered, I had packed for her (and as it turns out, did a fair job of packing what a girl wants, what a girl needs), and we headed North.

Vancouver is such a cool city. It's kinda like going to a neighbor's house who you don't know that well, but you still feel really comfortable right away. For Seattleites, there are many similarities: the weather, the architecture, the evergreen setting, lots of water. But to that, add: a city that stays open LATE - you NYC folks will laugh, but Seattle closes at EIGHT FREAKING P.M., so Vancouver's late nite city strolls were a thrill. Plus, what a great cosmopolitan feel! There were actual crowds of people all doing their own thing, and we heard at least 10 languages, including French, Spanish, Japanese, Russian, Arabic, Hindi, German, and others. Again, you 'megalopolis' people may scoff, but we of the wee burg of Seattle are impressed by.

It was also nice to get a dose of reality/sense of grounding in other ways: at least three people (waiters, hot dog vendors, etc.) heard our accents and said "Oh, Americans. We love Americans, but we hate George W. Bush!" We: "Us neither!" We felt like we were doing our part to let Canada know that not every US citizen loves Bush, hates the gays, rallies behind a botched military effort, wants to end abortion, etc.

I have more to say, including how I met Robbie Robertson, who really impressed me, at a work event (I know for a fact RR took some recent flak in the pages of Useful Noise so I want to provide an alternate view at some point. For now, I'll say that the Band CD/DVD box set is COMPLETELY AWESOME.) More on this later.

Greybeard Speaks of Old Things

Yes, I caught a few moments of Prison Break and I’m not completely unaware that Kyle is the Midwestern hope for this season’s Next Top Model, but I am awfully prone to burning away my days thinking about those unforgivably old things, those musty items that grandma talked about. Here, then, is the first installment of Greybeard Speaks of Old Things, a painful digression into the cobwebbed corners of the world we share.

I suspect there has been some press about this, but the dork in me (a sizeable part, to be sure) wonders why two new recent jazz discoveries haven’t seized headlines. Forget Katrina relief: when near pristine recordings of the Charlie Parker-Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk-John Coltrane bands magically appear, the government should divert its attention to sending these CDs to everyone in America. I mean, to jazzbos (there are three of us left), it’s kind of like a Congressional intern finding ten more amendments on the back of the Bill of Rights. Wow.

I’ll admit that the Parker-Gillespie music is merely exciting, a fine addition to the slim record of bebop at its pinnacle, but not the holy sermon of hip I had hoped for. “Salt Peanuts” still gets my vote for most important recording of the century, though, and I love having a new, very early version.

The Monk-Coltrane is something altogether different. Remember those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ads? Here you have what may be one of the most exuberant, delightful Monk performances on tape suddenly merged with 50s Coltrane at his angular, acerbic best. I know it’s not everyone’s first choice, but…you know that thing that jazz is supposed to do? Here it is! Lots of it. From the open time miracle of "Monk's Mood" to a devilishly fun "Blue Monk" to an appropriately nutty "Nutty." "Rosetta Stone"? Whatever. But I've been in a great mood all week just from this.

By the way, here is the complete line-up for that night at Carnegie Hall: Miss Billie Holiday, Dizzy Gillespie, Ray Charles, Chet Baker, Monk-Coltrane, Sonny Rollins. Tickets cost from $2 up to $3.95. Grandpa’s eyes are getting teary--if not for the music, for the savings.

What's on your D List?

I’m surprised at how few artists appear in the D column of my iPod. But the list made me laugh, so here it is, unedited. If you’d like, use the comments section to suggest Ds I should acquire. Valbert, you’ve really affected my soft rock ratio. I guess I should thank you for that?

Dan Hill, Danny Gatton, Darryll Ann, Dave Brubreck, Dave Holland, Dave Ratzlow, David Gates, David S. Ware, Deep Purple, Deerhoof, DePeche Mode, Derek & the Dominos, Dick Dale, Dire Straits, Dizzy Gillespie, DJ Danger Mouse, Doc Watson, Donny Hathaway, Duke Ellington.

Let's take this on-line

I still prefer the blog... I just woke up on the west coast here, and I have to delete eight e-mails (or save them in some archive) to keep my inbox clear for the big files I need server space for (withholders pics, audio, etc. etc.) I enjoy letting Blogger archive our stuff, and be our single, accessible-anywhere, easy-to-use source.

As for who posts to the blog when, how often, whether as a comment or new post, etc. - I agree with those that suggest a less-structured approach. (that said: BlogMaster C.B., say the word I'm back to Monday-only)

3T has a built-in way of organizing and continuing conversations (via comments) which makes for easier communication. I can still go back, say, to Chris M's Dylan Blog songs and respond to them via comment without 'covering' over any topic that come since. I don't think people are posting on an unassigned day to bump someone's official post to some kind of lesser status. In fact, I've already let 3 or so days go by without checking the blog... Which gives me more to read and enjoy when I do, and I'm not even registering who has posted over whom. And again, without all the e-mail clutter.

My thoughts on 'assigned topics:' this group is full o' spitfires who don't necessarily cotton to doin' what someone asks 'em to do, so I don't see long-term success with assignments. But hasn't it always tended to be the case that we write about what others write about? Had Craig said two days ago "For our round of next posts, we all need to write about Chuck Klosterman," would it have elicited more thoughtful responses? Seeing tossed-off asides blossom to major topics that are picked up by everyone is one of the more engaging parts of our little exercises.

Overall, I think we've already over-thought the blog, how to structure it, the role of the blog vs. the e-mails, etc. Which I quite like, because that's what tacking towards transcendence means if it means anything...

I also quite like the "...follies of celebrities" because it's funny, and b/c that's what was on CB's mind when he created the subheader, but it won't cause me any discomfort to see it excised, so I bow to popular opinion here.

L, that was Craig's question too: "Why argue about this Darwin guy in this day and age?" I think we all agree that teaching evolution in schools--as a topic of debate--shouldn't get the face time that the more crucial areas you mentioned (daycare, teacher pay, etc.) deserve. But to the people who gave Frans DeWaal a righteous earful on the show Craig caught, the issue of evolution vs. 'intelligent design' supercedes most other education-related topics because God is involved. Ensuring that low income kids get a healthy lunch or determining the optimal class size? Whatever, let the politicos handle that. But kick God out of science class? Them's fightin' words.

p.s. isn't it weird that blogger makes us type in a weird letter-jumble code to add a comment to an existing entry (even if we're logged in), but writing an entirely new post doesn't required me to promise that "rghzjrq" are the letters on my screen?

My Typing Monkees, Or, An Eye For An Eye

Well, C.B., you've touched upon a subject I hold dear. Can I kick it?

After almost 150 years since the publication of “On the Origin of Species,” people are still terrified about the idea that humans weren’t created by God. To me that’s essentially why those callers took DeWaal to task for believing in evolution. It’s really the science of the matter—that humans are descended from simpler life forms—that freaks out a lot of anti-evolutionists. Darwin-haters couch their position in philosophical terms: “If everything evolved, then how was life first created?” Even “Do you BELIEVE in evolution” certainly implies a theological tone. Has anyone ever asked you “Do you believe in gravity?” or “Do you believe in electricity?” This theological filter slants the issue the realm of the less-quantifiable—and as long as the debate focuses on the religious implications of evolutionary theory, or how science is attacking people’s belief in God (or attacking God directly), then we’re not talking about empirical data from primate DNA (sorry, DeWaal), the fossil record, Galapagos finches, etc.

In some ways, evolution has come a long way since the Scopes Monkey Trial. You don’t have educators getting arrested for teaching students that the world wasn’t created in just six days. But creationists are a tricky bunch. These days, the debate in schools is less about “The Bible is science” and more about “Intelligent Design.” Supporters of I.D. want to sell us the idea that the complexity of an organ such as the eye, the frequency it appears in so many species, and the fact that it has a very specific purpose, is all evidence that a divine will must be the source of its creation—it could never have been created by “chance.” I remember a quote I read somewhere: “the existence of a stopwatch implies a creator—nothing so complex could come into being on its own; and a stopwatch would never exist without someone or something having an idea for the usefulness of a stopwatch.”

Even the phrase “Intelligent Design” has clear anti-science implications: it casts evolution as “Unintelligent” design. But take a look: simple multi-celled eukaryotes, over millions of years, develop a patch of cells that reacts to light and guides it toward the algae it eats. As the patch of cells enables the organism to survive at a higher rate than those who don’t have it, the genetic code for the patch becomes a significant factor in the species’ survival. The code gets passed on—over millions of years—and becomes more and more sophisticated. The patch gets more and more sensitive to light, develops the ability to move and roll in its search for light, and a film develops to cover and protect it. Is “Intelligence” at work here? Well, there’s no pre-conceived goal, there’s no “Eye Creator” with the intent to bestow an eye on eukaryotes, and there’s no blueprint for its development. But at each moment, the eye’s development was guided by usefulness, helpfulness in survival, and the ability to react successfully to a changing environment. To me, this development is an even more plausible, provable, and therefore intelligent explanation of the eye. Plus, you couldn’t even read a stopwatch without one.

Next installment: “What is Proof: The Why’s (not the What’s) of Evolution.”