taking stock

In September I turned 26. And although I've never stuck to a New Year's resolution in my life, I figured I'd try to set some goals for myself in this, my 26th solar circumnavigation. Early goal for next year: stop saying shit like "solar circumnavigation."

Anyway, I figured I'd revisit the list see how I'm doing.

• Tell someone very clearly and sincerely to "piss up a rope." - I'm disappointed to report that I haven't done this. Rest assured that it will happen eventually.
  
• Score a 2400 on the SAT. - Achievement unlocked. Ladies, line up on one side for makeouts. Dudes, to the other side for high fives.
  
• Become good (like...total domination good) at some shooter video game. - No dice. I suck at everything. ESPECIALLY Call of Duty 4.
  
• Become a vegetarian 3-4 days a week. - Actually, it's more like 6-7 days at this point. Funny thing is, it was really hard when it was 3-4 days a week because I could never settle on which days would be veg and which wouldn't. But gradually, I just started wanting meat less, and wanting broccoli like all the damn time. I think it was harder to quit drinking coffee, which I also did. I haven't felt this good since the last time I got regular exercise, circa 2003.
  
• Go to the dentist for crissakes. - Um, maybe in June.
  
• Start playing guitar again. - God damn do I wish I could say that I've done any playing since September. This one is going to start taking a much higher priority.

So...2 out of 5. But the year's only half over.

Well, there goes November.

If you call me in November and I don't answer, there's a pretty good chance Gears of War 2 will be the reason.

maths

I've heard British people call math "maths," which I suppose makes just as much sense as "math" if we're just abbreviating mathematics. I love math(s). I love it (them...ok F this) with all my heart. I've always felt comfortable in the company of a geometry proof. Cold rooms seem warmer when there's math to be done.

Once in a while Rob (he of the 7 minute piano outro) and I will have a few drinks and dig into a brain teaser, which is pretty much the perfect night. He likes math too. In fact, he's written some of the most beautiful poetry I've ever read (loosely) inspired by physics and math. I ask him sometimes to put it online and I hope eventually he will so that I can link you to it. If it doesn't move you, your heart is cold, black, and abnormally small.

Thing is, most people don't. I think it's a lot like golf. Golf is the most frustrating game in the world, but any golfer (especially a shitty one) will tell you that he was hooked the first time he hit a long, straight drive, or landed an approach shot 3 feet from the pin; he goes out and curses his way up and down the course time and time again chasing the ghost of that first high. I'll never forget the feeling I had the first time I impressed a teacher by navigating a really hard geometry problem. I don't think anyone that's never experienced a similar thrill should be allowed around children.

A lot of what I teach isn't math. The SAT isn't a math test as much as it is a reasoning test, and the fastest, most foolproof way to get a lot of those questions right is to sidestep the math altogether. There's plenty of fun to be had talking about that kind of stuff too, but I always look forward to the questions that can only be solved with some deep understanding of, say, the definition of absolute value.

It's not rocket science, but I really love geeking out about the way |f(x)| bounces off the X-axis wherever f(x) might cross it, and explaining why. I just think it's neat.


So, tonight was a good night. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go give myself that swirly I've been begging for.

enlightenment

So part of the job I have now is making sure that when kids show up to get their learn on, some things are there, ready to facilitate this hallowed process. Things like, oh, I don't know, teachers. And all the stuff the teachers might need, like chalk. And food and drink.

So I'm in the Rite Aid the other night in Great Neck (East Egg, if you're a Gatsby fan) waiting in line to purchase some beverages for the instructors I have arriving on the 6:19 train. It's right about 6pm. And although there's a line of customers waiting to pay, the one cashier behind the counter is motionless, staring blankly at some items on her counter. Items belonging, it seemed, to an invisible customer.

It became clear shortly thereafter that it was not an invisible customer at all that was keeping us waiting, but another Rite Aid employee whose shift had just ended, and who wanted to take advantage of what must be a generous employee discount to bring home some deodorant and salt. Sure, there was a line, and sure, such a transaction requires that a manager come over to the register and apply the discount, when he gets around to it. But I've worked in retail, and I know how much clerks learn to give a shit about customers in a rush, so although I was annoyed, nothing about the situation really surprised me.

Nothing, that is, until the guy in front of me, without really raising his voice, just said something flatly to the clerk waiting for manager's approval. That's when I had my Where am I? moment.

"You know, this is why your stock price is down."

Funny, I thought it was because of a poorly executed takeover of a few rival chains, compounded by waning consumer confidence and other, more complicated, negative market conditions. But your perspicacity, sir, cannot be denied. It's definitely the deodorant and the salt.

come on.

So I've been bringing a clementine or two with me in the car when I drive to work in the mornings lately. Trying to eat breakfast, which has never really been a priority for me in the past. It's kinda dangerous because I peel them with one hand while I drive with the other, but so far it's been fine. I just toss the peel down on the passenger seat and stuff the whole little fruit in my mouth. But today when I looked down on the seat when I got to work, this is what was staring back at me:

[nsfw?]

OK fine so I placed the little stem thing there for effect. But that's how I peeled it, completely accidentally. Not even looking at it. And that's how the peel was staring back at me from the seat when I finally looked down.

This incident, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely what the gods had in mind when they gave us camera phones.

persiflage

• The Endless Mike and The Beagle Club interview that I referred to way back when has been posted and is what I consider, in my humble opnion, to be a must-read.
• I did another interview with an old radio friend of mine about the whole OiNK fiasco, which is also pretty good. That's posted at wealsoran.com.
• I think 3 is a good round number of items for a short bulleted list. Happy New Year.
  

uhh...

What if, in the near future, it became technologically possible to take a snapshot of your mind: the near-infinite spiderweb of nerves in your brain, the chemicals and the ratios thereof that influence your temperament, all your memories and opinions and tastes and attitudes? What if someone found a way to replicate all of that, and install you onto some sort of computer, that could imitate your voice, your conversational mannerisms, the rhythm and meter of your instant message communications?

• What if, just like you, it could change, learn, mature?
• Of course, the minute the copy was made, you and it would begin to diverge. It couldn't be updated in real time with your post-replication experiences. As you and it had different conversations with different people your opinions and its would become less and less alike.
  
• Would you want a computer version of you to exist? Do you think you'd enjoy conversations with yourself? What's the first thing you'd ask?
• Do you think, assuming this computer would outlast you, that death would be easier or harder to accept with the knowledge that a decent approximation of you (depending on how recently it was made) can feasibly continue to interact with your friends and loved ones? Your unborn great grandchildren?
• Would you like the chance to speak with computer replications of your ancestry?
  

• What if it couldn't learn? What if it remained a snapshot of exactly who you were at a certain point in time?
  
• Do you think you'd enjoy conversing with your former self?
  
• Who do you think you'd like better: it or your current self?
• Whose brains (living or dead) would you most like to pick in this way?
  
• Your parents, as children?
• Springsteen, circa 1975?
  

Amie Street

'Tis the season for marketing cleverly disguised as generosity, but the kid above I'm sure would tell you never to look a gift horse (or any horse) too closely in the mouth. If you're a regular here you know I give away my music for free, but I also have it available for a pittance at Amie Street for the rare visitor that'd prefer paying for something rather than getting it for free.

Anyway, Amie Street is running a cool holiday promotion that I've decided to participate in. Basically, you sign up with this link (particular to yours truly) and you get a free $5 and 4 RECs (ask me more if you're curious what to do with these) with which you can buy music. Lots of good stuff is cheap there, so that $5 can go a long way if you're smart about it.

And look, I'm in no way suggesting you spend it on my music. In fact, I think it'd be better spent on folks like Drew & The Medicinal Pen, Brett Dennen, John Bustine, or The Seedy Seeds. Hell, The Format's on there too, though $5 won't get you as far with them. Go nuts. It's a great site. You might like it.

*Update* The Beagle Club has just dipped a toe in the Amie Street pool as well. Reward their pioneering spirit by buying and REC'ing their stuff here.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Because my brother had to work tonight, my family's doing Thanksgiving tomorrow night. But my landlord, seeing my light on, brought up a meal and a beer for me. Just one of those the-world-ain't-so-bad moments.

Actually, today's been pretty great all-around. Even though the turkey goes down tomorrow night in Connecticut, my parents trekked down into the city today, and I dragged my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn to meet them at the parade. Of course I got stuck on the opposite side of the street from them with no way to cross, but it was no big deal. I just watched the parade surrounded by little kids on their fathers' shoulders, bubbling excitement in 90 second installments as floats drifted by our viewing window, framed by the buildings on the corner of 74th Street and Central Park West. A quote I hope I never forget: "Daddy it's SNOOPY!!! Why doesn't it say MetLife on him?" A cautionary tale to any artist considering advertising as a source of revenue if there ever was one.

Went to the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City today, too. It was, in every sense of the word I can think of, spectacular. And they don't waste any time in giving the audience exactly what it came for. The first full-on kickline came not more than 10 minutes into the show. So many legs.

And then I came home to a really nice compliment in a MySpace comment. Turns out "Triple Deke" is the #1 song on a girl named Grace's iPod. I can honestly say that I never in my life expected to to be told something like that. Funnily, my first instinct in replying was to suggest some other artists that are way better. But then I decided to just say thanks. Seriously though, it felt so good that I might even pick up the guitar again sometime very soon as a result.

advice

I guess it's bound to happen working with high school kids, but I was woefully unprepared the first time. And the second time. What do you say when someone asks you for advice about...you know...life and stuff? How do you avoid sermonizing or just plain condescending?

It's not like I don't like giving advice. Especially unsolicited advice. Those who know me can attest to the fact that I'm like a fucking battering ram with that sometimes. It's the solicitation, I guess, that throws me. I don't think it's intended as one at all, but I feel like I'm walking into a trap every time. I approach such situations with extreme trepidation.

My reluctance can be attributed to a couple things:

1. My utter uncertainty that I'm really any kind of role model in a broader sense than my standardized test skills.
2. The unshakable notion that I'm going to end up sounding like that sunscreen song. Seriously, what can you say to young people that hasn't already been set to inspirational electro-pop?

Still, after it happened twice, I started to really think about it. What do I wish someone had told me?

It probably would have been nice to hear that although you're going to meet a lot of the same kind of people in college that you knew in high school, they aren't going to be the same people, so they don't know you. You finally get to become the person you've been changing into slowly in the last years of high school while everyone you've known your whole life continued to see you the way they always had. I mean, I figured it out pretty quick, but I bet the last few weeks of the summer leading up to college would have been a lot less nerve-wracking if someone had just sat me down and told me for sure that nobody would know I puked in the cafeteria twice in elementary school.

Other things I've been saying are the kinda dumb things that I really feel like college should be all about. Take as many classes as possible and actually attend them. Go to protests. Join clubs. That kind of thing.

I guess the last thing I should remember to say going forward is not to be intimidated by the kind of people you end up with as classmates and roommates. Invariably they'll be smarter or richer or better looking than you. But you're funnier and a better guitar player than they are. And none of them hold their elementary school's cafeteria barfing record.

(I really wish there was a way to set a song on MySpace to repeat, because I've been clicking every 3 minutes for about an hour to hear Jaymay's "Sycamore Down" again. Listen here.)