Donora

I heard this on WYEP, and decided to buy it because it had a special sound, and hey, they're a Pittsburgh band! My favorite song is definitely "Shhh". They sound a little like Bjork's poppy little sister, in a way.

This is the Sea

I heard the single "The Whole of the Moon", and decided to buy the album. The single definitely stands out from the rest of the album, I think -- but the whole thing has a nice new wave kind of sound.

The Complete Cartoons of the New Yorker (book)

I got this for Christmas. The book itself does not hold the complete cartoons of the New Yorker -- that would be something like 75 volumes. Instead, it has a nice selection of maybe 1000 of the best, but comes with a dvd-rom that holds every single cartoon in the magazine's history. I read the book, but the dvd is daunting. I'm not sure I'll ever finish going through it -- but I might, you never know!

Numbrix

This was a new kind of puzzle game I hadn't seen before. I would never have thought of making a puzzle like this -- using the numbers that are there, you fill in the rest (going from 1-81), with the constraint that the numbers are in an unbroken path. It is cute and fun -- but I can't imagine doing this all the time -- I would think it would get kind of repetitive.

Hotel for Dogs

My daughter really wanted to see this, so we went. It was typical Disney fare -- a direct assault on the heartstrings. I mean, really -- how can an eight-year-old not cry at a story about brother and sister orphans being separated from each other at the same time their dog is going to be put to sleep? For good measure they throw in a three-legged dog while they play violins. Anyway, it wasn't a bad story, and she got it from beginning to end, laughing and crying at just the right spots. I don't think she had ever cried at a movie before, and she seemed quite surprised to be doing so.

Harvard Classics: Week Three

Well, a business trip broke my rhythm with this, and also, having to do it every single day was becoming a bit of a grind, anyway. So, I've decided I will proceed with reading them all in order, but I have no aspirations to finish it within a year.

Jan 15: Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, pp. 943-953. I'd oft heard of this, but never read any of it. It certainly has it's own eerie beauty! Though I wonder whether this rhyming translation really keeps the original spirit of it...

Jan 16: Aesop's Fables, pp. 31-43. I'd read many of these before, but this one I think was new to me:

The Old Man and Death

An old labourer, bent double with age and toil, was gathering sticks in a forest.  At last he grew so tired and hopeless that he threw down the bundle of sticks, and cried out: "I cannot bear this life any longer.  Ah, I wish Death would only come and take me!"  As he spoke, Death, a grisly skeleton, appeared and said to him: "What wouldst thou, Mortal?  I heard thee call me."  "Please, sir," replied the woodcutter, "would you kindly help me to lift this faggot of sticks on to my shoulder?"

Jan. 17: Franklin's Autobiography, pp. 5-15. Personal stories from Franklin. The tone of the book is very personal, since he was writing it to his son.

Jan 18: The Frogs, pp. 439-449. I read Aristophanes' The Clouds in 9th grade, and thought it was great fun. This is fun, too -- a lot of farce involving greek gods. I'd like to find a more modern translation, so I might understand it better.

Jan 19: The Poetic Principle, pp. 371-380. This is an essay by Edgar Allen Poe about what makes for good poetry. He has surprising views on the length that poems should be -- he talks a bit about interest curve, and points out that short poems are often forgotten, and long poems become tiresome.

Jan 20: Eve of St. Agnes, pp. 883-893. This was a poem by Keats that was hard for me to grasp at times, but it has moments of imagery that are incredibly real and powerful.

Jan 21: Andersen's Tales, pp. 301-310. I had never read this story, entitled The Emperor and the Nightingale. It's incredible! It's about robots, and what it means to be alive -- it has an unearthly quality that takes it out of time -- the nightingale represents everything that I desire to be.

The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster

This is the first time I'd read Richard Brautigan, and it made a big impression on me. His poems are simple and non-rhyming, and often are trying to do nothing more than convey a memory, or a moment, like this:

November 3

I'm sitting in a cafe,
drinking a Coke.

A fly is sleeping
on a paper napkin.

I have to wake him up,
so I can wipe my glasses.

There's a pretty girl I want to look at.

This approach woke something up inside me, and made me realize that I have hundreds and hundreds of memories like that, which I want to write down in this kind of simple, elegant manner. I think it is partly spurred by my recent conversion to the church of Getting Things Done, which has me in the habit of writing down any important thing I am supposed to do. Once I got all those "to dos" out of my head, it is like my subconscious said, "Hey, you wrote down that other important stuff -- why not write down these important memories, too? Aren't they even more important, really?" And it seemed obvious to me that I should do this. I've always been awkward at writing poetry -- but this feels different. A phrase appeared in my mind: "Poetry is like the newspaper: It's only useful if it's true." So, bit by bit, I've been writing down little poems like this about magical moments that stand out in my life. It feels so natural -- it makes me wonder why everyone doesn't do this? Why not bring out the weird, glistening, important moments in your life, and arrange them like pearls on a string? Why doesn't everyone do this? Is there a more efficient way to create a record of your life?

On a different note, here is perhaps my favorite poem in the collection:

All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace

I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.

I like to think
(right now please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.

I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.