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Aug. 19th, 2002 02:47 pmSo my nephew, who was born after I started grad school, turned 9 yesterday. Sigh.
It was hot this weekend, but you probably knew that.
Saturday I passed on a LAN party to try to make more progress on my prospectus. I am now 500 words over the maximum limit, with about two thirds of what I need to say said. So some editing will be required when it's done; this is clear. My advisor's help will be problematic on this; his editing powerz tend more towards the "you need to add something here" end of things...
Saturday I also drove to Wenham to Canaan Farm, a farmstand of outstanding quality, unlike my driving skills. It was stressful for both of us, especially since J. just plain isn't used to being in the passenger's seat, but we got there okay. Saturday night I was reminded that that Mike Myers is a funny guy.
Yesterday S. and P. came up for most of the day, evidence that I did not alienate them forever by blowing off their LAN party. They're good that way. As a bonus, we got to see a parade go by from our front yard. Interestingly, none of the bands were doing more than drumming a marching rhythm as they walked by our house; I wouldn't be surprised if that had something to do with the man who grew up in that house and lived there until his death at age 90-something a few years ago, a man so anti-social that he had his doorbells disconnected. Perhaps he threatened a passing parade with a hatchet one year, and from that time on they don't play music at that intersection.
Or it could also be that the end of the parade was only a few blocks away and everyone played one last time for VIPs there, and so they were all resting up for that.
At any rate, P., once a marching band geek, was quite critical of the lack of discipline in the bands; "parade rest" for them meant "go slouch under a tree." But then it was rather hot out. I'm just glad I wasn't in that pagan group marching in black ceremonial robes and matching waist-length hair, or one of the civil war reenactment guys in navy blue wool uniforms.
Actually, I'm glad that I'm not in those groups for a number of reasons. But especially yesterday.
Last night it was hard to sleep, thanks to the heat, and I kept waking up every hour or so. At one point I panicked a bit because I smelled smoke, but decided it was coming from outside and probably related to the brush fires in Peabody, about which I knew nothing until watching the news last night. At another point, I woke up after a dream in which Foe L. and I were fighting off the Manson family, who were attacking us because he refused to help them with their DSL connection.
Just now, more or less, I saw the Mighty DiP. in the student union. We talked about game-geek things, and then caught the beginning of CNN's "Terror On Tape" series (*), which involved showing a dog being gassed to death, whereupon various experts argued over what kind of poison gas it was.
Now, I like cute animals, but if this really was the most terrible and disturbing moment of the bazillion hours of tape they discovered -- not, to hear the narrator speak, because it "raises the terrible spectre of weapons of mass destruction" (**), although it does do that, but because they made some canine snuff films -- well, then, well then. I just don't know what to say about that.
(*) What a fascinating job it must be to design the spiffy titles and logos for these things.
(**) I would suggest that it in fact does worse than raise a terrible spectre: it's pretty clear that it shows that without a doubt they've got some nasties. But somehow though what it actually says is less disturbing, "raise the terrible spectre etc." sounds worse, which is no doubt why it was said at all.
It was hot this weekend, but you probably knew that.
Saturday I passed on a LAN party to try to make more progress on my prospectus. I am now 500 words over the maximum limit, with about two thirds of what I need to say said. So some editing will be required when it's done; this is clear. My advisor's help will be problematic on this; his editing powerz tend more towards the "you need to add something here" end of things...
Saturday I also drove to Wenham to Canaan Farm, a farmstand of outstanding quality, unlike my driving skills. It was stressful for both of us, especially since J. just plain isn't used to being in the passenger's seat, but we got there okay. Saturday night I was reminded that that Mike Myers is a funny guy.
Yesterday S. and P. came up for most of the day, evidence that I did not alienate them forever by blowing off their LAN party. They're good that way. As a bonus, we got to see a parade go by from our front yard. Interestingly, none of the bands were doing more than drumming a marching rhythm as they walked by our house; I wouldn't be surprised if that had something to do with the man who grew up in that house and lived there until his death at age 90-something a few years ago, a man so anti-social that he had his doorbells disconnected. Perhaps he threatened a passing parade with a hatchet one year, and from that time on they don't play music at that intersection.
Or it could also be that the end of the parade was only a few blocks away and everyone played one last time for VIPs there, and so they were all resting up for that.
At any rate, P., once a marching band geek, was quite critical of the lack of discipline in the bands; "parade rest" for them meant "go slouch under a tree." But then it was rather hot out. I'm just glad I wasn't in that pagan group marching in black ceremonial robes and matching waist-length hair, or one of the civil war reenactment guys in navy blue wool uniforms.
Actually, I'm glad that I'm not in those groups for a number of reasons. But especially yesterday.
Last night it was hard to sleep, thanks to the heat, and I kept waking up every hour or so. At one point I panicked a bit because I smelled smoke, but decided it was coming from outside and probably related to the brush fires in Peabody, about which I knew nothing until watching the news last night. At another point, I woke up after a dream in which Foe L. and I were fighting off the Manson family, who were attacking us because he refused to help them with their DSL connection.
Just now, more or less, I saw the Mighty DiP. in the student union. We talked about game-geek things, and then caught the beginning of CNN's "Terror On Tape" series (*), which involved showing a dog being gassed to death, whereupon various experts argued over what kind of poison gas it was.
Now, I like cute animals, but if this really was the most terrible and disturbing moment of the bazillion hours of tape they discovered -- not, to hear the narrator speak, because it "raises the terrible spectre of weapons of mass destruction" (**), although it does do that, but because they made some canine snuff films -- well, then, well then. I just don't know what to say about that.
(*) What a fascinating job it must be to design the spiffy titles and logos for these things.
(**) I would suggest that it in fact does worse than raise a terrible spectre: it's pretty clear that it shows that without a doubt they've got some nasties. But somehow though what it actually says is less disturbing, "raise the terrible spectre etc." sounds worse, which is no doubt why it was said at all.
