Someday I might take the time to categorize my entries. Until then, forge your own way in the world, miserable roustabout.
I don't know whether anyone except Ann will truly understand this, but there's something wonderful about making yourself a birthday dinner.
I marinated the pork this morning in soy sauce, sesame oil, balsamic vinegar, bird's-eye chili peppers and garlic. I fried the pork with baby corn, water chestnuts, bean sprouts, ginger and more garlic. I fried the noodles with sesame oil. Delicious. I think I've perfected another dish.
I'm in a weird musical mood right now. I have songs floating around in my head. I'll hear one song for a few seconds, then switch to another, and another, and I can't seem to decide on anything to listen to. They can't keep my interest long enough. Sultans of Swing, Lay Down Your Weary Head, Things Have Changed, and Black Heart are some of the songs swirling around.
The adjectives apply to my last test and myself, respectively. I'm completely done with the semester. Actually, I was finished yesterday at 4:40, but I didn't tell you.
I may be around more for a few days. My family arrives on the 10th, and we start traveling around Europe on the 13th (Friday, incidentally). I somehow doubt I'll post much during the three-week trip. There will be pictures and stories when I get back to the States late on the 27th.
Perhaps a more thoughtful entry tomorrow or Friday.
Ever since I started keeping track of the books I read, I've counted every month to see how many I read. I have averaged between 10 and 11 since I started in April 2006. But each month I feel pushed to read more, simply because of my books page.
So this month I got to a great start. I was at 12 books by the 10th. That's more than my monthly average, before a third of the month was over. I felt giddy with accomplishment. I thought to myself, "That was easy! I bet I could read a book a day this month."
So I did.
Joan Baez was interviewed for Martin Scorsese's Bob Dylan documentary. She also played Dylan's song "Love Is Just a Four-Letter Word".
The best parts are at 0:59 and 2:41, when Baez lapses into a playful Dylan impression. That touch of amusement that surfaces here and there. And her expression at the end, the raised eyebrows and grin. It's lovely.
Here's the surrounding commentary, composed of present-day interviews with Dylan and Baez, and old clips from a 1967 documentary by D. A. Pennebaker called "Don't Look Back":
Dylan: You know, it was probably a stupid thing to do, not letting her play, but you can't be wise and in love at the same time, so I hoped she'd see the light sooner or later on that.
Baez: Bob is one of the most complex human beings I've ever met. I think at first I really, "try to figure this guy out". Phh, I gave it up, so I don't know. I don't know what he thought about. I only know what he gave us.
[interlude: "Percy's Song", Baez on guitar and Dylan on the typewriter]
Baez: The poetry, it tumbles out. And I've watched him write on a typewriter or writing — it's done.
[documentary clip]
1967 Dylan: I never finished that song, did I, huh? No, I never finished it.
1967 Baez: Oh, God…. You finished it about eight different ways.
[/documentary clip]
Baez: I stole four-letter word. I took that and disappeared with it. And sang it, and I think the next Bob knew about it he heard it on the radio. I was with him when he heard it on the radio and he was listening, he said, "That's a great song…. That's a great song." He didn't remember he had written it. I said, "You wrote it, you dope."
It's kinda difficult to render relaxed, conversational speech into text. I stayed pretty close to a literal transcription, so I hope it's understandable. This way you get the cadence of their speech patterns and everything.
I just finished watching Martin Scorsese's Dylan documentary, No Direction Home. It would suck immensely to be that popular. I don't know how someone can survive being turned inside out like that, but Dylan seems to have done relatively well.
I absolutely love Dylan. His acoustic, electric, his ragged voice and Guthrie twang. It wasn't a honey voice, but it was as sincere as you could hope.
I have a hard time picking favorite songs. I have to say that my favorite Dylan (at the moment) is "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue", "Desolation Row", and "Tangled Up in Blue". The organ in "Like a Rolling Stone" is amazing, too.
Random Guy: Mr. Dylan, I know you dislike labels and probably rightly so, but for those of us who are well over thirty, could you label yourself and perhaps tell us what your role is?
Dylan: Well, uh, I sorta label myself as well under thirty. And my role is to, you know, to just stay here as long as I can.
Okay, I appreciate the photography. The format is brilliant. The writing is pretty good. But in general, the content of A Softer World just hits me as over-the-top emo. Apologies to those people to whom it speaks and is meaningful — nothing wrong with that — I just can't palate it most of the time.
That said, there are a few that are brilliant. I just went back through the archives and found them:
But it's telling that the best one is actually from xkcd: 144 – robot kill!
Charles Stross asks: What would you do for the cost of the Iraq war? Colonize Mars? Meet Kyoto single-handed?
The classic economic reminder. That number, 500 – 6000 billion dollars (depending on how you count it and how conservative you are), isn't the point. It's the opportunities we've lost.
It's a windy, drizzle-rainy day. My window is spattered with raindrops. The trees shake the water briskly from their leaves, but they can't get dry. If I were outside, I would be wetter than the trees; I'm more absorbent.
Okay, Neil Gaiman has posted a brilliant video about Hobos, by John Hodgman. I'm pretty convinced that PBS didn't run it (I can't find it in the episode lists on Wikipedia/IMDB). Decide for yourself: