RIP

The first closer I remember following.

It looks like there's going to be a band forming on the fencing team next year, including me (rhythm guitar, assuming we can find a lead guitarist). Judging from participants, it will veer wildly between hardcore metal and folk-rock. Proposed name: "The Sex Popes".

And also, there's more of that poetry business going on at the appropriate site. I recommend "Branch Prediction", because it's sort of about computer science, and they say write what you know, right? It actually turned out well, if the reaction of my poetry class is to be believed.

Recent events have transpired, boy howdy.

-A couple weeks ago, Zach conceived of going to a White Sox game. After a series of semi-productive calls to people at the U of C, I realized that other people were back, and called Alex, who had about 5 minutes to get to the train after I called him, but it worked. In the end, we acquired a group of 6 baseball enthusiasts to watch White Sox v. Devil Rays. Despite my earnest cries of “Go D-Rays!” and calling out every White Sox batting average under .240 (I believe there were seven of them), the Sox won 5-4. But at least I got a free hat, and Alex and I had a discussion of who the tooliest player in baseball is (A.J. Pierzynski).

-It should be noted that I do not automatically root against the Sox. I am compelled in all cases to root for the Devil Rays, as it is always the funniest option. Somehow they manage to field an incredibly talented team on a shoestring budget, supernaturally able to smash the Yankees, only to be brought down by the fact that their bullpen is, in fact, pulled from the crowd just before the game (we had Alex warming up for the 8th inning).

-And then it was pretty much all finals all the time for a while, except for the four consecutive parties just before finals week.

-The Shady Dealer-sponsored Harold’s Chicken Formal was entertaining. Formal wear and fried chicken, and 5 different kinds of Andre. Why? Because Zach bought the liquor store out of normal Andre first, and this party needed cheap champagne. Good times, good times and questionable decisions.

-Computer Science courses here need to come with the disclaimer of “You will need to teach yourself the following languages.” In the case of Intro to Databases, I had to learn php so I could make a website to access my database (the database part of things was well-explained, fortunately). Anybody need a web-accessible database implementation? Seriously, I have acquired mad skillz.

-After several attempts, Kate, Peter, Alex and I went out to celebrate Alex’s 21st birthday. This meant Indian food and not binge drinking, but it was nonetheless entertaining. Alex claims to have reached enlightenment. He’s also gotten into freestyle rapping. There is some debate as to whether this is drug-induced, or merely the result of deep meditation.

I should maybe try keeping this up-to-date over the summer, especially as I will be working at a a computer, surrounded by computers. I'm working at the computer lab of the University library, by the way.

Speaking of updates, there's another quarter of poetry I should probably put up soon.

I'd just like to voice my opinion and tell everyone that the dude Mikey in the Heineken mini-keg commercial is the biggest jerk ever. I feel so bad for the cat with the smoked gouda sandwich, that I'm officially boycotting the beer. And I can finally say that and have it mean something now that I'm 21.

What the hell.

So I realize that the whole cicada thing is at least marginally a big deal. That is, if you're a naturalist or bug fanatic. Once every 17 years, blah, blah, etc., etc. But if I see one more news story about people eating the damn things, I'm moving to some country where they eat bugs all the time and consuming them is not a newsworthy story. Because eating bugs is not a newsworthy story. I repeat: Eating bugs is NOT a newsworthy story. Unless you're on the elementary school playground. In fact, my 12 year-old sister's classmate ate one, but he's not in the paper, and for good reason. If eating cicadas floats your boat, then more power to you; feast while the feasting is good because your next chance won't role around until I'm almost 40. I'm just saying that we shouldn't be reporting on the matter.

It all started with the SunTimes, Chicago's very own piece of garbage posing as a legitimate news publication. The day after the cicadas emerged there was a story about a columnist eating one. Fine. There's bound to be at least one story on the subject, so it might as well be covered by the city's tabloid (appearing on page 3, no less).

But the onslaught doesn't end there. The Tribune devotes a large section to ways to cook cicadas. The brilliant conclusion? A cicada will taste like whatever you cook it in. Now that's what I call need-to-know information. Now there are reports of cicada eating contests, and cicada eating parties. The local paper in my neighborhood (The Berwyn Life--I'm calling these idiots out) devotes its entire front page to eating cicadas. Aside from being unoriginal, the article is NOT newsworthy.

Oh, and that 12 year-old sister of mine has another classmate whose mother was just paid $100 to eat a cicada. $100. And it was even breaded and fried. Hell, I'd do that for $50. Anyone want to put up the money? I'll even report about it right here.

Thank the cicada gods that this madness only comes around once every 17 years.


Just in case our fair readers are so inclined...
Courtesy of NPR:

El Chirper Tacos

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons butter or peanut oil

1/2 pound newly emerged cicadas

2 serrano chilies, raw, finely chopped

1 tomato, finely chopped

1 onion, finely chopped

1/2 tsp ground pepper or to taste

1/2 tsp cumin

3 tsp taco seasoning mix

1 handful cilantro, chopped

Taco shells, to serve

Sour cream

Shredded cheddar cheese

Shredded lettuce

Directions

1. Heat the butter or oil in a frying pan and fry the cicadas for 10 minuts, or until cooked through.

2. Remove from pan and roughly chop into 1/4-inch cubes/ Place back in pan.

3. Add the chopped onions, chilies and tomato, season with salt, and fry for another 5 minutes on medium-low heat.

4. Sprinkle with ground pepper, cumin and oregano to taste.

5. Serve in taco shells and garnish with cilantro, sour cream, lettuce and cheddar cheese.

Good grief.

Death In Baseball

At least he was living his dream. That is perhaps the only positive one can take away from Josh Hancock’s passing. He had just received his 2006 World Series ring—something that the large majority of players will never have, and he had found a home in St. Louis, succeeding there after being bounced from team to team during the early stages of his career. But 29 is awfully early to be checking out.

There is the old baseball adage: “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes it rains.” Sometimes you die, too, but I suppose cliché writers try not to be overly morbid. Death, in this case, postponed the game between the Cubs and the Cardinals, melting any and all animosity between the division rivals—just as it did in 2002 when Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kile died. Who can forget how Cubs catcher and overall baseball spokesman Joe Girardi tearfully announced to the crowd at the Friendly Confines that the late-June match-up would not be played? The postponement of the game is the sport’s true moment of silence. But the rest of the baseball world must carry on, and the games are always rescheduled, never cancelled.

Why? Because baseball is perfect. It’s a notion that’s been purported since the game’s early years, and even ESPN has recently picked up on the idea for a new advertising campaign. The perfection of baseball goes beyond the seldom-seen, yet infinitely-legendary occurrence of a “perfect game” thrown by a pitcher. In fact, maybe it would be better if those rare gems were called “super-perfect” games, simply because every single game of baseball is perfect. There is never a time limit. There is never a tie. The game is played till someone wins. Rain can delay it. Death can postpone it. But nothing can stop it.

The tributes and memorials for a fallen player are always important. In fact, they seem essential. The Cardinals will wear Hancock’s number for the remainder of the season, just as they did with Kile’s. There will be countless articles written and memorial services held, and there will be no joy in Milwaukee tomorrow, when the Cardinals travel to face another division rival and prove that life and baseball go on, even in tragedy and sadness. But one may wonder why all this solemn remembrance is so essential. Certainly any tragic and sudden death deserves a memorial, but when there are thousands of these deaths every day, why do only our fallen batsmen seem to receive such special tributes, and only the active ones at that? When a retired player dies, there may be a long obituary written. If he was especially famous, a tribute film may be played before a game. But for those not enshrined in Cooperstown—for the bench players turned car salesmen—death only signals the final slip into obscurity. Active players, however, are still connected to the perfection of baseball, which is why their passing always seems so unreasonable.

When an active player dies, especially during the season, the grief is overwhelming. Josh Hancock and countless other before him made it to The Show. Perfection. Play one game and you are immortal, forever recorded in the record books. And in the fans’ collective mind, immortal means untouchable. As Josh Hancock stood on that dirt mound—surrounded by verdant fields and thousands of his best friends and worst enemies—as he gripped the ball with recently rosined hands, running his fingers over the seams and leaning in to read the sign, he was as close to divinity as humanly possible. And gods don’t die. Except when they do. In which case, it only seems right to take the day off.

Time to get April off on the right foot. I have three things to say:

"The Lives of Others" is a terrific movie.

"300" is a terrible movie.

The Chicago Cubs will win 86 games this season.

Remember, folks, you heard it here first. No foolin'.

March sure went by quick.
-Spring Break!
-Robocop!
-Unemployment!
-?!

Yeah. New quarter starting and whatnot. 3 computer science courses and a poetry workshop for me, thanks. Databases! Complexity Theory! Computer Architecture! Topics in Poetics! Which one of these is not like the other?

My life needed more roadtrips, so I'm going to a Swing dancing thingamajigger at Purdue with Kate this weekend. And March needed a blog entry before I left.

Speaking of trips, there's going to be a camping expedition up to Western Michigan over Memorial Day weekend with at least one carload of people from U of C. Anybody else interested? I am also looking at you, people who will already be out of school by then. There will be merriment, tents, a small lake, a great lake, dunes, fishing, fires, and who knows what else. So yeah.

According to some preliminary research, the going rate for being published in a poetry magazine is $6.00 a line... assuming they like it. Poetry does not a living make. However, I find this prose-poem about candy hearts highly entertaining.

My other money-making scheme is to become competent with a graphics program and make t-shirts for Threadless.com. I have a couple of good ideas that are waiting on the competence problem. Meanwhile, "You can't spell Progress without Ogres" is doing surprisingly well as a slogan possibility.

Big poetry site update. Feedback welcome. More on the way soon, I expect.

Also, I may or may not have blacked out for a period on Saturday, which is just a bit disturbing. I blame this on wearing the gold shirt. Seriously, no good has ever come of that thing, vastly entertaining though it may be. Also there may have been alcohol involved, and a profoundly weird emotional state. However, on the whole a fun evening, especially the part that I remember.

I have been putting pentasyllabic slant rhymes into a series of septets. Clearly, I have made it as a poet. I am putting this here so I'm not compelled to bring it up in conversation. Does it count as bragging if one's achievement is clearly esoteric and ridiculous?

I wish I could sleep and also that there was not so much meddlesome Bio homework.

This afternoon the world impressed me with it's playlist:
"No Children" - The Mountain Goats; coming from a laptop in the Reynold's Club
"Get Me Away from Here I'm Dying" - Belle & Sebastian; playing in the 2nd-Floor Coffee Shop
"The Waiting" - Tom Petty; in the food court of Hutch.
All in the span of 15 minutes or so. I was in the right places at the right times in a very small way today.

And speaking of fate, a restless/happy/unconcerned Valentine's to all, as you wish to take it. My poetry class is going to be a lecture on "Poems of Forsaken Love." I've just realized the irony of this, and I don't think any more need be said.

"Tinuviel! Tinuviel!" For those who appreciate fragments of romanticism expressed in Tolkien references.

A Poem:

Microsoft does not recognize the term "dystopia."
It suggests that I might want to replace it with "dustpan."
How about "distopia" with an "i"?
"Isotopic"? No, thank you.

Lack of blogging is indeed a severe problem of late. I have been up to stuff. And junk. Additionally, How 'bout them Bears? There was certainly an excessive amount of hooting and hollering on my part last Sunday. There may even have been some chest-bumping. Although it took about until the last five minutes for me to believe that they might actually pull it off. I will of course be cheering next Sunday with the traditional chant of "Don't Suck! *clap* *clap*", but hey, they weren't supposed to beat the Saints either. Go Bears!

And I appear to be going to a monster truck rally next Saturday... in Peoria. This was not my idea, but I'm the only one with access to a car who's willing to humor this little excursion, and it should be entertaining. Zach conceived this plan, and has recruited three more lunatics. One of them plans to go in drag. There is some expectation this will lead to a fight, or litigation. I, with my love of wandering into large, agitated crowds and attempting to make a scene, fear we may all be killed. But probably nothing will come of it...

Also, I have become addicted to the Dark Tower series by Stephen King, as it is basically a fantasy series featuring Clint Eastwood and much crazy plot-twistiness. I had forgotten just how much I like a good novel. And by "like", I mean " am willing to rip through as though the pages were laced with cocaine". Good stuff.

Must run off and feast on delicious grease products.

I'd just like to point out that the Bears really started to bring it as soon as it began snowing. Maybe Bears Weather isn't a myth after all.

I'm back at school now, which is a strange adjustment. Before I left I saw "Beauty and the Beast" at the Music Box. The old French flick was being shown as part of the Janus film series there. It's certainly a quality piece of cinema, but I started thinking as I was watching it: Sure, it's supposed to be a classic love story that shows the importance of finding the inner goodness in people, but couldn't it also be one of the first documented cases of Stockholm Syndrom? Think about it.

In conclusion, why don't they make books like this anymore?

The blog is languishing. Time to give it some pep.

It snowed today, which is a good thing because I was beginning to wonder whether global warming had driven away the white stuff for good.

And while it snowed, I was hard at work. The past couple days I have been cleaning out the rooms in my old Catholic grade school. The institution closed about two years ago--shut down most unjustly by the archdiocese--though some would say it was only a shell of its former self and that it was time for it to close. Debatable.

Either way, large school building and all its contents were left undisturbed this entire time. Now the parish has found someone to lease the building--a good thing, to be sure. The new leasers will be doing a whole heap of remodeling, which means it's finally time to haul out 60+ years of school-themed junk.

It's strange to haul out bags and bags of either your childhood mementos or someone else's. It's strange to walk the deserted halls you spent 9 years in, where everything still smells the same. On one hand, I would say I'm not the right person for this job, but then again, it's almost like the death of a relative. Who better to clean out the old building than myself? It's almost like a responsibility.

One rarely thinks too hard about dead schools, at least not about their innards. Of course, there are some things you expect to find, like hundreds of small desks:


great old vinyl-covered furniture:


or the remnants of a chess club:


Then there are the more odd items. Things locked away in cabinets for a couple decades. Things such as old educational film-strips with accompanying record:


abandoned girl-scout craft projects:


an old cigar box filled with monopoly money:


or an entire cabinet filled with glass laterns made from ashtrays:


All in all, a lot of memories come back to you, embedded in the hallways and classrooms. There was something eerie about walking into the old boys locker room and instantly remembering where everyone used to stand as we dressed for gym class.


There are melancholy images:


and cheerful ones:


In the end, however, everything has to go to the same place:


May it rest in peace.


Happy 2007, everyone.

The Christmas Season is upon us, and I have returned from Sri Lanka in one piece. I actually got back a week ago, but I've spent that time recovering from jet lag, trimming holiday trees, and clearing out some phlegm.

I've been somewhat out of the media loop for awhile, so I don't have much to report on that front. I did, however, watch "The Illusionist" with Ed Norton and Paul Giamatti on the plane ride home, and it was pretty darned awful--strange considering the personnel involved. I then flipped through the airline media guide to find that Richard Roeper gave the movie a thumbs up, further confirming my suspicion that the film was utter garbage.
I also watched "The Night Listener"--a creepy movie with Robin Williams where, ironically, he doesn't play the creepy character. Instead, he plays a gay late-night radio show host, who comes across a dark novel written by a young boy. No...really...I swear Williams doesn't play the creepy character. Anyway, the film was good, if not a tad disjointed.
Finally, I saw M. Night Shyamalan's "Lady in the Water" (There were some looong plane rides). Though not without its flaws, I simply don't understand why it got panned so badly by critics. It was a nice movie with a nice story, which is what the director said he set out to accomplish from the very beginning. Funnily enough, for all the magic creatures and fairy-tale-ness of the film, I simply couldn't suspend my disbelief during this one scene where Paul Giamatti holds his breath underwater for an exorbitantly long time. Seriously, the man's not in good enough shape to do that; he gets winded from simply speaking in that movie.

Now I've got to catch up on all the movies in theaters now. I haven't even seen the new Bond yet, though they were already selling bootleg copies of the film in Sri Lanka before it came out. The only problem was that the first few minutes were in Russian and then the sound dropped out altogether (and the Thai subtitles weren't very helpful). Really, Sri Lanka's an ideal place to go if you're looking for useless junk--they just sell it on the streets there. You can get anything you want, just so long as it will never actually be helpful to you. For example, there were hoods which had been removed from Columbia rain jackets to be resold for 20 cents a piece. My friend laughed so hard he bought one.

That's all there is to report in this edition. I will leave you with this awesome picture of a record which I can only dream to someday find, because it looks like it would be freaking amazing:




Happy Christmas.

Happy Thanksgiving and such forth, ladies and gents.

I figure with December looming I ought to make an appearance. Also, I am bored.

It's been an exciting month. For the first time in my life, I went to Soldier Field and saw a Bears game. It was fantastic up until the point where it turned into a Dolphins game. ouch. But the inside of Soldier Filed is quite nice these days, great view of the field. I went with Zach, who purchased a ticket for his dad, who was unfortunately unable to make it up to Chicago. Tragically, Zach is a Dolphins fan, so much so that he was willing to strap his Dolphins wall-clock to his chest when he couldn't find a jersey (The city was utterly devoid of Miami gear). I was wearing a newly-purchased Bernard Berrian jersey; Berrian was of course injured on his first catch of the day. Nevertheless, it was overall a good day. Consider this wisdom from Zach: "A screwdriver is a breakfast drink; it's got orange juice"

Additionally, I will get around to posting more poetry eventually, but in theory it should be somewhat less embarassing, as most of it has been run through the gauntlet of CRWR 130: Intermediate Poetry Workshop. This has been great, because it's pretty much the only class I have where I can talk to people, and the only class I have that, under the right circumstances, consumes 4 bottles of wine among 9 people. Anyway, I wrote a sonnet (sort of) that's mainly about designer drugs ("I think we called it nuclear wintergreen"), although I don't know how that's been received yet.

I seem to have retained some vague skill at fencing, despite not going for a year; being tall and semi-gangly is a significant advantage though, as is being left-handed (woo!). I probably should have stuck with baseball too, but then again, Little League was boring as all hell. That aside, I went 4-2 in our intrateam tournament the other week, so there's hope yet.

Man, there are a lot of Bond movies on TV right now. Which reminds me: I've seen Casino Royale twice already, and I quite like the new direction Bond is headed. For once, a svage beating to the testicles is a good omen.

LIVE FROM SRI LANKA:

So I've just returned from two weeks living with priests in a remote farming village in Sri Lanka and here's what I have to say for myself (I apologize if the thoughts seem scattered or uninteresting):

I stayed at St. Anthony's National Shrine in Wahakotte, in the Benedictan mission house attached to the church. Despite being in a poor farming village, my accomodations were quite comfortable and the food was always delicious and in plenty (though I did suffer a 24 hour bout of food poisoning, but that's to be expected). Almost everyone in Wahakotte is a paddy farmer, and the village is set in the picturesque part of the island bordering the hill country and dry zone. The Catholicism is marked by an extremely strong devotion to St Anthony, whom they pray to for just about everything. Some are of the opionion that he's bigger than Jesus. Fr. Eugene said, "He's like Arnold Schwarzenegger to these people."

The four priests who run the parish--Fr. Hilarion, Fr. Eugene, Fr. Soosai, and Fr. Valentine--were overwhelmingly hospitable and always willing to sit down and give me lots of good quotes about Wahakotte. Fr. Eugene and Fr. Soosai were particularly entertaining, as they're from a younger generation of clergy and therefore a bit skeptical about Wahakotte's conservative tendencies. I enjoyed having long conversations with Fr. Eugene on all sorts of topics, as he might be one of the most informed and well-read people I've ever met.

Aside from the priests, I also spoke with a handful of villagers. Everyday I would take a leisurely walk along the dusty rural roads lined with small houses and coconut palms, and the extremely friendly residents of the village would be so curious about my presence that they'd be more than happy to speak with me, if only to find out what the heck a white person was doing so far out in the boonies. I can't count the number of times I was invited into a stranger's house for tea.

I got my best information from the older villagers (generally the only ones who still speak fluent English). Like old people in the U.S., all you have to do is give them a forum and they'll talk your ear off. Most Wahakotte villagers have very strong opinions on just about everything and one wouldn't believe the gossip and passive-aggressive in-fighting that goes on in that village. (It drove Fr. Eugene mad. He'l leaving next year and vows never to accept another assignment at Wahakotte).

Relations with the other religious groups in the surrounding villages are very good and there's been sizable amount of Sinhala-Buddhist inculturation within the Catholic rituals.

Wahakotte was at times enlightening, frustrating, hilarious, boring, and thrilling, and I'm incredibly satisfied with my independent study. Now if that 15-20 page paper would just write itself...

I hope everyone is healthy and happy back in the states and gearing up for a lovely Thanksgiving. The ISLE students will be having our own version of the holiday, but the celebration will be delayed until the end of the month. Still, there'll be turkey.

Take Care,
Alex

LIVE FROM SRI LANKA:

So this may end up being a post-post of Pat, but, as much as I hate the practice, I figure it'll probably be another week before I make it to the internet again, so I should probably say something now. Besides, it's already the 25th here, so that should count for something.

No doubt most of you have already heard (or maybe you haven't, since most of you are in college bubbles) about the recent flare of violence in the country, beginning with a large suicide attack in the North and followed by a naval base attack in Galle, which led to some communal rioting down south. The fact that both these attacks occured in what's considered the "safe zone" is the most troubling piece of it. Right now, the country's a bit on edge and everyone's holding their breath for the peace talks in Geneva coming up this weekend.

The ramifications for the ISLE program aren't too serious. The board of directors met recently and decided not to cancel the program. The individual universities also agreed not to pull their students. In return, the ISLE program has restricted our travel to the greater Kandy area. Nobody was allowed to travel last weekend and that rule also applies to this coming weekend. After that, all that's left of the program is our independent studies, which are now being modified, since most of the people planned to go to the south for at least of portion of the project. I'll still be allowed to go to the small village of Wahakotte (where I plan to study interesting Catholic people), but sadly I won't be able to meet back up with my excellent contact in Galle. Everyone is bummed about the changes, but we agree that it's better than going home.

Some students, however, have decided to go home due to their parents' wishes. Right now, two people, one from Bates and one from Holy Cross, have confirmed that they'll be flying home after this session of classes ends on November 6th. The program is working very hard to accomodate those who wish to go home because of the recent events, and the students will get full credit. Naturally, I don't plan to pull out so soon. The only way I'm leaving is if things get bad enough for the U.S. military to take us away in helicopters, with myself dangling 100 feet in the air from a rope ladder.

Of course, the mood around the ISLE center has been a bit dazed and sullen of late, but we're trying to make the best of the situation. Last weekened I had time to hang around with my family, which was a relaxing break from constantly having large amounts of work or travel to do. This weekend we're going to try and take advantage of all the things in Kandy we haven't seen yet, like the enourmous botanical garden near the University campus. Plus, we'll also be occupied with the end of term papers and independent study proposals that we have to write. Aside from the restrictions imposed by the program, life in Kandy really hasn't changed at all. Contrary to the fiery personalities of the southern people, those in the hill country are too laid back to get worked up over the types of things that Sri Lanka has been dealing with for the past 30 years.

I hope everyone is healthy and happy back home. We're having a Halloween part at the ISLE center here. I'm going as a cricketer.

Take Care,
Alex

I’m here today to talk to you about two bands, both of which many of you should already know and love:

First off, Boys and Girls in America is spectacular. Craig Finn is unstoppable. They have an acoustic song; it is stunning (“Citrus”). The opening trio of “Stuck Between Stations”, “Chips Ahoy!”, and “Hot Soft Light” start off strong and grow on you with time… In general, there’s maybe a little more of a Springsteen-type influence spread through this, compared to Separation Sunday, a little straighter of a throwback overall, but it’s still all unmistakably Hold Steady, down to the “new direction” (whoa-ho oh-oh oh-oh-oh) on the backing vocals that we heard on “Massive Nights” at Lolla, which is even better on “Chips Ahoy!” And if I wanted to quote great lyrics at you, I would be here all day. So get the album. I’m going to see them on Thursday.

Now, that’s a tough act to follow, but I’m still going to mention that I’m linking to the one, the only Con Amor Siempre. For starters, the fact that they did a cover of “Sugar High” from Empire Records has really endeared them to me (because clearly, I hated Maciej before now). Also, I kept getting “Allen Bean” stuck in my head this summer, and more recently, “Ballroom Dancing Saved My Life”. If you happen to not already know Maciej, then seriously, just look at that song title, and follow that link.

I was bitten by a spider a few weeks ago. I’ll keep you posted on any incipient superpowers.

Also, I am an evil poet -- really unspeakably evil. Oh man, but that was fun. I really hesitate to submit a poem to my workshop class that includes

“A tiny dancer
And Tony Danza
Debate on a napkin
For twenty stanzas”

And other things in that vein. Or maybe the fact that incredibly silly rhymes fill me with maniacal giggling should be more of a concern. Damned if I know.

LIVE FROM SRI LANKA:

So our streak of at least one post every month has been broken. Really there's no one to blame for this but Pat, since he is not in Sri Lanka right now. But since I'm posting this, he'll probably get all inspired to make a post of his own, much in the same way that if you give a mouse a cookie, he'll probably ask for a glass of milk to go with it. Anyway, on to the update.

The program here is more than halfway over and we're settling into our second round of classes. I'm taking a Mahayana Buddhism class taught by an ex-monk who may or may not have been thrown out of the order for doing too many drugs. I'm also taking an Environmental Studies course, which took a field trip last week to Nuwara Eliya, a city located south of Kandy higher in the hills.

The temperature there is much cooler than Kandy, cool enough to have to wear a jacket, which was a nice change for us. The landscape is absolutely gorgeous. Bright green hills covered in neat rows of tea plants that periodically disappear into rolling misty clouds. We visited a tea factory as well as vegetable farms in the hills. Though human agricultural use of the land may be beautiful, it's also encroaching on the supposedly protected forest land and destroying the soil. Much of the weekend was spent debating whether or not Environmentalism and Development have to be at odds.

We also visited a hydro-electric project, the damn of which will result in the loss of a waterfall and the relocation of 500 families. The project was a hot political topic here, but compromises were eventually made. The original plan called for the destruction of several waterfalls, but that was brought down to just the one. The people are being moved farther up the hill and having brand new houses built for them, which they will have complete ownership over. This is very expensive land that they could not otherwise afford and it's predicted that many families will choose to sell their new homes after a couple years and move elsewhere.

Sri Lanka is actually leading all Asian countries in terms of environmental programs. They have a very large amount of land set aside as wildlife reserves and they are paying particular attention to watersheds, realizing that such a small country has little room for error when it comes to water pollution. In fact, the massive hydropower development project that began 20 years ago has actually resulted in more land being set aside for wildlife reserve than for development. Sri Lanka currently gets 50% of it's power from hydroelectric sources. Once the newest dam is complete, it will be 65%.

While in the hill country, we traveled to World's End, located 7500 ft. above sea level. It's so named because there's a sheer drop at the edge of about 1000ft, but also because the entire country is laid out before you. One can mark the transition from rainy hills, to arid plains, and (on a clear day) can even see the shimmering of the Indian Ocean (keep in mind that Nuwara Eliya is almost in the center of the country). From that point onwards, there's no more land until Antarctica. Perhaps the most fascinating thing about Sri Lanka is that it has so much environmental variation packed into an area about the size of West Virginia.

That's about all I have to report for now. I suppose that if you don't much care about the environment, this update was a tad dry. I'll try to get possessed by a demon or something this week.

Take Care,
Alex

[Alex just posted, btw, folks. He doesn't like it when I post-post him, so keep scrolling down and everyone will be happy]

I keep thinking I‘m going to write one of these, but then I get distracted by little things like getting up before 5AM, two consecutive weekends of non-stop music, moving a god-awful large bed, inexplicably finding myself in an outlet mall, and grillbeasts. I’m probably forgetting a few things. I’ll get back to them… or I will brush over them, as they are not entertaining and/or make me look lazier. Anyway…

I guess this is simultaneously a Facebook note, because the internet is now a race between Facebook and Google to combine all features of the internet into one stalkeriffic blob. Also, this means I have subsumed Alex’s identity into mine for Facebook purposes. He is my son, after all [/in-joke from 3 years ago]. In retrospect, the decision to import this blog may be silly, what with it being linked to in my profile. Bah. The blog is clearly the superior experience, what with its links and soothing blue color scheme. Also it is slightly faster.

Let the bullet points begin!
*King-Kong vs. Godzilla is not as good a movie as you would think. Snakes on a Plane is as good a movie as you would think, and most likely better.

*Sometimes, you just have to break down and buy the pants.

*Driving around Chicago aimlessly at night, despite the effectiveness of grid system for keeping one’s bearings, is not a good way to find anything to do. This city needs to stay open later, or I need to be 21.

*Why on earth would anyone think it was a good idea to replace a ceiling-fan blade with a blade that was much larger and heavier than its neighbors? Answer: in hopes of killing the next person to turn the fan on.

*If you have not already seen the following bands live, do so at your earliest opportunity: The Go! Team, The Hold Steady. I cannot emphasize this enough. Especially the Go! Team. and especially The Hold Steady.

*Ted Leo has regained his passion for the music, but has lost a lot of blood (See D3 for photographic evidence)

*There are certain people whom, through no real fault of their own, I will have no choice to vomit on when I meet them – Well, not necessarily on, but in their vicinity – on account of certain disturbing episodes I know about. It will most likely go something like “Hi! Nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about y – Oh God my eyes BLAAUHLGHCHL!”… And that’s all I want to say about that.

LIVE FROM SRI LANKA:

Hey look! I can get to the internet from the university here! It's slow!

Sri Lanka's great, everyone, and Pat's a bum for not posting since I left. He better not let the blasted blog die while I'm away.

The climate in the hills of Kandy is gorgeous. It's the perfect temperature all year round with fantastic sceneary everywhere you look. There are lots of troublesome monkeys and stray dogs about. I'm learning Sinhala, which isn't as hard as you might think, since it's an Indo-European language. Reading it, on the other hand...

We went on a tour of the historic ruins in the northern section of the island, which was fantastic, but now I have to write a paper on it, which is not fantastic. The family I'm living with is hilarious and my little brothers keep me on my toes.

I hope everyone has a rip-roaring start to their schoolyear, or in Pat's case, I hope you relax for a month before your rip-roaring start to the schoolyear.

Keep it real.

So, I know I haven't posted all summer and I apologize for that, but I'm just dropping in now to tell you that I may not be posting for the next 4.5 months, depending on how my internet access goes. You see, I'm heading off to Sri Lanka today for a semester abroad. I'll try to stay alive. In case anyone needs to send me anything here's my address (no firearms or narcotics, please):

Alex McKinley
The ISLE Center
75 Dangolla Road
Kandy, Sri Lanka


Have a great rest of the summer and fall semester, everyone.

What a weird summer. Too much time to think, not enough time to do things. But things keep happening anyway. Still most weekdays I work, I practice guitar, and I write; it's very self-contained. I'm going to hit the school year with a lot of strange pent-up energy, I think. I actually caught myself wanting to write a paper today... I mean, not, you know, a random paper on something that doesn't interest me, but I was looking at taking a poetry class, what with poetry/songwriting being my attempted calling. You know: read, listen, absorb, experience. Let it all percolate, and then express it.

It kind of surprised me lately to realize that I, in effect, hang out with a bunch of artists -- musicians, film-makers, photographers, even the odd architect. Although someone else recently summed it up as "the music nerds, " which is also accurate. But hey, it's only a matter of time until I know some rock stars, so I've got that going for me.

You'd think I would have noticed that trend earlier, but then I've never been very perceptive; I'm working on that too.

In vaguely practical matters, I saw Pirates 2 (or rather, PotC:DMC, as the is no official numeral) this week, and I was vastly entertained. Somewhere very early on that movie went from being a cliche summer blockbuster to busting one's block with gusto and enthusiasm. Certainly by the time the Atlasphere tribute came around. Visual spectacle, rollicking (and often rolling) good time. I give it 3 and a half dubloons.

also in practical matters, I am highly sleep deprived. See y'all when the weekend hits.

and finally, a quote out of context:
"If Jerry Garcia went around delivering presents, Christmas would be a lot stranger."
-Casey

oof. I hate Mondays (note that I am neither on fire nor being sodomized... so things could be worse). For anyone who's horribly disturbed by that sentence, I swear it's a reference. Anyway...

Good weekend. Friday is oddly hazy, although I'm going to blame that on sleep deprivation and the manic pace of weekends, as I do remember quite a few details. Horrifying details. Oh dear lord. Fun though; my introduction to the wonders of the Friday-night Kelly Boyle's tradition.

Saturday was one of those nights that confirm everything I believe in. Sometimes, chaos works better than a plan. Went up to Evanston to trespass on abeach, scouting party found it was an apocalypse of insects, regrouped, wound up on the North Side at a random party by UIUC connection (which we were somewhat cliquish at, but meh. next time). That led to walking out to Belmont harbor. And... it was transcendent. The moon was out over the relatively calm lake water, which was... gleaming? shimmering? sparkling? in sort of a soft trail from the horizon toward us. So we just stared at that for a while. Only second time in my life I remember seeing the moon over the lake like that, and both times it's been literally stunning. A thing of epic beauty. And then you turn around and there the Chicago skyline. I was kinda loopy for the rest of the night, and that was only on one drink (although I suppose it could have been heat stroke too...). And Alex was there, in an unusual occurrence (which is probably my fault as much as anything, as I've gotten used to unconnected social circles).