Huh. Last night, mulling things over while falling asleep, I realized why the Chinese poetry as exemplified in the Japanese popular song is in a book of 101 Zen Stories.
I’ll be.
That stuff really works, I guess.
What is the reason? you ask.
I figure it’s because you can combine any two things to make one of those poems. Or, in other words, everything is connected. Try it for yourself. Go to the dictionary, open it up, and find some words.
I found “dog biscuit” and “recruit” on this time around. And, voila, a little mulling of the terms and you get:
A dog biscuit is a small reward, a bribe.
It motivates canines to perform the most absurd tasks.
Recruits are harder and harder to come by,
And yet small treats make them roll over and play dead.
Sorry about the pessimism creeping into these things. It might be the weather. Still, I stand by my point.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
88 Headlines
More headline "poetry"
Chrysler Cuts 13,000 Jobs in Overhaul
Millions in Lottery Prizes Go Unclaimed
Chrysler Cuts 13,000 Jobs in Overhaul,
Losses in the billions are not to be overlooked.
Millions in Lottery Prizes Go Unclaimed.
Former automotive workers will be checking their pockets more carefully now.
Chrysler Cuts 13,000 Jobs in Overhaul
Millions in Lottery Prizes Go Unclaimed
Chrysler Cuts 13,000 Jobs in Overhaul,
Losses in the billions are not to be overlooked.
Millions in Lottery Prizes Go Unclaimed.
Former automotive workers will be checking their pockets more carefully now.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
88-Style on Headlines
The next step? The two top headlines at NYTimes.com squished into the 88-form.
North Korea to Close Reactor in Exchange for Raft of Aid
and
One Year Later, Golden Mosque Is Still in Ruins
One Year Later, Golden Mosque Is Still in Ruins.
Destruction is stronger than the effort to rebuild.
North Korea to Close Reactor in Exchange for Raft of Aid.
We'll rebuild the mosque if Iraqis agree not to pray there.
North Korea to Close Reactor in Exchange for Raft of Aid
and
One Year Later, Golden Mosque Is Still in Ruins
One Year Later, Golden Mosque Is Still in Ruins.
Destruction is stronger than the effort to rebuild.
North Korea to Close Reactor in Exchange for Raft of Aid.
We'll rebuild the mosque if Iraqis agree not to pray there.
Madge Monday and Coco Tuesday
Nothing strange or unusual going on with the kids right now and things are finally seeming more normal, with nobody sick and nobody visiting.
Last night Madge’s school had an ice-skating party for the second- and third-graders and their families. Lots of fun. This time we took the bus to get there (a school bus), which was fun, but involved waiting, something in which Madge has, as they say in business-spin-talk, opportunities.
“Where’s the bus?” “When is the bus coming?” “Is there another bus?” “Did we miss the bus?” “When is the bus coming?” et c. (Notice the old-school division of that abbrev.? I’m oh-so-crafty.)
Poor Madge has two smart-heinies as parents, so the questions only frustrate everyone. They are, after all, lose-lose questions. Nobody knows the answer and, as exacting as she is, any wrong answer is a mark against us on an ever-growing tally. I’m surprised I don’t have a black spot on the palm of my hand by now.
So we answer truthfully, which irritates her even more. “The bus is somewhere between the school and here.” “It’ll be here shortly after we see it turn the corner.” And so on.
When the questions continue, we say, “No idea, maybe they stopped at a drive-through.” “Oh, no, we’ll have to sleep in the park.” (The skating rink is in Prospect Park, the crown jewel in Olmsted and Vaux’s blahblahblah.)
While we were waiting some kid was playing with a stick and Madge was well on her way to talking him into giving it to her against his will – she was using some kind of womanly mind-meld – when I interceded and told her to look for her own. Coco had already found his own a while ago. But it was fascinating to see her working on that kid. She already had the kid’s dad on her side, working on the guy. But, as you might have noticed, we were in a park. Sticks were abundant. No need to work on the imperius curse or whatever she was doing.
Skating itself was loads of fun and the kids dropped into bed exhausted when we got home.
My lower back hurts, though, because Coco doesn’t skate on his own and prefers to have both hands held as the kids did when learning to walk.
Ow.
Last night Madge’s school had an ice-skating party for the second- and third-graders and their families. Lots of fun. This time we took the bus to get there (a school bus), which was fun, but involved waiting, something in which Madge has, as they say in business-spin-talk, opportunities.
“Where’s the bus?” “When is the bus coming?” “Is there another bus?” “Did we miss the bus?” “When is the bus coming?” et c. (Notice the old-school division of that abbrev.? I’m oh-so-crafty.)
Poor Madge has two smart-heinies as parents, so the questions only frustrate everyone. They are, after all, lose-lose questions. Nobody knows the answer and, as exacting as she is, any wrong answer is a mark against us on an ever-growing tally. I’m surprised I don’t have a black spot on the palm of my hand by now.
So we answer truthfully, which irritates her even more. “The bus is somewhere between the school and here.” “It’ll be here shortly after we see it turn the corner.” And so on.
When the questions continue, we say, “No idea, maybe they stopped at a drive-through.” “Oh, no, we’ll have to sleep in the park.” (The skating rink is in Prospect Park, the crown jewel in Olmsted and Vaux’s blahblahblah.)
While we were waiting some kid was playing with a stick and Madge was well on her way to talking him into giving it to her against his will – she was using some kind of womanly mind-meld – when I interceded and told her to look for her own. Coco had already found his own a while ago. But it was fascinating to see her working on that kid. She already had the kid’s dad on her side, working on the guy. But, as you might have noticed, we were in a park. Sticks were abundant. No need to work on the imperius curse or whatever she was doing.
Skating itself was loads of fun and the kids dropped into bed exhausted when we got home.
My lower back hurts, though, because Coco doesn’t skate on his own and prefers to have both hands held as the kids did when learning to walk.
Ow.
Monday, February 12, 2007
88-Style
Two takes on a similar combination (a bit late, because I don't like anticipating stories covered on WWDTM):
Dogs are everywhere in the city,
On the street, in apartments, in parks.
NASA has developed much new technology,
Perhaps dogs ought to wear diapers.
Astronauts are go-getters,
Trained to explore new frontiers.
Dogs can be made to behave,
So why aren’t astronauts neutered?
Dogs are everywhere in the city,
On the street, in apartments, in parks.
NASA has developed much new technology,
Perhaps dogs ought to wear diapers.
Astronauts are go-getters,
Trained to explore new frontiers.
Dogs can be made to behave,
So why aren’t astronauts neutered?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
88-Style
Bear with me, I think it'll pay off (if not now, then in the long haul).
From “101 Zen Stories” (as presented in “Zen Flesh Zen Bones”)
Since I find this style of poetry amusing, I’ll be trying my hand at it. (I also love that this is supposedly a Zen story. And of course, that a Chinese poem is illustrated by a popular Japanese song. Those Zen storytellers are so culturally sensitive.)
So, in lieu of calling it my attempt at a popular Japanese song style or Chinese poetry, I’ll call it 88-style.
There are many restaurants in Park Slope,
One fancier, and more pricy, than the next.
The bus runs every twelve minutes,
Will our waitress ever return?
From “101 Zen Stories” (as presented in “Zen Flesh Zen Bones”)
88. How To Write a Chinese Poem
A well-known Japanese poet was asked how to compose a Chinese poem.
“The usual Chinese poem is four lines,” he explained. “The first line contains the initial phase; the second line, the continuation of that phrase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one; and the fourth line brings the first three lines together. A popular Japanese song illustrates this:
Two daughters of a silk merchant live in Kyoto.
The elder is twenty, the younger, eighteen.
A soldier may kill with his sword,
But these girls slay men with their eyes.”
Since I find this style of poetry amusing, I’ll be trying my hand at it. (I also love that this is supposedly a Zen story. And of course, that a Chinese poem is illustrated by a popular Japanese song. Those Zen storytellers are so culturally sensitive.)
So, in lieu of calling it my attempt at a popular Japanese song style or Chinese poetry, I’ll call it 88-style.
There are many restaurants in Park Slope,
One fancier, and more pricy, than the next.
The bus runs every twelve minutes,
Will our waitress ever return?
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Z Fable
The Zenith and the Zero
“I’m at the peak of my game,” said the Zenith.
“So there’s no way but down,” answered the Zero.
“Yeah, but at least people want to hang out with me. Celebrate my arrival.”
“But it’s always the same with you. I’m less predictable.”
“How so?”
“As a place holder, I’m enjoyed. As a multiplying factor, not so much.”
“Hunh.”
“And as a denominator, I blow their little minds.”
“Still, though, on your own, you’re nothing.”
“So are you, pal. So are you.”
“I’m at the peak of my game,” said the Zenith.
“So there’s no way but down,” answered the Zero.
“Yeah, but at least people want to hang out with me. Celebrate my arrival.”
“But it’s always the same with you. I’m less predictable.”
“How so?”
“As a place holder, I’m enjoyed. As a multiplying factor, not so much.”
“Hunh.”
“And as a denominator, I blow their little minds.”
“Still, though, on your own, you’re nothing.”
“So are you, pal. So are you.”
Friday, February 09, 2007
Where is tall man?
Another Coco tidbit I remembered today.
One of the greatest nannies ever, Shani Mueller, taught us the well-known kids’ hit, “Where is Thumbkin?”, a song that teaches digital dexterity by making the kids use each finger separately. Thumbkin and Pointer are easy to manipulate, Tall Man and Pinky (called Baby in some versions of the song) are a little more difficult, and Ringman is near impossible for the wee ones.
We’d been singing the song for a while with Coco, since it’s a good way to pass the time when we’re waiting for something.
One day I was waiting at Madge’s school for the release of the second graders. As usual, Coco was on my shoulders. A nanny (technically, an au pair) looked up at him and said, “Who’s the tall man?”
Needless to say, she was rather shocked at his non-verbal response.
One of the greatest nannies ever, Shani Mueller, taught us the well-known kids’ hit, “Where is Thumbkin?”, a song that teaches digital dexterity by making the kids use each finger separately. Thumbkin and Pointer are easy to manipulate, Tall Man and Pinky (called Baby in some versions of the song) are a little more difficult, and Ringman is near impossible for the wee ones.
We’d been singing the song for a while with Coco, since it’s a good way to pass the time when we’re waiting for something.
One day I was waiting at Madge’s school for the release of the second graders. As usual, Coco was on my shoulders. A nanny (technically, an au pair) looked up at him and said, “Who’s the tall man?”
Needless to say, she was rather shocked at his non-verbal response.
Darkness
Here’s something Auntie Boo wanted me to write about. I hardly even think it’s an inconsistency, but, then again, I’m around the kids all the time.
Coco likes turning off lights so he can play with the flashlight or the Harry Potter wand or the Pirates of the Caribbean sword or the light saber (if he could find it), all of which light up. We, however, would have liked some light so we could see to eat or read or whatever nonsensical activity was occupying us at the moment. (Although I do admit, some moments of darkness for me to get some clandestine nose-digging time might have been welcome.)
So I said to Coco, “How about if you go to your room and turn off the lights there?”
His answer, of course (all together now), “No, it’s too dark back there.”
Coco likes turning off lights so he can play with the flashlight or the Harry Potter wand or the Pirates of the Caribbean sword or the light saber (if he could find it), all of which light up. We, however, would have liked some light so we could see to eat or read or whatever nonsensical activity was occupying us at the moment. (Although I do admit, some moments of darkness for me to get some clandestine nose-digging time might have been welcome.)
So I said to Coco, “How about if you go to your room and turn off the lights there?”
His answer, of course (all together now), “No, it’s too dark back there.”
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The obvious
This week's New Yorker has an article I'm not likely to read, not least because the subtitle annoys me so much.
It is entited "Two Heads" and subtitled "A marriage devoted to the mind-body problem."
I ask you, what marriage isn't?
It is entited "Two Heads" and subtitled "A marriage devoted to the mind-body problem."
I ask you, what marriage isn't?
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
The going rate for pictures
The bidding opens at one thousand words. Do I hear one thousand five hundred?
Laugh don't destroy
So now I feel bad.
I went to this show last night, and, sure, I gave $20 for a fairly worthwhile and fairly hopeless cause so I should feel good about that, but I wasted about two hours doing so.
Here’s the deal. All the performers, as far as I can tell, are experienced to some degree, and even good (to some degree).
But nothing really seemed prepared. Okay, I guess they didn’t get paid* and were doing it as a benefit, but on the other hand a hodge-podge mix of acts like this is also meant to gain new fans, potentially.
*One performer, Eugene Mirman, even lost $20 on the deal because he paid an unintentional heckler to leave. Needless to say, the guy stayed and kept the $20, thus proving that he really was a [insert whatever you feel here, don’t hold back]. It’s odd, really. Jon Benjamin, one of the funnier acts up to that point (though the host was pretty good – in spite of appeals to “hey, it’s comedy” – and Gilad Foss was good, at least he had something prepared), asked this man, who was sitting in the front row, if he was enjoying himself – or some such thing. The guy said that nothing so far was funny (and, honestly, he wasn’t too far off at this point, though Benjamin, really, was good). And it went downhill from there. And from that point on, none of the performers was able to ignore this guy (although the woman he was with seemed to be enjoying herself and the performers did all pick on him a little – still, he was too big a [insert again] to be moved).
Anyway, to make matters worse, Coco wasn’t at all prepared to see me go and stayed up until about 10pm waiting for me before he fell asleep, so I lost out on two fronts as this morning was extra difficult with Coco and I’m already dreading naptime.
Quick evaluation of performers, though too quick and most possibly unfair. Benjamin and Mirman, worth seeing again and paying for. Showalter strong and good, but something is missing for me (probably a better writer than performer, but, man, wasn’t that a hasty judgment on my part). Gilad Foss, good, Baron Vaughan, good (though too apologetic), Robin Cloud, good (though not really suited to the audience that was there).
But, hey, kudos for them for showing up and doing their thing, in spite of the energy-drain in the front row.
And now I still feel bad.
Quick evaluation of performers, though too quick and most possibly unfair. Benjamin and Mirman, worth seeing again and paying for. Showalter strong and good, but something is missing for me (probably a better writer than performer, but, man, wasn’t that a hasty judgment on my part). Gilad Foss, good, Baron Vaughan, good (though too apologetic), Robin Cloud, good (though not really suited to the audience that was there).
But, hey, kudos for them for showing up and doing their thing, in spite of the energy-drain in the front row.
And now I still feel bad.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Coco Tuesday
This is what we were doing while we were waiting for Madge's ballet class to begin.
Today, on the way to Coco's school, I told him I was going shopping to get oatmeal and other things. What else should I bring?
And he answered, "Chocolate chips, so Auntie Boo can have more cookies."
Now, naive dad that I am, I say, Oh, how sweet. What a thoughtful kid.
But what if he's merely manipulative, knowing he's more likely to get what he wants if he says it's for someone else?
I'll just take it as a win-win situation: either he's really sweet or really savvy.
(I'll be enjoying the cookies, too, after all. Win-win-win.)
Monday, February 05, 2007
Madge Monday
Last Monday, the day of my intestinal upheavals, Madge's ballet class had an open session. Great fun. My escape to the vomitorium after the event is by no means a reflection upon the event itself.
One of the best parts was the piano player. Yes, ballet classes, at least the ones Madge has attended, have flesh-and-blood musicians to keep time and offer a backdrop.
Visually, this guy was nothing at all compared to the lovely Miss Olga from Miss Tilly's Ballet Studio in San Francisco. But he was far more entertaining. She tended to play the same few pieces. Some Mussorgsky, some Grieg, some Tchaikowsky, and that was pretty much it. This guy was improvising the whole time, simple four-measure things, changed as to the mood required. He was super-sloppy, missing notes all the time. But that wasn't the point. He was as unsubtle as a kid's ballet class requires, with crazy glissandi when the kids were doing their turns and tiptoe music when they were doing delicate cat steps.
Come to think of it, the difference between Miss Olga and this guy is the difference between San Francisco and New York. Miss Olga was lovely, did everything right, sunny, and had a warm, loving personality. This guy was fun to look at (though not lovely by a long stretch), sloppy, over-the-top, oddly needy of recognition and lapping up my compliments to him afterwards, but completely fitting and totally fun.
See, what we need is a house at each coast.
Oh, yes, and Madge was great, too. She had missed quite a few classes before this, the last one. And we found out afterwards that all the fairly complex routines that she did as well as all the other kids were brand new to her that day. She's a quick learner.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Y Fables
The Yeti and the Yenta
“You should shave.”
“You should talk.”
The Yeti and the Yak
The Yeti said to the yak, “Hey, have you heard of evolution?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m upright and you’re not.”
“So?”
“So I’m more evolved, right?”
“If that makes you happy.”
“Sure does,” the Yeti said and went back into hiding.
The Yeti and the Yogurt
Said the Yeti, “I can’t wait to eat you. You’re just what I need.”
“Dude,” said the yogurt, “the word is ‘abominable’, not ‘abdominal’.”
“You should shave.”
“You should talk.”
The Yeti and the Yak
The Yeti said to the yak, “Hey, have you heard of evolution?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m upright and you’re not.”
“So?”
“So I’m more evolved, right?”
“If that makes you happy.”
“Sure does,” the Yeti said and went back into hiding.
The Yeti and the Yogurt
Said the Yeti, “I can’t wait to eat you. You’re just what I need.”
“Dude,” said the yogurt, “the word is ‘abominable’, not ‘abdominal’.”
Public Service from moi (indirectly)
For those of you who buy things online, here's a website that tracks whether or not you could have gotten it cheaper somewhere else (or at the same place) and then alerts you so you can get the difference refunded.
http://www.priceprotectr.com/
Not a bad ploy. But where they get their money in the process is a mystery to me.
(I found it through CrunchGear. Go ahead an click on the link in the sidebar for more techie things.)
http://www.priceprotectr.com/
Not a bad ploy. But where they get their money in the process is a mystery to me.
(I found it through CrunchGear. Go ahead an click on the link in the sidebar for more techie things.)
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Wine Theft
A $100,000 theft of wine in Silicon Valley (here's the NYTimes story).
How do the thieves choose what to celebrate with? A can of TAB?
The crime would be "perfect" if the thieves sent back the bottles they didn't like (you know, opened, with a sip taken...whatever).
This one's for you, PM: I think the butler did it.
How do the thieves choose what to celebrate with? A can of TAB?
The crime would be "perfect" if the thieves sent back the bottles they didn't like (you know, opened, with a sip taken...whatever).
This one's for you, PM: I think the butler did it.
Piano Music
The Ahmad Jamal Trio. I saw them once, in Oakland (Yoshi's, I think), although he had an extra percussionist for that run. And it wasn't the same lineup as here. I was just reminded of how great the man's arrangements are when one of his songs popped up in my iTunes playlist. I tend to stop what I'm doing and just listen and after a while I notice I'm smiling.
Usually I'm of the opinion that music can't be "funny" unless it's referencing other pieces and, more likely than not, the words or dramatic situations associated with those pieces. But Ahmad Jamal plays with time and dynamics in such a great way that I smile nonetheless - not "funny" enough for outright laughter, I guess, but still.
According to a little book of quotes I have, Horovitz once said something to the effect of, "Anyone can get applause. But silence, before and during the performance, that is the greatest."
Jamal gets silence from me every time.
Enjoy.
I forgot to mention something I noticed when I watched it again. There's a visual correlary to the way the ensmble fits together. Between the three of them, the performers make up one full beard (wraparound chin thing + soul patch + mustache). On purpose?
Usually I'm of the opinion that music can't be "funny" unless it's referencing other pieces and, more likely than not, the words or dramatic situations associated with those pieces. But Ahmad Jamal plays with time and dynamics in such a great way that I smile nonetheless - not "funny" enough for outright laughter, I guess, but still.
According to a little book of quotes I have, Horovitz once said something to the effect of, "Anyone can get applause. But silence, before and during the performance, that is the greatest."
Jamal gets silence from me every time.
Enjoy.
I forgot to mention something I noticed when I watched it again. There's a visual correlary to the way the ensmble fits together. Between the three of them, the performers make up one full beard (wraparound chin thing + soul patch + mustache). On purpose?
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