The first real entry in this diary.

I just got done setting up this little system to add these diary entries, after getting back from eating Thai food with a bunch of the Lisa Hot Tub group.

Since I am just now testing it for real, I'm now seeing a few flaws. I need to have it treat all blank lines as \n<p>.

In any case, this has been an annoying week, in that I couldn't attend the conference fully, having to spend time at the office as well. Whatever. It won't be in Boston for some time, and by that time I'll either be working elsewhere, or not a sysadmin.

time to make some mods...

It helps, when testing perl scripts, that you set the permissions right.

This should be on a separate line.

I think this should be right.

Boy, it's easy to get distracted from the task at hand when you have network access and a fully working box. Here I am writing a book, and then here I am looking at Telsa Cox's diary page. (Her Husband is named Alan... :-))

In any case, I have an out, I am actually hungry, so I have to go find food. Maybe I'll have more patience then.

Admittedly, part of it is that I have too many decisions to make. Where should I talk about sendmail, and then where should BIND go? Have I missed anything? Can I declare this sections done momentarily? It's important, because it is also the plan for the entire book. I will go much faster on the straight matter, once I can start writing it. I can only hope I can start on the straight matter by tomorrow. I think I'll be able to...

Book writing is fun. Table of content writing is not. Basicly, the publisher wants a TOC and a chapter, and then the rest of your book. This promotes planning on the part of the writers, something often in short supply. I'll admit it works; never the less, hairs are being lost.

Just to make things fun through this, power was out when I got home, for the second time in a few days. The cause is as yet unknown, there have been no storms. Couldn't have been too long, the UPS was still beeping, so I shut down the computer and settled in on the couch for a nap, since I was also swimming with fatigue. Or maybe just wading...

I really need to hook up the UPS control cable so I don't have to maintain the ability to shutdown the computer without being able the see the screen. (I've done that with Macs in the days when the only way to shut it down was selecting the special menu. Or flipping the switch, but that's not fair, no buffers are flushed then...)

I guess I should try and write some more, though I am fading.

I wonder what oatmeal with Inner Beauty Real Hot Sauce would taste like. Probably chunky hot sauce.

Cincinnati in 8 days.

I am like fog: spread out, filmy, and slightly cold.

O.K., Maybe it's just my brain. Too little sleep. I think I will give myself a reprieve and go to bed now. More writing things tomorrow.

I am really annoyed the calc for emacs doesn't exist in the Redhat world. Fortunately I am no stranger to lisp...

David Bowie is slightly cracked. "Don't look at the carpet, I drew something awful on it. See?"

The cdrom player must die.

I want to buy a $3600 Computer. That's without a monitor. No modem either, I have a 56K one. But it'd have Dual 450Mhz Pentium II's, and therefore would be about 10-20 time faster than my P5-90.

All that, and I don't even play Quake any more.

Damn, and Damn again, I'm good. Ideas just spill away from me, and splash up on the curb, rendering a virtual creation fest, right there in the gutter. Then all I gotta do is get down with my little spoon and get the best parts in the 55 gallon barrel.

I need to be the CEO, so I can just spew at these bright folks, and have my ideas come to fruition, or at least be recorded.

Yow. What an establishment!

Not a very daily diary, now is it.

During the last week or so I was in Cincinnati, OH, my town of birth, which has grasp of several of my favorite folks in the world.

One of these folks is Renea (If you see a mention of Mistress Renea, it's almost always a reference to her. Anything I have her doing is likely to be fiction, you may assume that is the default).

Her sweetie is Rob, an excellent singer and song writer, and remarkably nice guy. He bought a nice house, and that's where I spent about half my time while I was there. Renea is about as nocturnal as I am, so we would sit around and do things like play bizarre games of Scrabble (if you can convince the other players the word you have put down could reasonably arise from normal English, you can use it, even if it hasn't been used by any yet. Samples: clownkind, neopolarhoax, zooseep, orgyzooseep, quaggy.

Another big chunk of time was spent hanging out with Mark E. one of the twisted minds behind "Mr. FuuZuu's HappyTime and Salvation Emporium", a discordian cabal, and his sweetie, the very talented Monica, who made me a black chef's jacket. She's way cool, and so is he.

Also there is the wonderful Adrienne, who gave me a place to stay, and a few cats to look after while she wandered to points south. Her talents seem to be organization, groundedness, and the ability to torture cats in a way that keeps them coming back for more. A twisted soul, and a dear friend.

Let us not forget to mention Karen, who I didn't get to spend too much time with. I don't worry about that too much, because Karen sees me every summer at the Brushwood Folklore center in Sherman, New York, where we camp and hang out and learn with all our friends there. Karen just bought a house on the cheap, and is fixing it up. She's sort of like me in that she has a bunch of skills in different things. Power lurks near her.

A week is too short to vacate, even at Yule where I can see them pretty often. I really need a month. I need to figure out how to not have to work in a fixed location. Writing could be the way, but I'll have to see if it can pay the bills.

Inertia is the enemy of all projects. Weather, of the unpleasant variety, adds to that inertia. I will start writing tonight, and get a good amount done. I do declare this now. I must eat food first, as my brain is annoyed. Coffee is not enough to remove the fuzziness. On with it...

Writing can be like driving in nails with fish.

Sometimes I can write for hours, other times, like now, 30 lines are daunting. sigh...

Work can be a drain, but of late I've gotten the chance to play with our database for project tracking. I like playing with databases. Amusingly, I just saw an announcement that would speed up the display of the database quite a bit, but it would require a big rewrite of the stupid thing. Unclear what to do. I should probably look to see what the differences between PHP3 and PHP2 are, and see if it's backwards compatible. It'd be fun...

My sweetie's home, I'm much happier.

What a week from hell. My desktop decided to go on some bizarre configuration fritz, several things broke around the place, and I can't get the bits of lilypond to work at home.

Bleah. Some weeks, I wish I could drop computers, and just drum.

Concentration is a bitch, sometimes. On the other hand, chapter 2 is short. Of course, I might collapse it in with something else, but probably not. The login process is not part of the boot up process, nor is it precisely part of customization.

Wow, it's been some time since I added to this...

Well, just to make my life wonderful, I bought WordPerfect for Linux, version 8, hot off the presses.

It slices, dices, it munges.

However, I am trying to build words and phrases and pages, not dice them.

Word Perfect ate my 3rd chapter, throwing me a lot farther behind than I could have imagined.

Boy am I unhappy. Boy is my publisher unhappy. I'm now reformmating things in a sgml like format, and moving forward again, albeit slowly.

Now I'm working on how to get find to let me use a pipe in an -exec set.

Inertia can be a killer. Remember that. So can lack of information. ("I didn't know the gun was loaded.")

An new entry, after all this time...

I was reading the Various DGM diaries, and it reminded me to write some.

For Yom Kippur (The Jewish Day of Atonement) some computers I take care of decided to go 4 legs up. I think they are trying to convert me.

The nadir of this experience was finding out that my trying to do a restore prevented some backups from taking place. This made the backup folks very mad. On the other hand, I'm mad because I needed an emergency restore and didn't get it in time. It may be that the intermediaries were the problem. Black marks all around.

In other news, my band has a fairly decent demo disk, requiring only a bit of polishing before we start shopping it around to clubs.

Fripp brings up an interesting point of Jazz Vs Rock: In Jazz the album promotes the player and the tour. In Rock, the player tours to promote the album.

My Band, Private Circus, has the middle view. We'd like to promote the album with our playing, we'd like the album to promote our playing in public. I sometimes dislike the idea of recording each musician separetly to produce a good album, but the volumes at which we play lead to much bleed through, so we need to go that route. On the other hand, touring is a big hassle, if we are to believe Monsieur Fripp, who can probably be believed. Even a little gig now and then is an undertaking, if it is to be done for the sake of the music.

Rarely do clubs have a good sound systems, they are often acousticly stupid, so even if you have your own PA it's dicey you'll be able to get something good in a reasonable amount of time. Getting there can be a hassle in places like Boston, because of parking problems and traffic delays. Protecting your equipment is a must, so efficiency of loading is impaired by needing to watch the equipment.

In short, nothing is simple. And since we like playing music more than carting equipment, we think we might only play once a month. Hopefully that will be enough, though in my heart I know it probably isn't.

So we will also use the internet to attract an audience, probably by setting up a web site with MP3's of samples of our songs. This is also fraught with peril, since it's exposes us theft of our songs...

I would just like to hit things all day, and have people give me money or no apart reason. Do these things have to be coupled?

Once more, I read about writing a diary, and here's a go.

The diary entries I have read about are from musicians, which leads me to consider music.

Music plays a central role in my life. I see divinity in music, and reach ecstacy while playing. People have commented on my drumming and tapping on myself more than once. (I play drums of all sorts, as well as some other instruments.) Many people see it as a nervous habit. I realized some time back that that is because they don't hear the rhythm the way I do. It's busy, to be sure. Often it's in odd signatures (lately 11: |: rlrlrrlrrll :| ). I can see where a less trained ear might miss the rhythm and fail to identify.

Never the less, I find it difficult to respond well when someone asks me to stop. I generally do stop, out of courtesy, but I find it rankles me. It's almost like when some steals a parking space from you.

On the other hand, I have had people tell me "real drummers don't tap on themselves." At one time I might have taken this seriously. Now I tell these people that they are foolish. (O.K., admittedly, I am a little more profane than this. I've never had a polite little old lady tell me this. And my mother has never asked me to stop. Of course, she has a good ear.) There is no constant between drummers, other then they drum at all.

O.K. away from the bitching.

In composition my method is to play something, and try and make changes to it while I am playing. (I program much the same way.) Speed it up, change the signature, flip a note...

The other thing I do is say a phrase, either in my head or out loud, and see if it suggests a melody. With my twisted brain, almost everything does.

Then of course there' the method of noddling on a keyboard or guitar and seeing what comes up. All work well.

The music I write tends to be about society. I'm not very introspective in my music. Just to be tricky, though, the instrumental bits are often about me.

O.K., I must go and potluck.

Songs have several parts. There is the beginning, the middle and the end. Some parts repeat.

If one wants the widest range of expression, one might have one theme to begin, a second theme in the middle, or two or three, and a theme at the end.

However, you must deal with the fact that your audience must receive these messages if you are to communicate to them, and so repetition is important.

How one handles that repetition is the key to the differences between good composers and great composers.

For the purposes of our discussion, we'll avoid talking about pathological cases, like playing one theme repeatedly. In fact, well talk about the classic parts: verse, chorus, and bridge.

Throughout pop music, the use of the items is fairly static. You'll have an intro, which is often one of the other parts without and singing, you'll have two verses, a chorus, a verse, a chorus, the bridge, a verse and the chorus. for short IVVCVCBVCC. Most songs will be very close to that. Pop songs will be in major chords and tend to be about 3 minutes long.

Among the musically inclined this format is much maligned, largely because it is very cliched, and not very clever.

However, it's not the format that is the problem, it's usually that the verses and choruses are played exactly the same every time. The notes in each verse, despite being behind different words, are the same tone, the same length, the same feel, and the same volume.

Good pop songs move through a tonal and dynamic range, to paint a full picture. The musicians play subtly different things each time around. Not so much that they distract you from the words, but enough to add further refinements to the story.

Good non pop songs still repeat things, but are less likely to be in a major chord, in a danceable time signature, at a danceable tempo, or follow the structure usually followed by most pop songs.

Variations include completely non related intros and outros, chorus or bridge that are wildly different from the verse, or lyrics about situation real people will never find themselves in.

How does the music of Private Circus stack up? We have slight pop tendencies in some of the lyrics, some strange time signatures, some funny keys. We often use a full dynamic range in the space of a measure, and a few songs have polyrhythmic bits. Not very pop, but not avant garde, either.

O.K., I must go hang with the jugglers.

Reading Robert McFall's diary on the DGM site, he said that composers will give the players something at the edge of the ability to challenge them.

I end up doing this to myself, often enough, as I'll hear the perfect drum part, which I can't currently play. This has brought me up from an average novice to a decent intermediate player in about 5 years.

For the purposes of this discussion we must point out the previous and concurrent 34 years of music exposure and and perhaps 20 years of thinking about music and composition.

This is why I'm a composer first, then a musician, then a drummer.

I bought a set of v-drums a few weeks back, which has afforded me the opportunity to practice when I want without waking anyone or otherwise bothering people. This has had a wonderful effect on my playing, since now I can practice every day when I will most enjoy practicing, which is at night, when my creativity is highest.

For those wondering, the V-Drums are the best electronic drums I have ever played. If I had to choose between them and a low end acoustic set, I'd take the v-drums. But they still don't compare to a good acoustic set, especially when it comes to the cymbals and snare.

My acoustic snare is a 9" deep by 14" diameter brass snare from Premier. I love it, it's both bright and deep at the same time. Otto likes it because an inexpensive mike produces a great sound. I cannot get the V-Drum snare to sound anything like it. The snare sound is too high pitched.

With the cymbals, the problem is much more basic: I can't get the range of sounds out the of the electronic cymbals that I can with regular ones, where I can get 6 or 7 distinctly different colors out of the thing.

For many bands this would not be a problem, as most rock music is compressed by the compositional style, as well as by the production. Private Circus use a greater range, and therefore I find the limitations to be unforgivable.

I can see why Bill Bruford has trepidation.

I'm sure that by the time I am as famous as Bill Bruford, the technology will have improved. One hopes (in both cases).

I went and hung out with folks (Sebbo, Charlotte, Andy from the K school. Gavin Ruth, Rich, and of course eBeth) in Powderhouse Park, nominally to play croquet. I avoided the croquet, which I enjoy, but Gavin handed me a Sam & Max collected, which is way cool, then I didn't feel so well.

Got food from the East Asia restaurant in Powderhouse Square. They don't quite fry the rice. Sad to say, I really do like rice fried with soy sauce and slightly carmelized, which is how most Chinese restaurants make it. I'd be cooler if they started with brown rice, but whatever. These folks were more high falutin, which I don't go for, because they tend to stick in zuchinni and things with cold flavors (think dill or cucumber) which I dislike.

Afterwards we repaired to Sebbo and Juuuuuulia's place, where we ate, read more comic books, had espresso, pina coladas, and chatted about things. Very fun. Got sicker. I am neutral on the pina coladas. One was a bit more that enough, and it was a small one. No loss.

Now home, and feeling worse. So I will sleep, and dream, maybe, and wake, and feel better, I hope.

Sick today, something cold like or strep like. I always just stay home for the first part of anything, on the assumption that getting rest right away will keep the damage to a minimum. This has worked well in the past.

I dislike being sick, as it means I can't get out an do anything. Playing on the computer is interesting for only so long. We won't mention the part about feeling random pains and such.

Laurie Anderson would be fun to work for. According to Fripp, a ride with her across Times Square is an experience. "Yow!" he says.

Glade (a graphical GUI maker for GTK and Gnome) promises more in its literature than it actually delivers. I tried to make something basic, but once you add a widget to a container, you can't add anymore. If you take to route of adding a container with more divisions, you discover they can't be resized. I hope they realize this is bad design, and are planning on correcting it before the real release (It's only version .53).

We want very little that Consumer Reports has ever rated. Someone needs to do a Prosumer Reports, aimed at professionals and people like me, who dislike the mainstream stuff, and has hobbies that require special equipment.

Anyway, I must sleep.

Making RAID's is pretty boring, though there was some excitment when one of the drives failed to be recognized. I reseated it, and it seems to be behaving.

Reading a somewhat interesting essay on thinking and programming called the Programmers Stone. The first chapter proved entertaining, though it cause a friend (TC) to be annoyed, since it divides the world up into two distinct groups.

There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who divide the world up into the two kinds of people, and those who don't. Then there are discordians.

I must find food now...

I was hanging with the atheists tonight, who I like because of their basic intelligence, even if I think some of them choose paths that tend to lead to unhappiness. Obviosly, I'm not hanging with ALL of them, because they all could fit in the restaurant. No, it was a subset known as the ADG, or Atheists Discussion Group.

For myself, I find that many atheists can be just as bullheaded as fundamentalist Christians, in that they can't take the mention of anything spiritual and not freak out.

An important definition for me is that Spiritualism is the desire to do things that make you feel important. I add the idea that it must be non-zero sum, i.e. I can't belittle others to achieve this end.

I also add in, though this has an emotional facet to it as well, that seeking ecstatic experiences is in service of spirit.

More later.

A fast diary entry:

ME asks "define 'important' in the context of spirituality?

What makes you feel important is completely subjective.

What makes it spiritual is reflecting that feeling of importance outwards, so that it becomes a tool as well as an indicator.

I am:

Listening to Genesis (Trick of the tail)

Giggling over the phrase "duck-squeezer" (Neal Stephenson "Zodiac", Highly recommended)

Lamenting the fact that I need to download a more recent set of kernel source for Linux, and make a new kernel, because RedHat doesn't ship with IP masquerading on by default. Apparently. And I guess I screwed it up when I made it. I'm not sure I believe that. I think I had it working...

I am wondering where I screwed up...

Getting my Mac back up. The boot drive failed, so I ordered a 22Gb IDE drive to replace the 4Gb drive it shipped with. It cost me $250. In 10 years, they'll be shocked I paid so much for such a small drive. Never mind that 22Gb is roughly equivalent to 22 Million pages of text, more with compression.

Let's say you read as fast as I do, and kill off a 400 page novel in a day, no problem. That's about 55,000 days of reading, or enough pulp to keep you occupied for 150 years, no stopping. It's about 9/10's of a mile of reading for comprehension.

22Gb should be enough for anyone. Then, again, I'm not just anyone.

ME complained that you couldn't see this thing from the other end of time, so I made a script to reverse things. As is painfully obvious, I got there from coding up a whole new thing to separate the entries into little boxes, and do titling, etc.

It's sort of fun, it's what I like computers for.

Other improvements: each entry has it's own file, The whole thing is a PERL script running under mod_perl for speed. It's general enough that I could probably more the entries to a database like postgres or mysql, but I'd only do that if I really needed the speed. I ain't slashdot.

My musical folks, Otto and Jerfo seem to be conspiring to turn the band into a progish sort of affair. I can't say I'm sad, as long as flow is to be had. Jerfo's tastes tend to strange prog bands like Gentle Giant, Ozric Tentacles, maybe a little Dream Theater.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am a fan of Gentle Giant. Their music is pretty much all good.

On the other hand, Dream Theater has at least one song that I found annoying in one facet: Tempo breaking.

I need to explain this concept. Take a beat, any beat. Then suddenly stop it, for a random number of beats, then play a random number of beats. Repeat a few times. Congratulate yourselves on what a tight band you are.

This can be used well. Witness the "mirrors" section of 21st Century Schizoid Man. In mirrors, one gets the feeling of running through a maze of mirrors, and occasionally hitting a dead end. Part of this is conveyed through the use of repetition. Two important conditions must be met for tempo breaking to work. First, it must be integral to telling the story of the song. Secondly, there shouldn't be a lot of it. Just a soupçon. Metallica just rides the border of tastefulness in some of their albums, but at least theirs is a bit more predictable.

Those who know me know one of my stated goals is to get the audience to hurt themselves trying to dance to a song. This, of course, is a statement for effect. My real hope is they we can change the time out from under them, and they won't notice for a while.

Breaking the flow of the song gratuitously is the closest thing I can think of to sin. The idea isn't to lose your audience, the idea is to take them for a trip. It's cool if you suddenly need to jog a bit to one side once in a while. But if your song is reminiscent of Tron Lightcycles, many of your potential audience will fall by the wayside, and your communication is lost.

Otto came up with a song "welcome to my world" which has a structure like this:

4/4 4/4 4/4 4/4 | 7/8 7/8 7/8 4/4 | 4/4 4/4 4/4 4/4 | 7/8 7/8 7/8 7/8
4/4 4/4 4/4 4/4 | 7/8 7/8 7/8 7/8 | 4/4 4/4 4/4 9/8 | 7/8 7/8 7/8 7/8

At first there was just the top line. But I played it wrong a few times, because I had missed the switch to 4/4 in the second phrase. Jerfo and Otto liked the feeling so much, they insisted I learn it both ways, so we can play it. Then the added the 9/8 to compensate and get the thing back on track.

Very fun. And it's still sort of funky.

So here we are in the 21st century. Wee.

My goals for the upcoming year are to actually produce an album, and start to promote it. I should like to be famous to some small degree a year from now. Could be that I am biased, but I think we have some damn spiffy songs. Alas I have little proof of this, to my great frustration.

My goals for the rest of my life are to pursue songwriting and musicmaking, with an eye towards making it a career. It's the right thing for my attention span. Too much more time in the service industry with little tangible to show for it is unacceptable. This will suck for my current employer, to be sure.

The reason I must make this change is basic. I am creative, but I don't have enought time to pursue it. This is making me dull. In addition, I have a number of people who want to pursue music projects with me: M.E., Rob D., Josh L., to name the most prominent. Not to mention my band, Private Circus, and the plans that Jerfo and I have for dance music and stuff.

For those who see this, if you are in Cincinnati, go have breakfast at the Echo on Edwards Road near 71. Damn good pancakes. Also see the Pancake House on Montgomery Road. Good waffles. While you are in town, see the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival.

I have reached one interesting conclusion in all of this gadding about: The difference between Cincinnati and Boston is effectively nil, as far as I am concerned. The entertainment possibilities are slightly better here, but since I never use them, who cares. Given my desire to pursue music, I might do better in NY, NY or LA, CA. I have little desire to live in LA, CA given it's current state, so that leaves New York. Then there is the problem that eBeth would like to be near a college town. I can dig that. We'll have to find a city that meets our criteria of being near a few good colleges, easy to live in, and near New York.

Hmmm.

Time to look at an atlas...

SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, YA MORONS!

Never the less, It's stuff I need to do the things I want to. I'm approaching the point where I say "O.K., no more equipment till I produce a final product."

Reading Fripp's diary always puts me in a peculiar mood. This particular writing is punctuated by the fact that I am typing rather slowly, because my arms are tight from practice.

My practice these days seems to consist of me jamming with the cheezo loops on the V-Drum brain, and then working on a few Private Circus songs that I am still struggling against.

Currently they are: My Dear, Blister, Tree, and Driving. The biggest problem in each is that while I have been tapping on things since I was born, I've only used my feet for the last 6 years or so. They have some catching up to do. Unfortunately they have to catch up more to my brain, which doesn't merely demand speed, but music.

Diligence is not something that comes easily to me. But it is the only way to get where I want to go. As Monsieur Fripp likes to say, we must prepare ourselves so that when music comes knocking, we are ready to let it in, lest it go away.

I have the fortunate circumstance that the music is my own, and that I am sufficiently prepared to invite it in, and be able to clean up a bit while it patiently waits. It matures in the process, but gets no shabbier.

I am leaning towards getting a palm pilot or other palm os device. I could use something to help keep me a bit more organized. I worry, because the Graffiti system is annoying enough, that I bought and subsequently returned it one winter vacation.

Would that a decently inexpensive wearable linux box were available.

Intention: The desire to do something coupled with doing, or preparing to do something.

It is my intent to make music. I prepare to do this by practicing to play music, writing new music, and listening to music, mine and other folks.

Sometimes intent shifts. A guitar player on stage, to take a classic example, could be intent on playing the song he is playing, only to have his intentions shifted by the breasts of a girl in the front row.

Ethically, the guitar player should be true to the music and his orginal intention and shift his focus back to the music. If he is a resourceful and thoughtful fellow, he might be wise enough to instruct a stage hand to provide a back stage laminate the the girl, that he may express his joy on a personal basis, and then, having prepared for a different intention, he may return to the matter at hand.

Far better that he keep his focus on the music at least for the length of the song. This might afford him the opportunity to achieve the holy grail of musical experience: ecstacy.

For me the ecstatic experience comes when I am drumming. I lose the feeling of sitting on the throne bashing away, and split off. One section sticks around and plays drums, one section listens to the other musicians, and one sections floats above and listens to the song as a whole.

The Freudians amoung you might see the id, ego and superego in this. Or to use the TA terms, child, adult and parent. You could see the part that plays as the adult, the part that watches as the child, and the part that listens as the parent. But you'd be wrong. In fact no arrangement of those parts would describe the experience.

The Parent recognizes the familiar bits, the child creates new bits, the adult coordinates them. The adult analyzes, the parent plays the easy parts, the child considers where to play next. The child laughs at the silly bits, the parent chuckles at the borrowed bits, the adult marvels at the new bits.

All pretty much simultaneously.

The brain is a wonderful thing.

But this only happens when your intent is focused. It is when the zen mind is achieved, the music is available to your hands, and the head is bored with marvelling that the music just goes right to the hands, neato!

I have been working on producing a CD of the tape of our second set at our first gig.

The gig was held at my friends' Ruth and Gavin new house, an out of place single family in Medford, MA. (Those in the know pronounce it "Meffid". I pronounce it "Medferd". I like "r"'s) Around noon we brought our stuff to the house, me with my electronic kit, and then ran to Daddy's Junky Music to rent the PA. Any trip to Daddy's Boston is vaguely annoying because of the lack of parking nearby, the lack of a loading zone makes it worse. The Boston way is to double park. Not having grown up in Boston, I find this annoying.

Daddy's didn't give us enough cords, so we ended up improvising on some of the connections, which Otto stated as being "a bad idea". Everything basicly worked, so that was o.k. I got to play gaffer with exactly two cords, those going to the room mics with which we recorded ourselves.

Our first set was supposed to be about 7 songs, but ended up being about 10. Unfortunately they didn't get recorded, so you didn't get to hear me drop sticks three times in the space of about 10 measures of "butch". I had chosen to put the extra sticks in my back pockets, which turned to be a very good idea: I almost always know where my ass is.

The crowd was friendly (one would hope, we knew most of them.) and responded well to the music. There were even people dancing to songs they had never heard before. I take this as a good sign. The cheering was enthusiastic, which I take as a good sign. Polite applause would have been painful.

We tried an experiment in the middle: a "Democratic Jam". It wasn't really democratic, in that Otto took the first suggestions that he felt we could do. This ended up being Ska, with a chord structure consisting of Am, Em, C, and F. My comment at the end was that the song illustrated why monarchy was important. Ultimately we shouldn't call it a democratic jam, but an audience participation jam. Even better, a hat jam would be good: Toss a bunch of chords into a hat, and have an audience member pull out 4, then get a suggestion as to a style. Maybe in a longer show though.

We played 19 songs, including 2 jams, and despite a few clams, played them well. I can only hope to do as well at our next gig.

It's on June 19, 2000, at the Middle East, in the upstairs venue, which holds about 200.

My specific worries, in this approximate order: Sound, number of audience members that came in on our coupon, dealing with the drums, image.

I have been in enough clubs where the club sound guy is effectively deaf, or the venue requires a genius to make it work, that this is always my biggest fear. I am thinking the proper thing to do is record three songs with total separation between instruments, and totally dry, so that the three of us can stand on the floor and tune the room to our liking. Sound folks everywhere would have polemic reactions to us. Another possibility is to write a sound check song, that exercises a number of representative situations so that the sound man can play with the sound in each situation the get the best thing possible. Tree is close to that, in that it has extremely quiet sections and maximally loud sections. All it's missing is each instrument in solo, and a max loud and dense section, ala "butch".

We need a bunch of people to come in on our coupon, because that's how the club will decide to have us back on a non-new music night. This is a matter for promotion, which I have taken on, since I have more time, and Otto got the booking. For the moment Jerfo's contribution is largely his guitar playing, which may be more than enough. It's certainly good enough to be a draw on it's own.

I have a large kit (5 toms, 2 crash, china, ride, splash, bell, remote high hat, snare and bass, block and cowbell, double bass pedals, racked) in an unusual format: the 4 high toms are in a square, and the high hat is just barely left of center in front of the snare. This means I don't cross my hands to play a normal high hat ride beat. It also means most drummers would have a hard time playing my kit, and my style would certainly be cramped on theirs. The upshot of this is that we can't share kits. Add to that that my snare is a 14" by 9" brass snare, and most drummers don't care for the sound, and you have a wash. Lots of fast work for me.

Our image is nebulous. At Ruth and Gavin's we wore a normal practice clothes, which are random. My encouragement to the other guys was to go for something of high contrast that's comfortable to play in. For me that basic dress will be shorts, a blank T-Shirt, and hopefully a Jester's hat, everything black. And maybe shades.

I'm just hoping we won't solely be known as "they guys who handed out ear plugs."

Our first public gig was one June 19, 2000, Upstairs at the Middle East, Cambridge MA.

I have no idea whether we made 30 people or not, but we certainly had the largest crowd that night. We were the third band. The fourth band had one person stay to listen, a girlfriend.

For me it was an annoying night, strictly because of the need to get on stage too quickly. My kit wasn't quite set up correctly, and my right arm started to cramp from having to reach too far for the ride cymbal. This severely reduced my range of musical expression, and caused me to drop sticks about 4 times. I was just getting the kit close to correct by the last song.

To add to the fun, my main crash cymbal was actually touching the huge tweeter horn on the stack of speakers right next to the drums. Every time I crashed, there was a slight extra spike as the cymbal hit the cone.

Never the less, Jerfo and Otto were having fun in front, a fact which more than made up for my frustrations. More than one person commented on Jerfo's facial expressions. My friend Ruth E. referred to him as having serious "muppet face".

The first two bands both ran a bit long, so we were nice and shortened our set. Good for club relations, though our audience was a bit disappointed, Thomas C. especially, since he got to hear 19 songs at our first gig. The image of the sound engineer squawking a protest and waving the clock in the air when the first band started playing a song after their official end is still fresh in my head. The second band she cut off unceremoniously. They were the ones to squawk then, asking "we don't have time for one more?", a question too stupid to have been asked. They were already off schedule when they started playing, and she had made that quite apparent, both verbally, and by the fact that she leapt onto stage and ripped out the micing for the first band, and slammed it in for them.

The first band's bass player was one of Otto's students at Berklee. His band was called "Those Who Wait". They should have taken their own advice. Very strong players, O.K. songs, but lacking in actuals leads or hooks. They need a lead guitar player. The singer played rhythm guitar. He only ever played chords, so far as I could see. The drummer had a bit too much of the "I been practicing how to be a great drummer for 4 years, and I'm going to prove it right now". I'd say without rancor that he was a better drummer than I am, but with a cliched sound/style.

The second band was "Fools Rush In". My initial impression of the members of the band wasn't favorable, as they were standoffish during load in. They came in wearing clothes which screamed "I want very much to be a rock star!". I was more disturbed when one of them went into the bathroom and started doing vocal warm-ups. In a small closed room alone, he couldn't keep in tune with himself. Fortunately this turned out to be a fluke, as he was fine on stage. They came onto stage wearing suits, and were otherwise quite reminiscent of the 80's Brit Pop/MTV. The drummer played remarkably quietly. I could barely hear the snare standing at the edge of the stage with my ear plugs out. Other than that they played well enough and got some of the crowd moving, so good on them.

Both of those bands served to remind me what a gem we have in Jerfo, and Otto as well. Jerfo plays guitar well enough to toss musical jokes in at will, and play stunning leads and solos. Otto and I played well enough to support this. Our songs are quite strong in the hook department, often due to Otto. It makes me happy.

Not surprisingly, we were the only band to have a wide dynamic range. The first band basicly had the constant sound, with occasional full band rests. The second guys only backed a bit during guitar solo's. The last bad was the same way for the small amount that I heard. I may have missed something there, so don't take that as a negative review.

A number of friends were around at the end, and helped us clear the equipment out to the curb in remarkably short time, which was very nice, and meant we could pack up and go at our leisure, and not have to wait for the last band, "Kodachrome", to finish. I'm not sure what would have been kinder, sticking around packing in front of them, with our crowd obviously ignoring them, or just leaving. Better to be out than indifferent, I think, so leaving fast was good.

A decent first public gig. Now to get the next...

We are working on a song called "Welcome to my world." It was started as a small challenge to me from Otto, as the original structure had a section that went 7/8 7/8 7/8 8/8 sometimes, and 7/8 straight through sometimes. It took me a couple sessions to get comfortable with the changes, especially since the mistakes I first made caused Otto to change things so that I was playing off a beat intentionally. Then my hard won knowledge was wrong, but only half the time.

To make things interesting, Otto asked if we had ideas for a bridge, and Jerfo said he had some brewing, could he get back to us? Today he did. To quote my favorite favorite English Guitar player, "Yow!"

Afterward Jerfo and I were walking to Johnny's Luncheonette, a dinner like place near Harvard Square (highly recommended), and talking about the song. There are Crimsonish elements to it, but it's certainly not KC. Or more importantly, it's not a cheesy KC knock off. His first shot at it was, apparently, but then he realized this, and Jerfo'ized it. What Would Jerfo Do?

The inner movement starts with a repeating chord ala Red. Otto plays a sinister little syncopated walk up over this, with a stinger ending. Four beats later we do it again. Then Otto switches to playing this tasty little ditty, and I follow him with my bass drum. This jumps into a stomping section in 7/8 and 5/4 that gets more complex with each pass, culminating in a chunk in 5/4 of variations on the previous section in 5/4, then jumps back into the main theme of the song.

The fun thing for me is I get a very loose structure to play with in terms of needing to support what the other guys are doing. My choice then is to reflect that growing complexity in different ways, sometimes by playing busier (a scary thought for those who know my playing), sometimes by doubling a beat by one the others guys, and sometimes by bringing out a drumming theme from the main song.

This song totally rocks. Despite the odd times and funny changes, the music flows really well, so that you are carried along. There are no sudden stops, but more a feeling that the music slipped under you in such a way as to support you, while at the same time messing with you.

Really, really excellent.

A week ago I got back from Sirius Rising and Starwood. SR is a festival put on the the Brushwood Folklore Center. Starwood is put on by another organization on the same property immediately after SR. Basicly it's folks hanging out in the woods, having a good time, going to workshops and various things dealing with alternative spirituality. Starwood is way more of a party than SR, so I like SR better. My main reason for going to them is to see my hometown friends, one of whom, Elie, I credit with doing more to help me have positive self esteem than anyone else.

Other friends:
• Karen, who's a pistol. She's about 5 foot and some, but I have always seen her in my mind as an amazon. Large personality.
• Ken. I have known Ken for precisely the same amount of time as Elie, since I met them both at the same time. Artist, martial artist, small publisher, massage therapist, very clueful individual. A lot of fun. We have always had a pastime of poking at each other when our egos starting getting a little large for the room.
• Renea. A writer who understands writing on many more levels than most people. One of her favorite books of all times is Finnegan's Wake, and I think it's safe to say that she has decided to take that novel as a challenge, and produce something to hold up against it. I believe she can do it. I have read a few of her books in progress, and despite being out of the genre I refer to read (SF, Fantasy, humor) I was enthralled, on several levels at once. She currently trying to figure out how to make up new words to describe ideas she has.
• Rob. Renea's sweetie, who terrifies her slightly. He's apparently exactly what she wanted, and now she has to live with that. Awww. Rob is an extremely smart fellow, a very good musician, and does a variety of other things that make people stop and stare. Like hopping a forty foot ladder down the side of a house, so he doesn't have to climb all the way down, move it, and climb up again. He's sufficiently cat like that in case of an accident. he'd land well, and suffer only the indignity of having the move fail. Never the less, Renea hates when he does those things.

E'Beth and I usually camp with Elie and Karen, so this was the usual. This year Ken camped with us, as did Ron and Renea, plus Carol, Dwight and Paul (decadence on a camp stove), and later Jan and Tom, and Burt and Dazzle, plus a friend I hadn't seen in years, Paul R. A fine fellow, and good drummer, and bass player. The conversations were great and varied. On the other hand, the drumming, at least at the big fire, was often lacking.

Basicly, when the party aspect starts coming into the nightly big fire, the drumming starts to suck in a big way. Since my main focus is getting to see my friends from my hometown, who are brilliant people, I'm not keen to go through contortions to get to drum with the really good drummers, as this usually means needing to get up at 2 am, and carting various hand drums most of the length of the field, probably about 400-500 meters.

It's important to understand that many factors are involved. Nights at Brushwood are quite cold, in the 40's and 50's (F), you need to wear a jacket. At the fire, you get a ton of radiant heat from the fire, but at the same time your back is cold. Adding to that, sometime the dancers get a bug to dance for the drummers, which means standing in front of them. This is annoying for two reasons. Firstly, they block the radiant heat. Secondly, you can't actually see them, be cause they are silhouetted by the fire, so whatever impact they hoped to have is lost in darkness.

On the other hand there are some amazingly good dancers, and amazingly good looking people wandering around the fire, so spectacles are to be had if you wish. And if you are there late night, the drumming can be quite good.

When I first started drinking, I drank the usual newbie drinks. Rum and Coke. The odd daquiri. Later a friend slipped me some vodka he was bringing up from the downstairs bar, so I was into Stoli for a while. I had too many bad screwdrivers once, resulting into a temporary conversion to the cult of the water god, and spent an evening worshiping at the porcelain altar. I never went in for cults much, so I made a rule against cheap liquor, which cut down on my drinking, as well as made me much more selective.

I got into Irish Whiskey upon moving to Boston, and recently a friend let me sample some really good scotch, and then I tried some others on recommendations from various folks, so now I have a taste for some interesting Single Malts (Lagavulin 16 and MacAllan 15, to be precise).

Well liquors, so named because they kept in a well below the mixing station in a bar, are usually the cheapest thing on the shelves at the liquor store. Bottom shelf, plastic bottles, made like junk food. I can't drink them anymore. Too many contaminants, nasty esters that weren't meant for consumption by those with a palate.

Much of the drumming at the big fire is like that. There's a beat, but I have seen it before, and I have no positive feelings about it. I'm not saying it's bad, it's just that it's a rum and coke. All too often made with well liquors. There are people who are playing the beat well. Others play it badly, muddying the accents. Others don't even play in time. Others still aren't listening, and playing off in their own world.

When I drum around the fire at camp, everyone listens, we all drum together. It's really nice. The other folks are pretty good drummers, everyone can keep the beat. Once in a while a friend shows up, and we set up a song that rocks, trances go for a good long time.

In Otto's basement, well... Let's just say that fairly often one of us is literally jumping up and down with delight. Loud exclamations are heard. That was the scene today, and we haven't even played the song through once with confidence. The composition is so stunning it comes through the clam parade that marks the start of new song cycle.

It's very good scotch.

In a side note, apparently we got between 30 and 40 people to our gig at the Middle East Club, and they are likely to offer us other gigs as well. Excellent.

Well, I can tell you why: since about October, I have been working on a novel. It's current working title is "The first ten thousand cuts". It is a plot about maturation and growth. The basic story is three girls move down their chosen paths, which are highly intertwined, and yet quite different.

The underlying message of the story is that interesting times produce interesting people.

I have also come up with a few other book ideas. And Renea threatened me unless I finished one short story, "Sword", so I have a first draft of that.

I came up with another one that I had suspected must have been done by now, and dkap suggests that it has in Silicon Mage (B. Hambly). I shall see.

On the Music front, I have acquired new drums, and so we are rerecording things with them, or that is the theory. Otto's dealing with a death in the family, so he's kinda busy. Our songs keep getting more complicated. "I wonder" which was a 4/4 pop tune has turned into a 7/8\\4/4 tune. Really everything is in 7, except that the first part of the verse is in 4, , the last chorus is in 4, and a few transition points are in 4 because it feels more natural.

Are we weird because odd times and dissonance sounds natural to us? I don't think so, because we're not saying they are necessarily smooth or relaxed. They are tense, and that's intentional.

Last September my Mom died. Margaret S. Todd. She was pretty cool, I liked her. Also my Gramdmother, Grace Stanforth, died, six hours after my mom. She was 99, Mom was 71. Kinda sucked.

Tomorrow, I have told myself that it is time to start spring cleaning. We'll see if I do it...

Beddy-bye...

I distrust the urge to merely say "fuck the government". It fails to communicate.

You can use better words, and make the point better.

"The government is corrupt, we must fix it," or "The government is tyrannical, we must replace it," or even "the government is oppressing us by force of arms, we must take up weapons and fight them." are far preferable to "fuck them." They suggest a problem and a solution.

"These laws are bad, so I ignore them."

"Information from the government is suspect."

"The government has betrayed us, they are the enemy now."

These are real statements.

Ladies, and gents, I have a confession to make: I'm a slob. I'm not as bad as some, but never the less, I have some bad habits that have started to annoy me.

The problem with these bad habits is that they let me get in the way of myself. The untied shoelace is a metaphor for my life. However, just to make things really fun, I am also a perfectionist. Every act of cleaning also results in an internal war where my two sides are vying to be the ones deciding when I stop.

The result of this is one side saying "look at the wall, it's disgusting, there are spots on it," and the other side saying "Look, I just want to finish this dish, and then go have a nice lie down. Is this too much to ask?"

Recently some friends came down from VT. They were in town to see a concert, and E'Beth invited them over for the weekend. I awoke Sunday morning to the sounds and smells of cleaning. I peeked out of my bedroom to see them sorting, scrubbing and washing the kitchen. E'Beth was drawn into this, somewhat to her chagrin.

I watched for several seconds, and made two comments. One was an old joke: "I love work. I can watch it all day." The other was one from the part of my mind that is the most true, my intent. I said "Of course, I probably wouldn't help you clean your house if we came for a visit. I might drum a lot, though." Or something like that. Tom's reply was "That's cool" and I believe him, because he has been one of the people to demand my drumming in the past.

It's very nice when you can be totally open with people. I prefer it. I hate cleaning. I am grateful to Tom and Amy, because they gave us a seed of cleanliness that easy to maintain. We'll see how it goes. It been a couple of weeks, and we still have it for the most part. I can't say I dislike it. Once you have the base state, spending a few idle minutes maintaining it is much preferable to slogging through a big project.

In a related note, I also dislike cleaning other peoples homes, say, after a party. I don't mind following their rules for cleanliness, such as having to rinse of stick dishes in the dishwasher, but if they ask me to take a turn at doing dishes, I tend to want to make myself scarce.

One reason is that standing in one place and leaning over slightly is guaranteed back pain for me. Nothing terrible, but it's a weariness that precludes more pleasant activities. Another reason is more complicated, but it sums to this: I hate to be expected to do things, and I hate to be told to do things.

Doing the dishes is the worst of this. It's never been a pleasant activity for me. When I was younger, we had a top loading dishwasher. Unloading it meant reaching into a machine that was only a little shorter than I was. Later in life we had no dishwasher, and I had to do it by hand in an inefficient space.

Mostly it was the expectation. The conflict, I think, stems from a bit of failed communication. Mom thought that the utility of a clean house was viscerally self evident. It was only intellectually self evident until much later in life, when I was the one being inconvenienced. By this time, of course, I had long established slovenly habits, though to my mothers credit, she instilled a few good ones that prevented great disgust. I avoid eating in bed. I really avoid leaving dishes in the bedroom. No six legged visitors for me, thanks.

When I lived in one place, we made the mistake of leaving newspapers in stacks near the kitchen, which was near the living room which we used as a bedroom. This is a very bad idea. You will really hate the result of this if you try it.

Lately, I have been trying to incrementally modify my life. I am taking a few minutes to clean once in a while. I cleaned our main desk, and got an organizer for it, so I could verticalize the stuff I wanted handy, to prevent stacks from becoming leaning piles. I have also done a few small things in other parts of my life, like reducing the amount of caffeine I take it, and eating less cheese and starch. The starch wasn't hard. I realized I hadn't really enjoyed anyone's fries in a long time. I've never been a fan of baked potatoes. Other forms were more or less attractive depending on the amount of fat on them.

Cheese was harder, though. I am a big fan. No surprise there, really, most people are. My method there was to eliminate it if it was a competing flavor. No cheese burgers, it hides the taste of the meat. I also eliminate cheap cheese. No cheese sandwiches, or cheese sauces unless the quality is high. This lets out a number of low end Kraft products. Hooray for Annies products. They make a very tasty macaroni and cheese.

The hard thing in this particular effort is admitting to myself that restaurants overfeed you. I eat at Uno's in Harvard square a lot. If you want a low fat item there, you basically need to order just drinks, and even then you aren't safe. What you have to do is not eat the whole thing.

If you've been brought up in a typical American household, especially by parents who grew up in the Great Depression, the one thing you hear is "clean your plate." The conflict here, of course, is that My mother wasn't trying to make sure we didn't starve, she was trying to make sure we had a balanced diet. Our plate had the needed components, in a reasonable amount.

But just try and feed a picky kid peas, especially peas flavored to the taste of an adult. Mom complained that I used to eat these things as a baby. Now we know: babies have more taste buds than older children. It tasted different. I guess. I have no real idea. I just know that a mouthful of peas once made me nauseas, and that was the end of that.

Of course, as time goes on, I add things back as I discover form that I like. I eat broccoli now. General Gau's chicken was my "gateway" dish. Steamed broccoli is actually quite good. (Stir fried broccoli is a bad idea, that nasty rotting cabbage flavor comes back strongly.) Sauerkraut is now on my list of things that can be good. I had some recently, and it didn't disgust me. Salt and vinegar potato chips probably lead me to that. I can even eat peas that are in something else, like Asian Indian food.

So over time I am becoming incrementally less slovenly, and incrementally better fed. Also incrementally more outspoken, and incrementally more skilled at the things I enjoy. I am learning every day, and trying to enjoy every day. This is sometimes difficult, considering the people around, like most of Congress, but I feel like I am winning.

Now if I can find some clean socks, I'll be all set. Oh damn, time to do laundry. I hate that...

My reply to him was that I thought the more sterile version communicated it quite well, when accompanied by appropriate actions, such as actually arming oneself.

After a day or two of thought, I concede his point. The government is made of people, and people bow to emotive reactions. The senator who gets a thousand letters saying "Your proposed bill is ill thought; I shall oppose it with all I can bring to bear." is actually less effective than "You're a fucking idiot, Senator. Your bill is a piece of shit that will ream the country."

A few thousand phone calls and letters like that, and the Senator may begin to feel dropping his bad idea is the best way to avoid a lynching.

And frankly, I'd like to make sure that all Senators feel they are not far from a lynching. Maybe then they pay closer attention to all of their constituents, not just the ones that gave them the most money.

On the other hand, people shouting "fuck the ..." can get over used, and fail to communicate, unless it's backed up by something real. I recall the puzzled and sheepish looks on peoples faces when, at a speaking engagement at the University of Cincinnati, Jello Biafra asked the audience what they were going to do about the ills he had been speaking about. We would have looked like complete dunderheads if a couple of activists hadn't asked for support on their issues. No one else had anything useful to say, because in their hearts, they knew they were committed enough to do anything beyond going to entertaining shows, and be the choir singing hossanahs to the clever words of folks like Jello.

They wanted to get to yell "Fuck the government, society, big business, the police..." without being able to say just how they were prepared to do this.

We must give this thought.

On the other hand, the little that I heard of Tool from their web site elicited no response from my hopeful heart. It failed to move. It failed to even whimper. It just sounded like some metal. Better than some, but not "great".

Maybe the samples were a poor choice? I wonder who made the decision. I wonder if they were a musician.

I just went back and listened to them. I think it comes down to this: I just don't find them moving. I tried sushi tonight, for the first time. A little yellow tail, a little eel, some flying fish roe. My friend Tracy said it was very good. I found it merely unbad. It didn't taste like something nasty, no old fish smell. But never the less, it tasted like fish. I'm sure that if I like the taste of really fresh fish I'd have been as happy as Tracy.

I'm sure that if I liked Tool's music, I'd find it moving.

So what is it that keeps me coming back to a song?

Energy. I don't like all of King Crimson, either, but much of it I do, because it is generally very energetic.

For your edification, here are the parameters I see to music:

1. Melody. Is it memorable? Do you want to hum it?

2. Mood. Happy, Sad, Angry, etc.

3. Dynamics. Volume differences, whether real, or imagined.

4. Production. Sparse, layered, augmented?

5. Instrumentation. How were the sounds made?

6. Energy. Tempo, pacing, volume

7. The Journey. Does the song move from some place to another place?

You know energy when you hear it. It's like facing a tiger.

Communicating energy can be a tough job. Much of production involves figuring out how to overcome the limitations of your recording equipment. A song that makes me jump up and down with joy played live, might feel flat on the tape.

Tool's snippets felt like an amalgam of grunge production, with a grunge metal sensibility in the writing, and odd, medium energy, sparse production songs thrown in for good measure. Some of the energy may have been robbed by the fact that it was coming through a flash site, but I'm wise to the difference, and can do a pretty good job of filling in the gap.

It's a good way to communicate anger and desolation. But, frankly, I think anger and desolation are done for the moment. Most of the audience feels angry and desolate, I suppose, but do we want to encourage it?

Of course, I'm just a drummer in an obscure band who is known mostly in tiny little pockets on the net, and mostly by people I have met. We are not, by any stretch of the imagination "successful". On the other hand, my bass player suggested that I had a lot in common with a professor at Berklee who is well known for disliking things. And for being right about it, I suppose.

Never the less, my opinion stands: Nothing in the snippets I have heard would make me shell out any cash to buy a Tool album, even on the cheap. It doesn't compare to the stuff I have paid money for. It certainly doesn't compare to Crimson.

Oh well, I've ranted. Now, for a nap.

Let me describe our wonky recording process. At Otto's house, there lies a small bit of gear: a Tascam TM-D1000 digital mixer. He also has a few mics, including a couple Oktava large diaphram mics. I think I have mentioned these before.

There is also a few SM 57's. Our usual recording device is a TASCAM DA-38 8 track digital recorder. This is hooked to the Mixer via a TDIF cable so, we're basically bits once we are past the preamps.

Or even before, as Jerfo's effects unit is a roland guitar modeler, which I'm sure is quite digital. It'd be neat if we could go direct with it, and get just that much more cleanliness in the signal, but whatever.

Just to be amusing, Both Jerfo and I also own the TM-D1000. I however, also own a Toolbox XP bundle from Digidesign. This is an inexpensive card, having a couple of digital channels, as well as some analong channels. I don't really use the analog channels, since the mixer will happily talk digital.

Those who are observant might note a disparity. Eight channels of recording, but two channels into the computer? It's a problem, since we use all eight channels, and next album, I could see using twelve to sixteen. Fortunately, Pro Tools is sweet.

What happens is that I play in just two channels at a time, panned hard left and right. I do this four times. Then I use Pro Tools neato "zoom in on the waveform" ability to pick a point I want everything to line up on, and make them line up. It's not fully automated, but I'd defy anyone to hear any sync problems. It's lined up to within a SMPTE frame, thousands of a second.

So far so good. Mr. Otto recorded slates onto the tapes, so we have a fine chunk of wave form to play with. Linging up takes a minute or five, and then onto the rest of the deal.

Pro Tools LE is a full 24 track mixer, with inserts, sends, busses, a number of effects, and full flying fader automation, including on the effects! Want to slowly fade into nasty clashing reverb? No problem. It has everything you could ask for in a 24 track mixer.

One problem, though. See, The AudioSuite card that comes with the Toolbox XP bundle is really just a spiffy sound card. It's not a DSP sound processing card, like the Pro's use. Like Aerosmith had on their last album. Lacking this DSP muscle, Pro Tools must ask the CPU to compute the various realtime changes. And I can tell you now, It's a lot of computation. On Tree, I have an EQ and a reverb on my snare. Then I put a compressor on Otto's vocals, and was trying to add a reverb when it said I was "out of CPU power."

My Mac is a lowly(?) little 233 Mhz G3. Much faster than many people's machines, but strikingly, one of the slowest computers in the house. It's not quite up to snuff. Technology and fast shipping will save the day. I'll have to put off some of my play, and do the slightly more boring job of just getting the rest of the songs into the computer, while I wait for the processor upgrade to come, along with more RAM, because there's always room for more RAM.

This is one of the few times that I can say that I understand why the program is making it's demands. Realtime processing is computationally expensive. I'm asking it to mix 8 tracks, and run three digital effects units that need to take multiple samples and munge them, as well as update the screen, and occassionaly let the clock in the corner tick over.

Of course, one might ask why I don't look into one of the spiffier systems? Elementry, my dear reader. The number six. As in, six times the cost. A basic Pro Tools TDM systems lists for $8000, and that doesn't include the computer or the audio interface.

I hope this album is sucessful, because it would amuse me no end to own a Pro Tools TDM system. Mr. Otto would be drooling. Other folks would too. And I might be able to make some cash mixing various projects for local folks. Or something like that.

But for now, I'll look for work as a Tech Writer, and wait for my parts to come in. Don't be late Mr. FedEx man. Otto needs a bigger room.

The next big phase was the realization that a new market existsed, and a new way of getting to it, the Web. This unleashed the next round of death tolls, with everyone now saying that big business would control the net, and that would be the end of that.

Then we have had the .com crash, with thousands of supposedly bright stars failing to make it, and burning through billions in V.C. cash. "Oooooh!" they said, "The is really the end, now!"

Ahem. What, again?

First, for the internet to become as useful as it is now, it needed a big influx of cash. This isn't going to come from universities and research corporations. They are end users, and notorius for being pretty tight with the money. They have no desire to grow the internet beyond what is useful to them directly. So you need something like AOL to bring new users online, so that there is a big market. This allows businesses to spring up and make money in a possibly new and efficient way. I buy things regularly online, and I count it as a good thing, because they are items I already understand, and don't need to personally eye before purchasing. For instance, I bought four pairs of jeans from Levis. I knew what size I wanted, they had them. Importantly, I wanted a size not often found in stores in any quantity. The last time I went shopping for jeans, I had to go to two stores in Harvard Square to get the three pairs I bought. In this case, the Internet wins, even if I have to pay a bit more for shipping.

Second, there is a certain reality that needs to be pointed out here, mostly to the more idealistic members of the "old guard": The internet has always costed money. Lots of it. The aforementioned universities and corporations had to shell out hundreds of thousands for their communications lines and servers. The corporations have always "controlled" the internet. However, it's in their best interest to just sell access. If they try and force content on people, the blow to their PR would be huge, and it would create opportunities for competition.

Lastly, the crash of the .com's was as inevitable as the crash that hits thousands of tiny businesses every year. The main difference is what was missing from the business that caused it to fail.

Businesses fail for a variety of reasons. Discounting those that merely are run into the ground by their owner's incompetance, the three biggest reasons are bad location, bad marketing and no market. The web is a great location. It's just there, the biggest mall in the world. Finding what you want is the hard thing.

This brings us to Marketing. Marketing on the internet seems so far to consist of various organizations looking for new and interesting ways to annoy people: spam, pop-up ads, pop-under ads, Add on sigs in mailins lists. It's shocking because most of them fail to follow the basic rule of advertising: Get a good feeling connected with your name, or at least a neutral one. Politicians understand that any exposure is good exposure, unless it makes the public think you are actually bad.

A picture of a candidate with barbecue running down his shirt is okay. A picture with the blood of his now former wife on his shirt is bad. Of course, this is a pathological situation. Pop-up ads obscure the thing you came for. Pop-unders draw your attention away. E-spam is an outright theft of your connect time, so you are losing money if you pay by the minute, or your ISP is. The stupid thing in all of this is that the most successful advertisers are remembered as "the annoying ones", and while they might generate a few sales this way, they do themselves harm in the long run.

But the number one stupidity of the .com age is no market. So many businesses were started with the idea that they would somehow rake in loads of cash by doing something online that had traditionally been done in person or by phone. The folly of this is clear when you think of how easy it is for those traditional retailers to get their own web site. They cut out the middle man, and take the extra profit. Another big chunk of business were created essentially to be banner sites, offering a bad portal and few eyeballs to companies with no discrimination as to where to advertise. Not surprisingly many of these portal companies went own the tubes in a heartbeat after the V.C. cash ran out on the stupid companies supporting them.

I can't tell you how many business plans I looked at trying to duplicate the feat of luck I had with the RedHat IPO. I was happy to be part of the pyramid scheme that is Initial Public Offerings. But none of them were long term investments. Most of the business plans consisted of trying to leverage something that didn't really exist.

I think that secretly most V.C.'s and the CEO's of these stupid little companies were really just trying to enter the IPO lottery. I can't believe all these supposedly smart people know less about business than I do.

Or maybe it was all a plot by Herman Miller to sell those stupid Aeron chairs.

Normally when one is arranging a concert, one want to put the best band last, or at least the band with the biggest crowd. That being said, maybe it was fine we were first. Most of our crowd was friends who needed to get up in the morning. I suspect the folks who arranged the concert, Specimen 37, had the majority of crowd.

I won't complain, they seemed to like us. Even better, I liked the bands.

Specimen 37 was the most progressive of the lineup, featuring neat keyboard work, good guitar work, and an excellent foundation. There compositions seemed coherant, and well composed.

I can't find their names, and my head is a sieve. The guitar player is Adam, and the drummer is Daryl, I think. Apologies if you read this, and I got it wrong.

This band has good stage presence. They had two keys players, which I will dub Tall and Regular. Regular sang lead a few times, and was very good about using his hands to put movement into the picture, as well as provide iconic commentary to the songs. Adam did some of this as well, though being the only guitarist he had his hands busy most of the time. Tall sang backup as well as playing keys, he sounded good, and kept his cues straight. It was a little hard for me to tell who was doing what, especially because they made no mistakes that would give it away.

Their foundation was excellent. They were tight and occassionaly funky. Daryl played extremely well, using a high sticking style that looks good from the audience. They played some neat odd time stuff, and failed to fluff anything. In fact, they seemed well at ease with it. A band to watch.

Rebecca Nurse, was essentially punky with rock and even a tiny bit of rock-a-billy influence. The whole band has excellent stage presence. Not only were song well composed and played well, the band was having fun playing them. Tracy, the lead singer, has this crazy, jerky way of moving around, as a good accompaniment to the amusing lyrics. The effect of the delivery is very Jim Carreyish. Tracy brought to the show to the audience a few times, walking well off stage, and at one point sitting on the stools of nearby tables.

Mr. Guitar, Tracy's brother Shawn, is the rock guitarist as done by someone who is, in fact, a rock guiatrist at heart, as opposed to someone uncomfortable with the role. He sings backup well, and plays a sharp axe.

The bass player, Matt, is vaguely reminscent of Flea, in that a) he plays with a pick, and b) he's compact and explosive. At the start of one song, he sunddenly leapt off stage and ran onto the dance floor, playing all the while. At another point he ran out and made his only one man mosh pit. All hail the radio rig.

Angelo, the drummer, stayed behind his kit to provide the right drumming. That's hard. All the songs were fairly energetic, and he was the energy source. There were no false starts, no indecisive moments. He laid a great foundation.

As to our portion of the set, we did well. The first song had a few screw ups, such as me dropping a stick a few measures in, and Mr. Otto stomping all over Mr. Jerfo's solo by playing the wrong bit, but we kept it together, and finished well. The next several songs were fine, though I had a tremendous case of dry mouth, and it caused my concentration to wander on occassion. We kept it together, hwoever, and played out last songs well.

One thing is clear: each band had their own presence. PC varies from serious to strange to silly, and peoples presence tends to match that. Specimen 37 was more graceful, and Rebecca Nurse was odd. I think it was a decent ticket. We matched better with Specimen 37 than Rebecca Nurse, but there was still a matchup, such with Just Out Yesterday.

Still, we need to learn to be a little more demonstrative in a specifically entertaining way. We're close, but some improvement can be had.

The quick answer is, all over the place.

wisk the condensed sweetened milk and the lemon juice together until they are creamy
Spoon into pie crust and bake for 15 minues at 350
Let cool in the fridge for 1 hour and you're ready to serve!
Garnish with Martha Stewart like attention.

Someone gave this recipe to me. It was good lemon pie.

This must render pretty badly under the html. Let me reassure that it's bad in text as well. And sadly, it's bad in my head, as well.

Some people respond well to dividing up their head into this model. It's sort of a more down to earth version of Freud's Super Ego, Ego and Id. The basic idea is that these are modes one can take in communication, both with others and with yourself.

It's not useful for me, because I don't divide up my head well. I can talk about it in those terms, but the corniness of it serves as cognitive dissonance.

This was stuff I took to Recording Workshop. What I got from them was a lot of good knowledge, a book, a stack of handouts thicker than the book, a t-shirt, and a sinus infection. I gave that back.

1. Be loud! Louder is easier, and you probably need the exercise. Don't over do it, though. 45 minutes of play, then rest for at least an hour.

2. Thumbs up! Keep your thumb joint away from the head.

3. Practice, Practice, Practice. Play with your favorite albums, even if all you do is play quarter notes.

4. Sing it! Sing the part you are trying to learn, or trying to create. If you can sing it, it'll be easier to move it to your hands. Let your imagination go wild.

5. Ask questions! There are drummers all over the world, and they are generally friendly. If one is doing something you don't understand, ask about it.

6. Play! Have fun. Experiment.

Drumming Drills: all drills are meant to be played as strings of notes of the same time, such as all quarter notes. You should play the drills as fast as you can play them and still play evenly. When your hands and arms get tired, play a little slower. When you can barely move them, rest for a few minutes and try again.

The R's and L's are strokes with the right or left hand, respectively. Marked letters indicate a louder stroke.

1. Single Stroke roll: RLRL RLRL ...

2. Double Stroke roll: RRLL RRLL ...

3. Paradiddle: RLRR LRLL ...

4. Triplets: RLR LRL ... Do triplets all in one place, or move just the big note to the center of the drum.

5. Seven: RLRL RLR RLRL RLR or RLRL RLR LRLR LRL

But don't forget the screw drivers.

Sharpening is hard and easy. It's a little like chess. Getting the rules is easy enough, acting on them is more complicated.

You should learn to sharpen things. A truly sharp knife works better, and is safer to use. A stripped screwdriver strips screws, a sharp one is must less likely to damge anything.

Well... unless you want it to.

Their is a drill check.

I learned how to spell in grade school. And frankly, a grade schooler would do a better job than most spell checking programs.

It's therefore the case that you should only be able to remove a privilege when it is absolutely clear that the privilege is being abused.