Drama Free Zone

I’ve decided, as of this morning, as my mind was clearing from the smoky haze and beer of the biker bar I was at last night, to avoid people that make me feel stressed. I can keep my own stress in check by not thinking about it. Two giant papers due at the end of the term that I haven’t yet started or even know how to begin? not thinking about it. those books I’m reading about medieval drama? they’re pleasure reading of course. no need to stress. no need to panic. deep breaths.

But then when someone else starts ranting and ranting and ranting about how they have no idea what to write and there’s not that much time left in the term and they’re going to flunk out, etc, etc, etc, then I get all keyed up too. this works for other ranting subjects, as well. so I’m going to hang arund mellow people instead.

Biker Bar? Did you say “biker bar?”

What’s new?

As friday was a total wash anyway, what with having an all-day long gamelan gig, I decided to not worry about working in the evening, so some folks and I went to see Love Acually, a romatic comedy staring Hugh Grant. What was I thinking? I’ll never have those two hours and eight minutes back in my life. (Before anyone accuses me of a lack of accuracy, let me make it clear that I don’t actually know how long the film was, but two hours and eight minutes seems like a reasonable number, any anyway, you have to factor in things like previews, leaving before the credits are finished, arriving late, etc, and it could well have been two hours and eight minutes. Anyway, you don’t read my blog to find out how long movies are right? but I can give an accurate review.) What made the film even worse is that I’ve sat for two weeks of lectures about film scores. So the always-terrible movie of romantic comedies was especially evident. There was an unruly number of simultaneous plots in the film, something like 12. there were three main musical themes: one was the romantic angst theme, one was the triumphal theme and one was the much more rarely used dark theme. there was also a liet motif mostly attached to a comic relief cahrecter, but also present in the rest of the film. the dark theme was so rarely used, that I have forgotten everything about it except for it’s existance.
the romatic angst theme was played on the clarinet. It was most certainly not in major. The clarinet, historically is used as a signifier of sexual experience. Here, it retains a connection to it’s early 20th century predecessors by signifying sexual tension. In the middle part of the movie, this theme was often used as the story switched from plot to plot. So there would be some development in one of the plots, a sexual tension would develop or be made more evident, the clarinet theme would come in as the actors mimed an approximation of angst, and then the scene would switch to another set of chracters.
the trimphal theme was mostly present at the end of the movie, as all of the plots but two (more on those two later), came to a triumphal conclusion. It also appeared however, earlier in the film. For example, as the Prime Minister of the UK was calling the US a bully and otherwise dissin the President of the US in an unplanned moment in a press confrence, the triumphal theme swelled majestically. Almost all of the emotional information theme is encoded in the romatic triumphal theme. the PM’s speech was controversial enough that using the darker theme would have shown it to be an unmittigated failure. The lack of a theme altogether would have been so ambigious that the audience would have been unable to gauge the PM’s sucess or failure until later scenes where characters discuss the speech. The triumphal theme was the equivalent of having the press corps burst into cheers and appluase, the kind of rediculous movie contrivance that we are spared at least until the last quarter of the film.
Near the end of the film there actually is a scene where a croud bursts into applause, but it is not for something so boring as poltics, but rather when the writer asks his former maid to marry him. the entire Portugese quarter of some unnamed French city has followed him to the restaurant where the woman, with whom he has never had a convesation in a mutually-understandable language, is waitressing. the incidental music drops out. he asks her in broken Portugese to marry her. She says yes in broken english. the restaurant bursts into applause as she decends a staircase to his arms. the triumphal music swells. Interrestingly, the restaurant contained a band playing source music (source music refers to music that the characters as well as the audience can hear), who had fallen silent for the proposal. When the woman accepted, the band immediatly struck up again, but the sound track only contained the triumphal theme in it’s orchestral scoring. the scoring of the triumphal theme, as well as the dark theme and the calirnet theme, never varied in scoring.
the triumphal theme is unrelentingly cheesy. More romantic than the romatics would have wirtten. It saturates the sound track at the end. Assaulting the audience, and informing them of the very happy endings.
Not all the endings are happy, however. for instance, one of the plots contains an agressive female. this plot, like all the other plots, aside from the other unhappy ending, is told from the male’s point of view (the movie contains only heterosexual pairings). a woman in his office is trying to seduce him, despite his having an exceptionally wonderful wife. the other woman, like all the other characters is entirely one dminesional. One of the advantages to squeezing in so many plots is that virtually no character development is required and there is opportunity to use every romantic comedy cliche that exists. however, the other woman is even more one-dimensional than anyone else in the movie. Her motivation appears to be evil. For example, her male target is talking to his wife at the office Christmas party. his wife goes to get him a drink or perform some other small favor. the man calls his wife either a saint or an angel. then the other woman appears, wearing devil horns and a red dress. This level of (un)subtlety is used throughout the film. his story ends unhappily as his disabused wife painfully smiles at him, miming being happy at his return while the evil temptress is pictured looking evilly happy in her apartment, standing in front of her mirror in her sexy underwear, putting on the necklace that the husband bought for her.
the story of the cheating husband (who never went further than buying a necklace) is contrasted with the story of the cheating wife. this story, also told from a male perspective, involves, like all the stories except the Other Woman plot, involves an agressive male. It begins with two men in formal wear discussing the regretablity of them having recently frequented prostitutes who turned out to be men. the camera pans out and we see that one of them is getting married. the best man is angsty at the reception and iirc, someone asks him if he is in love with the groom (at least, I think that’s what I heard). the man acts alarmed, but not homophobic at the question and then changes the subject. Later in the movie, the wife views the wedding video shot by the best man and discovers it is all of her, thus indicating that he loves her. he storms out of his apartment, deliberating for a while whether to go back in and speak with her, while a score (“score” refers to music not heard by the characters) pop song plays in the background. finally, he zips up his jacket and the pop song becomes louder, thus providing a stinger and signaling that he has made up his mind to leave. Near the end of the film, he goes to her house and she kisses him. At the very end of the film, he, she and the husband are pictured together whiel the triumphal music swells, thus indicating approval for him persuing her. thus a male homewrecker is acceptable, while a female one is trouble.
however, some of the conversations earlier in the film may have ben intended to convey a much more complicated relationship. In the old days, a converstaion about male prostitutes (and the shared sexual experience) and a question about his relationship woth the groom would have been enough to signify the best man as a bisexual. As romantic comedies do not tend to be on the cutting edge of film convention, it may have been the intended implication here as well. Perhaps playing triumphal music for the three of them is designed to show that they all manage to live happily ever after.
the other unhappy ending is the sole one told from the female point of view. All of the other stories end at the arrival gate of Heathrow airport, while the triumphal music swells for all but the cheating husband. this story doesn’t even get to the airport. A woman, working at the same office as the cheating man, has a crush on one of her colleagues. Junior high-style, they slow dance at the office Christmas party and thus are then dating, or something. He asks her to dance, so she is passive during their plot. they go back to her apartment and are making out (his idea) when her phone rings. Her phone rings constantly throughout the movie. In this scene, it is revealed that the person she talks to is her brother, who is insane. the male is annoyed at the interruption. they resume making out when the brother calls again and she agrees to go see him. the male love interest objects. this may be one of the scenes where the dark theme is employed.
near the start of the film, the woman is encouraged by her boss, the cheating husband, to make a pass at her colleague and told that the colleague is aware of her interest in him. Despite this, she continues to act entirely passivle until she goes to visit her brother in the mental hospital, rather than have sex with her colleague. when she become active, she annoys her potential partner and their relationship is ended. During her second to last scene, she is seated, at her computer, working late, while he, the second to last person to leave the office walks by and they awkwardly wish each other a merry christmas. In the last scene, she is wrapping a scarf around the neck of her brother in the mental hospital.
the theme that plays in the mental hospital is the leitmotif theme, a major theme in the movie, but also attached to an aging rockstar, one of the few people not persuing anyone. He has re-recorded a version of his old hit song, which used to go “Love is all around us./ I can feel in my fingers./I can feel it in my toes.” the new version has been changed to “christams is all around us.” the movie open with him in the recording studio accidentally singing the wrong version several times before getting the right one. the song thus functions both as a love theme and a holiday theme, thus reminding us that it is a christams (and christian, really) movie.
the christmas/love theme is often source music, as the rock star frequently appears either on a television watched by one of the other characters or on the radio, however it also occurs in the score, but possibly with a different scoring in that case. It has been stuck in my head for days. the theme acts as intermediate theme, signifying love, but not sucess or angst. the 11 year old boy, while running through the airport to tell a departing classmate that he loves her, pauses for a minute to watch a television with the rocks star on it. after his pause, he runs past the final security barrier to talk to his classmate. the pause thus reaffirmed somehow his love for her and thus was worth the possibility of the persuing secrity gaurds catching him.
there are a few instances where the music is ambigious in regards to being source or score. For example, characters will be at a party where source music is playing, but then they are shown in a car with no cut in the soundtrack, so the pop song has changed from source to score. In one scene, a radio station plays a love song in honor of the Prime Minister and in movie cliche fashion, he dances all over his house until someone walks in on him. the music is assumed to be source, except that it cuts off suddenly as he is discovered, thus showing that it must be score. this is such a movie cliche, that the audience does not pause for a moment to wonder why the prime minister would be dancing around his silent house.
The last elemnt of the movie worthy of discussion involves body image. All of the women are exttremely skinny except for the Prime Ministers’ love interest who is an average weight. Most of the other women look emaciated. the chaeting wife weights about 10 pounds, for example (this is an exagerration, please don’t raise issues of accuracy). This normal-looking woman is discussed several times, being described as having huge thighs and giant butt. In my opion, she was one of the most attractive women in the movie, and she does get her love interest in the end (the Prime minister, at that), but her weight is criticized several times.
the other character to have her weight discussed it the Portugese maid’s sister. the maid first brings her up as she declines an offored pastry. then the sister later appears in the film as comic relief. the writer appears at the door of the maid’s father to ask for the maid’s hand in marriage. the sister appears and the father orders her to marry the writer, despite never having met him, as nobody else would want to marry someone so fat. the writer asks for the other daughter. the father takes the writer to the restaurant where the maid works while more and more people follow along to see what will happen. the conversation along the way is half people wondering what will happen and half the father insulting the daughter for her weight. He calls her “Miss Dunking donuts 2003,” for example. the musical cues, the comic setup inherent in the cliche of the confused follwing crowd and the predjudices fo the audience solicitted a laugh from the theatre that I attended. Other fat jokes along the way were also laughingly approved by the audience.
In conclusion, I have written far too many papers and I can’t make it stop. Also, this movie, like many romantic comedies, is hetero-normative and essentially conservative, urging women to adopt conventional social roles and to be passive in relationships. Non-passive women are either evil or alone. It may even be dangerous to have a story told from your own point of view. The anti-feminist viewpoint is most prevelant in romatic comedies, a genre of films made for women viewers. why some women enjoy cheesy movie cliches, being assaulted by triumphal themes that Wagner or even Bruckner would have been ashamed to write, and being programmed to be helpless and undernourished is a mystery to me, but somehow it seems to work finacially for the studios. I’m not seeing anymore films unless they’re somehow art films or the last section of the lord of the rings trilogy.

what about the damn biker bar

We decided to go bowling with angela last night, but we got lost and we called to ask for directions, the alley told us they weren’t going to have any free lanes. So we went to a billard hall that we had passed along the way, but they had a cover. So we decided to go to the Red Dog Saloon. Tiffany loved it. it’s a real biker bar. Jessica arrived later and was given a hard time by the bartender. She has nothing of a biker bar about her and is entirely out of place in such an establishment. Angsty conversation ensued, which was widely overheard by interested eavesdropping males. Yesterday, I also gave Xena a bath, so she smells much less offensive. And I wrote the introduction to my Joan of Arc aper. Today, I’m supossed to be creaing 12 sounds for some john cage thing, but i’m posting to my blog instead. alas.

Tiffany is here!

Ok, so the moo -music thing is down. I had a power outage and that’s what made me finally pull the plug, but also, it kept getting kicked off for being idle. it only works well if somebody logs in once a day and i haven’t had time lately. also, my supercollider client thing has been crashing a LOT recently. i dunno why. it worked fine before (and thank god during) my presentation.

Ron now thinks that I should write a version of TF in supercollider, so it can play stuff directly.
Programming on the moo is really a horrible experience, btw. I mean, I want everyone to start logging on again (it’s a good way to chat w/ me while i do homework), but writing serious apps in moo code is world of pain. the deleting of biglist (#13) in past years has hosed many of the set and list utils. or something has. I recently broke the property editor. I was logged in as a wiz and tried to @dig from @notedit. I’m hoping I can find out how to fix it, you know, when I have time. but the user experience is really great. really. it’ll be even better after i finish this (blackbox) tf client.

Oh yeah, and tiffany is here!

she came all the way here to see me! I wish I didn’t have to spend so much time reading and coding and going insane.

Weekend Update

There have been various improvements made to JJiCalc. I could tell you what they were, but I’d have to go look at CVS logs. Christi says that I’ve been very forgetful lately. This is true. She wants me to go see a doctor. Hrm. Forgetfulness = sign of brain tumor. Has my personality changed? Yes, she says I’m nicer. She says that it’s probably just that I’m distracted by other things. I have very sharp, clear memories of things from several months ago, but yesterday is fuzzier. Polly, of flute band fame, says that memory is linked to emotional engagement. So since I don’t care as strongly about small things as I used to, I’m not remembering them. Maybe I should carry a ntoebook.
The big news around here is that Ellen said yes and will be house sitting starting in October. Christi is apparently planning on staying around here until October, something she says that she told me a while ago. So I will be going by myself out ot the big, scary, new east coast and grad school. How can I be co-dependant when I’m alone. I need to remember to write my address on my person someplaxce everyday so that I’ll be able to find my own way home.
Christi’s dad was in town yesterday, catching defenseless abalone. He gutted three of them in my front yard. The dog was very happy about the proximity of abalone innards, but was ultimately disappointed. Ken is coming back next weekend. He apparently doesn’t approve of Christi’s new tatoo.
While he was here, we went to the Berkeley farmer’s market, where he purchased soap made out of the kind of tree that he just wrote an Enviromental Impact Statement about. He says that the soap is not impacting the tree population and the tree is not endangered. While he and Christi relaxed in the shade, Tiffany and I wandered over to the next block where the psychic faire was going on. We got our auras healed. Afetrwards, I asked the person waiving her arms around if my aura had been badly in need of healing and she said that she hadn’t read it. How do you heal something without looking at it? Anyway, apparently my aura now only contains my energy and nobody else’s. What if you want somebody else’s energy? My aura could do with some energy that can keep track of things better. Tiffany and I told Christi and her daad that we signed up for aura healing classes, but neither beleived us. And then Ken went home.
Gay marriage is apparently legal in Canada, even for Amerikans. Christi and I will be heading there very soon to tie the knot. It’s very exciting. Details will be forthcoming. (I know, you all knew it was legal a few weeks ago, but I forgot…)
I’ve been listening to Polly’s (of flute band fame) three songs over and over. It’s probably why I can’t remember anything. It’s getting tangled in lyrics. Gay marriage is legal no longer rosy fingered dawn.. anyway, it’s helping my ability to play the songs. and remember them. i’m not good at multitasking. i can memorize the songs, or i can be able to find my own way home, but apparently i can’t do both.
I had Tennis Roberts rehersal today. I burned some three song demos and gave ’em to Chand cuz Chand has friends in the music biz. Hopefully, we’ll get some gigs out of this.
And today was fathers day, so Christi and I headed down to Cupertino and had dinner with my dad, my uncle and my brother. I didn’t know what to get my dad, so I got him a small statue of Chairman Mao. I think he likes it, but I’m not sure. He clearly thinks that Mao was a bad guy and is talking about collecting statues of other bad guys like Stalin. Hopefully a joke. My dad says that Donald Rumsfeld talks in haiku. All his short statements break into haiku format. I’m skeptical.
Although many other things may or may not have happened around here, I have nothing else to report that I can recall. If I don’t get better about recalling things, I might make an excellent republican candidate for high public office. Or not. tomorrow is Christi’s birthday. She’s turning 27, but apparently has been telling people that she’s turning 29. Not on purpose. (I’m not the only confused person in my household. Maybe we have ergot poisoning… A witch! A witch!) and I’m starting working on cleaning up the Lattice feature in JJiCalc. I don’t get it at all. I think I might know what a tuning lattice is, but how the program deduces them, maps them, deals with them, etc, I don’t get at all. All I can tell is that it’s mostly illegible and it doesn’t play notes. I think a lattice might be a two dimensional representation of an N-dimension array. This is not a problem that I had ever given thought to before. Maybe I need to read a math book about graphing hypercubes. Anyway, I’m at a point where I should probably go put up a web page and recruit other programmers to come fix these problems that I don’t understand.

Tiffany’s BART Experience

So BART was very delayed this afternoon. Computers were down and Tiffany’s train kept starting and stopping in the tube. After a long while, it emerged from the tube and the guy sitting in front of her, coughingly reached for his cell phone. this guy, who kept coughing, was sitting in front of Tiffany, near the door, facing about a quarter of the train. anyway, he called up his doctor and said, “Yeah, so I just got back from China and about half of my tour group are all experiencing the same symptoms. I’ve just got some chills and a fever and a cough. what are the other signs? *pause* Oh, well, yeah, but I probably don’t have it.” The doors opened for west Oakland and half the train car got off.
Um, yeah, so if folks can get SARS from airplanes, the can prolly get it from BART. don’t ride BART if you’re sick!!!
so we’re throwing Tiffany out of the house. No, um, she’s upstairs drinking OJ and popping echinacea.

disrupting san francisco


So my housemate, Tiffany, and I met up in dowtown San Francisco this morning around
10:00 or so. Protestors were chained to large cement garbage cans in
Market Street near 2nd. People were banging on drums and dancing around.
Then the police got into formation and started marching around. They told
everyone to get out of the street or face arrest. Most folks got out of
the street and then the cops started very calmly arresting people one at a
time. It all seemed very civil. The people waiting to be handcuffed
seemed to be having amikable conversations with the cops. They were sat
down, cuffed, then one by one phtographed and put onto a bus.
Then the fire department showed up and started cutting through the pipe
and chain binding the chained-up protesters together. the police were
getting frustrated and treating non-cooperative protesters roughly. they
dropped one woman to the ground and twisted her arms back painfully. When
she said she was in pain, the guy supervising said her pain was nothing
compared to what she had caused commuters that morning.
The bus filled up. People on it were singing “We all Live in a Yellow
Submarine.” they drove away to cheers from the crowd. The crowd was
non-confrontational. They were shouting things like, “SFPD, 99% of the
time, you’re the greatest!” And there were hundreds of cops. We
outnumbered them, but there sure were a lot of them.
The problem for them was like the story of the person trying to move the
ocean with an eyedropped. When they got an intersection cleared, we just
moved down a block and stopped traffic there. People in office buildings
stared down at us. work was stopping.


Tiffany and I walked to the Civic Center for the noon rally. There
were hardly any cops around. The mood was more stressed, but still
carnival like. Some speakers shouted. I purchased some sketchy food that
will probably result in food poisoning.
All of us marched over to the federal building and surrounded it. People
handed out flyers on upcoming protests, other political campaigns and how
to be and stay a non-violent protestor.

We blocked traffic around the federal building. People sat in front of
the parking garage exits. There were a few more cops, but not many. A
reporter asked a cop behind me how they were planning on getting people
out of the building. the cop said he didn’t know. My father-in-law used
to work in that building, I’m pretty sure. Stopping the Forrest Service
doesn’t seem super-productive. Anyway, it seemed like that if folks
wanted out, the protesters would not only have let them out, but would
have cheered them for leaving work. going back might have been a problem,
it seemed, but then later I heard folks verbally discouraging a court
reporter from going to work, and he got in anyway.
Some guy was holding a sign that said “Puke for Peace.” I just read a
news report that said that 300 people actually did vomit as protest.
I walked up the street and saw a marching band and asked them about
joining, explaining that I want to get a marching harness for my lap tuba. The
suosaphone player was exhausted. It was 2:00-something and he’d been
playing since 7:00 AM and the wind was very gusty, which is hell for
sousaphones with their big bell facing forward. So I marched and played a
couple of songs. There was no printed music. He told me the songs were
in d and F mostly, so I faked it.


The crowd at the federal building was thinning out, so we called Christi, my wifey, to find out what was
going on. She had a tough call to make this morning, since she works
for a struggling non-profit. After seeing the CHP looking grim in riot gear on the way in to the city, she decided
to go to work rather than risk a scary encounter with one of them.
Anyway, she told us that there was rubber bullets and tear gas being used
over at 7th and Market and that there was an officer down.
Tiffany and I walked over to see what was going on and so I could get
field recordings of it. I wore a pair of binaural mics in my ear all day,
recording to a sony minidisk. the minidisk is the bomb. I never have
brought my DAT recorder to a protest, even with the ghigher quality. I
don’t yet have a didigtal out for the disks yet, but anyway, we walked
over there.
there was some spray paint and a group of what looked like black-block
protesters. Thos are anarchists who wear black, spray paint and break
windows of war profiteers. they want to end capitalism. there were a
couple of folks sitting in the street, handcuffed, a lot of people milling
around and a whole lot of cops. chanting was sparse all day and the
afternoon crowd there at Market was nearly silent. Watching, waiting.
the cops outnumbered the crowd. while i was there, a whole bunch of CHP
showed up. The cops standing next to the sidewalk were the same cops I
saw that morning, only they looked tired, more grim and angry. A few
meters from me, they started arguing with some woman standing on the
sidewalk. they threw her to the ground and cuffed her. She was
screaming, that she wasn’t a protester, she was just standing there, she
didn’t do anything. As far as I could tell, they did pick her at random.
she was on the sidewalk, not blocking traffic. And they seemed to be using a lot of force. She was yelling that them, but dropping her to the pavement face first seemed to be excessive
Everyone was angry and the cops outnumbered us and seemed very determined.
At the noon rally, the protest organizers told us to go to the financial
district at 4:00 to block evening commute traffic. I think the cops were
going to open the street, damnit.

No sign of what we’d been told over the phone happening… yet. So we
went for a walk the other way. There was a crane picking up all the
cement grabage cans and putting them on a truck so that nobody could drag
them into the street and be chained to them anymore.


after sleeping less than an hour last night, I’mm too dern tired to block
commute traffic this evening. think I’ll do more stuff tomorrow instead,
after I write the music I need to write (deadlines….)

if you had an orange vest and some safety cones, you could cause traffic
havok, just going from intersection to intersection, coning it off. The
salvage yard in berkeley at 7th and ashby sells cones for like $1 each.
fyi. there’s also a movement to drive really slow. Drive slow, walk
slow, hold up traffic. the slow-moving protest actually was instrumental
in driving a dictator out of power, but i’m too tired to remember where.
Tiffany knows all about it though. Ask her.
anyway, i have 4 or 5 minidisks full of field recordings, but no digital
out anywhere on my recorder. la la la. need to get the recorder to dump
to my puter.

stop work to stop the war!


I woke this mornign and discovered that tiffany washed all the dishes I had not washed the night before. wow.

Tifanjo, mia amiko
promenadas en la strato.
Kien iras vi?
Kien iros vi?
Ri diras nenie.

Tifanjo kaj la aliaj verduloj
ne sxatas la estracxoj.
La esperantistoj diras ke
Milito ne! Milito ne!
Ni diras ke milito ne! Milito ne! milito ne!

Cxiuj de civitanoj
devas diri ja ion.
la homoj estas en la statroj.
la homoj estos en la stratoj.
Ili diras, “paco.”

Tifanjo kaj la aliaj verduloj
ne sxatas la estracxoj.
La esperantistoj diras ke
Milito ne! Milito ne!
Ni diras ke milito ne! Milito ne! milito ne!

Seeking full time employment

Tiffany’s Socks


To find full time work, as a pair, with a nicer set of feet.

Employment History:

January 1999-present, Socks on Tiffany’s feet
Duties: Sitting around all day, trying not to wear holes in the heels.

December 1998-January 1999, Socks in the store
Duties: Looking attractive and durable in a package.

Novemeber 1998-December 1998, Cotton
Duties: Waiting to be turned into socks.

We are seeking full time work in a pleasant, open work environment where we
will receive frequent washings, as well as a steady supply of Kona.
We have been recommended for this position with you by Celeste Hutchins.

Tiffany answers my reader’s mail:

I’ve gotten a lot of emails from people asking me about scurvy, so here’s what I’ve found:

When capillaries lose the “glue” that holds them together, symptoms of scurvy appear.

An affected person becomes weak and has joint pain. Internal hemorrhages cause black-and-blue marks to appear on the skin. At the first visible signs of scurvy, raised red spots appear on the skin around the hair follicles of the legs, buttocks, arms and back. When the tiny capillaries of the hair follicles hemorrhage, the hair-producing cells do not receive the nourishment needed for the hairs to grow normally. Consequently, the skin becomes flecked with small lesions that begin to appear on the body after about five months on a diet deficient in vitamin C. These lesions were the “spots” that James Lind observed on the skin of his sick men. Gums hemorrhage and their tissue becomes weak and spongy. Dentin, which lies below the enamel and is part of the root of teeth, breaks down. Teeth loosen and eating becomes difficult and painful.


tiffany moved back in once the male Dentons departed. She and luoi are being really nice to me. They made soup out of all my tamaters. I didn’t cancell my vegitable service, so my vegitables have been accumulating. They also made rhubarb pie, strawberry rhubarb pie and carrot cake with lemon frosting. Christi grabbed one of Brother Robert’s pear tortes from the funeral reception, so we had a lot of dessert. Peole came over today (the date says monday, but it’s still sunday night to me) and ate the desserts. It was the Kazes, T & L, Sarah D, Mitch, Brother Bob, GI Jen and Ed la instruisto. Mitch brought a clear plastic rat. We ate dessert and then all of us minus the Kazes went for dinner at Jaun’s Place. Then all of us minus Brother Bob and Ed went to see Bowling for Columbine. The movie was good, but there’s a long montage of news footage of people getting shot and killing themselves with guns that was very disturbing and made me shake a bit. Then we went to Gaylords for coffee, but Christi wanted to get home to sleep so she can work tomorrow. Mitch and GI Jen went home. The rest of us came back to casaninja and luoi decided to stay here, sicne she seems to live here part time. Sarah D stayed for a long time too. She read some Dykes to Watch Out For and then went home at some times, who knows when, all the clocks are screwed up because of the time change.
Tiffany, Christi’s mom and I are driving to Portland tomorrow. What will happen to xena has not yet been worked out. Cathy (aka Christi’s mom) has offered to keep the dog for a few weeks until we can return to claim her. Maybe Christi will decide to drive up. I need to go to LA soon. I don’t know when we can come up. Christi complains that she has already missed a lot of work. When I try to get her miss a bit more, she offers to quit her job to make me happy, which I couldn’t possibly ask her to do. I doubt her boss has hinted that he thinks she should quit if she misses more days, but it’s a very effective way for her to get me to quit asking her to go to portland or LA or anyplace else. I must be more self-sufficient and go visit my greiving, elderly relative by myself. When my mom was alive, everytime I proposed skiping some visit with Catherine, the elderly nun cousin, my mom would point out Catherine’s elderliness and say that she wasn’t going to live that much longer (the cousin, that is) and imply that if I skipped I might never see her again. Catherine was younger than many of her relatives in her generation and she has outlived all of her siblings, all of her first cousins, including my grandma, and has started outliving the children of her first cousins. All she’s got left in the catagory of first-cousin-once-removed, afaik, is my uncle. Anyway, I could try smiting Christi with the she’ll-probably-be-dead-soon hammer, but Christi would recognize it as my mother’s. And while I don’t mind sharing many traits with my mom, I’d like to try to skip the mighty guilt wielding one.
Tiffany pointed out to me that “confuse” and “amuse” and “criticise” are spelled with ‘s’ and not ‘z’. Why do we even have a ‘z’ when it’s so underused? Everyplace you think you hear it, it’s just an ‘s’ masquerading. Esperanto spelling makes a lot more sense. But obviously, since I am leaving for portland in eleven hours or so, I will be missing the next Esperanto class. Maybe I’ll actually do some homework. Earlier tonight, I was yelling across a parking lot at Mitch, “Tifanjo kaj mi ne iros al la klasson se ne iros al Portlandon. Gxis poste!” Perhaps that should count as homework? I wish I could speak even that much Spanish.
I just lit candle number 5. It may be tha hand of God. the one before was St. Micheal the Arcangel and the one before that some nautical apparition of the BVM. If i spoke some spanish, I would have clue what these things were. I guess I could look in a spanish-english dictionary. Maybe when I get back. I’ll prolly entirely miss the burning of the Lady of Guadalupe candle.
I went to the pet store to buy dog food and came home with that and a dog halloween costume. It’s a royal cape and crown. Xena has been very mellow and has been wering it without complaint. Crazy dog.