Condentation. A love letter.

I returned to Bethlehem by early evening after an epic weekend at BaltiCon. Strangely enough, I was able to buzz up I-95 with zero road rage and no stop-and-go holiday traffic drama. When I walked into my studio and dropped my bags on the floor, I saw immediately that the Maestro was up to his old tricks again. When I'm away he takes the opportunity to give something a make-over. This time he completely re-orged a part of the studio that was a little black-hole-like... organizing all the disparate elements of the deep-sink room onto shelves, hanging framed items [even my t-square has a new home!], putting up a mirror to relieve the area of claustrophobia. This guy is just amazing.

So my first inclination was to run next door and hug him to bits... and then I proceeded to give him an hour-long encapsulation of the weekend. I missed him terribly—it's just not a Con without him. But my gushing about the weekend just re-confirmed how much I feel at home at BaltiCon, how much I dig hearing what people are doing, experiencing their awesomeness in person... and how much I simply adore everyone who participated.

The experience warrants a detailed account but you know how I am. Like any blog aspirant with a day job, every good intention to write will probably fall victim to the maelstrom that will be re-entry into the work week. After a weekend of little sleep from a geek-heaven summer camp with alcohol and microphones and electricity and a desire to do every single thing on the program agenda and then the trek home—one can feel kind of dented at the end of the haul. So I wanted to take this opportunity to say:

~ I love all you talented, tuned-in, magnificent bastards. You make my world an enormously more interesting place.

~ Thank you for always inviting me to join the experience and the fraternity and the hijinks and making me feel like I'm truly among my people.

~ If you couldn't make it this year, please know that you were sorely missed and trust that when your name came up in conversation—because it inevitably did—it was dipped in affection, topped with the last best story about you and succeeded by a sigh of regret that we couldn't hang with you.

~ I hate that I had little time to spend hours with you but I'm grateful for the opportunity to hug each of you, even if it was a brief meet-up on the way to another panel. I'm beyond fortunate to know you all—from acquaintances old and new to dear friends who live in far-flung places. I wish I could list every single one of you. It would be a roll-call of pure fucking awesome. From the snacky-cake caper to the Goat Rogan Josh to the Zombie Apocalypse panel [wtf?!] to the sci-fi prom to Santiago's martinis to the scads of “that's NOT an overheard“ statements to the question of marginally- or fully-intoxicated assessments to all the incidents that will never actually surface on the internet [right?... RIGHT?!]... You rock my world in so many ways that I'm kind of verklempt just typing this.

~ And special thanks to:
1] The Maestro for taking care of HQ while I was gone, making my life here more beautiful and livable, despite his completely gig-ified weekend.

2] Paul Fischer who is tirelessly helpful, cheerful and understanding while totally herding cats.

and

3] Evo and Sheila for being great hosts and close friends who continually saved me from losing direction or simply losing it. [“Sheila, where is my large black bag?!” “Evo, how the hell do we get there?!” “Sheila, where is my black nail polish?!” “Evo, how off-topic was I?!” “Sheila, where is my small black bag?!”] I love you both dearly.

It's weekends like this that make the memories of having been a fringe kid a complete badge of honor. Here's to you, geek gods and goddesses of the podosphere. Long may you transmit.

Seriously...

The way things have been going here at Sheer Brick, I've been rambling around the studio pretty damn late. Lots going on. Fortunately, that's actually lots of good things going on. I mean, this big deadline mode I'm in is the reason that I've been throwing videos at you here instead of writing some cogent essay on, say, the cultural impact and recent demise of mathematician and ur-skeptic, Martin Gardner.

Somehow, it's all getting accomplished—in that steady, slow and sure pace that infuriates me, keeps me from more satisfying activities like laundry, but ensures there will be few to no dramas at press-time. And somehow, at the end of the week, I'll happily find myself at BaltiCon 44, or as I like to call it, summer camp. I feel like I've been out beyond the breakers lately and miss all those magnificent bastards I'll thankfully see this coming weekend.

In the meantime, I'm tempted to add some mouse-type to the bottom of every piece of print material that goes out of here lately with the endorsement "brought to you by the makers of Ketel One, Marlboro and duct tape.

But that's a story for another day and I've got to get back to work...

Night in my veins

The Pretenders perform one of my favorites. It's from the album “Last of the Independents”. Night In My Veins: Chrissie Hynde (vocals, guitar), Adam Seymour (guitar), Andy Hobson (bass) and Martin Chambers (drums) accompanied by the Duke Quartet. Written by Hynde with Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly.

Also? Chryssie Hynde is a goddess of massive proportion.

Everything’s amazing and nobody’s happy

from an interview with Conan O'Brien

He's a profane motherf*cker but I love him, I do. He talks about the things that everyone experiences but the difference is that he has the chops to put them into cogent, hilarious observations.

Louis C.K. ... If you have the opportunity to see him live, go!

Luminosity, revisited

Question:
How many designers does it take to screw in a light bulb?

Answer:
I think really the issue is not so much the light bulb in this case, but the relationship between the light bulb and the ceiling around it, and if we were to introduce a light bulb at this point, what knock-on effect would that have on the room in general. A light bulb in this context may seem like a small addition but, in actuality, could have an effect on the whole which, will require a considerable amount of subtle work to be carried out on the general interior design which would, of course, result in budgetary issues for you. Not saying we couldn't screw it in, but it's best to establish a baseline for this at an early stage.

Thanks to Brian "No E" Mahony.

A conversation

After just making it to all my errand stops before stores closed and having dealt with the snail's-pace Saturday night traffic [and by "dealt with" I mean "had to make some less-than-legal, zippy Cooper moves"], I walked down my street with all my bags. Two regulars were sitting outside the bar on the bench near my studio.

Guy: "Uh oh. Here comes trouble."

Me: "That's correct, sir."

Guy: "You don't look very happy."

Me: " In fact, I am in one of the crabbiest, worst fucking moods possible." [I'm not even sure that's correct grammar, that's how crabby I was.]

Guy: "Do you need a hug?"

Me: "You know... I think I do!"

[big bear hug]

Me: "Honestly, I really do feel better."

Guy: "Dude, sometimes you just have to hug it out."

Actually, the kooky thing is I did feel better. The guy was one of those big lugs who's kind of boisterous but has a good heart. He has no idea that thanks to his inadvertent [and rather amusing] kindness I could easily put up with the loudness outside for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes you do have to just hug it out.

Officers, both

This was taken the night of the Candlelight Vigil, a ceremony hosted by the Bethlehem Star Lodge No. 20 Fraternal Order of Police Auxiliary and it was to honor the fallen heroes in law enforcement from 2009.

Here, a member of the Blue Knights meets George. I like to think they're talking law enforcement. Since George is still a kid, I hope he's listening carefully to the retired officer.

This image just gets to me on so many levels. It's tender and tough and says a few things about the Thin Blue Line, a culture I've been immersed in since I've started working with the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit.

An unexpected observation

Beginning his review of Letters to Juliet, Roger Ebert surprised me with this declaration.

"I know “Letters to Juliet” is a soppy melodrama, and I don’t mind in the least. I know the ending is preordained from the setup. I know the characters are broad and comforting stereotypes. In this case, I simply don’t care. Sometimes we have personal reasons for responding to a film."

He goes on to explain his connection to the Redgraves, memories of Verona and Juliet's Balcony, the set of Camelot and myriad reasons this movie was so evocative for him.

It's not a movie I plan to see, but what was important to me was reading his review. And, in particular, this closing thought.

"I also want to observe that our response to every film depends on the person we bring to it. Pauline Kael said she went to a movie, and the movie happened, and she wrote about what changed within her after she saw it. This is quite valid. Sometimes, however, we go to a movie, and our lives have happened, and we write about what hasn’t changed."

Juliet's Balcony courtesy of coop91 at flickr.

A love letter

This morning, I had conversations with all three of my sisters. We haven't all been in the same room since Easter. We don't need to talk every day but I truly can't go very long without some sort of update, even if it's through The Ros.

So I called each of them and, I must admit, it was like a fix until I see them next weekend. It's interesting how we are as a group— incredibly close—and how we all have each other's back. And yet, we have our own entirely separate and distinct relationships with each other. And the age span is wide; the youngest is almost 20 years my junior. In fact, my Dad calls us the JV and varsity teams. It's fascinating, really. You probably have a similar dynamic. At least, I hope so. I can't imagine life without them. Whenever I'm around them, I always feel invincible.

It's also cool how different we are from each other and yet how perfectly parts of a sum. My parents did a lot right LONG before there were guidebooks on this sort of thing.

From left to right: Sarafina; Melissa; Lisa's son, Josh; yours truly; Lisa.

We're kind of like the white Sister Sledge. In fact, it's our theme song. YES- as goofy as it sounds, it's our tune. But you can borrow it.

Vintage Garbage

Only happy when it rains was the single from the 1995 album of the same name from Garbage.

And Shirley Manson is the still the reigning queen of the girl-rockers.

[Are those Fluevoggs she's wearing?]

Pharaoh

To date, this is my favorite picture of Pharaoh, one of the police officers in the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit. He had just been groomed after finishing a good equitation workout with his partner Officer Jon Buskirk at Burnside Plantation. Waiting for his afternoon hay, he chilled in the shade of the barn.

Your moment of zen

There's a lot of excitement when the boys know that breakfast is about to be served.

That's Pharaoh, Raven and George at the barn at Burnside Plantation. They're police officers who don't have their gear on yet for their day's work with the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit. And they're demanding to be fed by ... frolicking?

footage: Officer Michael Leaser

A good sign of the First of May

Stephen Torrence is one-third of the gents at the Bad Philosophy podcast. He's also a, well- let's let his twitter bio tell the story:

    Renaissance geek, philomath, Texas Tech Philosophy Major,
    Jack of all Trades, Jonathan Coulton fan, and ASL songsigner

And yes, that's all true, interesting collection of attributes that it is. Also? Philomath. Steamy!

I should have listened to my gal, the incomparable Adele McAlear when she first told me about Torrence. She had to tell me a second time. I should have known better. [Adele, forgive me.]

Let me get to the point—and I do have one. Yes, I know we're a few days into the month, and yes, I had already referenced this song on May Day, and yes, I'm one of those people who can't get enough of Coulton's music, but you really must check this out.

It's Coulton's “First of May” in American Sign Language. You can choose to watch the video with captions—which is very cool since it's not only the lyrics, but the sign transcript as well.



Now tell me that you don't have a crush on this fellow.

Caution: No, this is not safe for work. And it's still kind of risky if you turn off the sound. You never know what your boss's skill set might include.

Addendum: Adele left an interesting note in the comments. You might want to check out Torrence's ASL version of "Re: Your Brains".

The word for the day is coagrasper.

On the phone with a client...

Me: "Yes. That's right. DoubleLayer Stent, GuideMaster V, LithoCrush, TetraCatch FlowerBasket, VisiGlide, X-Suit... I think that's it."

Geo: [to himself] Heh.

Me: [covering the receiver] "What are you chuckling at?"

Geo: "That sounded like the list of my favorite Beastie Boy albums."

It’s spring! Also, Jonathan Coulton.

I have to tell you—the burgers at Shake Shack in Madison Square Park are probably some of the best in the city. And they taste even better when you're lunching in the sunshine of a perfect spring day with, I don't know, say, Jonathan Coulton. Thanks to my friend E for arranging this outing. We had quite the lovely time—laughing, sharing stories, dodging some bold-ass birds swooping down to grab our lunch. And thanks to JoCo for waiting in that horrendous line before we arrived so we could score those burgers a lot faster. Rockstars as admins, who knew?

Also? Take everything you know about Coulton and multiply it by like a thousand times. He's that awesome, in every way. Seriously.

Documentation, thanks to E:

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I know this is a highly obvious choice of song here, but let's face it—we love this tune. Coulton with "Re: Your Brains" in concert at PAX 2007, playing to a very enthusiastic audience.

~    ~    ~

This. Just in!

At Coulton's site, he posted Please Do Not Get Arrested in honor of May 1st. From "Best. Concert. Ever." is a little gift of an mp3. You know it. You love it. You can't play it at work. First of May.