Waking up to life

Hugo had periodic (and more frequent) bad days in the first two months and like clockwork (according to Spock) at two months he's calmed noticeably. He sleeps "through the night" meaning from 12-5, and alternately feeds and sleeps some more until 9 or even later. This morning he was able to focus on one of those play gyms and the rattles and doo-dads that hang from arches above him. He's still kind of unaware of his hands but I think experienced some pleasure after bumping the toys but again I think more from their moving than from any satisfaction at having made impact on his local portion of the universe.

CD is the new Vinyl

Way back I was skeptical about mp3s because they're lossy, meaning they lose data and therefore quality. Then, like with the cellphone I was sucked into listening to them and m4a's and whatever other digital formats are out there. My belief that CD quality was audibly better became just that, an assertion that was rarely put to the test because of the inconvenience of actually putting a physical CD into a player. Recently, I've been listening to CDs and they're so much better. There is a lot of hand waving about vinyl and the "warmth" you can hear in it as compared to CD but this difference is much more pronounced. I clearly hear things that are (I can't say "literally" because I don't know exactly how mp3 compression is done but I trust it's analogous to image compression) blurred in the new compact formats.

To me this sacrifice of quality is like what is found between the cellphone and a land line and between web interface and desktop application interface, laptops and desktops. It fascinates and boggles me how we're willing to give up so much for mobility. Curiously, the motivation for doing things one way, that is not to have a cell phone and a land line, web and desktop versions of the same application, CDs and mp3s, has forced us to pick, as it turns out, the crappier choice each time. That is, even when we don't need the more convenient technology we still use it. I have to admit, it is somewhat pendular - as technology catches up quality improves but it's still not there, we're still doing things suboptimally because it allows us to be on the move.

This has to be a statement about who we are and how we're not happy in one place. Or doing one thing at a time. Maybe not a very original conclusion but that wouldn't make it less true.

Entropy

I keep my hands under the air dryer in public bathrooms until it stops blowing, even after my hands are acceptably dry. I do it to reduce entropy in the universe. By using the lowly heat energy to its fullest I can prevent other energy from being degraded to dry my hands. Every little bit helps.

Consistent Insanity

We expect artists to be consistently insane. I learned a long time ago that the persona of the insane artist is a relatively new one. And that appealed to my cynicism against poseur artists. Today, however, I might be having a change of heart. We've always kept art, and therefore artists around to express our darker feelings. It's just in earlier eras (in our culture, in recent history) artists had to hide the raw aspects of their insanities like the rest of us do now.

These thoughts came when reflecting on how rigid our expectations are of rock bands. Once the band has established the prevailing mood of its music it seems hard for them to break out of it, assuming they even try. Also, perhaps related, I think of the requirement for front men to be "crazy". Whether it's ecstasy or agony we want jean clad prancing shamanism all the way.

Good Friday

Tomorrow is Good Friday. I just learned Saint Peter's will use the Saint John Passion instead of Saint Matthew. I listened to it today and I simply can't find it as special though the chorales are ethereal. Another opportunity to embrace change, I tell myself. Paul always felt the opposite but I don't trust his opinion. I've come around on a lot of music he introduced me to, but I don't think I'll ever find the John as compelling as Matthew. I think I'm right on this one. And to think Bach lost a passion. How do you lose a passion? Lost work greater than the sum of whatever my life's output will be. How depressing is that?

Hard drives

In the office adjoining the one I'm crashing in is a pile, a veritable vocanic slag heap of disk drives huddled against the wall. Across the room, as if the disks are shrinking from it is a magnetic erasing device. The scene has an organic quality. They could be magnified mold spores in an electron microscope avoiding a paramecium.

Ova

I find it fitting that women carry their ova with them their whole lives whereas men make their stuff to order. This compliments my belief that in choosing a partner men work to prove themselves and women choose worthy men, as once her choice is made she's got to live with it. Not that men don't live with the consequences of their actions, just nothing in their biology (discounting the psyche) forces them to.