Monday, April 22
The game is now occupying about 80% of my thoughts at any given moment. I'm going to write now about Sunday, and then maybe about Monday (yesterday), but I will have to heavily censor the entries before I publish them (don't worry, I'll save the uncensored versions, and replace them when the game is over.) I don't know if this will mean eliminating 80% of the content, but it will be significant.
The beginning part of Sunday, at least, was fairly removed from thoughts of the game. I was sufficiently attentive on my way to campus, but as it was around 8:30 on a Sunday morning (I'd woken up at 8:00, and the decision to get out of bed was remarkably easy) I wasn't too worried. Kate Baker, the only other player who was going on the field trip with me, was apparently not thinking of it at all, as she left herself exposed until I mentioned it, and then we agreed that if one of us had the other they were as good as dead anyway (it's hard to think of a position more vulnerable than birdwatching.) Others tumbled in - Gabe, Robbie, sleepyhair Edith, Emily, Abram and his mom (who look so much alike it's kind of scary), and Janet of course - and we started in on the bagels, bananas, and juice in the trunk. A twenty-minute van ride took us toRidley Creek State Park, where the schedule of events for that morning included not one but two cause walks - an MS walk, which comprised an endless string of people on foot, bikes, scooters, tricycles, in strollers, wagons, carriages, and piggyback, and even some cheaters on car, and an "earth walk," which didn't seem to have as many participants, although they did get free oranges and water (and we couldn't have any.) All those people made it rather difficult to hear bird songs for much of the times, but even without them a lot of us were rather distracted in other conversations. We did get some decent birding in: call and song IDs at the beginning, then some nice views of red-winged blackbirds, blue-grey gnat-catchers (cute little buggers) and some ruby-crowned kinglets (although, again, I didn't really see those) towards the beginning, but then it fractured into side conversations and plant identification tips (a lot of those, some of which I may remember.) I talked with Edith a lot, about living off-campus (she's done every year since freshman year - which was when exactly? I still can't figure it out), about cats and dogs, about auditing (she's a devotee as well). and what's this about her and Gabe? little brother? what? She is a mystery still in many ways. I think maybe I'll just have to arrange a chat with her sometime and get to the bottom of all this. It was a fun way to interact with people - on a field trip/nature walk like that, most of us not knowing the others all that well, just taking it easy and having fun. kind of different. we took about two hours making perhaps three-quarters of a mile's progress down a paved road along the creek, in between the causewalkers and the fishermen (one of whom "what are you doing, birdwatching? seen any birds?" made some confusing out-of-place comment about Cuchinella - "what are you doing, fishcatchin? caught any fish?") Gabe was the hyperactive, snappy wit jokester, drawing attention in a much less subdued way than he does during morning walks. I can't tell how seriously to take him. As the hordes of people (Richard Scarry-esque, we declared them) passed, we came upon a bench in a clearing; sat for a while, then decided to continue on over a little bridge, up a steep hill, into the woods in earnest, where dogwoods and yellowthroats lurk and towhees cry out. really, a jokey sort of outing. we ended up at the top of a steep section of path, in a grassy meadow that had been partially paved for a parking lot, lying among the dandelions and pointing binocs at the trees overhead, talking about the religion department. Lovely. The way back was quicker - hillsprints and poohsticks and dog-poop debate. And towards the very end we saw a great blue heron, standing in the creek, spearing fish after fish. We watched them slide down his ess-curve gullet (I hope some of them are still alive when they take that final plunge; it would be a fun slipslide way to go I think) and waited for Janet. Then the heron took off, marvelous. And so did we - a pb+j on raisin bagel and a banana for my lunch.
My first thought on arriving home was to check in at the Parrish triple, one of whose inhabitants had come up to me breathless at the Parlor radio hour the previous day, hoping to strike a deal. My victim was coming down the stairs as I came up, in precious brown cowboy hat, but I figured it would be too risky to take after right then. But I didn't stay long in the triple either (and didn't strike that deal yet); went to McCabe - encountered Edith again about R+me, e-mail biz, and then impulsive phone call for assistance. It was the right thing to do - I loitered in Parrish hallway for what must have been about a half hour, having been promised that the target would return, while folks set up for the spec activities fair (relocated from outside because of weather - oh, i didn't mention; it was perfectly fine, if not exactly warm, for our morning birdwalk, but by this time it was looking a little more like rain, or at least windycold), and eventually she did indeed show up, flitting back and forth between a few different booths, seemingly unsuspicious. I tried to disguise/distract myself by reading Dewey and by chatting with a specmom, and as the area filled up with more and more people, setting up booths (some of whom had news about the game status), I gained confidence. One problem though: she had on "armor" consisting of cardboard somehow affixed around her bum, and masked with a shirt-tied-round-waist, making it difficult to plan a strategy for circumventing it. Several hurried exchanges (some nonverbal) with Z - one of which was just me pointing out that her target (Joel) had just arrived - and then we both made successful kills: her first, easily enough, and as he was about to complete his, and then me. I came up to the living wage booth as Sarah, Cathy, and Kim were singing one of the Radical Cheers, and I joined in and sang along (the RCs had been scheduled to perform, and it's a shame they didn't, because that would have been a good opportunity). Chatted with Sarah briefly, gauging when to make my move; I mentioned her armor, and she beamed: "yeah, try it out!" And so, of course, the sad tale goes: she turned around to offer her posterior, not even realizing her mistake until after I had already gotten in at least one legitimate hit (I'm pretty sure that I got in a fair squeeze even through the mid-stock cardboard), but I held on so as to make it incontestable; we ended up on the floor tussling for a good thirty seconds, flailing and knocking over some nearby boxes and stands, but the outcome was pretty clear. You should read her hilarious account of it. (It should perhaps be noted that I hit my knee in the process, somewhat painfully.) She was incredulous - "wait, you're not my person. are you really my person?" - but she took it well, and readily agreed to help with my next victim - if only to salvage some dignity for herself by ensuring that I was in fact a formidable adversary. She gave me the armor too as a trophy, and I gave her some hugs and apologies - perhaps this will be the earnest beginning of a friendship that didn't exist between us before. After that, although I stopped at the SoundMachine table to chat with Dan and condole Joel, I got out of there and high-tailed it home, to regroup.
I made some lemonade, using the Joy of Cooking recipe (which includes boiling), except that we didn't have any white sugar, so i used brown. I even skimped on it, but it still came out too sweet and strong. So I added more water and lemon juice. It doesn't taste a lot like lemonade, but I rather like it anyway. Actually, sometimes it tastes good and sometimes it just tastes weird. I guess I wrote stuff and read stuff, and Rae came up I remember. There was dinner and then I went to the Orchestra 2001 concert, late so I missed the opening Dvorak nocturne. Went in with Matt and met Elena's siblings, who look incredibly like her. Seeing the three of them together was like seeing some representatives of some alien race who look basically human, but have certain features distinguished in some ways. The orchestra played a Mozart symphony which Maestro Schuller (yes, that Günther) said had only been recorded twice, and poorly. It was nice and enjoyable. Then they did his new composition, "Concerto de Camara," which was unfortunately not an ode to photography. It was, similarly, nice and enjoyable. Some decent drumming. Matt was tempted to boo but he thought that would be giving it too much credit. They threatened to play the piece again, so we left and went to Olde Club looking for hip-hop. Found only cold pizza. Back to Lang (with my back to Lang) to practice - interrupted at one point by sonata-breaking Dostal - and then to pub office "hi" to gal; WSRN meeting - even fewer people than last time, less conclusive. Triplet bookending, Ali an awkward fixture. Then: back to Olde Club, where a sizable (all-black) crowd had gathered despite spotty publicity (at least, I hadn't heard about it), and a solid mod Jill Scott-style R&B outfit was on the stage: drums, bass, jazzy guitarist, and two female singers, one of whom played cello on several numbers. Natural Selection. A guy nobody seemed to know got on the mic to thank them and plug records by groups that had played earlier, then kept talking since that's what you do when you have a mic. He did a spoken word piece of his own, about something, manhood, and that turned into a freestyle session with one of the guys from the next band. This was Subtle Ground, a crowd-pleaser, Roots-style live hip-hop group (guitar more prominent.) They had the obligatory "whatever happened to good music" song, closed with "rap/rock fusing thing" that was actually decent. Kind of cool. The headliner (or rather, only advertised act) was finally up (they were scheduled for 11; I'd arrived at 10:45 and stood through two other groups, not that they were bad). This was the Mountain Brothers, a trio of asian MCs and an awesome DJ, who started the set off with an extended show-off solo, including the intro to "Next Movement." Their rapping, with interplay and everything, was obviously leaps and bounds ahead of the decent efforts of the earlier groups, but unfortunately the sound system wasn't really able to handle their subtlety: they were just using the SoundMachine PA run through Rattech speakers, which had been fine for the noisy, busy earlier bands, but was distorting something awful on their mics. So they passed them back and forth to try to minimize distortion, which was amusing to watch. Oh man. Maybe something else happened that night too, but you know what, I'm not going to write about it now.
still dreaming of that perfect place in the sun
The beginning part of Sunday, at least, was fairly removed from thoughts of the game. I was sufficiently attentive on my way to campus, but as it was around 8:30 on a Sunday morning (I'd woken up at 8:00, and the decision to get out of bed was remarkably easy) I wasn't too worried. Kate Baker, the only other player who was going on the field trip with me, was apparently not thinking of it at all, as she left herself exposed until I mentioned it, and then we agreed that if one of us had the other they were as good as dead anyway (it's hard to think of a position more vulnerable than birdwatching.) Others tumbled in - Gabe, Robbie, sleepyhair Edith, Emily, Abram and his mom (who look so much alike it's kind of scary), and Janet of course - and we started in on the bagels, bananas, and juice in the trunk. A twenty-minute van ride took us to
My first thought on arriving home was to check in at the Parrish triple, one of whose inhabitants had come up to me breathless at the Parlor radio hour the previous day, hoping to strike a deal. My victim was coming down the stairs as I came up, in precious brown cowboy hat, but I figured it would be too risky to take after right then. But I didn't stay long in the triple either (and didn't strike that deal yet); went to McCabe - encountered Edith again about R+me, e-mail biz, and then impulsive phone call for assistance. It was the right thing to do - I loitered in Parrish hallway for what must have been about a half hour, having been promised that the target would return, while folks set up for the spec activities fair (relocated from outside because of weather - oh, i didn't mention; it was perfectly fine, if not exactly warm, for our morning birdwalk, but by this time it was looking a little more like rain, or at least windycold), and eventually she did indeed show up, flitting back and forth between a few different booths, seemingly unsuspicious. I tried to disguise/distract myself by reading Dewey and by chatting with a specmom, and as the area filled up with more and more people, setting up booths (some of whom had news about the game status), I gained confidence. One problem though: she had on "armor" consisting of cardboard somehow affixed around her bum, and masked with a shirt-tied-round-waist, making it difficult to plan a strategy for circumventing it. Several hurried exchanges (some nonverbal) with Z - one of which was just me pointing out that her target (Joel) had just arrived - and then we both made successful kills: her first, easily enough, and as he was about to complete his, and then me. I came up to the living wage booth as Sarah, Cathy, and Kim were singing one of the Radical Cheers, and I joined in and sang along (the RCs had been scheduled to perform, and it's a shame they didn't, because that would have been a good opportunity). Chatted with Sarah briefly, gauging when to make my move; I mentioned her armor, and she beamed: "yeah, try it out!" And so, of course, the sad tale goes: she turned around to offer her posterior, not even realizing her mistake until after I had already gotten in at least one legitimate hit (I'm pretty sure that I got in a fair squeeze even through the mid-stock cardboard), but I held on so as to make it incontestable; we ended up on the floor tussling for a good thirty seconds, flailing and knocking over some nearby boxes and stands, but the outcome was pretty clear. You should read her hilarious account of it. (It should perhaps be noted that I hit my knee in the process, somewhat painfully.) She was incredulous - "wait, you're not my person. are you really my person?" - but she took it well, and readily agreed to help with my next victim - if only to salvage some dignity for herself by ensuring that I was in fact a formidable adversary. She gave me the armor too as a trophy, and I gave her some hugs and apologies - perhaps this will be the earnest beginning of a friendship that didn't exist between us before. After that, although I stopped at the SoundMachine table to chat with Dan and condole Joel, I got out of there and high-tailed it home, to regroup.
I made some lemonade, using the Joy of Cooking recipe (which includes boiling), except that we didn't have any white sugar, so i used brown. I even skimped on it, but it still came out too sweet and strong. So I added more water and lemon juice. It doesn't taste a lot like lemonade, but I rather like it anyway. Actually, sometimes it tastes good and sometimes it just tastes weird. I guess I wrote stuff and read stuff, and Rae came up I remember. There was dinner and then I went to the Orchestra 2001 concert, late so I missed the opening Dvorak nocturne. Went in with Matt and met Elena's siblings, who look incredibly like her. Seeing the three of them together was like seeing some representatives of some alien race who look basically human, but have certain features distinguished in some ways. The orchestra played a Mozart symphony which Maestro Schuller (yes, that Günther) said had only been recorded twice, and poorly. It was nice and enjoyable. Then they did his new composition, "Concerto de Camara," which was unfortunately not an ode to photography. It was, similarly, nice and enjoyable. Some decent drumming. Matt was tempted to boo but he thought that would be giving it too much credit. They threatened to play the piece again, so we left and went to Olde Club looking for hip-hop. Found only cold pizza. Back to Lang (with my back to Lang) to practice - interrupted at one point by sonata-breaking Dostal - and then to pub office "hi" to gal; WSRN meeting - even fewer people than last time, less conclusive. Triplet bookending, Ali an awkward fixture. Then: back to Olde Club, where a sizable (all-black) crowd had gathered despite spotty publicity (at least, I hadn't heard about it), and a solid mod Jill Scott-style R&B outfit was on the stage: drums, bass, jazzy guitarist, and two female singers, one of whom played cello on several numbers. Natural Selection. A guy nobody seemed to know got on the mic to thank them and plug records by groups that had played earlier, then kept talking since that's what you do when you have a mic. He did a spoken word piece of his own, about something, manhood, and that turned into a freestyle session with one of the guys from the next band. This was Subtle Ground, a crowd-pleaser, Roots-style live hip-hop group (guitar more prominent.) They had the obligatory "whatever happened to good music" song, closed with "rap/rock fusing thing" that was actually decent. Kind of cool. The headliner (or rather, only advertised act) was finally up (they were scheduled for 11; I'd arrived at 10:45 and stood through two other groups, not that they were bad). This was the Mountain Brothers, a trio of asian MCs and an awesome DJ, who started the set off with an extended show-off solo, including the intro to "Next Movement." Their rapping, with interplay and everything, was obviously leaps and bounds ahead of the decent efforts of the earlier groups, but unfortunately the sound system wasn't really able to handle their subtlety: they were just using the SoundMachine PA run through Rattech speakers, which had been fine for the noisy, busy earlier bands, but was distorting something awful on their mics. So they passed them back and forth to try to minimize distortion, which was amusing to watch. Oh man. Maybe something else happened that night too, but you know what, I'm not going to write about it now.
still dreaming of that perfect place in the sun
