December 21st, 2011

This is not my beautiful icon.

All I do is tok-tok


The rhythm reverberates, crisp in my ears. My muscles clench in time with the beat. It's so clean, so tight, so regular. I'm pumping my fist in time with the beat. And it hits me. This is what I've always sought, what I've always wanted. I've always had this love/hate thing for the kind of sloppy punk D.I.Y. ethos; admired it for its energy but longed for the metronomic precision of the music of my youth.


And there's a reason for that. It's what I've always wanted to be. This clear, pulsing tone. The sharp, crisp hit on a tight snare head. To be so perfect, so reliable, so infallible. But it's not to be. Because I'm human. I'm biological. I'm not mechanical. Which is something I've always loathed. Push out the inefficiencies, the human frailties and failings, the weaknesses holding me from that perfection. Become that crisp, clean, tight, metronomic beat.


But shouldn't I learn to love the things that make me human? Isn't the whole point of the beat to deviate from it, only to return later, all the more triumphant for the adventurous steps--leaps--away that one has taken? One cannot have a symphony of identical metronomes. Or rather, one cannot have more than one such symphony. At the very least, one should learn to dance with one's own imperfections. Learn to read their steps, anticipate, move with them, create a beautiful ballet.


On Golden (Crispy, Flaky) Bond

[16:13] Me: I need to open a chain of licensed fried chicken restaurants
[16:14] Me: "Do you exshpect me to bawk?"
[16:14] Me: "No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to fry!"
[16:14] HJ: call it Chicken Kitchen
[16:14] Me: And I expect you to TRY my new fried chicken recipe
[16:14] Me: Gold-chickenfingers
[16:14] HJ: secret ingredient is Cool Ranch Doritos
[16:15] Me: Thunder-meatballs
[16:15] Me: Octo-calamari
[16:15] Me: wait
[16:15] HJ: The Spy Who Loved Chicken
[16:15] JL: Nuggets Are Forever
[16:15] HJ: A View to a Chicken
[16:16] Me: For Your Tastebuds Only
[16:16] HJ: Chickenraker
[16:16] JL: Chicken Royale
[16:16] Me: ha ha ha
[16:16] Me: They can't all be Chicken Dishes!
[16:16] JL: Quantum of Chicken
[16:16] Me: The Slaw Who Loved Me
[16:16] JL: Why can't they?
[16:16] Me: Moontaters
[16:16] Me: (they come with a tiny rake you can use to shape your mashed potatoes!)
[16:16] HJ: Chk. No
[16:17] JL: heh
[16:17] Me: Try our new Goldenthigh
[16:17] JL: Fry Another Day
[16:17] HJ: The Chicken Daylights
[16:17] Me: ha ha ha
[16:18] Me: We have a winner!
[16:18] HJ: hehe tru dat, fry another day is awesome
[16:18] Me: Chicken so good, it'll scare the Chicken Daylights outta you!
[16:18] JL: These are fun
[16:19] HJ: From Russia With Chicken
[16:19] Me: From Russia with Nugs
[16:19] HJ: Never Say Chicken Again
[16:19] Me: On Her Majesty's Secret Sauce
[16:19] Me: (or Herbs & Spices)
[16:21] HJ: Chicken Never Dies
[16:21] Me: Frycense to Kill
[16:21] HJ: The Chicken With The Golden Bun
[16:22] Me: oh yum
[16:23] Me: Thighmonds are Forever
[16:23] HJ: lol
[16:23] Me: For those of you on a diet, try our new Felix Leiter menu!
[16:23] Me: We have several Leiter options
[16:24] Me: But don't worry, you can always... Diet Another Day!
[16:24] Me: *dramatic sting*
[16:25] Me: Tomorrow Never Fries
[16:25] Me: View to a Grill
[16:26] JL: hungry
[16:26] Me: Live and Let Fry
[16:27] Me: Oh, the next one is apparently titled (at least tentatively) "Skyfall"
[16:27] Me: so
[16:27] Me: either Fry or Thighfall
[16:27] JL: Nugget of Solace

Meditations on the Nature of Improv and Life and so on

Me: it's kind of nice to talk improv and craft and philosophy with people until the early morning hours after a great show
Me: More and more, I feel like improv is practice for being human
Me: In being alert, aware, awake
Me: affirming people and feelings
01:07:24: ooooh that's interesting
Me: listening and reacting
Me: not just following a script of "paper or plastic?" type interactions.
01:08:50: that's very interesting
01:10:11: I'm so proud of you
Me: Thank you