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Of Lists and Men

// January 11th, 2010 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

SPIEGEL: Why do we waste so much time trying to complete things that can’t be realistically completed?

Eco: We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end. It’s a way of escaping thoughts about death. We like lists because we don’t want to die.

SPIEGEL Interview with Umberto Eco

(I like lists. I also don’t want to die. I think Umberto might be on to something here.)

On a primal level, there’s a strong case to be made for listing things (and crossing them off, if the list allows). There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with “being done”: feeling that the small measure of order that comes from crossing off my practice schedule for the day, every day, or cataloguing the 3 best movies I saw this year will somehow spread to the rest of my life (”Calendar year? Because I saw A Serious Man this Friday, which is technically out of contention due to local release schedules. I don’t think that should eliminate it from contention. I mean, it’s up for consideration for the 2010 Oscars, and if it’s good enough for The Academy…”).

I spent the better part of my December holidays shopping for a white/orange strap, then the rest looking for a matching cable (Coily, too? Surely this will outlive me). I don’t want to think a beautifully-matched strap-and-cable combo represents my desire for symbolic immortality, but if it does, the Fight Club-esque implications are too obvious to ignore. Is it sad that shopping for a $100 cable is a coping mechanism for whatever control issues I have in other areas in my life? I always assumed you needed a lot of money to throw yourself into a lifestyle of material satisfactions, but it turns out that we build little forts out of anything we can get our hands on. Umberto says, somewhat tangentially, that I enjoy crossing “cable and matching strap” off my list because I don’t want to die. Sadly, I don’t think the answer is that profound.

Of Lists and Men

// January 11th, 2010 // No Comments » // Personal, Rants and Musings

SPIEGEL: Why do we waste so much time trying to complete things that can’t be realistically completed?

Eco: We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end. It’s a way of escaping thoughts about death. We like lists because we don’t want to die.

SPIEGEL Interview with Umberto Eco

(I like lists. I also don’t want to die. I think Umberto might be on to something here.)

On a primal level, there’s a strong case to be made for listing things (and crossing them off, if the list allows). There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with “being done”: feeling that the small measure of order that comes from crossing off my practice schedule for the day, every day, or cataloguing the 3 best movies I saw this year will somehow spread to the rest of my life (”Calendar year? Because I saw A Serious Man this Friday, which is technically out of contention due to local release schedules. I don’t think that should eliminate it from contention. I mean, it’s up for consideration for the 2010 Oscars, and if it’s good enough for The Academy…”).

I spent the better part of my December holidays shopping for a white/orange strap, then the rest looking for a matching cable (Coily, too? Surely this will outlive me). I don’t want to think a beautifully-matched strap-and-cable combo represents my desire for symbolic immortality, but if it does, the Fight Club-esque implications are too obvious to ignore. Is it sad that shopping for a $100 cable is a coping mechanism for whatever control issues I have in other areas in my life? I always assumed you needed a lot of money to throw yourself into a lifestyle of material satisfactions, but it turns out that we build little forts out of anything we can get our hands on. Umberto says, somewhat tangentially, that I enjoy crossing “cable and matching strap” off my list because I don’t want to die. Sadly, I don’t think the answer is that profound.

Of Lists and Men

// January 11th, 2010 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

SPIEGEL: Why do we waste so much time trying to complete things that can’t be realistically completed?

Eco: We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end. It’s a way of escaping thoughts about death. We like lists because we don’t want to die.

SPIEGEL Interview with Umberto Eco

(I like lists. I also don’t want to die. I think Umberto might be on to something here.)

On a primal level, there’s a strong case to be made for listing things (and crossing them off, if the list allows). There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with “being done”: feeling that the small measure of order that comes from crossing off my practice schedule for the day, every day, or cataloguing the 3 best movies I saw this year will somehow spread to the rest of my life (”Calendar year? Because I saw A Serious Man this Friday, which is technically out of contention due to local release schedules. I don’t think that should eliminate it from contention. I mean, it’s up for consideration for the 2010 Oscars, and if it’s good enough for The Academy…”).

I spent the better part of my December holidays shopping for a white/orange strap, then the rest looking for a matching cable (Coily, too? Surely this will outlive me). I don’t want to think a beautifully-matched strap-and-cable combo represents my desire for symbolic immortality, but if it does, the Fight Club-esque implications are too obvious to ignore. Is it sad that shopping for a $100 cable is a coping mechanism for whatever control issues I have in other areas in my life? I always assumed you needed a lot of money to throw yourself into a lifestyle of material satisfactions, but it turns out that we build little forts out of anything we can get our hands on. Umberto says, somewhat tangentially, that I enjoy crossing “cable and matching strap” off my list because I don’t want to die. Sadly, I don’t think the answer is that profound.

Of Lists and Men

// January 11th, 2010 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

SPIEGEL: Why do we waste so much time trying to complete things that can’t be realistically completed?

Eco: We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end. It’s a way of escaping thoughts about death. We like lists because we don’t want to die.

SPIEGEL Interview with Umberto Eco

(I like lists. I also don’t want to die. I think Umberto might be on to something here.)

On a primal level, there’s a strong case to be made for listing things (and crossing them off, if the list allows). There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with “being done”: feeling that the small measure of order that comes from crossing off my practice schedule for the day, every day, or cataloguing the 3 best movies I saw this year will somehow spread to the rest of my life (”Calendar year? Because I saw A Serious Man this Friday, which is technically out of contention due to local release schedules. I don’t think that should eliminate it from contention. I mean, it’s up for consideration for the 2010 Oscars, and if it’s good enough for The Academy…”).

I spent the better part of my December holidays shopping for a white/orange strap, then the rest looking for a matching cable (Coily, too? Surely this will outlive me). I don’t want to think a beautifully-matched strap-and-cable combo represents my desire for symbolic immortality, but if it does, the Fight Club-esque implications are too obvious to ignore. Is it sad that shopping for a $100 cable is a coping mechanism for whatever control issues I have in other areas in my life? I always assumed you needed a lot of money to throw yourself into a lifestyle of material satisfactions, but it turns out that we build little forts out of anything we can get our hands on. Umberto says, somewhat tangentially, that I enjoy crossing “cable and matching strap” off my list because I don’t want to die. Sadly, I don’t think the answer is that profound.

My Infinite Summer

// July 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Personal

I had one of those “why didn’t I think about this?” moments right before going on holiday to Canada when I found out about The Infinite Summer. I’ve been meaning to re-read Infinite Jest pretty much since I finished it the first time, but putting a 1000+ page book above my fledgling musical education seemed like a disservice to both. Breaking down the book into weekly 75-page chunks is an stupidly simple idea, yet it’s incredibly effective. It also sets the framework for tackling Infinite Jest as part of a sort-of book club, with weekly commentary of the read portions, a glossary and a wiki that lists any weird shit (grammar-wise only. You’re not entirely off the hook.) you might encounter as part of your verbal sparring with DFW.

As to the why, it’s the feeling you get when you climb into a rollercoaster cart, and it’s speeding up, and ohmygod there’s a twist, and a 360º, and are we vertical now?, and then it slows to a crawl, and then another 30 ft. up in the air, and then it’s slowing down because it’s finally over, and there, just there, once you stop laughing and screaming, you glance at the line and say “Let’s do it again”. Except it’s been five  years, maybe six, since my ride, and even though I don’t re-read books any more, I think I should. It’s been on my mind since DFW left us, all too soon and all that, and even though I had other plans for this summer, it will be worth it.

(Oh, and to whoever gave me the “Two bookmarks, one for the text, one for the footnotes” tip, thankyousoverymuch.)

My Infinite Summer

// July 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

I had one of those “why didn’t I think about this?” moments right before going on holiday to Canada when I found out about The Infinite Summer. I’ve been meaning to re-read Infinite Jest pretty much since I finished it the first time, but putting a 1000+ page book above my fledgling musical education seemed like a disservice to both. Breaking down the book into weekly 75-page chunks is an stupidly simple idea, yet it’s incredibly effective. It also sets the framework for tackling Infinite Jest as part of a sort-of book club, with weekly commentary of the read portions, a glossary and a wiki that lists any weird shit (grammar-wise only. You’re not entirely off the hook.) you might encounter as part of your verbal sparring with DFW.

As to the why, it’s the feeling you get when you climb into a rollercoaster cart, and it’s speeding up, and ohmygod there’s a twist, and a 360º, and are we vertical now?, and then it slows to a crawl, and then another 30 ft. up in the air, and then it’s slowing down because it’s finally over, and there, just there, once you stop laughing and screaming, you make a decision to ride it again. Except it’s been five  years, maybe six, since my ride, and even though I don’t re-read books any more, I think I should. It’s been on my mind since DFW left us, all too soon and all that, and even though I had other plans for this summer, it will be worth it.

(Oh, and to whoever gave me the “Two bookmarks, one for the text, one for the footnotes” tip, thankyousoverymuch.)

My Infinite Summer

// July 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

I had one of those “why didn’t I think about this?” moments right before going on holiday to Canada when I found out about The Infinite Summer. I’ve been meaning to re-read Infinite Jest pretty much since I finished it the first time, but putting a 1000+ page book above my fledgling musical education seemed like a disservice to both. Breaking down the book into weekly 75-page chunks is an stupidly simple idea, yet it’s incredibly effective. It also sets the framework for tackling Infinite Jest as part of a sort-of book club, with weekly commentary of the read portions, a glossary and a wiki that lists any weird shit (grammar-wise only. You’re not entirely off the hook.) you might encounter as part of your verbal sparring with DFW.

As to the why, it’s the feeling you get when you climb into a rollercoaster cart, and it’s speeding up, and ohmygod there’s a twist, and a 360º, and are we vertical now?, and then it slows to a crawl, and then another 30 ft. up in the air, and then it’s slowing down because it’s finally over, and there, just there, once you stop laughing and screaming, you make a decision to ride it again. Except it’s been five  years, maybe six, since my ride, and even though I don’t re-read books any more, I think I should. It’s been on my mind since DFW left us, all too soon and all that, and even though I had other plans for this summer, I’m going for it.

(Oh, and to whoever gave me the “Two bookmarks, one for the text, one for the footnotes” tip, thankyousoverymuch.)

My Infinite Summer

// July 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

I had one of those “why didn’t I think about this?” moments right before going on holiday to Canada when I found out about The Infinite Summer. I’ve been meaning to re-read Infinite Jest pretty much since I finished it the first time, but putting a 1000-page book above my fledgling musical education seemed like a disservice to both. Breaking down the book into weekly 75-page chunks is an stupidly simple idea, yet it’s incredibly effective. It also sets the framework for tackling Infinite Jest as part of a sort-of book club, with weekly commentary of the read portions, a glossary and a wiki that lists any weird shit (grammar-wise) you might encounter as part of your verbal sparring with DFW.

Pro tip: Two bookmarks, one for the text, one for the footnotes.

The Way of St. James

// June 24th, 2009 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings

Until the cows came home.

Last month I celebrated my five-year anniversary of arriving in Spain, which would be cool if it hadn’t made me think how little of Spain I’ve experienced. The Way_of_St._James is something you keep hearing about from the locals, and it’s easy to see its appeal:

• You get to do some exercise,
• You’re off the grid for a week,
• You stress-test your relationship with your walking partners,
• You get to eat Galician home-cooked food (for the most part).

You also get the compostela, which is a cool diploma declaring you as a “Pilgrim”. We were told you only got it if you said you had walked for religious purposes, so that’s exactly what we said. I hope misrepresenting the nature of the trip doesn’t land me a spot in hell, should it exist.

Lost in contemplation, or unable to walk anymore?

Walking 200 Km. in 6 days carrying a 12 Kg. backpack isn’t as easy as we made it to be. It certainly didn’t sound like much after last year’s Caledonian Challenge. Then again, I should’ve remembered that you walk the Challenge without any weight on your back, that you get to rest for as long as you need after walking for 24 hours, and, most importantly, that after I finished the Challenge I had my left knee so worn down that the doctor forbade me from doing any exercise for 6 months. After your first 10 hour walking day, you wake up the next day to find aches in places you didn’t think could ache. You sort of rub your muscles into working order, and then go out and walk another 10 hours. And again, and again. It’s not as terrible as it sounds, though. After a couple days, you get used to the pain and, unless you hurt yourself in the process, you start having a good time walking. And then, just when you’re starting to really enjoy yourself, you arrive at Santiago and the walk ends.

I didn't bring any fancy clothes for the occasion.

The road itself is quite an experience. We didn’t plan our stops correctly and ended up walking over 30 Km. every day, and it still was incredibly fun, which speaks volumes about the trip itself. The food was uniformly excellent, and our walking group was great. We originally planned this as a six-person trip, but real life got in the way and it ended up being three of us. Being all guys had its advantages: bathroom breaks were quick, and the horror that was having unisex (open!) showers was somehow mitigated. I had a close encounter with a naked woman old enough to be my mother, and I’m sure it was a lot more uncomfortable for her than it was for me.

Somebody had to cook, somebody had to take the picture.

The one thing we kept hearing from all the other walkers (which were usually over 50, foreign, or both) that had already completed the walk previously was that this was the sort of thing you came back to. I can definitely see myself going back next year and trying a different route. The main problem will be having this year’s walking pace as precedent, which was insane. It’s certainly a unique experience, and one that heartily recommend.

Nyle - Let The Beat Build

// May 28th, 2009 // No Comments » // Rants and Musings