Wow, I didn't realize I hadn't posted anything in a week. For shame....

Liz and I got the funk on Saturday night, when the Mothership landed once more at B.B. King's on 42nd Street. George Clinton and the P-Funk All-Stars performed to a capacity crowd, and it was great. They didn't play "Flashlight," but "One Nation" and "Atomic Dog" were highlights, and the rest of the show was fantastic. Liz couldn't believe all the line changes and different musicians they brought onstage, or how talented they all were. The guitarist who soloed on "Maggot Brain" was the equal of any premiere guitarist I've heard in concert. We'll be seeing them again when they come back to NY next year. Like the Dead, P-Funk doesn't stop touring.

On a completely different subject...

I didn't post anything related to the 9/11 anniversary mostly because I couldn't think of anything original to write. It was a difficult day for everyone, and while I was able to cope with the help of family, friends, and co-workers (and free comfort food in the cafeteria), I didn't feel like expressing myself here. My mother performed in the orchestra that was a part of the Shanksville ceremony, and that was really emotional for me to watch on TV. I'm so proud that my mother got to be a part of that, and also for the rest of the orchestra, one with which I feel a close connection, since I was also a performer in the group about ten years ago. I suppose that had I made different choices in my life, I could have been there last week.

Back to more positive matters, The Sopranos are back. I want a Silvio Dante action figure. Maybe Todd McFarlane can get on that. I bought the Reservoir Dogs DVD, and it's got an order form for action figures from that movie, so how hard would it be to license the characters from the Sopranos for figures? I'd love a Silvio figure for my desk at work, posed in front of the Bada-Bing! sign. For the moment, I'll settle for having his jutting lower lip and slicked-back hair as my Windows background. Curb Your Enthusiasm also premiered last night, and it's just as funny as the first two seasons. If you're returning to the Sopranos, but you're used to changing the channel at 10 PM, I urge you to keep that TV tuned to HBO for another half-hour. CYE is, like the Sopranos and Six Feet Under, one of the best shows on TV, and definitely one of the funniest. It's up for an Emmy next week. I doubt it will win (against Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, Sex and the City, and Will and Grace) but it's my favorite of all the nominated shows.

I promised an extended version of the NYC Century, so I'd better hurry up and write it before I forget all the details I want to include.

James and I arrived at the Central Park start around 6:15 AM Sunday. I went through the express check-in line since I had my ride bib, while James went through the bib pick-up line. Having my bib saved me approximately 30 seconds, since my line fed into the end of James' line. We picked up cue sheets, Clif bars, extra water bottles, and got on our way about 6:50.

We took it easy for the first few miles, our pace partially dictated by the large crowd of riders we were in. Around 23rd St. on Fifth Avenue, I saw a taxicab pull over another car; it turns out that the taxi was actually an unmarked police car. It was a "taxicop."

In Prospect Park I accidentally ran over a squirrel who was caught in the roadway between my bike and James'. I hit him pretty hard, and I don't know if he survived. But I'll have to avoid Prospect Park now, in case the rest of the squirrels come after me. Through Brooklyn, we had little kids coming out into the street to high-five us and wish us a Happy New Year. Way to lay on the guilt for missing Rosh Hashanah services.

At the Canarsie Pier rest stop, we oiled my bike's chain, which had been making some nasty noises all morning. After that, the bike was quiet and quick, just the way I like it.

We got to the midpoint of the ride, Alley Pond Park in Queens around noon. It wasn't a bad pace for fifty miles, including rests. Two hours later, we were at Astoria Park and only 35 miles from the end. We stopped again six miles later, at a McDonald's in the Bronx, to use their bathroom and get some cheeseburgers. That might have been a problem for me, because the nine-mile stretch from the McDonald's to the next (and last) rest stop at Pelham Bay Park was the toughest of the day for me. I wasn't sure I was going to make it. I kept telling myself that I just had to get to the rest stop, then I could take as long a break as I wanted. About 4:30 PM, we pulled into the park and I collapsed for half an hour. James checked the football scores and chatted with Rob in Virginia.

At 5:10 PM I pronounced myself ready to tackle the last 20 miles, and tried to keep in mind that the distance was no longer than my usual ride up and down the Hudson River Greenway. And I had heard that most of the course in Manhattan was downhill. James pointed out that there had to be a reason why it was downhill in Manhattan. The reason was that the closer we got to the Broadway Bridge to the island, the more uphills we found. And we forgot to eat something each time we stopped for a bathroom break. After we crossed the bridge, we coasted for a while down Broadway, but then the cue sheets directed us onto a steep, 10-block-long hill that led up to the George Washington Bridge. I've never been so happy to see the traffic jam near the bridge entrance as I was on Sunday. Because it really was all downhill from there into Central Park. James let me take the lead into the park to finish my first century.

It was 7:10 PM, over 12 hours since we left the park that morning. The ride organizers were packing everything up, but we were able to get T-shirts and directions to the subway. A quick ride on the C train, and I was back in the Village, which looked just as dark at 8 PM as it had at 5:45 AM. I was exhausted, but proud of my accomplishment. And I'm really glad they only do this ride once a year. I'll need that long to convince myself to do the whole thing again. Especially that last hilly section in the Bronx. That's just sadistic torture.

My legs are tired, and I should be drinking more water, but I finished the Century yesterday, on my first attempt no less. It wasn't easy, and for a while I thought I wasn't going to make it, but James helped me pull through. He hadn't "been in the saddle" (his words) for that many miles since his last AIDS Ride in June 2001, so he wasn't sure he'd finish either. It took us a little over 12 hours with rest stops, which is much longer than I had hoped to take, but it doesn't matter. The point is that I can say that I've ridden over 100 miles in one day, and I know I could do it again.

I was too tired last night to write anything about the ride, but I'll post a longer version of the day's events later.

Quick update: This is the one Saturday night a year I got to bed extra early (before midnight!). I'm getting up at 4:30 AM and leaving the apartment an hour later to ride (hopefully, if all goes well) 100 miles around New York City. The bike is ready, I've got all my food packed and I should be rested. I'm hoping I can get some sleep even with the new girl across the hall hosting a small gathering of friends. Next Saturday night I'll make up for this one: we're going to see George Clinton and the P-Funk All-Stars at B.B. King's. I'll get my funk on, indeed.

Not much going on lately. My fantasy football team might be good, if I had any idea what I was doing. I'm down to one running back; apparently, I didn't realize that waiver claims take two days to process, so I might be stuck for this weekend. But I do have Daunte Culpepper and Jeremy Shockey, and maybe I'll get some points from Antwaan Randle El, even though he's not starting on Sunday. The whole fantasy football thing has been a learning experience so far, and I can only get better at it for next year. Yes, like a classic fatalist, I'm already planning for next year's team, and ready to give up on this one.

There's not going to be a baseball strike. Well, whoop de freakin' doo. In the last few days I was actually rooting for a strike, just to see how upset fans could get at the players and how the game might suffer. I guess that's a bit of schadenfreude for you. Anyway, now that the two sides have reached a deal, and the game will go on, I realize something: it doesn't change anything for me. I'm still not going to pay any more attention to baseball than I do now. Which, unfortunately, is a lot more attention than I thought. You see, I went into the 2002 season pledging not to follow the Pirates too closely, or the pennant races, or the labor talks especially. What happened? I've read every article on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette about the team, and I've followed the labor situation with a magnifying glass lately. But the fact is that no matter what kind of labor deal came out of this mess, it wouldn't make me care more or less about the game. I've never been able to play baseball on any level, I don't know the rules or the history well enough to talk about it, and I don't care to learn about any of that. I like going to the occasional big league game. Otherwise, I'm always going to be a football fan, and no matter what happens in that game, on or off the field, I'm always going to watch the Steelers on Sundays. Even if they never win the Super Bowl again in my lifetime and run off ten straight losing seasons. I should have known this all along. When I was a kid, I never fantasized about being in the Pirates lineup and hitting a home run to win the World Series, but I always wanted to be Terry Bradshaw and throw the winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl.

I'm a casual baseball fan, even where my team is concerned, but I will always be a fanatic about football. And that's not a bad thing at all.

Pictures from the Jamaica trip have been uploaded to my Yahoo! photos page. If you see anything you like and you want a copy in large, printable size, e-mail me and I'll send you the full-size picture(s).

As promised, here is the full recap of our trip to Jamaica. Pictures to follow.


The Jamaica Trip


We left the apartment at 4:30 AM Monday morning, too early for civilized people to be awake. Liz had gone to bed around 11 PM the night before, but I, as usual, stayed up late playing computer games, so I only had about three hours sleep. But that’s what sleeping on the plane is for.

Airport security and check-in at JFK was easier than I thought it would be. I was astounded at the number of bags some people were bringing onto the flight. It seemed like most of the passengers were moving back to Jamaica by way of our flight. The flight itself was uneventful and almost enjoyable: we sat in the exit row so we got plenty of leg room, and ate decent food. We watched most of The Time Machine but they had to stop the movie with a few minutes left since we were about to land. So now I have to rent it to see how it ends. (Jeremy Irons needs to get a new agent. First he chews the scenery in the wretched Dungeons and Dragons movie a few years ago, and now he’s overacting again as a subterranean ruler in an inferior film adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel. It’s just sad to see a great actor in bad films like these.)

The Montego Bay airport in Jamaica was not what I’d describe as a modern airport; it strongly reminded me of the old terminal at Shannon, Ireland. It looks like it was built about 50 years ago and they’ve spent the intervening years fixing things and doing spot repairs. But we were through customs and immigration in a few minutes and by noon, we were on the shuttle bus to our resort, Grand Lido Negril. There were two other couples on the bus with us: one married the previous weekend, and one celebrating their 16th anniversary. Nearly everyone we met were newlyweds on their honeymoon; there were only a few couples there just for a vacation.

The bus driver stopped about 15 minutes into the ride at a convenience store and we bought a few bottles of Red Stripe to drink on the way. We made a bathroom stop an hour later (you don’t buy beer, you rent it) and the driver pulled over a few more times to get out and chat with people operating roadside shacks. Around 2 PM we pulled into the resort. Check-in took place in the piano bar (more Red Stripe) and they sent us to the buffet for lunch while our rooms were prepped. Another hour, another beer and some great food later, we were in our suite.

Putting off sleep for later, we finally got out onto the beach at 4 PM. There was a long strip of beach right outside our room that served as the main beach, and a smaller, rockier section of beach on the other side of the main resort building that was the “clothing-optional” beach. We did visit that side on two occasions, but what we opted to do about our clothing is none of your business. Suffice it to say that for the most part, the people you want to see on the nude side of the resort don’t go there (or go there and keep their clothes on); instead, the people who you’d rather leave their clothes on decide to bare all. We went for a swim in the main pool, or, rather, Liz went for a swim. I tried to swim a little, misjudged how deep the pool was, and found myself in deeper water than I liked, forcing me to struggle to the surface. After that embarrassment, I stayed in the shallow end or on a raft anytime I was in the pool. I definitely have forgotten anything I knew about swimming. Several times that afternoon we were approached by locals trying to ascertain if we were interested in buying marijuana. I guess they got the right message, though, and after Monday they didn’t bother us again.

Monday night’s dinner was at the reggae beach party, which featured a calypso steel drum band, dancers, and a fire-breather. The band was amazing to watch: legs and hands constantly in motion, some drummers playing more than one drum at a time, covering reggae tunes and pop songs. After the band finished their set, the staff held a reggae dance contest, in which Liz and I were somehow drafted to participate. Liz made a valiant effort, but against tough competition, didn’t make it out of the first round. The women’s contest went on entirely too long, with multiple rounds, while the men had to stand around and wait. Finally, it was the guys’ turn to collectively “shake it.” I busted a few of the moves in my arsenal, but held off on my signature leg grab, figuring I needed to save something for the second round. Unfortunately, I wasn’t picked to move on, so I’ll forever wonder if I could have won the contest and the prize (a bottle of rum) with my leg grab and other “Solid White Dancer” material.

Tuesday through Friday followed the same pattern for the most part. We would go to the beach in the morning and spend a few hours reading, floating in the ocean waters (clearer and warmer than any beach water I’ve ever seen, but no waves to body surf -- my only complaint), and try not to get sunburned. We would have lunch either at the buffet or from one of the outdoor bars where they served jerk chicken and beef patties. The late afternoon would find us in the pool or in the room, waiting out the rain. It rained almost every afternoon, sometimes a heavy thunderstorm, other times just a brief, cool shower. Usually we were able to go back out after the rain, at least to the pool, but sometimes it would rain so much that we’d just call an end to the beach part of our day and stay in. We had a private, outdoor Jacuzzi in our suite, so we were able to stay in the water even in a heavy rain.

On Tuesday night we had a tasty seafood dinner at one of the restaurants: I had marlin and Liz had red snapper. The food was great but the portions were entirely too small, even by our standards of fancy Manhattan dining. After dinner we went to the piano bar, where “laser karaoke” kept everyone entertained for a few hours. I was tempted, but I didn’t sing anything. Maybe on Wednesday night, I told myself.

A thunderstorm on Wednesday afternoon nearly ruined our scheduled “couples” massage, which took place outdoors in a gazebo by the water. Luckily, the rain held off, so we had relaxing aromatherapy massages side by side with thunder as accompaniment. That night we had dinner at the resort’s showcase French restaurant, where we enjoyed a meal that rivals anything we’ve eaten here in New York. Liz had a chicken breast with Gruyere cheese risotto, and I had roasted stuffed quail. The signature dessert, a white chocolate piano with chocolate mousse filling, was so amazing to behold that I had to take a picture of it before we defiled it by eating it. After dinner, we went back to the karaoke/piano bar again. There wasn’t much in the song list that I knew and could sing, but they had one song I could manage. So I got up and rocked the house with my imitation of Jim Morrison by performing “LA Woman.” One guy was so impressed that he kept complimenting me on my performance whenever he saw me the rest of the time we were there. I think Liz was embarrassed, but entertained. She did get a few pictures of it, but unfortunately, we don’t have any recordings of the event.

Thursday was another relaxing day, except for both of us getting sunburned. We had dinner at the pasta restaurant (Liz ate goat cheese ravioli, I had jerk sausage in tomato sauce over penne) then went to the piano bar, where we had just missed the resident pianist’s show for the evening. Two women were there, enjoying a few drinks before they had to leave the next day, and the pianist was kind enough to play a few songs for the four of us past his usual quitting time.

We spent almost all day Friday in the pool, cooling our sunburns. It was the only day that we didn’t have any significant rain in the afternoon, so we could have gone on an afternoon cruise, but I guessed wrong on the weather (who knew?) and we just stayed in the water. That night’s dinner was a massive buffet with raw bar, and the entertainment was a four girl group from Kingston. After dinner we were back at the piano bar for a sing-along that lasted a few hours and featured many songs we’d been singing all week at karaoke, like “Mac the Knife” and “Piano Man.” (I think that “Piano Man” is required material if you’re going to work the cocktail pianist circuit anymore; they probably don’t let you in the cocktail pianists’ union if you can’t play it.)

Finally, on Saturday, it was time to go. Though with the way the resort and the airline set up departures, we had about half the day at the resort to buy souvenirs, have a few more drinks, and one last meal at the buffet. The bus ride back was a little shorter this time, and more crowded. Security at the airport was much tighter than at JFK, if you can believe that. There was the initial metal detector check, which was nothing unusual, but then they searched all bags and checked all the men’s shoes at the gate. The flight had lots of small kids, and most of them seemed to be in our section near the back of the plane. Once again the food was good, but we didn’t get a movie this time, so I didn’t get to see the end of The Time Machine. Once again, customs and immigration weren’t a problem, but getting out of the terminal was. It must be a cultural thing. The flights coming into our terminal were from Jamaica (of course), Colombia, and Taiwan, and it seemed that everyone leaving the terminal had twenty family members waiting outside customs for them. There had to be at least three hundred people between customs and the exits, and they weren’t making it easy for anyone to get out. I couldn’t believe that on a Saturday night in New York, these people had nothing better to do than wait for Grandma to get off a plane. After a half-hour wait, we finally got into a taxi and we were back home by midnight. The cats were, as always, happy to see us again.

I've been sick with a cold for the past few days. It hasn't kept me from going to work, though it probably should have. I've always had a thing about missing work or school for illness, so unless I can't even get out of bed, I'm going to work. Especially this week, having just returned from vacation. If I hadn't been off all last week, I'd probably have skipped a day this week. Today might have been the best choice, since it's raining like crazy here in NYC and I got drenched coming home from the gym and again on my way to work. But I'm here in the office anyway.

I'm done with my Jamaica trip recap, but I've been busy with other things, so I haven't quite finished fine-tuning it. My home PC's hard drive was failing, so I got Dell to ship me a new one. I spent most of last evening reinstalling Windows and my applications, with surprisingly little difficulty. And the best part is that Dell sent me an 80 GB disk to replace a 60 GB disk, at no charge. Score one for me.

Liz and I have returned from Jamaica, slightly sunburned but otherwise completely and totally relaxed. This was by far the most relaxing vacation I've had since I was 14 and someone else did all the driving and paying. We didn't get out of the resort for any of the water sports, lobster pizza, or local attractions; we just stayed on the property and hung out on the beach, by the pool, or in the private jacuzzi attached to our room. And we ate well for six straight days. It's going to be difficult to go back to work and not have a drink at lunch, or have a waiter come by my desk and ask me if everything is "going great?" and then offer to get me another rum punch.

On the other hand, being out of electronic communication for six days has shown me that while it is possible for me to survive without e-mail and the web, it's like a drug when I come back. Oh, how I've missed my precious, precious DSL. I've been online for two straight hours so far, and I've got at least another hour's worth of surfing to catch up with all of last week's content on my favorite sites. I read entirely too much material online.

I took detailed notes of each day's significant events while we were away, and I'll be compiling a (hopefully) entertaining report in the next few days. It will, of course, be posted here for your perusal.

"Did you read Kornheiser today?" Sorry, old joke. Anyway, he's got a great viewpoint on the prospect of an upcoming players' strike in baseball. I especially like the way he ends the piece. I won't spoil it for you.

At last, the players have set a strike date. If there's no deal on August 30, there won't be any games. Fine by me. If you can't live on $2 million plus a year, sure, go on strike, and see how many American workers support you. A week after that day, I'll be watching football, and I couldn't give a damn if baseball ever comes back.

Speaking of football, I'm in a fantasy football league for the first time this year. It's online, at Yahoo!, and most of the features are automated, like the draft, so I don't have to do any research or fool around with salary caps. At least, I don't think I do. It's with a bunch of my old college friends, all of whom should get the joke above. I'm sure I'll get spanked each and every week, just like I used to in Madden. One problem for me will be trades. I'm no good at suggesting them. When we used to play Monopoly, everyone else would always suggest trades and I'd react. Almost always, the deal worked out badly for me. I'm sure this thing will be more of the same, but at least it will be entertaining.

I'm getting ready to go on vacation, so I'm not sure how many more posts there will be before we leave Monday morning. Sunny Jamaica awaits us for six glorious days. We'll be back on Saturday, so I'll have plenty of material to post by then. I'm still debating about taking my laptop, not for blog updates or (God forbid) work, but for a repository for my digital photos. I think I'll just take my chances and leave the laptop at home. It's a lot of hardware to carry and risk just for the ability to save my pictures each day. Besides, how many pictures of Liz and I on the beach can I take?

I love the New York Times Circuits section every Thursday. It's the only section of the Times that I read regularly. (I also like the Tuesday "Tunnel Vision" column about the NYC subway.) Anyway, today's story about incoming college freshmen corresponding with their new roommates over e-mail brought back some old memories, fond and not so fond.

It was ten years ago this month that I first dealt with new roommate issues, as an incoming freshman at Georgetown University. (Man, ten years -- it really makes me feel old, even at 28.) The GU housing department sent me a letter with my new roommate's information on it, as well as where we'd be living (Darnall Hall, room 117. Some things you never forget.). I clearly remember the phone call I got one August afternoon from my new roommate, one Mark Reedy of Atlanta, GA. I stood in my kitchen as we talked briefly about who we were, then spent most of the call discussing what we'd be bringing. He had a TV and a stereo, I had a computer. He also planned to bring his five-foot-long pet python, with the cliched name of Monty. On the phone, he seemed like a decent guy. We were both messy and lazy, so we figured we'd get along well.

A few weeks later, we met in person on move-in day. Again, at first meeting, my initial impression was the same as before. Of course, those of you who know me well will recall that Mark and I did not get along well at all for most of the year. My idea of messy was not making my bed and leaving everything in a pile on my desk. His idea of messy was to leave his dirty laundry in the middle of the floor for weeks at a time. The 1993 Georgetown yearbook even has a picture of our room in it, showing in full, lurid color just how nasty we kept this room. I thought I was lazy, sleeping late and rushing to my morning classes. He would sleep all day and miss most of his classes. However, the mess and the hours were the least of the problems we had. I can't go into detail about the issues we went through all year, so suffice it to say we just didn't get along. I think matters were at their worst when on nights when he would be out late partying, I'd hope that he was dead somewhere so I could live in peace. Moving out wasn't really an option; by the time things deteriorated to the point where I considered moving, the year was almost over, so I just gutted it out. My living situation improved greatly the following year, when I shared a room and later an apartment with Jonathan. While I knew a few people who got along well with their initial roommates (and continued to live together after freshman year), most of my friends fared much better when they were able to choose their roommates. For a follow-up, I could discuss all the mishegoss of my junior year, when I chose to live with three friends in an off-campus house, but later had several new housemates chosen for me through external events, but I don't have the time now, and no one would believe me anyway.

Instead, here's a list of the places I lived when I was at Georgetown, just for the hell of it:

Freshman year (1992-93): Darnall Hall, room 117. Built in the 1960s, renovated two years after I lived there. Half the people who lived on my floor were cool guys, the rest were lacrosse players and business school students who partied all the time. I was happy to get out of there.

Fall semester sophomore year (1993): Copley Hall, room 401. Built in the 1930s (I think), renovated the year after I lived there. I had a great time there because of all the fantastic people on the floor, but the rooms were crappy. Over Christmas break the shower in my room exploded and turned the room into a sauna for three days. Because of this event, Jonathan and I moved to ...

Spring semester sophomore year (1994): Village A, Apartment A205 (I think that was the number). We moved into the only available spare room on campus and lived with a junior and an exchange student. I LOVED having an on-campus apartment as a sophomore; it was a big status thing to have an apartment at that age. And it had a roof deck with a view of the Potomac and Virginia.

Junior year (1994-95): 3720 R Street. Off-campus house. I lived with some of my best friends in one of the crappiest houses in Georgetown (actually Burleith). The stories from this house would take far too long to tell here.

Senior year (1995-96): Village A, Apartment E206. Three friends and I took another roof deck apartment with a river view. We didn't have a high enough "draft" pick to get a top-floor apartment, but we had the best time living here. Definitely the best living experience of my four years at Georgetown.

Today's post will be of a personal nature. Those looking for timely musings about the downfall of society should go elsewhere.

I'm currently in the market for a new watch. The current one needs a new battery, but as you will read below, I'm considering getting a new watch instead of just replacing the battery. Since 1988, I've worn a series of digital calculator watches, and since 1990, they've been of the Casio Data Bank model. I used to use the watch to store phone numbers and the occasional anniversary, but in the past few years I've acquired cell phones that store phone numbers and PDAs which store numbers and much more. So the Data Bank on my wrist has been rendered obsolete. I do still use the world time feature, which is convenient when I'm traveling outside the Eastern time zone. I don't ever remember needing the stopwatch, and the timer is useless as well since I have a cooking timer at home. (And I can't remember the last time I needed a timer outside of making dinner.) As for the calculator, I realized a few minutes ago that at any given time I have on my person at least one device that includes a calculator (other than the watch). The two PDAs that I carry (BlackBerry and Palm Vx), as well as my Nokia cell phone, have calculators. To add to the fun, all three of these devices also include clocks. So you could say that I don't even need the watch. But since I've worn a watch since I was about six years old (or about as long as I can remember), it's too much of a habit for me to chuck the watch entirely.

The problem is deciding what watch to buy. Twelve years ago, the calculator/data bank watch was cutting-edge and extremely geeky, so of course I loved having it. Now with the proliferation of data devices (see above) it's not geeky any more, just dumb. Casio has a $200 watch that includes a compass, altimeter, and barometer, but unless I'm going to become a TV weatherman or a serious hiker, I don't need one. And not at that price, either. The new geeky watch from Casio seems to be the Wave Ceptor series, which gets its time by radio from an atomic clock in Colorado. But this model is so new that I've only seen it online, except for one style (the latest Data Bank, which I don't want anymore) at J&R downtown. I'm wary of buying a new watch online, since I won't be able to see it firsthand until after I've paid for it. I don't know much about any other manufacturers or models, excep that they can get really expensive and shiny. I'm still enamoured of digital watches, so a fashionable analog watch isn't really my thing. The more I think about this, the more likely it becomes that I'll just break down and get what I want online. After I looked at the web sites for some Manhattan department and/or watch stores, I found that most stores don't carry Casio, or a large selection of casual digital watches. Damn. Why do I always have to make things more difficult than they need to be?

Normally, I'd be up late on a Sunday night, but tonight I'm really tired. I went to bed around 4:30 AM this morning, after staying up late watching Star Trek II on DVD, then Superman on the Sci-fi Channel. Even after I went to bed, the cats kept me awake for a while longer, and then I was up again by 11. So now I feel about ready to collapse. But I did want to post the following review of the STII DVD. I e-mailed this to a bunch of friends, some of whom may not be aware of this blog. If you've already read this in an e-mail, you can go do something else, but please stop by again. There will be new, original content here soon.

I just finished watching the best ST movie on DVD, and let me tell you: you all must buy this set, even if you don't own a DVD player yet. Build one yourself, borrow a friend's, steal one from your neighbor, watch the movie, and enjoy. The greatest movie in the ST series looks fantastic on the screen, sounds outstanding (every utterance from Khan and Kirk is clear and ready for you to recite along with the actors, as I did many times), and there are several scenes restored to the original movie print that flesh out some plot details and enhance the story. (Scenes like the dialogue between Kirk and Scotty's nephew, the young engineer who dies after Khan's first attack on the Enterprise. Some of these scenes appeared when the movie aired on TV in the 1980s, and they're integrated here.) There's also audio commentary from the director (haven't listened to it yet) and a bunch of interviews and effects features on the 2nd disc. Some old interviews from 1982 (great pinstripe suit on Leonard Nimoy) and some new (lots of inside info on how the film came together), plus a 30-minute geek-fest interview with two ST authors that's uneven but entertaining.

But the best feature on the disc, and one that I want in all my DVDs, is the text commentary running at the bottom. Michael Okuda, author of the ST Encyclopedia, provides what is best described as "pop-up Star Trek." He discusses the set construction and dressing, the way footage from ST:The Motion Picture was reused to cut costs, tells you where the director's cut scenes are re-inserted, makes jokes about plot holes, and generally gives insight into how the movie was made and what makes it so good. It's cute at times but never annoying, and can be enjoyed without disrupting the movie too much. It helps that I've seen this movie so many times that I was able to read the comments without missing any action. But the best part is that since the comments are silent, you can still listen to the movie. To my annoyance, I noticed that this feature is also on my 2-disc DVD of ST:TMP, and I didn't use it when I watched that movie last winter. Now I've got a reason to kill 2+ hours watching that one again. Which leads me to end with ...

KHAN!!!!!!!!!!

There's a great new billboard in Times Square for the University of Oregon football program, whose games will be airing on the YES network this fall. I had to wonder what it all meant, aside from the obvious indication that NYC-area Oregon fans won't have to order ESPN's college football package to watch their team this season. And I didn't have to wait long for someone in the press to
weigh in on the matter.

I have to agree that the billboard and the concept are ridiculous. Why would anyone in NYC not affiliated in any way with the state of Oregon be the least bit interested in this football team? I guess it's a confluence of a team needing media exposure and a network in need of late-night/early morning programming. At least it's better than "Old Yankees Storytime Hour" airing in the same time slot. But still, there's no reason for anyone on the East Coast to give a damn about this team. It's also about a university's athletic department having nothing better to do with their money than throw it away on marketing and media exposure, but please see the link above for more eloquent thoughts on the financial matters.

Where were all the geeks in Lower Manhattan yesterday? At J&R Music World, buying copies of any of the following on DVD: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, or The Simpsons second season. I picked up the latter two items, opting to hold off on LOTR until November, when the extended version is released. In the meantime I'll sate myself with William Shatner yelling "KHAN!!!" and Ricardo Montalban chewing the scenery. But he does it so well.

This afternoon at lunch I wandered down to Federal Hall to see the six design proposals for the WTC site. The exhibit is set up in a circle surrounding a large wooden model of Manhattan from 14th Street south. Even in three dimensions, none of the proposals are terribly interesting or exciting. I did enjoy the pictures of Lower Manhattan from 1949 to 1976, showing the development of modern skyscrapers and how they replaced the older, concrete towers of the past. I also found my apartment building on the model, and it sure does look puny compared to the buildings downtown.

We just got back from a weekend trip to Bowie, MD, to visit my parents. It was a brief visit, but it was great to see my family and get away from the city.

I don't have anything else at the moment. I'm watching Driven on HBO, and wondering why they screwed up some decent racing scenes with goofy computer-generated graphics and zooms. The racing looks like they modeled it on an EA Sports game instead of actual CART racing.

I've got some thoughts on Operation TIPS, the expansion of government powers, and possible infringements on our existing civil rights, but I haven't put them together coherently yet. Maybe tomorrow. My basic thesis is: the situation sucks, but what are you gonna do about it?

Last night, while out with a group of friends, Jonathan (visiting NYC from Austin) pointed out that I had not written anything on Lance Armstrong's recent victory in the Tour de France. I didn't have much to add to the media coverage of his latest win, and I'm lazy. So there. Ron Borges had this nasty little opinion piece on him on MSNBC.com earlier this week, arguing that Armstrong isn't an athlete because cycling isn't a sport. Too bad for him that he has the minority opinion on the subject. When last I checked, the poll in the sidebar, asking whether you agreed with Borges, was running 97% disagreed, or slightly less than 44,000 responses. The article is worth reading if only to see how tough it is for Borges to find reasons to bash cycling. He strains so hard to make his point that I wonder if he really believes what he's writing, or if his editor just wanted a opposing point of view for that day's paper.

As a cyclist, of course I'm going to argue that it's a sport, and that Armstrong is perhaps the greatest athlete competing today. The Tour is probably the most difficult sporting event on the planet. You do ride with a team, but you have to use your own legs all the time, and you can't take a day off except for the two rest days during the race. I'm planning to ride 100 miles in a day later this summer, and all my weekend rides and exercises are with this goal in mind. And that's only for one day! During the TdF, every day it's over 100 miles of rolling hills, steep climbs, and dizzying descents. And it's not like Armstrong only does this for a few months a year. This is his life. He lives in France most of the year so he can train on the same mountains he'll ride during the Tour. His training regimen sometimes includes riding up a steep mountainside, back down the way he came up, then (when most of us would say "enough already, I'm going home") he turns around and rides back up the mountain again. He does this every day. I love cycling, but I can't fathom what that must feel like. And he's survived cancer! I can't believe anyone would think that this man is not performing feats of athleticism far beyond those of everyday sports heroes like Shaquille O'Neal and Sammy Sosa.

When I was growing up, I idolized Terry Bradshaw, the quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers during their 1970s heyday. He was a leader on the field, he won two Super Bowl MVP awards, had a great passing arm, and played for my favorite team. The things he could do on the field, even when the rest of the team was terrible, were unbelievable to my pre-teen eyes. On the few occasions I played football with my friends, I wanted to be the quarterback, so I could imagine myself as Bradshaw, throwing touchdown passes to Lynn Swann. I still get a kick out of him in his NFL on FOX gig, but I can't say that he's still my idol. Lance Armstrong has become my new ideal sports hero, and the person I think of when I'm riding my bike. When I climb a steep hill, I think about how he attacks the mountains and 'dances on his pedals' as he rides uphill faster than anyone else. (I saw that quote in an article about one of his Tour wins, and I've always wondered what that looks like.) I know I'll never ride in the Tour de France, but it inspires me to ride harder anytime I think of Armstrong, and I think inspiration is what heroes are all about. That sounds really sappy, but I can't think of any better way to put it.

I finished GTA III last night. Suddenly, there is a void in my life; I need to find a game to play. I've gone back to Empire Earth for a while. I don't think I've really played that one out. I had forgotten how difficult the AI can be. I still find Galactic Battlegrounds more entertaining, based on the immersion in the Star Wars universe, but EE offers all sorts of units and animations that GB doesn't. And there's an EE expansion pack coming this fall, so I have to brush up on the game.

As you can tell, I haven't seen anything worth writing about lately, so you get these updates on my gaming life instead.

I'm up to the final mission in GTA III. That should explain the lateness of the hour. Must go to bed ... game will still be here in morning....

I saw Goldmember this weekend; extremely funny, but hopefully the last in the series. I don't think there's much left in the Austin Powers well.

Ate far too much at a pig roast on Saturday. The 25-mile bike ride today didn't do enough to burn off the calories.

I'll have to write more on Monday.

I'm not sure how to link back to my own posts, so you'll have to check the archives from July 19 for my original post on this subject.

Josh Mankiewicz posted a followup to his article from last week about his Atkins diet success story. The followup piece mentions all of the e-mails he's received on the subject since the original piece aired. There are plenty of negative reactions to his story, both from people who, like me, think that Atkins dieters are slowly killing themselves with fat, and also from people who have gained weight on high-carb/low-fat diets and now think that doctors and dietitians have lied to them about the benefits of such diets. But there's not one mention anywhere about exercise playing a role in weight loss. I hate to repeat myself in this space, but I think I have to: you can't just change what you eat and expect to lose weight. You must exercise. You don't have to join a gym, buy expensive equipment, or hire a trainer. Go for a walk. You've got two legs, right? Use them. Often. Once you start burning more calories, you'll feel better, you'll look better, and these changes can be an incredible incentive to keep it up. It's worked for me.

Maybe I need my own infomercial, or at least a spot on Dateline, to make this point to people. Oh, that's right, I'm just an average schmuck. No one cares what I think.

I haven't had much to report lately. I seem to be on a Wednesday-Saturday update schedule, not that it's intentional. I'll try to do better from now on.

This evening I went to the NY Philharmonic's free concert in Central Park. I like the free part, and the relaxed attitude about open alcohol consumption. But I don't like the constant conversation while the orchestra is playing. Some of the people around us kept chattering the entire time, especially the drunk trio right in front of us. The trouble with the concerts being free is that you get all sorts of people who come for the picnic and stick around to chat during the actual performance. I guess you get what you pay for. At least this year I was able to hear the music clearly. Last year Liz and I sat so far away that we could barely hear anything. We couldn't even see the fireworks at the end of the show. This time we were much closer to the orchestra, and I could even see the stage. Plus they played all my old favorites. Dvorak's Carnival Overture, Bruch's Scottish Fantasy, Liszt's Les Preludes, Grieg's Peer Gynt Suite No.1, and Finlandia by Sibelius, a piece I once conducted back when I was a student at Georgetown. So I had a really good time.

Yesterday was an exciting and unusual day in New York. A transformer explosion at an East Side Con Edison power plant left parts of lower Manhattan without electricity for most of the day and evening. I found out about it while riding my bike through the Village, wondering why traffic was snarled up. When there's no power, the stoplights don't work, so drivers were on their own to stop for pedestrians crossing the streets. I managed to get dressed in the dark and found a nearby pet store that was still open so I could feed the cats. After that, I had to find a way to meet Liz in midtown, where there was power and she was shopping. Subways weren't running south of 34th Street, buses were packed, and while cabs were an option, traffic was so bad that it would have cost a fortune to go uptown. So, even though I'd already ridden about 25 miles on my bike and my legs were sore, I walked 40 blocks to 42nd Street to meet her. From there, we had a normal evening: dinner, a movie (Road to Perdition, which was excellent) and a stop at Starbuck's to keep cool. We also stopped to buy a spare flashlight, some candles, and batteries. I kept up with news reports on my Blackberry, and at 8 PM power was restored to about 15,000 customers. But we had to assume that we weren't among the lucky ones, and that we might be stuck overnight. At 10 PM we were at Starbuck's, where I was trying in vain to get my laptop to see the wireless network there. After 45 minutes of tweaks and tests, I had blown up the TCP/IP stack, so further attempts to connect and surf were futile. We caught a cab back to our apartment. To our weary joy, there were lights everywhere in the Village. Power for everyone! When we got home, we figured out from our clock that we'd had power since 8 PM. At least we've got the supplies in case there's another outage.

I would have posted this update last night, but as I was writing it, we had a series of brownouts that my computer didn't take well. The DSL was flaky too; probably the hardware at the central office was up and down for a few minutes. I opted to read a book instead, figuring that at least a book can't crash on you. It's all OK now, but I desperately need a UPS for the system now. Nothing like hearing your speakers make a loud buzzing noise while the lights dim to show you the necessity of steady electrical flow to an expensive computer. I'm going to have to endure the hardship of lugging a massive battery home on the subway tomorrow night. Poor me.

Three updates in one day? What is wrong with my world?

I've just uploaded some recent pictures of our cats. You can check them out at Yahoo!. Just browse to the "Recent Cat Pics" album and enjoy. Also, if you would like to see pictures of people you might know if you attended Starkville High School in Starkville, MS, circa 1992, then please peruse and enjoy the photos in the SHS Reunion album.

When I decide not to be a lazy ass I'll update the photos link on my main web site (link at left) to reflect the new Yahoo! photos site. I love automated upload tools.

I've been hearing about the Atkins diet for years, mostly from my wife, who just gets mad anytime anyone mentions it. I just saw this story on MSNBC.com about one of NBC's correspondents who's been on Atkins for years and loves it. Doctors are still arguing over whether this diet is actually any good for you. It's hard to disagree with the results, but I'd hate to see Mr. Mankiewicz's arteries from all that steak he's been eating.

My take on this diet and other "fad" diets like Sugarbusters or the Zone: if it works for you, great. More power to you. I hope you're exercising regularly, too. I think that one of the main reasons we're becoming one of the fattest countries in the world is that we have so many creature comforts -- remote control, food delivery, high-speed Internet, cordless phones, online shopping, etc. -- that we have little reason to get off our fat asses and do something physical. Fifty years ago, we ate more red meat and fat, but we also had to get up to turn on the TV, answer the phone, walk to work (because we couldn't afford a car), and so on. (Or at least this is what I assume happened back in the Dark Ages of the 1950s.) Anyway, we didn't have all these stay-at-home options available to us, so we were more active. It happened to me a few years ago. I used to work at Georgetown University (after I graduated from there) and as part of my job I walked across campus several times a day going to different departments to fix problems. When I left GU and took a job confined to one office, I gained weight because I didn't have to walk around all day anymore. Now I have to force myself to go to the gym twice a week and ride my bike on weekends so that I can eat the fatty foods I love. When I do eat something fatty, I feel guilty about it and make up for it by eating better at my next meal, or working even harder at the gym. I know that the alternative is to gain 15 pounds and feel out of shape.

Here's the other thing: people are stupid. They watch TV and see ads for products that let you burn fat while you sleep or watch TV. They believe that they can eat anything they want and keep the weight off without exercise. Or they just don't care. That's why we're a nation of fat-asses. It's not what we're eating that's killing us. It's that we don't exercise enough anymore.

The six design proposals for Ground Zero have been out since Tuesday, and the public reaction to them seems to be one of total disinterest. It doesn't help that all six concepts are essentially the same, with generic-looking office buildings on the east side of the site (where the smaller WTC buildings used to stand) and a large open plaza or park on the west side, including the "footprints" of the towers themselves. There's not much to recommend any one proposal over another, though I like No. 5 better than any of the others. It has a pair of towers among the office buildings, and the placement of the buildings, while impinging on the old towers' footprints, leads to speculation that it might be the most interesting to walk around. Of course, there are many unsolicited ideas out there as well. Jan Herman's The Juice turned me on to this outlandish concept yesterday. No one would ever build something like it today, but it's ideas like this that the current six options (which everyone was quick to say are just starting points and may change) are lacking.

I think that the WTC site cannot be left entirely open, as some have advocated. It's valuable real estate in one of the prime business districts in the world. So we need to rebuild something on the site. On the other hand, you can forget about rebuilding the WTC exactly as it was before. No one in the world would want to work on the upper floors, and no insurance company on the planet will insure buildings that tall here. And I don't think it's "letting the terrorists win" to build something different. "Letting them win" would have been the case if we had not pursued Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. But I'm getting off topic.

I think that the WTC site needs a mix of office, commercial and cultural space, along with a significant memorial. Designers shouldn't be concerned with building something on the footprints of the old towers, either. Whatever is designed should allow for traffic to flow through the site from north to south, something that the WTC didn't really allow before. And West Street should be moved underground, to reconnect Battery Park City and the World Financial Center to the rest of downtown. The designers of the six proposals had these ideas in mind, but unless they have something really spectacular in store for the final design, what they've shown so far is unremarkable. Placing a series of office towers along Church Street with a park behind them will only divide downtown along that street, instead of West Street as before.

The sad thing is that one of these six proposals will likely become the final design as is, despite what we're being told about the fluid nature of the design process. There's a push from the site's leaseholder to move the rebuilding process along. To accomplish that, it will be easier to stick with one of these designs rather than throw them all away and start again. No matter what, there will be lawsuits and delays, as victims' families sue for a larger/different memorial, or while the leaseholder countersues the families for a larger office footprint. I predict that there is a long, sad road ahead for redeveloping the site.

I haven't had anything remotely interesting to say lately, hence the dearth of updates. But lest anyone think I've dropped off the face of the earth, I am still alive and well.

The neighbors across the hall have finally moved out. They got rid of the yapping, pooping chihuahuas several months ago, but the humans lingered like a bad cold. Until last week, when workmen showed up to redo the walls and floor of the apartment. So now, instead of twelve dogs barking at all hours, or having to avoid the man who owned said dogs and left them alone in the apartment for weeks at a time while they pooped on the floor and made a terrible mess, we have workers playing Spanish-language talk radio early in the morning while they paint the walls and polish the floor. I'm assuming we'll get some new neighbors paying exorbitant rent in the next few weeks. Anyone has to be better than the last guy. On the other hand, he did have an unprotected wireless network that I could surf on if my DSL ever went down. That, like the dogs, is also gone.

This latest post was intended for yesterday, but as usual I had trouble with Blogger at work. Must be some firewall thing getting in the way.

I went to see Attack of the Clones for the third and most likely final time in a theater Thursday night. I went back to the Ziegfield in midtown Manhattan and its glorious wide screen and superb sound system. It was a much different experience than the first time I was at the Ziegfield, on opening day for AOTC. That time, we had a huge cheering crowd. This time, a few of the hard-core fans from that day were there, but the theater was mostly empty and quiet. Just me and a few other geeks who needed one last fix at the Z. I still like the movie overall, but I just can't get past some of the editing choices and much of the acting of Hayden Christiansen and Natalie Portman. I know Portman is a decent actress, and HC has gotten good reviews in the past, but they just need some help here. And I wish I could buy the DVD in four months and edit the chapters so that certain scenes are swapped. If you put the balcony kiss scene AFTER the roll-in-the-grass scene, it makes more sense. Or cut it altogether and just have them kiss for the first time in the grass. And I'd dump about half the fireplace scene. Last night I noticed how they just sit there at the beginning of the scene, like two kids locked in a closet at a party and not sure whether to make out or just fidget uncomfortably. But the action sequences are still first-rate, and Yoda is just possibly the best thing in the movie. In any case, I'm having more fun playing with the movie's units in Galactic Battlegrounds than I am just watching them on screen.

It's been a strange week in baseball. Last night's All Star Game, which I didn't watch (the first time in years I've skipped the game), ended in a tie when both teams ran out of pitchers in the 11th inning. It sounds like something out of a high school game or Little League. Plenty of great commentary has been written about this fiasco already, so I would just say go over to ESPN.com and have a look. I just can't believe that in a sport where the season seems doomed to a prolonged strike and rumors of steroid abuse run rampant, MLB can't even get its act together long enough to finish a great All Star Game. It boggles the mind. I hope they have a good, long strike later this summer, and that the result is a better revenue model for the game. But it won't happen that way, because the owners will cave like they always do, and we can look forward to many more years of the Yankees winning pennants and World Series trophies. When does football season start?

The other crazy thing in baseball this week is the cryogenic freezing of the body of Ted Williams, in the hope that he could be revived or cloned at some future time. Among the better columns on the subject is this one by Tom Farrey on ESPN.com. My favorite quote from the article is by a doctor who is hoping to clone humans someday.

"The world needs more Ted Williamses," Zavos said. "It needs more Elvises. How many happy people would there be if instead of hugging a statue of Elvis Presley, they could hug someone who looks like Elvis?"

As the Sports Guy would say, I don't even have a joke here.

The Ted Williams body business is just sad. I wouldn't have a problem with it (and I doubt too many others would either) if Williams himself had expressed a desire to be preserved this way. A last wish is a last wish, etc. But the fact that his son, John Henry Williams, took this action for his own personal motives, without regard to his father's wishes or the feelings of his siblings (half or otherwise), makes the tragedy of his death even worse. On the other hand, maybe the Red Sox can wheel his "vessel" out into left field at Fenway Park for a memorial service. John Henry can sell DNA samples as souvenirs. Fans can go home and grow their own little Ted Williamses and get rich when they all become major leaguers. Maybe if the Red Sox can get nine of them together, they can field a team that could actually win the World Series someday.

Nah, they'd probably find a way to mess that up too.

I read about BlogAmp the other day, and since I had some time early this evening, I've added it to my blog links on the left. Now you can see all the strange and unusual music I listen to.

See, I'd write about something really exciting, but I'm just enjoying a relaxing weekend in the city. We went to see Twelfth Night in Central Park, which was excellent. The cast featured Zach Braff, Kristen Johnson, Christopher Lloyd, Oliver Platt, Julia Stiles, and Jimmy Smits, among others. And today I bought some new bike shorts! See how much fun I'm having?

Not much new here; it's been a slow couple of days. We're staying here in the city for the four-day weekend, possibly to enjoy the fireworks, but more likely just to hang out and stay cool. Maybe Shakespeare in the Park on Saturday, if we can get tickets.

As you can see, I am now acknowledging my participation in the NYC Bloggers project by the link on the left. I've seen a few blogs there, usually the ones the editors recommend. I'm not sure yet if I get more enjoyment out of reading the blogs of others, or writing my own. I think I already have enough stuff to read on the Web every day, so I try to limit my blog reading as much as I can. I have to leave time for GTAIII.

I went to the Yankees-Mets game last night with Liz, James, and Jess. One of the doctors Liz works for gave her the tickets, which were excellent seats in the loge area, near the foul pole in right field. We had a few rowdy Yankees fans up there with us, who spent the game getting drunk and heckling Mets fans. It was much more entertaining than the game, an 8-0 rout by the Yankees. One guy sat directly behind us and had plenty of obnoxious chants and barbs for the Mets and their fans. He was particularly fond of shouting "In ... the ... closet!" at Mike Piazza, and "Beat ... the ... traffic!" at all the fans leaving early. Another guy behind us was attending the game with his girlfriend, a Mets fan. By the fourth inning, as her boyfriend joined with the first drunk guy to belittle the Mets, she looked like he wasn't getting any that night. By the seventh inning, I remarked that not only was he probably sleeping alone tonight, he might just get dumped on the way home. At one point, near the end of the game, Joe McEwing was at the plate for the Mets, and a few women several rows in front of us shouted "We love you, Super Joe!" To which the boyfriend responded with a sexual slur that none of us, not even James, connoisseur of profanity, had ever heard before. Even though this is a "family-friendly" blog, I have to print it here. He shouted back at these ladies, "Shut your cockwashers!" There was a ten-year-old boy in front of us; I shudder to think of his poor virgin ears. I guess the girlfriend was used to this behavior, because by the ninth inning she was curled up in his lap, half asleep. Unbelievable. That relationship can never last, though. Around here, a Yankees-Mets coupling is worse than a mixed-religion one. Much worse.

In other news, I've started my massive summer book for 2002: The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. First, a quick bit of history. I love reading, and there's something wrong if I'm without a book to read for any time longer than a few days. In the summer of 2000, I read what might be my all-time favorite book: Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson. It had everything: sex, violence, math, codebreaking, intrigue, and technology. I started it in mid-June and finished sometime in early August, so when I think of that summer, I think of that book. Last year, among other things, I read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was by far my favorite book of the series, though I was able to finish it in just a few weeks. But it was a large, heavy book to carry around, so I was especially motivated to read it quickly. This summer, I've been reading William Gibson novels and Mario Puzo's The Godfather, but I'm ready for something deeper. Liz has always wanted me to read The Brothers K, but I've been reluctant for years. I read Crime and Punishment over five months in 1996 and 1997, and while I enjoyed it, it was a difficult and tedious read. Karamazov is 250 pages longer and much "weightier" than C&P. I only hope that I like it enough that I can get through it in a few months. I always finish reading books that I start, so I'm stuck with it even if I get sick of it. And there's nothing worse than taking six months to read a book you don't like much. After this book, I have Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita and Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus on my list. So Dostoevsky is something of a warm-up. Of course, I also have plenty of sci-fi novels lined up to give my brain a rest if I get sick of the college reading list.

John Entwistle, the bassist for the Who, passed away yesterday at 57, of a heart attack. Far too young for someone of his talents and experience. I've been a huge fan of the Who for several years, and I'm going to miss "The Ox" and his astounding feats on the bass. Compared to the other three members of the band, Entwistle was the rock, the one who kept the band together while Roger Daltrey screamed, Pete Townshend windmilled, and Keith Moon beat the crap out of his drum kit. I'm too young to have seen the Who live when Keith Moon was still alive, but I did have the privilege of seeing them three times in the past six years with Zak Starkey. Twice they performed Quadrophenia and Entwistle's bass solos on "5:15" were jaw-droppingly amazing. I've never seen or heard anyone play the bass like that. (John Myung, bassist for Dream Theater, comes close, but their music is such a different style from the Who's that it doesn't really compare well.) Fingers all over the fretboard, strumming faster than I would have thought possible for anyone, let alone someone his age. Two years ago I saw the Who live at Madison Square Garden, on their greatest hits tour. Everything they played that night was a gem. Entwistle didn't get too many solo opportunities, but he was rock solid. Even though they'd been touring for months, in their mid-50s these guys were still capable of taking the stage by storm and clobbering the audience with music. I wasn't going to see them on tour this summer, mostly because I didn't think I could find anyone to go with me at $100 a ticket. Now I'll probably never see them again, certainly not with one of the greatest bassists ever.

In addition to his playing skills, John Entwistle provided the Who with some of my favorite songs. "My Wife" and "Boris the Spider" are two of his album tracks, and "Heaven and Hell" is a great B-side that they used as a concert opener in the 1970s. He was a talent that will not be equaled anytime soon, certainly not by any members of the punk-metal crap bands out there now. Requiesicat in pacem.

My usual browsing of MSNBC.com unearthed an article on "warchalking," which is a way to discreetly identify wireless access points in urban areas. I immediately thought of a recent Simpsons episode where someone (Grandpa, I think) shows someone else the hobo markings on a fencepost, one of which is "comely daughter." I must not be an avid wireless network user, since I can't see myself lugging my laptop everywhere just in case I might want to surf wirelessly when I stumble across these markings. I guess it would be more useful when I'm traveling, not that I do much of that. Anyway, as usual I'm rambling. I do see the usefulness of warchalking to road warriors and workaholics, or just average geeks looking to surf all the time.

The shoulder injury feels a little better today, though I probably should have been more careful at the gym this morning. I'm hoping that it clears up enough that I can ride my bike this weekend, but I'm not optimistic. Right now I can't turn my head more than 60-70 degrees left or right, so riding in traffic where I might have to snap my head around quickly is a bad idea. We've decided to stay here in NY for the four-day July 4 weekend, so I could make up for the lost time then. In the meantime, let the pigging out commence!

I spent the morning at TECHXNY, formerly known as PC Expo. I saw all sorts of cool new stuff, like a new Kyocera Palm phone, a Pocket PC phone from TMobile, and the new IBM T30 laptop that I must have. You can read an expert opinion if you like. There was a woman in tight leather pants showing off the camera picture on the MSNBC article; a synergistic move, since the flyers she was handing out showed the camera in the hip pocket of tight leather pants. I didn't collect too much interesting swag, other than some free magazines and a plastic puzzle from the HP booth that I cannot reassemble, even with the instructions. It looks like I need a vise or an extra set of hands to hold all the pieces in place for construction. So now I have a little stack of colorful plastic loops that serve no useful purpose.

My shoulder is still bothering me. Still, because I initially injured it over a week ago at the gym. I was on the lat pulldown machine when I felt a small pop or snap, and knew right away something was wrong. It's not that serious: I can still move my head left to right, but it hurts. And I have full range of motion in both arms and shoulders, but it hurts when I roll either shoulder. The sad part is that the pain had gone away completely by Saturday, which I attribute to the comfortable bed at Liz's house in MS. But the pain came back last night after I worked out extra hard at the gym, trying to compensate for the overeating and indulging I did last weekend. Obviously, I'm a dumbass who should have recognized that my injury had not healed completely. So now I'll lay off the upper body exercise for a while and stick to legs and cardio. Hopefully I'll be able to ride my bike this weekend. Of course, this gives me an excuse to sit around, relax, and pig out. Which was what I was trying to recover from when I hurt myself again. Yes, I am a dumbass.

And now, a new feature:

How to tell which of Bach's Brandenburg Concerti you're currently listening to:

If it sounds like a full chamber orchestra with winds and horns, it's No. 1.
Is a really high-pitched trumpet featured prominently? No. 2.
A rich string ensemble characterizes No. 3.
Two flutes and a violin is No. 4
Lots of harpsichord, including the best cadenza ever written? No. 5.
If you've only got lower strings, and plenty of viola, you've got No. 6.

I don't know why I thought of that, except that they're playing No. 2 on the radio right now. I bet I could do that for Beethoven symphonies too. Next time.

We got back from the reunion Sunday night. It was the first uneventful trip to Mississippi since we got married over four years ago. In December 1998, I got sick for a few days over Christmas, and we had a freak ice storm that knocked out power throughout most of Starkville, including Liz's house. In June 1999, on a weekend trip to play for a wedding, we lost our luggage for a day. On our Christmas visit in December 2000, we were stuck for an extra two days when New York had a freak snowstorm, and we had a scary drive to Memphis over icy roads to make our flight home. So this trip was a welcome change: no freaky weather, no illnesses, just a good time.

We both had a great time at the reunion. Liz's classmates are a cool bunch of people. I enjoyed meeting her old friends and hearing lots of funny stories. I was glad to catch up with some of her friends that I'd met before. And I was saddened by the knowledge that I won't get to have the same experiences at my own class reunion, since we're not having one! I'll have to settle for visiting some of my old buddies on my own.

I'll be out of town for a few days at Liz's ten-year high school reunion. It should be an interesting weekend. I've never been to a reunion like this, especially one where I won't know anyone but my wife and one of her closest friends. And I can't drink, because they're having the main event 20 miles from her house, and someone has to drive. The worst part is that it doesn't look like my class will be having a reunion this year, so Liz doesn't have to return the favor. Still, I love visiting Liz's hometown and seeing her family, and it is a big party, so I'm sure I'll have a good time. Anyway, if you don't see any entries for a few days, that's why. Not that I post all that often anyway.

I'm beginning to understand why so many blogs are about politics, media, culture, etc. I approach this as an online diary, but I realize that I can't completely speak my mind here, or I might offend my readers. If I really wanted to keep a diary, I'd have to do it offline. It's easier to write about impersonal subjects, with personal opinions offered as commentary. Does this make any sense? I feel like I'm just realizing something that veteran bloggers have known for years. I do love writing, even if this is my only personal outlet. I have to make some use of the meager writing skills I honed in my academic career.

Here's my Blogger Code. I'll have to put up a bio page so that I have someplace else to show this off. One of the more clever links I found at my old college roommate's blog. Thanks, Jonathan.

B1 d t k- s- u- f- i- o+ x-- e+ l- c

As you can tell, I rule my blog, it does not rule me.

I can add PvP to the list of things I've been wasting my time with lately. It's my current favorite online comic strip, about the employees of a gaming review magazine. Since I've only recently started reading the strip, I've spent several hours reading through the old strips, so far up to February 2000. It's damn funny, sometimes too much of a soap opera, but in a good way.

I'm completely addicted to Grand Theft Auto III at this point. I was up really late playing it, on a night when I get up early the next day to go to the gym. Then, when I got back from the gym and had even less time, I played it for another 10 minutes so I could finish another mission on which I was stuck. My goal is to get to the second stage of the game before Friday morning, when I go out of town for the weekend. I'm still playing Galactic Battlegrounds, and I'm trying to convince myself that I don't need to take my laptop with me to Mississippi so I can play it while I'm there. We're only going for three days, and we have plans for nearly all of our time there, so there will be no time for gaming. I have to believe that.

Maybe I should grow up someday.

I have my first blog link, on the blog of an old college roommate. He's much more prolific than I am, and he's got a better template. Ehh, whatever. You're reading this for the content, not the flashy graphics, right?

I figured out how to put a mailto link on the left side. My meager HTML skills have come in handy once again.

Liz thinks that the person or persons who put our trash back in front of our door were the building management, in the form of our superintendent or one of his lackeys. So far our trash has stayed in the cans where it belongs. However, yesterday we were at a picnic in Central Park and we threw away two plastic water bottles instead of looking to recycle them. So we got some comedic mileage out of the idea that somehow the water bottles would reappear at our front door, horror-movie style. That hasn't happened yet.

We went to see About a Boy yesterday. It was one of the best movies we've seen lately, absolutely a wonderful work. The book is one of my favorites and the script, acting, cinematography, all captured the spirit and life of the book and even went beyond it. They did change the ending sequence, though the overall conclusion is the same. I'm definitely going to buy this movie on DVD.

James and I went for a long ride to Coney Island today. It was a strange experience, being the one familiar with the route and having to lead him. Actually, he rode in front of me most of the way, and I shouted the turns to him. It wasn't the best system, since he made wrong turns a few times, but I'm not that comfortable leading yet. And I figured out that two Nathan's hot dogs are not optimal nutrition for a thirty-mile ride. I can handle one, washed down with some lemonade, but I should hold off on the second one until after my ride. I've learned to listen to my body while I'm riding. If I ride at the proper pace, take adequate breaks, and eat and drink the right things on a ride, I usually feel fantastic during and after the ride, like I could ride forever. But today, after eating two dogs, I felt overly full while riding and by the end I was winded and out of energy. I had to lie down on the bed afterwards for about 20 minutes to wait for things to equalize. Even now, I still feel a little strange. I know that part of it is due to James' pushing me to ride faster to keep up with him, and that's a good thing. I have a tendency to under-exert myself when riding or exercising, so it will be good long-term to have a friend pushing me to ride harder. But I'll have to skip the dogs and eat a Powerbar next time.

I was furious this morning to find that someone had taken my trash out of the outside receptacles and placed it in front of our apartment door with a note saying "Please do some recycling." The note was attached to a one-sheet recycling flyer published by the city. I do recycle cans and bottles, and I can plead guilty to not always recycling paper products. Considering that the city has discussed suspending recycling pick-ups in an attempt to save money, I'm not sure what the big deal is. But what made me really angry was that someone saw Liz put our trash in the outside cans, then retrieved it (possibly in the rain yesterday) and put it back in front of our door with the note. Now our neighbors think we're inconsiderate jerks who don't recycle; I'm assuming that's the collective opinion of the ones who didn't do the trash-note job. I thought about putting up my own nasty note, but since I don't know who would get it, I'm just going to leave things alone. I took the hint, and posted the recycling guide above my kitchen trash can for future reference. But I'm not above leaving a nasty note in the hallway if I have to, to get a message across. It's been done before by others. On one hand, we have to live in this apartment for another 15 months, so I don't want to make enemies. But I hate having my personal habits called into question by people who don't know me and won't identify themselves. I'm hoping that the vigilantes are actual inspectors who have been nosing around lately. There are new signs in the hallways imploring us to "save water" and copies of the recycling flyers. I saw a group of unfamiliar faces with clipboards in the courtyard yesterday. I did recognize our superintendent, who presumably let them in. So something is afoot. I would just appreciate it if someone has a problem with the way I'm behaving that they tell me to my face, or at least sign any notes they leave us. So if you're reading this, anonymous trash-removal-recycling-fanatic, please stop by our apartment and say hello.

We got back from Las Vegas around 1:30 this morning. Thank God for direct flights. I made it to work a little late this morning and on much less sleep than usual, but my body should catch up to the East Coast schedule in a day or so.

I spent most of Monday hanging around the hotel pool, reading The Godfather. I didn't want to travel far since I had to meet Liz and her group at 4 PM to pack up. That turned into a disaster due to poor planning on the part of the trade show organizers. We all ended up waiting five hours (until 9 PM) for the labor crew to show up and pack away the booth in its crates. Everyone else was long gone from the show floor by then, so we were all hungry and cranky. But we did get out for a decent meal and Liz finally got to see the fountains at the Bellagio. Then we spent a few bucks at the main casino at the Hilton before turning in. All told, I lost about $8 at the slots. While I thought I'd find slots gambling addicting, I actually learned that I don't like losing. So I'm going to look for a downloadable video poker/blackjack game so I can have fun with fake money.

It's good to be home. Las Vegas is a great place to visit, but I cannot imagine living there. It's a constant party, all day, all the time. I love to party as much as the next immature guy who still fondly remembers college revelry, but even I got tired of walking through casinos, hearing people having fun and seeing scantily clad women and hookers. After a few days, it's just too much. I wanted to get back to eating regular healthy meals, sleeping normal hours, and *gasp* going to work. What's wrong with me? I do want to go back to Vegas, without any work to do, so Liz and I can see some of the other casinos and night spots that we missed this time around. But I can definitely wait for a while.

Yesterday (Sunday) I hit all the sights I didn't see on Saturday. I finally saw Madame Tussaud's museum here, and got a picture of myself with Tom Jones. Unfortunately the digital camera makes all the wax figures look too shiny, but I can attest that when you're in the museum, they all look real. For about half the time I was in the museum I was in a group of 15 10-year-olds and their handlers as they took pictures of everything but the wax people. Damned annoying. After that, I spent about half an hour at the top of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris casino and took some great pictures of the Strip. Too bad this was at 3 PM; I bet the view at night is something. And I got to see the Bellagio fountains twice and the Buccaneer Bay Pirate battle. The latter was every bit as cheesy as the special effects show I saw six years ago at Universal Studios in LA, but shorter, funnier, and much less forced. When the pirates sink the HMS Britannia, the British crew jump overboard, but the captain goes down with the ship, standing stiffly at the mast brushing dirt off his uniform. After the pirates take their bows, the Britannia is raised, and you can see the captain still standing at the mast, waving to the audience. Liz wouldn't like it much, but I enjoyed it. I wonder if the British ever win the battle?

George Carlin was great, worth the money we paid. About half of his show was taken from his HBO special last November, a fact that he admitted at the beginning of his set; the rest was new material. Even the stuff I'd heard was just as funny live as it had been on TV. Liz really had a good time. I think she was in pain from laughing so much. The guy who opened for him was OK, but most of his jokes were stale. He had a guitar and did some funny parodies of artists whose names were shouted out by the audience. But for me he ruined his set by ending with some old bits and songs about the Clintons. Is it that hard to come up with new political jokes? I had enough of Monica and Hillary and Linda Tripp jokes four years ago. But I guess you don't want too funny an opening act for a comedian. Just like a concert: if you're the headliner, you don't want to be upstaged by the opener.

So far today I'm hanging out in the room catching up on my surfing. I'm doing my souvenir shopping today and maybe hanging out by the pool for a little while before I have to meet Liz and her colleagues to break down the booth at 4 PM. There's a chance we could be there most of the night if our crates are delivered late. I really hope that doesn't happen. I want to take Liz back to the Bellagio so she can see the fountains. I think she's having a good time here, but she's been so busy working she hasn't been able to see much of the other casinos. We'll have to come back here for a few days before we have kids. Otherwise we'll have to wait until we're in AARP. This is not a place to which I'd want to bring young kids. They aren't allowed in the casinos and there isn't much for them to do at night when you'd want to go out. This is a great place for a group of guys out for a bachelor party (or a bachelorette party, we saw many of those at the Mandalay Bay), for young couples without kids, or for the old folks gambling away their grandchildrens' inheritance. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I've been busy the past few days touring Las Vegas. Yesterday I had my whole day free so I walked up and down the Strip and stopped in most of the casinos. After you've seen one, you've seen them all. They've all got something different to offer, and those individual attractions are interesting, but the gaming floors are always the same: same people, same games, same waitresses, etc. So they try to draw you in with the rides or themes and keep you there for the gaming. I liked the Forum shops at Caesar's Palace and the white tiger habitat at the Mirage, and I didn't get to see the pirate ship battle at Treasure Island or the fountains at the Bellagio because of high winds. Hopefully today they'll be running those; if not, there's still Monday. Tonight Liz and I are going to see George Carlin at the MGM Grand. Liz is a huge fan of his, and I like him well enough to see him live, so it should be fun.

On Friday afternoon, after setting up the booth for Liz's show, she and I went through the Star Trek Experience. It was amazing. There's a museum of Trek props and costumes, and a timeline of the "history of the future" taking you through today up until the end of the Voyager TV show, and everything in between. Then you go through the main attraction, which starts out as what looks like a generic motion simulator ride. But there's a problem and they have to beam you aboard the Enterprise, through some really cool effect where they take a square waiting room, turn off the lights, turn on a fan, and when the lights come up, you're in a round transporter room. Then they take you onto the Enterprise bridge, where Commander Riker tells you that you may be one of Capt. Picard's ancestors and you need to return to your time or he'll be gone forever. Then they herd you into a turbolift, then a "shuttlecraft," where you escape from the Klingons back into your own time. We rode it twice and I still can't figure out exactly how they do the beaming effect. We really enjoyed it.

Las Vegas scares me. It's as garish and skanky as I thought it would be. At least the people are that way. The casinos in our hotel are just loud and annoying, but the people are amazing. Apparently all the ugly people of the world come here to park their asses in front of the slot machines and wait for the sweet release of death. But hey, our hotel has the Star Trek Experience! We were hassled by a Klingon today. We're actually going on the ride itself tomorrow and eating in the restaurant (which serves Romulan Ale and dishes like the "Wrap of Khan"). After that, we're going to check out the Strip and see what other hotels/casinos have to offer in terms of the dregs of humanity. I'm having a great time so far. Seriously, I am.

A quick update. Liz and I are off to Las Vegas tomorrow morning. She's working at a conference there and I get to tag along and help her set up and presumably tear down. In between I'm free to explore the city and get myself into trouble. I've re-read the ESPN Sports Guy's columns on Las Vegas and I'm a little scared of the place. For certain I won't be doing any gambling. I only know how to play blackjack, I haven't played in 10 years (probably at a "casino night" event during my freshman orientation at Georgetown), and I'm not any good at it. Plus, I don't see the point in throwing my money away, or trying to compete recreationally with people who gamble for a living. But I am looking forward to seeing the Star Trek Experience (at my hotel, the Hilton), the pirate ships at Treasure Island, the Bellagio fountains, and the general 24/7 party atmosphere. I'm sure it will be an unforgettable few days. I'll have to update the blog from there and keep you all informed.

This evening, I joined my first blog list, at nycbloggers.com. Maybe this will drive a little more traffic to my pages. And now I have some other blogs I can check out, in the limited few minutes I have each day for additional web surfing.

If you're not watching the NHL Western Conference final between Detroit and Colorado, you're missing one hell of a series. Unfortunately, I'll probably miss Game 7 on Friday, since Liz has already said we're not spending our free time in Vegas watching sports. But the sports books! I can watch the game there with the career gamblers! We'll just see about this.

Just making sure I don't post my last entry twice.

Am I the only one who saw this news story yesterday? ESPN.com: MLB - Rangers owner frustrated about losing games, money
It seems the owner of the Texas Rangers, Tom Hicks, is upset that his team stinks and is losing money. Gee whiz, Tom, did you ever think that the reason behind both problems is that you spend too much money on your players? Alex Rodriguez: $252 million over 10 years. Need I go on? One player is paid what half the Pirates roster is paid this season. Maybe a start toward respectability would be to trim your overblown payroll and get your expenses under control. Too bad you can't trade any of your players, since only the Yankees and a few other teams could afford those gargantuan salaries. You want to know why your team is in trouble? Look in the mirror, you dumbass.
I can't believe how baseball owners have run their sport into the ground. I really want to see a strike this year just so the few remaining baseball fans will finally give it up. I gave up on it years ago. At least the NFL has a working system for financial parity.
I don't usually rant much about sports (at least not here) but this story really irked me.

Lots of news to report. I saw AOTC last night and overall, I liked it. It met my expectations, exceeded them in a few places, and disappointed me in others. I think I was way too excited for it, despite all the advance reviews I read. My impressions of it echoed what most of the reviewers had said, and that's taught me that for Episode III I will have to avoid the advance reviews. That goes for the reviewers' opinions, which definitely end up influencing mine, as well as for spoilers, which were all over the reviews I read. I'm looking forward to seeing it again on Sunday afternoon. Now that I know the story, I'll be in a better position to evaluate the actors' performances and see what I missed in the special effects.

Yesterday at work, while counting the hours until I could leave and go wait in line for AOTC, I lost one of my contact lenses at my desk. I wear the hard lenses. Yes, I'm a dinosaur, or at least I was. I was rubbing my eyes, as I usually did since they were always drying out from the lenses, and the right lens slipped off my iris. It was still in my eye, but one of my co-workers came over to ask me a question, and while I was talking to him it must have fallen out. I looked for it for about an hour, but it just disappeared. Gone forever. I was reminded of the time my father lost one of his contacts in his car, and never found it. So I called my optometrist to get a replacement and he had an appointment available later that day for a fitting. When I got there, once again he asked me why I still wore the RGP lenses, and I asked him what was involved in switching. The next thing I know, I'm wearing a pair of soft contacts and wondering what I was ever thinking in wearing the hard lenses. So instead of waiting until next week to wear my contacts again, I walked out of there wearing a new pair of soft lenses and $220 lighter for having ordered a year's supply of soft contacts. I can't believe the difference with these lenses. My eyes don't itch, the lenses don't move around on my irises like the hard ones did, and there's no "halo" around my field of vision where the lens borders were. Just an amazing change. I wish I'd done this years ago.

It's been a busy week. The foreign office network administrators were in town for a series of meetings with the NY IT staff, and with them came the requisite evenings out on the town. So I was busy trying not to get too drunk on a "school" night and not thinking about my thoughts on any particular subjects.

Liz and I saw Spider-Man on Friday night. It was a hell of a movie. I have to say that I'm making the inevitable comparisons between it and AOTC, before the latter even opens. I've already read some advance reviews, both good and bad, and from what I've seen, AOTC leaves something to be desired in the story and acting departments. Spider-Man had a great script, excellent performances from everyone in the cast, not to mention the fantastic special effects that gave me chills. I know what I have to look forward to on Thursday night, but I'm already thinking that Spider-Man is going to be the superior movie. Not that it matters much; I'll end up seeing AOTC several times in the theater and buying it on DVD, while I might see Spider-Man one more time in the theater or on DVD. As good as it was, I'm still a Star Wars fan from way back.

Spider-Man did get me to think about the key problem of being a superhero, which came up in the movie. Namely, a superhero can't save everyone all the time. Eventually someone is going to wonder why they or their loved ones couldn't be saved by the superhero when they needed saving. And there's no way out of that conundrum. I'm sure that's been explored by many comics over the years, and I'm not all that interested in reading more about it. But it was an idea that I haven't yet encountered in a comic book movie. I don't remember anything like this in any of the Superman or Batman movies. I'm already looking forward to the sequel.

I rode the Bike New York 5 Boro Bike Tour this morning. It was my second year in the ride, which starts in Manhattan and follows a route through all five city boroughs along highways like the FDR and BQE, plus the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, before finishing on Staten Island. More info at the official web site. Last year I rode down to the start near the World Trade Center, where I got stuck behind most of the other 30000 riders, missed most of Queens, and finished the ride over seven hours after it started. While I had fun, the many choke points along the route that forced me and my fellow riders to walk our bikes went beyond annoying. So this year, rather than ride to the start line, I waited at home until the riders started passing my apartment (I live about a mile from the start line on Sixth Avenue) and jumped in. It worked better than I had hoped. I made it to the Astoria Park rest stop by 9:45, before they had even opened the route beyond the park. After a 20-minute wait, I passed two more rest stops and rode almost twenty miles without stopping. I was able to keep the pace that I wanted, instead of having to slow down to match the rest of the pack. I crossed the VNB around 11:30 AM (three hours earlier than last year) and was at the finish line festival before noon. I still had a long wait for the ferry ride back to Manhattan, so I didn't get home until 2 PM, but that was OK since I'd completed the ride proper in less than four hours, which is excellent time for me for 40 miles. After this athletic accomplishment, I'm going to have to push myself harder on my regular weekend rides. I can't wait until my friend (and erstwhile riding buddy) James moves up here next month.

I bought some new books today. Two more William Gibson novels (Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive), Rogue Planet by Greg Bear (a Star Wars novel), and an impulse buy, Mario Puzo's The Godfather. I love the movie, even though I've only seen it a few times (and what a crime, since I own the DVD), so I figured the book has to be excellent. I enjoyed Nick Hornby's High Fidelity even more than the movie, so we'll see how it goes with this one. I really want to read Dune: House Corrino and Alan Dean Foster's new Star Wars prequel novel, The Approaching Storm, but they're both still in hardback and way out of my budget. I can't stand to be without a book for more than a few days, so I was going crazy without any new reading material. It kills me to pay full-price for all these books, but there aren't any decent used book stores in New York that sell the books I read. I miss Second Story in DC. It was like a lending library where you don't have to return the books on a set date, and when you do return them, they give you money back. What a system. I checked out the Strand bookstore on Broadway, but they didn't have any of the sci-fi authors I read. I ended up buying Arthur C. Clarke's 3001: Final Odyssey, which was a great book, but I couldn't believe it was the only thing I could find there. It's all for the best, I suppose. The authors don't benefit from used book sales, so at least I have the moral high ground now (not that I ever felt any guilt for my previous book buying habits).

To my surprise, when I got up this morning and checked the web for any news on Internet sales for AotC tickets, I saw that Moviefone.com had started selling tickets around 2 AM. At 9 AM, I was able to get two tickets, one for me and one for my friend Jess (my wife hates Star Wars), for the 10:30 PM show on May 16 at the Ziegfield Theater in Manhattan. Apparently this is one of the best movie theaters in the city, though I've never had a chance to go there. I'm surprised that it was so quick and easy, and that only one show was sold out by that point (the 7 PM show). I should have bought more. I want to see it again soon after the first time, but I'm not sure yet when or where. Now I can't get onto the ticket sites; they're swamped with geeks like me clicking away furiously buying up all the shows they can. Anyway, now I'm way too excited about this for someone my age. By the time Episode III opens three years from now, I'll be way too old to be such a fanboy. I'll be pushing into "Comic Book Guy" territory.

Speaking of AotC (not much else on my mind today), I've got one of the tracks from the soundtrack on my PC at home. It's the main theme you hear in some of the commercials, possibly the "love theme." It's got a grand, sweeping quality to it, but it's in a minor key, hinting at the conflicts in the film. The trouble is that I can't figure out what meter it's in. I'm fairly certain the first bar is in 7/4, but the next few bars seem to be 6/4 or even 4/4. I listened to it a few times this morning but I couldn't work it out. Maybe it's in 9/4 or 12/4. It's really a tough one. I'll have to send the file to my brother and see if he can figure it out. Of the two of us, he's definitely got more natural musical talent.

Wow, that last entry really rambled. What was I on? I need an editor.

I'm back from my trip to VA, and back in the office. I get a comp day for my efforts there, which should dovetail with my plans to see Attack of the Clones the weekend it opens. I'm planning to see it either May 16 or 17, depending on when I can get tickets. In 1999, I lined up with several friends and saw The Phantom Menace at a midnight show. If I can pull that off again, I'll take my comp day the day after. Going to work the day after the midnight show was torture, though I remember having dinner and drinks with some of Liz's work friends later that day and enjoying rehashing the movie. A better option might be to get tickets for a matinee on May 16 or 17 and take the day off to see the movie. No matter what happens, I'm budgeting $50 to see the movie at least four or five times this summer. Maybe more, if it's as good as the previews indicate. I saw TPM four times in the theater, and by the fourth viewing I was nearly asleep in the long talky sections. This one shouldn't be as bad.

I had hoped to see Spider-man tomorrow but I think that will fall through. Liz wants to do something special, since I've been away for a few days. We did that last Friday and went out for an expensive dinner. I hope that's not what she wants this time; I don't think my wallet could take it. I can be so cheap sometimes.