Caveat: Radio Silence

I was driving to work the other day, listening to my music, and I had a tragic epiphany.

I almost never listen to music anymore. That day, listening to music, as I drove to work, was that sort of exception that underscores the rule.

All my life, I’ve been accustomed to having a “soundtrack” of sorts. Which is to say, I’ve very often had music in the background – especially when I’m alone. And given the circumstances of my life, I’ve certainly spent the majority of it alone, for substantial portions of each day. I’m also capable of a more engaged type of listening – consuming music in focused fashion, as a concert, or just listening carefully to something I’ve decided I like. I think of these as quite different activities – and the types of music I listen to in these two different activities aren’t necessarily identical sets. I never use classical music for background listening, for example. On the other hand, some of the quite banal euro/techno crap I listen to as background music often is startlingly incapable of engaging me. So it’s just a background thing. There’re even whole subgenres that admit that: the various types of “ambient” tracks that can be found. But they work well as background music.

There are also immense fields of music that can be either/or. Mostly these fall into the pop/alt/rap/country genres of yore, though I think my use of those terms might date me, as our culture’s ways of thinking about music and genre has evolved past my comprehension. I have no “playlists” – that’s not how I listen to background music. I have a single folder of “tracks I like” which is a subset of my entire collection, and I have the mp3 player on my phone. And I push the shuffle button and off I go. It can be anything: a k-pop track followed by some weird German dark industrial techno followed by a 70’s disco bit followed by Taylor Swift. Et cetera. If something that comes on the “shuffle” doesn’t match my current mood, I’ll just hit the “next track” button and move on. But what I enjoy hearing one day isn’t what I’ll fixate on the next. And none of this rises to “engaged listening” except on the rarest occasions. Mostly it’s old, familiar stuff that I’ve acquired over the years, where more recent acquisitions tend to be more likely to be what I want to hear.

This was my style of listening even before the advent of mp3 players, to be honest. It was just a bit more laborious to mess with CDs (in the olden days) or cassettes (in the oldener days) or vinyl (in the oldenest days) to get the effect I was so pleased to discover once the “shuffle” button came along. I suppose there was more of a tendency , back then, for the “shuffle” effect to be at the level of albums or mix-tapes than to be at the level of individual tracks. But if I made mix-tapes for myself, I’d certainly work to maximize the randomness of it, from among the music I considered to be my back catalog.

The artists and tracks that have existed for the longest in my catalog are some (but no means all or even most) of the music from my childhood: Bob Dylan, Cat Stevens, Arlo Guthrie, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band are probably the most notable. Then there are a few from a period of exploration in my high school years: mostly Talking Heads, David Bowie, certain individual tracks (but rarely artists’ entire oeuvres) from the pop radio of the era (hence fragments of disco, punk, and such).

I acquired a lot of music in college – as most people do. And some of it remains the most resonant for me. Depeche Mode, The Cure, more Bowie, some early rap (eg NWA), some bits of “club music” of the 80’s.

Some artists in high rotation in that long-ago era have since failed to survive. I remember the Beatles, from my childhood, used to be invited, but at some point I lost interest. I remember thinking highly of Dire Straits at one point, but for the last several decades I can’t stand them. I exiled Aztec Camera for a few decades, but they made a comeback at some point. Tastes change.

There were my years in Latin America (actual and later “de facto” as a graduate student of Spanish, where my day-to-day life was at least 50% in Spanish even though I was living in Philadelphia). That contributed artists such as Cafe Tacuba, Los Fabulosos Cadillacs, or Silvio Rodriguez – each as diverse from each other as any are from any North American music. I have tracks of Nuyorican rap, Cuban folk, Mexican punk.

Much later, my time in Korea was a period of a rate of fairly high discovery of new music. That’s because of the invention of the internet, and the existence of streaming radio stations, and the emergence of Youtube and its endless suggestion algorithm. I acquired lots of little bits of k-pop (from my students – naturally) but also quite diverse bits of stuff from all over. German techno and industrial, US alt rock, Röyksopp (Norwegian, I think), strange pop anthems in unlikely languages: Arabic, Georgian, Japanese. Many of these discoveries are actually documented on this blog, which I was maintaining once I’d moved to Korea. I had my “What I’m listening to now” feature, or as I sometimes called it, “Background noise”.

Then I came to Alaska.

It’s not like the internet went away. But circumstances changed. The internet here is still abominably slow. Streaming internet radio or more contemporary streaming apps and services (e.g. Spotify) are out – they don’t seem to have been engineered with the idea of an “offline” mode in mind (e.g. there’s no “download and listen later” option). Youtube suffers the same shortcoming. Sometimes it works.

Really, though, those are just excuses. I still have my mp3 player (nowadays an app on my phone rather than a standalone gadget, as I had in the early 2000’s).

In fact, rather, there’s a quite straightforward reason for the loss of soundtrack. I no longer live alone – I live as a caretaker with my uncle. And he gets up to mischief, sometimes. I can’t be “tuned out” listening to music – not on speakers and certainly not on headphones or earbuds. I need “situational awareness”. This has paid off more than once. Like the time a few years ago when I caught him toting the 32 foot ladder out to the dock, on a windy day, because he’d suddenly decided he needed to “fix” something on the dock arch. That was only possible because of the clatter of the ladder carrying up to the attic where I worked on my computer. Or the time just two days ago late at night when he was stumbling around in the basement  (where he likes to sleep) having gotten disoriented (possibly a bit feverish from our recent vaccination). I stay “tuned in” to the sounds in the house. Always.

That means no music at home.

I’m not really able to listen to music at work, either. I mean, when Chad comes in (the new owner), there’s music. I get a pleasant background of Christian Rock and Christian Country. Actually, some of it grows on you – it’s not so bad, especially if you avoid engaged listening and just use it for background music. But I’ve resisted putting on my own soundtrack when Chad’s not around, because I suspect my tastes in music might antagonize the customers (e.g. “What’s this foreign crap doing playing in here?”). So the only time I listen to music is when I’m driving – and only when Arthur’s not riding along, because it would make communicating with him even harder than it is already, with his incipient deafness and cognitive challenges.

Half the time, I don’t bother then. The drive to town is only 25 minutes, and firing up the mp3 player on my phone and linking it to the car’s speakers is just enough of a gumption trap that I don’t do it.

I’d estimate that my music consumption is at about 3-5% of what it was when I lived in Korea. And my rate of new music discovery is even less. Perhaps this is one reason why, impressionistically, I often compare my current lifestyle to life in the military, despite the fact that there’s almost nothing similar about it. My time in the military was the only other time in my life when my music consumption was so low. That palpable absence lends the same “feel” to my day-to-day existence.

Sometimes, I miss it. But I’m not sure how to solve it.

What I’m listening to right now.

THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

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Caveat: On Castine and its many tribulations

[NOTE: cross-posted from my other blog.]

Castine is an imaginary country that once existed on the imaginary planet I prefer to call Ogieff. In fact, the imaginary planet doesn’t have an official name – it’s hosted at opengeofiction.net, which all the users call, simply, “OGF”. That initialism leads to my preferred name for the planet – just sound it out.

There is a real place called Castine – it’s a small town in Maine, USA. This is not that Castine.

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I joined OGF in 2014, and Castine appeared and began evolving some time in the year after that, I think – in 2015. I also became an admin on the opengeofiction.net website in that year.

During the period from 2015 to 2017, Castine became the locus of a kind of meta-proxy-war, where I used it as a stand-in for a never-ending argument I liked to have with my fellow OGF admins.

The issue in question was the rule about “verisimilitude”. I had long felt (and continue to feel) that OGF’s verisimilitude rule is a bad idea – it’s vague and impossible to enforce consistently. It has no objectivity. The principle is that mapping on the OGF world is supposed to be “realistic” in the sense that it eschews fantasy and sci-fi elements, and doesn’t contain cultural or cartographic artifacts that couldn’t reasonably exist in the real world. Hence, people who build 50 km bridges or tunnels are called out for violating verisimilitude, likewise more science-fictional elements like space elevators or fantasy elements like dens of dragons or nations of 1920’s-era talking sheep (all these examples really occurred at various times on the OGF planet).

Castine was (is) a borderline case of violating verisimilitude. Some users felt it violated the rule, others felt it was okay. My position was always something like: “since we can’t decide if this violates verisimilitude or not, but it’s really good mapping… c’cmon, people, let’s drop (or at least, fix) this stupid rule.

Of course, this was an unpopular stance. And in the long run, I lost the battle to remove or even alter the verisimilitude rule on Ogieff, and I made my peace with it.

One way that I made that peace with it, was to create my own, separate planet! In 2016, I started the planet Arhet as a kind of alternative project to Ogieff. By 2018, it had several active mappers and its own emerging community. The principle concept behind Arhet is to be a kind of “libertarian” reinterpretation of OGF. It has very few rules: no verisimilitude rule, no assigned territories, etc. And somewhat to my own surprise, it sorta kinda works. The key to it working, I reckon, is that unlike OGF, Arhet is not “open” to any and all comers. There’s an application process to join, and although I enforce almost no rules for the planet, I do stand firm that arguments or disagreements between users that escalate to my remit will simply result in immediate banning of all parties. That keeps everyone participating on best behavior, I guess.

The irony is that then, in 2021, I took over the hosting of the original opengeofiction.net. So now I host a little federation of two imaginary planets, Ogieff and Arhet, which have substantially overlapping user communities but having quite different rule systems. And I’m okay about that. I inevitably yield to my fellow admins, whose hard work and dedication to the project I admire, when it comes to matters of rules and judgements on Ogieff. But off to the side, I run Arhet singularly, and I insist on its fundamentally anarchic state.

In around 2020, the creator of Castine (Ramasham) was banned from Ogieff – ultimately for violating another, different rule: the rule prohibiting direct upload of data copied from OSM. OSM is OpenStreetMap, which is a map of the Real World™ in the same technological vein as our two imaginary planets. This is the so-called “slippy map” paradigm, originally popularized by mapquest and perfected and dominated by google maps. OSM runs on and supports a whole complex ecosystem of software that is all open source, as a kind of alternative to google maps, and that’s why it’s easy (uh, “easy” in a financial sense, not “easy” in a technical sense) for us to use the same software to run OGF and Arhet.

Anyway, there is (and there has always been) a rule prohibiting copying OSM data into OGF. Ostensibly this is motivated by paranoia about copyright violation, but in fact copyright has little to do with it, in my own estimation – there are easy ways to avoid issues around copyright as long as you follow along with OSM’s “attribution and re-use” rules. The real motivation for the prohibition is legitimate, though: on OGF, we want to discourage mappers from spamming the planet’s map with cut-n-paste copies of real-world places. It’s low effort geofiction and discourages creativity.

That said, when I set up Arhet I decided to also not enforce OGF’s “no real-world (OSM) data” rule. And indeed I myself played around with cutting and pasting some data from OSM, including an ephemeral instance of country I called “Lingit Aani” (this is Tlingit language) – a copy of the islands of Southeast Alaska but minus any nearby continent, as an open-ocean archipelago. I later deleted this, but there are multiple copy-the-real-world geofiction projects going on in Arhet, these days, including clones of Sakhalin Island (Siberia) and Romania’s Bucharest, and at least two Polands – perhaps more.

I guess Castine’s creator, Ramasham, had been doing some copy-pasting of OSM data to increase the detail and complexity of Castine’s cartography. Notably, this airport is a modified cut-n-paste copy of one in the real world, with only the names of things altered. And so Ramasham was banned from OGF. Rules are rules, and that “no copy from OSM” rule is actually probably the most common reason for mappers to be banned from the site.

Now we come to February of this year (2022). The admin team at OGF, moving to “clean up” various abandoned territories around our (imaginary) globe, decided finally to delete Castine once and for all. And I had a moment of deep sadness and regret. Despite my having leveraged Castine back in 2016 as part of my proxy war with the other admins over the verisimilitude rule, in fact I really, really like Castine.

From a technical standpoint, Ramasham was at best a mediocre mapper. But the imaginary country is full of cartographic whimsy and playfulness, the naming is thorough and inventive and culturally intriguing, and the detail in some parts is quite incredible. I thought it was worth preserving.

So I considered: Ramasham’s ban from OGF was for violating the “No OSM data” rule; if there were any other issues with Castine, they were issues with the “verisimilitude” rule; so… hey – Arhet doesn’t have those rules!

The solution was obvious. I decided I’d move Castine to Arhet. And even more conveniently, the exact latitude and longitude of Castine’s old Ogieff location was open and unused on Arhet. I figured it should be quite easy to simply “cut-n-paste” the whole of Castine into Arhet.

Yikes! This turned out to be the far from the case – it was not easy. Not at all. Castine included almost 2 million distinct GIS objects: nodes, ways, relations. This was not trivial to simply cut, paste, and upload into the new site. And further, the data quality was quite poor, from a technical standpoint. Thousands of improperly stacked ways on shared nodes, hundreds of lazily-crafted or incomplete data relations, etc.

I have spent the last week in a kind of Alice-in-Wonderland nightmare of trying to rescue Castine and upload it to the Arhet planet. I think that as of this morning, that I have succeeded, but not before almost destroying the Arhet server altogether in the process.

Without going into a lot of detail, it seems that there were a couple of relations (a technical term in this case for a type of data object used in OSM GIS software) that were apparently so badly constructed that they broke the server’s database. Since I had to do a kind of trial-and-error search to finally identify these objects, it took a very long time. I’d upload some subset of the full Castine dataset, and watch to see if the database crashed or not. If it didn’t, fine, I’d try another set of data. If it crashed, I’d have to go back to the last backup of the server, restore it, and try again. I think I did a backup-restore cycle maybe 12 or 14 times over the last week on the Arhet server. It was painful, and tedious, and immensely frustrating.

The crash-provoking objects in question are puzzling. I still don’t understand why they crash the database. And given my difficulties in identifying them (and surviving them – see below), I probably won’t spend time, any time soon, trying to figure them out. They are “Giant Chessboards” – three of them. Interestingly, Castine also has other “Giant Chessboards” (e.g. here) that do not cause any kind of data problem. They are apparently implemented differently, in their details.

The problem was compounded yesterday, when, much to my shocked dismay, the server-level backup-restore functionality offered by my hosting provider, Linode – that I’d been so repeatedly abusing – suddenly and inexplicably failed to work.

So for a day (yesterday) the world was Arhetless. The server was down. I was in a panic because it seemed I’d have to fully rebuild the server from scratch. And it was only pure luck that I even had a copy of the map data, because I was still running a kludgey render engine (map drawing process) for Arhet on a different machine.

I wrangled with tech support at Linode, and they finally held my hand (or was it that they held my server’s hand?) through a successful if stressful restoration of the server’s image.

Let’s just say, these days Castine now has a quite colorful meta-history.

I reached out to the creator of Castine, sending an email to the address on record at OGF, announcing its restoration in Arhet. I would absolutely welcome and be pleased if that person would come back and take up work on the country, again – they won’t be constrained by the rules and regulations on Ogieff. Unfortunately I haven’t heard back. I speculate that there might be some bitterness about the whole business of having been first praised and then banned, back a few years ago.

The link to Castine-in-Arhet is here:

https://arhet.rent-a-planet.com/relation/10996

Please feel free to explore. I decided not to bother with adding extensive screenshots for this blog post – the point of having the Castine map hosted on the server is that you can explore easily directly on the website.

Happy mapping.


What I’m listening to right now.


Dawg Yawp, “Lost At Sea.”

Lyrics.

[Intro]
Tk tk
Hey! Hey!

[Verse 1]
Lost at sea
Is where you'll find me
It's got everything I want
But nothing that I need

[Verse 2]
Does anybody feel
All this talk ain't real?
Does anybody see
That the truth is in the mystery?
Could it be sweet
Standing on my feet?

[Chorus]
I don't know, but I'm gonna try
Thinkin' up ways not to wash up in alive
(Could it be sweet?)
Everybody's tellin' me it's not too hard
If you keep swimmin' it don't seem far
[Verse 3]
There's a place you can go
Where you'll never be alone
And you'll always be free
Lost at sea
Could it be sweet
Lost at sea?

[Chorus]
I don't know how they're gonna find me
Now I'm lost at sea and there's no way to deny
(Could it be sweet?)
If I'm ever talkin' like I don't care
Look at me and smile, baby
Take me there

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Caveat: Байрактар

“No catalogue of horrors ever kept men from war. Before the war you always think that it’s not you that dies. But you will die, brother, if you go to it long enough.” – Ernest Hemingway

What I’m listening to right now.


Unknown, “Байрактар.” This song is quite morbid, and glorifies death and war and patriotism, which are dangerous sentiments. I freely acknowledge that it is Ukrainian war propaganda, which makes me uncomfortable. Yet I found myself transfixed by it – as a composition (video and song, together), it’s coherent and well-crafted, though insanely simple. I’d hazard the opinion that it’s a kind of 21st century bardism. The title, Bayraktar, is the name of a high-tech, Turkish-made, drone-based weapons system, which the Ukrainians have been deploying to devastating effect on Putin’s columns of tanks and supplies.

текст:

Прийшли окупанти до нас в Україну
Форма новенька, воєнні машини
Та трохи поплавився їх інвентар
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Російскі танкісти сховались в кущі,
Щоб лаптем посьорбати довбані щі
Та трохи у щах перегрівся навар
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Зі сходу припхались до нас барани
Для вастанавлєнья велікай страни.
Найкращій пастух баранячих отар
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Їх доводи – всяке озброєня різне:
Потужні ракети, машини залізні.
У нас на всі доводи є коментар –
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Вони захопити хотіли нас зразу
І ми зачаїли на орків образу.
З бандитів російських робить примар
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Російска поліція справи заводить
Но вбивцю рашистів ніяк не знаходить.
Хто ж винен, що в нашому полі глухар?
Байрактар… Байрактар…

Веде пропаганду кремлівський урод,
Слова пропаганди ковтає народ.
Тепер нове слово знає їх цар:

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Caveat: The piano speaks

I found this online.

This guy used data from a voice recording of a person speaking to figure out which combination of piano keys (i.e. complex “chords”) would best reproduce each point in the wave form of the speech. Generally these are too many keys, needing to be pressed too rapidly in sequence, for a human pianist to do this. So he used a mechanical piano-playing device to reproduce the speech. It’s just on the edge of comprehensibility. Quite eerie.

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Caveat: …dreamin’ is becomin’ a reality

What I’m listening to right now.

The Mamas and The Papas, “Creeque Alley.” Although this song was not part of my childhood soundtrack, its zeitgeist was. I feel like I could have been one of the small children in the video. The look and feel of it all, and the Dylanesque lyrics, all are profoundly nostalgic.

Lyrics.

John and Mitchy were gettin' kind of itchy
Just to leave the folk music behind
Zal and Denny workin' for a penny
Tryin' to get a fish on the line
In a coffee house Sebastian sat
And after every number they'd pass the hat
McGuinn and McGuire just a-gettin' higher
In L.A., you know where that's at
And no one's gettin' fat except Mama Cass

Zally said "Denny, you know there aren't many
Who can sing a song the way that you do, let's go south"
Denny said "Zally, golly, don't you think that I wish
I could play guitar like you"
Zal, Denny and Sebastian sat (At the Night Owl)
And after every number they'd pass the hat
McGuinn and McGuire still a-gettin higher
In L.A., you know where that's at
And no one's gettin' fat except Mama Cass

When Cass was a sophomore, planned to go to Swarthmore
But she changed her mind one day
Standin' on the turnpike, thumb out to hitchhike
"Take me to New York right away"
When Denny met Cass he gave her love bumps
Called John and Zal and that was the Mugwumps
McGuinn and McGuire couldn't get no higher
But that's what they were aimin' at
And no one's gettin' fat except Mama Cass

Mugwumps, high jumps, low slumps, big bumps
Don't you work as hard as you play
Make up, break up, everything is shake up
Guess it had to be that way
Sebastian and Zal formed the Spoonful
Michelle, John, and Denny gettin' very tuneful
McGuinn and McGuire just a-catchin' fire
In L.A., you know where that's at
And everybody's gettin' fat except Mama Cass
Di-di-di-dit dit dit di-di-di-dit, whoa

Broke, busted, disgusted, agents can't be trusted
And Mitchy wants to go to the sea
Cass can't make it, she says we'll have to fake it
We knew she'd come eventually
Greasin' on American Express cards
It's low rent, but keeping out the heat's hard
Duffy's good vibrations and our imaginations
Can't go on indefinitely
And California dreamin' is becomin' a reality

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Caveat: Currying Favor With Myself

Arthur is adamantly opposed to curries. Because of this, and since he’ll be back soon (Saturday), I decided to make a fish curry for myself while it’s still just me alone here. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever made a fish curry. I’ve made chicken curry many times, and veggie curries of various kinds, and once I think I even attempted a spam curry, because living in Korea, one sometimes suffers a surfeit of spam (spam “collections” are often given as a gift). Anyway, I decided to make a Goan-style fish curry.
I made my curry paste first – using my stylish pre-war Korean blender.
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Then I put it all together. It came out very deliciously.
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In other news, I parked the boat on the ramp, so I could clean out the boathouse a little bit, and also assuming Arthur will want to take the power-washer to the bottom of the boat – though personally I’m skeptical that will make any difference with respect to the crusty barnacle-footprints that remain all over now that it’s mostly scraped.
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What I’m listening to right now.

BAND-MAID, “Thrill (スリル).”
Letra.

つまらないノイズかき消すように
イヤフォンの音上がて
やつらが転ぶ隙狙ってる
Hey you 聴かせるわ

いつだってそうこの世界 は Faulty
立ち止またっら out of control
暴走気味と罵られても
I don’t care 踏み出せ

I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
真っ平らな道に 興味は見当たないの
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
“後悔” という陰謀の魔の手 かいくぐって
この上ない快感はスリルと共に 生き続けって

見たくもない光景 ばかり
四角 に閉じ込める
小さな空に弧を描く鳩
Who are you, 見上げるは

もがいたってそう リアルは Steady
自己暗示しても out of control
涙じゃ救われないなら
もう Enjoy 味わえ!

I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
答えのない 恐怖は狂気に変えれば いい
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
真っ白 に 消し去ったページ は 破り捨てろ
覚悟 の 先 へとスリル と共に 身を捧げて

いつだってそうこ の世界 は Faulty
立ち止ま たっら out off control
暴走気味と罵られても
I don’t care 踏み出せ

I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
真っ平らな道に 興味は見当たないの
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
後悔 という陰謀の魔の手 かいくぐて
この上ない快感が あたしを走らせる
覚悟 の 先 へとスリル と共に 身を捧げて

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Caveat: 모든 걸 보여줄게

지금 듣고있는 것.

롤링쿼츠, “블레이즈 (Blaze).”
가사.
누구도 쉽게 가질 수는 없어 너도 알잖아
그래서 더 빛이 나는 거야
Don’t look back Get over the distance
숨이 멎을 것 같던 고통의 시간들이 끝을 향해 가고 있잖아
아득히 멀어졌던 지켜온 나의 그 모든 것들이
선명하게 내 눈 앞에 보여져
두렵고 무거웠던 딴 생각은 모두 뒤로 미룬 채
앞만 보고 뛰어가면 돼
We just do it 분명해 want it
완전 해진 확신을 느껴
Keep on going 그냥 지켜봐
이뤄내지 못할 건 없어
본 적 없는 Fantasy 모든 걸 보여줄게
똑바로 봐둬 Now It’s time to blaze
Take my hand I will never forget you
점점 뜨거워져 높게 날아올라
항상 네 곁을 비출게
끝없이 원했었던 믿을 수 없는 이 모든 것들이
선명하게 내 눈 앞에 펼쳐져
두렵고 무거웠던 딴 생각은 모두 뒤로 미룬 채
앞만 보고 뛰어가면 돼
We just do it 분명해 want it
완전 해진 확신을 느껴
Keep on going 그냥 지켜봐
이뤄내지 못할 건 없어
Eyes on me x 3 , Higher up x 3
We just do it 분명해 want it
완전 해진 확신을 느껴
Keep on going 그냥 지켜봐
이뤄내지 못할 건 없어
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Caveat: λP[λQ[∼∃x[P(x)∧Q(x)]]]

Two jokes.
First joke:

A: I said, λP[λQ[∼∃x[P(x)∧Q(x)]]]

B: Huh?

A: What part of “no” don’t you understand?

(This joke only works if you’ve studied formal modal logic.)

Second joke:

A: What sport do you play with a wombat?

B: Wom.


Lo que escucho ahora.

José José, “El Triste.” Me acuerda de viajes en autobuses de tercera clase en el México rural de los 80.
Letra.

Que triste fue decirnos adios
Cuando nos adorabamos mas
Hasta la golondrina emigro
Presagiando el final

Que triste luce todo sin ti
Los mares de las playas se van
Se tiñen los colores de gris
Hoy todo es soledad

No sé si vuelva a verte despues
No sé que de mi vida será
Sin el lucero azul de tu ser
Que no me alumbra ya

Hoy quiero saborear mi dolor
No pido compasíón ni piedad
La historia de este amor se escribió
Para la eternidad

Que triste todos dicen que soy
Que siempre estoy hablando de ti
No saben que pensando en tu amor
En tu amor

He podido ayudarme a vivir

He podido ayudarme a vivir
Hoy quiero saborear mi dolor
No pido compasíón ni piedad
La historia de este amor se escribió

Para la eternidad
Que triste todos dicen que soy
Que siempre estoy hablando de ti
No saben que pensando en tu amor
En tu amor
He podido ayudarme a vivir
He podido ayudarme a vivir

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Caveat: Geget sa, niminwendam

Zhingwaak gaa-ozhibii’aan
Zhingwaak! Zhingwaak! Ingii-ikid,
Weshki waabamag zhingwaak
Dagoshinaan neyab, endanakiiyaan.
Zhingwaak, zhingwaak nos sa!
Azhigwa gidatisaanan
Gaagige wezhaawashkozid.
Mii sa naa azhigwa dagoshinaang
Bizindamig ikeyaamban
Geget sa, niminwendam
Miinwaa, waabandamaan
Gii-ayaad awiiya waabandamaan niin
Zhingwaak, zhingwaak nos sa!
Azhigwa gidatisaanan.
Gaawiin gego, gaa-waabanda’iyan
Dibishkoo, ezhi-naagwasiinoon
Zhingwaak wezhaawashkozid
Wiin eta gwanaajiwi wi
Gaagige wezhaawashkozid.
- Jane Johnston Schoolcraft
AKA Bamewawagezhikaquay
(Ojibwe poet, 1800-1842)
To the Pine Tree
Pine! Pine! I said,
The one I see, the pine
I return back, to my homeland.
The pine, the pine my father!
Already you are colored
Forever you are green
So we already have arrived
Listen in that direction
Certainly I am happy
And I see
He was there I saw it myself
The pine, the pine my father!
Already you are colored.
Nothing, you did show me
Like that, the way it looks
Pine he is green.
He is beautiful
Forever he is the green one.
- translated by Margaret Noodin

Published 2020 by poets.org in their Poem-a-day feature.
What I’m listening to right now, as snow falls outside.

Arvo Pärt, “Salve Regina.”
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Caveat: 거울과 닮아있는 듯해

지금 듣고있는 것.

김우성, “You Make Me Back.” The title and main English-language lyric seems to be one of those bits of nonsense English that Korean beginning-level learners of English imbue with deep significance.
가사.

저문 저 하늘에
흐트러진 내가 비쳐 보인다
어쩌면 이 어둠은
거울과 닮아있는 듯해
어지럽게 차오른 호흡들과
흔들리는 모든 세상 속에서
날 부르는 듯
붉은 석양이 떠올라 오네
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
돌아갈 곳 난 없어
기대 쉴 곳 난 없어
그저 어둠 속에 나를 묻어 버릴 때
잿빛 세상을 깨고
날 불러오는
너의 목소리
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
지친 내 발걸음이 혼자 남아
갈 곳을 잃을 때
저문 하늘의 석양처럼 날
불러줘
날 깨워줘
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah
You make me back
woo woo woo woo woo yeah

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Caveat: Truce with the GDC

I went to do my monthly exercises with the GDC (the RV that my friends Mark and Amy brought to me about a year ago, now). I was a week or so late, so I went out and ran the engine for while, ran the heater for a while, changed its parking spot.
When I went to run the generator, the generator wouldn’t start. So I set out to try to diagnose the problem. It seemed the battery was dead.
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I took out the battery, brought it over to the house and charged it up and took it back. But still, the generator wouldn’t start. I worried the starter was bad on it. So I ran an extension cord over and tried jumping the generator directly from the charger (I had thought to jump it from the engine, but the generator and its battery are electrically separate from the engine and its battery, and it’s actually a long ways around the vehicle from engine battery to generator battery, so jumper cables were ruled out).
Jumping directly from the charger worked! So that means, it’s just that the generator battery is dead and can’t hold a charge. Annoying, but easy enough to fix, using money. I’ll get a new battery at some point.
Meanwhile, the GDC and I have signed a truce until next month, when we will wage a battle of wills once again.


What I’m listening to right now.

Bronson, “Keep Moving.” I mostly like the video. It’s kinda interesting. Still, the music has a kind of a “nightclub minimalism” vibe going.
Lyrics.

[Chorus]
I can see how it moves
Don’t be afraid
I can see how it moves
Blackout again

I can see how it moves
Don’t be afraid
I can see how it moves
Blackout again

Yeah okay, blackout

[Chorus]
Go ahead
Keep moving
Go ahead
Don’t be afraid

Yeah okay, blackout

Go ahead
Go ahead
Go ahead
Go ahead

Yeah okay, blackout

[Outro]
Blackout again

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Caveat: After I count down, three rounds

What I’m listening to right now.

The Dead South, “In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company.” I really like the bits of Saskatchewan countryside alternating with Canadian urban landscapes in the video, too.
Lyrics.

Dead Love couldn’t go no further
Proud of and disgusted by her
Push shove, a little bruised and battered
Oh Lord I ain’t coming home with you

My life’s a bit more colder
Dead wife is what I told her
Brass knife sinks into my shoulder
Oh babe don’t know what I’m gonna do

I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee
My squeeze
The stage it smells, tells, hell’s bells, miss-spells
Knocks me on my knees
It didn’t hurt, flirt, blood squirt, stuffed shirt
Hang me on a tree
After I count down, three rounds, in hell I’ll be in good company

Dead Love couldn’t go no further
Proud of and disgusted by her
Push shove, a little bruised and battered
Oh Lord I ain’t coming home with you

My life’s a bit more colder
Dead wife is what I told her
Brass knife sinks into my shoulder
Oh babe don’t know what I’m gonna do

I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee
My squeeze
The stage it smells, tells, hell’s bells, misspells
Knocks me on my knees
It didn’t hurt, flirt, blood squirt, stuffed shirt
Hang me on a tree
After I count down, three rounds, in hell I’ll be in good company

In hell I’ll be in Good Company

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Caveat: Mosquito Epic

Not what you think. Though I have been dealing with mosquitoes, lately.
I was waxing nostalgic this morning, because while doing some routine maintenance on this here blog thingy™, I ran across this unexpectedly well-made video I put together while sitting in a hotel room in Japan in September, 2009 (below). The music aspect is from a kids musical about a mosquito that I had seen earlier that year, starring one of my students.
It occurs to me that most of these students are finished with college, now. I know this for a fact, as I’m still in touch with a few of them.
What I’m listening to right now.

Music: 극단 날으는 자동차, “워워워 (지구를 지켜라 : 100살 모기 소송사건).” Video by me. This is a re-post, but 11 years later.
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Caveat: В полутьме брожу

что слушаю сейчас.

ГРАЙ, “В объятиях Мары”
Текст.

Белая зима, ой, пришла да не спросила,
Лютая пришла, серебром снегов укрыла.
Превратила в лёд мою душу и сердечко,
Замерзшими слезами покрыла речку.
Белая зима принесла недобры думы.
Солнце спряталось, да на небе полнолунье.
В полутьме брожу, слышу, смерть крадется тихо.
Снежная метель все свистит да кружит лихо.
Лютая зима холод в сердце поселила.
Хладная пришла, ой, пришла да не спросила.
Принесла печаль, забрала все мои силы
Белая зима.
Ели снежные на ветру качаются,
Да лютая зима в сердце не кончается.
Да вьюгою в окно постучалася нежданно
Лютая зима.
Ой, не спится мне, душу полонила вьюга.
Увела зима за собой милого друга.
Погубили душу зимы недобры чары,
Лютая зима забрала в объятия Мары.
Кто ж так на последних строках годно груванул? Ооочень бы хотелось побольше.

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Caveat: what to have at the picnic…

There is a joke about the importance of punctuation in English. It contrasts different meanings that the same words can have with only changes to punctuation:

Let’s eat, Grandma!

Let’s eat Grandma!

Well, Korean has a similar issue, but at the level of spacing between words, which normally is a bit of a gray area in Korean orthography – I have the impression there is a lot of variability in how individuals choose to space things like the case clitic particles – do they attach to their respective nouns or float freely?
But sometimes, spacing can change meanings. Hence this joke in Korean:

아기 다리 고기 다리 던소풍!
agi dari gogi dari deonsopung!
Baby legs, meat legs, dawn picnic!

아 기다리고 기다리던 소풍!
a gidarigo gidarideon sopung!
Ah, I’ve been waiting and waiting for a picnic!

The syllables are all the same. But depending on where you put the spaces between the words, you might or might not eat the baby.


What I’m listening to right now.

우원재, “CASH.”
가사.

Cash, my work and my benz
Now I’m guilty I’m dead
Cash makes you and my pain
But I love it. I’m dead
Cash, my love and my fams
So I love u my dad
Cash loves you and my back
But bitch I hate myself
Cash, my work and my benz
Now I’m guilty I’m dead
Cash makes you and my pain
But I love it. I’m dead
Cash, my love and my fams
So I love u my dad
Cash loves you and my back
But bitch I hate myself
돈 땜에 살어 돈 땜에 죽어
돈 땜에 울어 돈 땜에 헤매
돈 땜에 무려 돈 때론 무력
돈 빼면 무력 돈 땜에 숙여
돈, 돈, 돈, 돈 땜에 두려워
돈이면 돼요 돈 이게 사기템
돈이면 계속 멋지게 살어 damn
돈은 공평한데 때론 차별해 어때
돈을 자비롭지 근데 잔인해 어때
때 때 난 겁이나 법이나 정이나 없대 돈 앞에는
But u stop that 탓 돌리기는 돈 잘못 없대
난 익히 들어 이미 자본에 백기 들어서
여기 털어 먼지 안 나는 사람 없다라고 들었어
나는 get cash
당연히 때 탔지
Oh my god, gash
난 가끔 놀라 많이
나는 get flash
돈은 나빠 마치
우린 돈을 많이 닮아가는 거지
Cash, my work and my benz
Now I’m guilty I’m dead
Cash makes you and my pain
But I love it. I’m dead
Cash, my love and my fams
So I love u my dad
Cash loves you and my back
But bitch I hate myself
Please you be patient
오우 야, 난 참지 못해 그지
멍청한 걸 어쩌라고
Make more money make more cash ya
오우 야, 난 참지 못해 그지
돈이 최고 새꺄 돈 앞에서 부족하지 돈이 나는
오우 야, 난 참지 못해 그지
공평한 게 없다면 난 가져갈게 나의 무길 다시
오우 야, 난 막지 못해 그지
이게 나의 탓이라면 돈에 탓을 물게 대신 다시
Oh I’m bitch
돈의 노예 나는
나는 겉만 번질
속이 썩어 가지 나는
오 아버지
도와줘요 나를 제발
Go set bungy
돈 번 뒤의 모습에
난 죄책감에 절어
Hey cash, where are you from? I don’t know
Hol’up
거짓말이 돈이 되길 빌어 cause we gonna earn
So I love errbody I love it
But bitch I hate myself
Cash, my work and my benz
Now I’m guilty I’m dead
Cash makes you and my pain
But I love it. I’m dead
Cash, my love and my fams
So I love u my dad
Cash loves you and my back
But bitch I hate myself
But bitch I hate myself

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Caveat: Now, furnished

Well, not really.
I put a chair on the temporary deck of my treehouse. I can sit in it to rest or to contemplate my next step.
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I’m still not happy with the cables at the four corners. I’m going to reengineer those.


Meanwhile, today was shopping day. And we had to retrieve the allegedly-repaired freezer, and get it back down the three floors from the driveway level to the boathouse. That was a lot of work. Now I’m tired.


I’ve been on a kick listening to Korean rap. Korean pop is called kpop. Korean rap must be krap. But I like it.
What I’m listening to right now.

소현성 (KOR KASH), “그게 바로 나.” A note on the “English” phrase “i see bar” in the lyrics below: what is meant is the Korean phrase “씨발” [ssi-bal], which means “fuck!” Putting it in “English” gets it past the internet censors for the website that is publishing the lyrics.
가사.

그게 바로 나
입에 커피와 담배를 달어
쌓이고 또 쌓이고 쌓일수록
가사장이 빼곡해지고있어
이게 이제 내 돈이 될 수도
누가알아 누가 나를 점쳐
폰세 밀려도 여유가 넘쳐
행보는 행복의 손을 덥썩
팩폭 팍파라 퍽퍽퍽퍽퍽!

그게 바로 나
되는 대로 힘을 내 노래 쏟아 다
랩퍼새끼들은 한다는 말만 무한
반복을 돌렸어 안믿어 난
하루도 안뱉음 돋아버려 가시
하다말다 하다말다 하지 가지가지
난 욕 보는 중 i see bar
욕 보는 중 i see bar

지칠 때 쯤에 쇼미 나가 깔짝
빛을 보긴 봤지 끽해 라이타
내가 겨우 겨우 잠깐 반짝
할거라 생각한다면 착각
왜냐면 힙합은 오랜 단짝
이제 나도 나이값 나이값
나가 앞으로 빨리 넘겨버려 다음 장
too fast 우사인볼트도 당황

woo i’m the fresha casha mtf baby
woo i’m the fresha casha mtf baby
wait 이제 멋진 형님들께서 내 얘기해
wait 그게 아니 꼽다면 나랑 내기해

i’m on the fuckin dope beat ay
i’m on a purple boi beat ay
느낌이 뒤져서 코피 ay
내 랩을 얹혀서 죽이지 ay
짬내 풍겨 던져 더블백
이제서 얼음땡
소현성 걸을 때
돈 짤랑대는 소리는
이제는 못들어도 full pocket
인생은 거룩해

시궁창 to the 꼭대기
쥐새끼 뛰 놀던 3평짜리 방한칸 gutter boi
1차는 세번을 절어도 목걸일 걸었죠
느낌이 다르지 똑같이 랩해도
이젠 know 걔네도
다른 일 알아봐 각각
내비둬 남자가 없나봐 갑빠
날 기다리지마 brr bye bye

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Caveat: 내 맘이고 내 선택이야

What I’m listening to right now.

하선호 (Sandy) – 돌멩이.
가사.

별로 감흥 없어 너의 timeline
살아온 환경 완전히 달라
네가 놀 만큼 놀아봤을 때 I I graduate
너에게 끌린 날 반성하고 개조해

너의 실물 본 적이 없지
화장하기 귀찮아서 피한걸 수도
이런 내 솔직함에 네 마음이 얼 수도 있지만
이게 난데 어쩔 수 없죠

How you doing? 바빠
운동하고 작업실
주말엔 행사 끝나고 관리를 받았지
stylist 언니랑 촬영 전에 피팅
아무것도 안 해 제일 중요한 음악 없인

너랑 연락하는 1분 1초가 아까워
그 시간에 내게 도움 되는 거랑 할 거 하면
너랑 비교도 안 될
좋은 남자가 손만 뻗으면 있어
uh 점점 가까워져

연애
굳이 겪고 싶지 않은 문제
끝까지 남겨놓을 풀기 싫은 숙제
you love cats
you love girls
like my exes so no no no no no no

너 그리고 너
굳이 겪고 싶지 않은 문제
끝까지 남겨놓을 풀기 싫은 숙제
you love cats
you love girls
like my exes so no no no no no no

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

생각해봐 이 별의 인구의
반이 남자인데 때 되면 생겨 남자친구
당분간 우리 횟집 쉬어요
nah nah 이제 안 해 물고기 취급

감당할 자신 있으면 들어와
팔자 세요 괜찮으면 옆으로 와
대신 내가 너 보다 잘나간다고
자존심 세우며 질투하거나 부러워마

멀티가 좀 어려워 지금은
일 일 일 일 해야 해
어리광 부리는 동안 나 앞서나간 쟤네
kill kill kill kill 해야해

멀티가 좀 어려워 지금은
일 일 일 일 해야 해
어리광 부리는 동안 나 앞서나간 쟤네
kill kill kill kill 해야해

연애
굳이 겪고 싶지 않은 문제
끝까지 남겨놓을 풀기 싫은 숙제
you love cats
you love girls
like my exes so no no no no no no

너 그리고 너
굳이 겪고 싶지 않은 문제
끝까지 남겨놓을 풀기 싫은 숙제
you love cats
you love girls
like my exes so no no no no no no

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

여자 Sandy 말고 사랑해줘 my voice
관심 없어 uh boys
너네 다 돌멩이로 보여
내 맘이고 내 선택이야 my life my choice

I like watching Korean music-contest shows. The artist above emerged on a show called “High School Rapper” (고등래퍼), e.g.

Here is another video from her. She reminds of a student I had.

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Caveat: Quechua Trap

“Trap” is a sub-genre of hiphop music. This woman in Peru is making Quechua language trap music.

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Caveat: Deepfake Presidents Saying Bad Raps

“Deepfake” refers to the emergent art of digitally creating completely artificial video or audio, using AI (artificially intelligent) networks, to simulate real people. The quality of computer graphical animation is at such a level that it is possible to do this, now. You can make your own audio or video of people doing things they never really did, which is indistinguishable from real audio or video recordings.
Someone recently made a rerecording of NWA’s “Fuck Tha Police,” a classic hip hop song from 1999. But instead of the original artists’ voices, they’ve used Deepfake simulations of 6 famous presidents’ voices.
I find this entertaining and eerie.

Six U.S. Presidents (Speech Synthesis), “Fuck Tha Police” (rap by N.W.A.).
Lyrics.

“Right about now, N.W.A. court is in full effect
Judge Dre presiding
In the case of N.W.A. vs. the Police Department
Prosecuting attorneys are: MC Ren, Ice Cube
And Eazy motherfuckin’ E”
“Order, order, order
Ice Cube, take the motherfuckin’ stand
Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth
And nothin’ but the truth so help your black ass?”
“You god damn right!”
“Well, won’t you tell everybody what the fuck you gotta say?”
Fuck the police comin’ straight from the underground
A young nigga got it bad ’cause I’m brown
And not the other color so police think
They have the authority to kill a minority
Fuck that shit, ’cause I ain’t the one
For a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun
To be beatin’ on, and thrown in jail
We can go toe to toe in the middle of a cell
Fuckin’ with me ’cause I’m a teenager
With a little bit of gold and a pager
Searchin’ my car, lookin’ for the product
Thinkin’ every nigga is sellin’ narcotics
You’d rather see, me in the pen
Than me and Lorenzo rollin’ in a Benz-o
Beat a police out of shape
And when I’m finished, bring the yellow tape
To tape off the scene of the slaughter
Still gettin’ swoll off bread and water
I don’t know if they fags or what
Search a nigga down, and grabbin’ his nuts
And on the other hand, without a gun they can’t get none
But don’t let it be a black and a white one
‘Cause they’ll slam ya down to the street top
Black police showin’ out for the white cop
Ice Cube will swarm
On any motherfucker in a blue uniform
Just ’cause I’m from the CPT
Punk police are afraid of me!
Huh, a young nigga on the warpath
And when I’m finished, it’s gonna be a bloodbath
Of cops, dyin’ in L.A.
Yo Dre, I got somethin’ to say
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the Police
“Example of scene one”
“Pull your god damn ass over right now”
“Aww shit, now what the fuck you pullin’ me over for?”
“‘Cause I feel like it!
Just sit your ass on the curb and shut the fuck up”
“Man, fuck this shit”
“Aight, smart ass, I’m takin’ your black ass to jail!”
“MC Ren, will you please give your testimony
To the jury about this fucked up incident?”
Fuck the police and Ren said it with authority
Because the niggas on the street is a majority
A gang, is with whoever I’m steppin’
And the motherfuckin’ weapon is kept in
A stash box, for the so-called law
Wishin’ Ren was a nigga that they never saw
Lights start flashin’ behind me
But they’re scared of a nigga so they mace me to blind me
But that shit don’t work, I just laugh
Because it gives ’em a hint, not to step in my path
For police, I’m sayin, “Fuck you, punk!”
Readin’ my rights and shit, it’s all junk
Pullin’ out a silly club, so you stand
With a fake-ass badge and a gun in your hand
But take off the gun so you can see what’s up
And we’ll go at it, punk, and I’ma fuck you up!
Make you think I’ma kick your ass
But drop your gat, and Ren’s gonna blast
I’m sneaky as fuck when it comes to crime
But I’m a smoke ’em now and not next time
Smoke any motherfucker that sweats me
Or any asshole that threatens me
I’m a sniper with a hell of a scope
Takin’ out a cop or two, they can’t cope with me
The motherfuckin’ villain that’s mad
With potential to get bad as fuck
So I’ma turn it around
Put in my clip, yo, and this is the sound
Yeah, somethin’ like that
But it all depends on the size of the gat
Takin’ out a police would make my day
But a nigga like Ren don’t give a fuck to say
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the Police
“Yeah man, what you need?”
“Police, open now”
“Aww shit”
“We have a warrant for Eazy-E’s arrest
Get down and put your hands up where I can see ’em”
“What the fuck did I do, man, what did I do?”
“Just shut the fuck up
And get your motherfuckin’ ass on the floor”
“But I didn’t do shit”
“Man, just shut the fuck up!”
“Eazy-E, won’t you step up to the stand
And tell the jury how you feel about this bullshit?”
I’m tired of the motherfuckin’ jackin’
Sweatin’ my gang, while I’m chillin’ in the shack, and
Shinin’ the light in my face, and for what?
Maybe it’s because I kick so much butt
I kick ass, or maybe ’cause I blast
On a stupid-assed nigga when I’m playin’ with the trigger
Of an Uzi or an AK
‘Cause the police always got somethin’ stupid to say
They put out my picture with silence
‘Cause my identity by itself causes violence
The E with the criminal behavior
Yeah, I’m a gangsta, but still I got flavor
Without a gun and a badge, what do ya got?
A sucker in a uniform waitin’ to get shot
By me or another nigga
And with a gat it don’t matter if he’s smaller or bigger
(Size ain’t shit, he’s from the old school, fool)
And as you all know, E’s here to rule
Whenever I’m rollin’, keep lookin’ in the mirror
And ears on cue, yo, so I can hear a
Dumb motherfucker with a gun
And if I’m rollin’ off the 8, he’ll be the one
That I take out, and then get away
While I’m drivin’ off laughin’, this is what I’ll say
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the Police
“The verdict
The jury has found you guilty of being a redneck
White bread, chicken shit motherfucker”
“But wait, that’s a lie!
That’s a god damn lie!”
“Get him out of here!”
“I want justice!”
“Get him the fuck out my face!”
“I want justice!”
“Out, right now!”
“Fuck you, you black motherfuckers!”
Fuck the police
Fuck the police
Fuck the police

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Caveat: I’d make a deal with God

What I’m listening to right now.

Meg Myers, “Running Up That Hill.” This is a remake of the old Kate Bush song, which was once-upon-a-time a major part of my day-to-day soundtrack. This version has a very nice animated video made with the assistance of thousands of children who were given some crayons.
Lyrics.

It doesn’t hurt me
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know, know that it doesn’t hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I’m making?
You, it’s you and me
And if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places
Be running up that road
Be running up that hill
Be running up that building
See if I only could, oh
You don’t want to hurt me
But see how deep the bullet lies
Unaware I’m tearing you asunder
Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don’t we?
You, it’s you and me
It’s you and me, won’t be unhappy
And if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places
Be running up that road
Be running up that hill
Be running up that building
Say, if I only could, oh
You
It’s you and me
It’s you and me, won’t be unhappy
Oh come on, baby
Oh come on, darling
Let me steal this moment from you now
Oh come on, angel
Come on, come on, darling
Let’s exchange the experience, oh
And if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places
I’d be running up that road
Be running up that hill
With no problems
Say, if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places
I’d be running up that road
Be running up that hill
With no problems
So if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places
I’d be running up that road
Be running up that hill
With no problems
Say, if I only could
I’d be running up that hill
With no problems


Meanwhile, have some greenly growing lettuce.
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Caveat: Isolated activity

I am normally living an isolated lifestyle. So this period of “social isolation” during the virustime doesn’t imply any kind of true lifestyle change for me, whatsoever.
One thing I continue is my geofiction hobby. Here, for lack of anything more interesting, is a cross-post from my other blog (which is pseudonymous and focused on geofiction).
———————————————————————-
I keep making small incremental progress on the imaginary city of Ohunkagan. I start to imagine the city it will be when I reach the “present” – from the perspective of around 1900, which is its current historical moment.
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[Technical note: screenshot taken at this URL (for future screenshots to match).]
You can see that the near-northeast has filled in (Balto area). Also, the Conagher Rail Car Company, in the southwest along the portage shoreline, and the Signal Hill area straight west near the line with the town of Mythic.
I have done work farther out, beyond the frame of the “standard” screenshot above, including work at Iyotanhaha, Riverton and Prairie Forge. All these towns will be within the Metropolitan Area’s modern perimeter, once we reach 2020.
———————————————
What I’m listening to right now.

Tears for Fears, “Mad World.”
Lyrics.

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you ’cause I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday, happy birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what’s my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you ’cause I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you ’cause I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world
Mad world
Enlarging your world
Mad world

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Caveat: dinosaurs eating people

What I’m listening to right now.

Fenn Rosenthal, “Dinosaurs In Love.” Rosenthal is not quite 4 years old. She had help from her dad in production, but the composition is hers.
Lyrics.

dinosaurs eating people
dinosaurs in love
dinosaurs having a party
they eat fruit
and cucumber
they
fall in love
they say ‘thank you’
a big bang came
and they died
dinosaurs
dinosaurs fell in love
but they didn’t say good bye
but they didn’t
say good bye

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Caveat: life is more than who we are

Arthur and I were in town, for our weekly Thursday shopping trip. This song came on the radio at Zat’s Pizza, where we almost always stop for lunch on our Thursday trips. Art doesn’t think much of the music there – he just tunes out and listens to his audiobooks. But I sometimes end up a bit nostalgic, as the music is often set to some “oldies” station. Music from particular eras in my life can end up being quite evocative.
I don’t know that I necessarily liked this song in any deep sense. But it was part of my “soundtrack” in 1995, when I was working nights at the UPS Package Sorting facility in Northeast Minneapolis and doing some graduate coursework (non-degree program, at that time) during the days. It was when Michelle and I were already married but still keeping it to ourselves, and living together in south Minneapolis, just off Franklin Avenue.
My commute up I-35W (across the bridge across the Mississippi that later famously collapsed from poor maintenance killing many people) to the UPS facility took about 30 minutes. So I would play the radio. And this was one of those songs on high rotation at that time. Since I was working the late shift, I would end up coming home during very low traffic at around 3 or 4 AM. The freeway was often completely empty.
So I ended up feeling nostalgic when I heard this song. It’s a very 90s song.
What I’m listening to right now.

Goo Goo Dolls, “Name.”
Lyrics.

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can’t turn away
‘Cause all the dreams you never thought you’d lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away
And now we’re grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don’t belong to no one
That’s a shame
If you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won’t tell no one your name
And I won’t tell ’em your name
And scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don’t it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are
We grew up way too fast
And now there’s nothing to believe
And reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won’t tell no one your name
And I won’t tell ’em your name
I won’t tell ’em your name
Mmm, mmm, mmm
I won’t tell ’em your name, ow
I think about you all the time
But I don’t need the same
It’s lonely where you are, come back down
And I won’t tell ’em your name

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Caveat: there is a bear in the wound

Sometimes a Wild God
Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.
When the wild god arrives at the door,
You will probably fear him.
He reminds you of something dark
That you might have dreamt,
Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.
He will not ring the doorbell;
Instead he scrapes with his fingers
Leaving blood on the paintwork,
Though primroses grow
In circles round his feet.
You do not want to let him in.
You are very busy.
It is late, or early, and besides...
You cannot look at him straight
Because he makes you want to cry.
The dog barks.
The wild god smiles,
Holds out his hand.
The dog licks his wounds
And leads him inside.
The wild god stands in your kitchen.
Ivy is taking over your sideboard;
Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades
And wrens have begun to sing
An old song in the mouth of your kettle.
'I haven't much,' you say
And give him the worst of your food.
He sits at the table, bleeding.
He coughs up foxes.
There are otters in his eyes.
When your wife calls down,
You close the door and
Tell her it's fine.
You will not let her see
The strange guest at your table.
The wild god asks for whiskey
And you pour a glass for him,
Then a glass for yourself.
Three snakes are beginning to nest
In your voicebox. You cough.
Oh, limitless space.
Oh, eternal mystery.
Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.
Oh, miracle of life.
Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.
You cough again,
Expectorate the snakes and
Water down the whiskey,
Wondering how you got so old
And where your passion went.
The wild god reaches into a bag
Made of moles and nightingale-skin.
He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,
Raises an eyebrow
And all the birds begin to sing.
The fox leaps into your eyes.
Otters rush from the darkness.
The snakes pour through your body.
Your dog howls and upstairs
Your wife both exults and weeps at once.
The wild god dances with your dog.
You dance with the sparrows.
A white stag pulls up a stool
And bellows hymns to enchantments.
A pelican leaps from chair to chair.
In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.
Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.
Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.
The hills echo and grey stones ring
With laughter and madness and pain.
In the middle of the dance,
The house takes off from the ground.
Clouds climb through the windows;
Lightning pounds its fists on the table.
The moon leans in through the window.
The wild god points to your side.
You are bleeding heavily.
You have been bleeding for a long time,
Possibly since you were born.
There is a bear in the wound.
'Why did you leave me to die?'
Asks the wild god and you say:
'I was busy surviving.
The shops were all closed;
I didn't know how. I'm sorry.'
Listen to them:
The Fox in your neck and
The snakes in your arms and
The wren and the sparrow and the deer...
The great un-nameable beasts
In your liver and your kidneys and your heart...
There is a symphony of howling.
A cacophony of dissent.
The wild god nods his head and
You wake on the floor holding a knife,
A bottle and a handful of black fur.
Your dog is asleep on the table.
Your wife is stirring, far above.
Your cheeks are wet with tears;
Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.
A black bear is sitting by the fire.
Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine
And brings the dead to life.
-Tom Hirons (British poet, b?)


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Caveat: юу вэ юу вэ юув

There’s nothing like a bit of Mongolian nationalist heavy metal music to set the mood on a chilly January day.
What I’m listening to right now.

The Hu, “Yuve Yuve Yu.”
Lyrics.

Их л удаан идэж уугаад наргиж цэнгээд хачин юм бэ юу вэ юу вэ юув
Эцэг өвгөд Монгол гээд л цээжээ
дэлдэн худлаа орилох нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Эргэж буцаад хэлсэн үгэндээ эзэн
болдоггүй андгай өргөдөг нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Эцэг эхийн захиж хэлсэн үнэт сургааль
үнэгүй болдог нь юу вэ юу вэ юув, юу вэ юу вэ юув
Ээ дүлзэн сөгд сөгд
Ээ лүндэн бууг бууг, бууг бууг
Дээдсийн заяаг удамлаж төрчихөөд унтаж
хэвтээд сэрдэггүй юм бэ юу вэ юу вэ юув
Дэлхийд ганцхан Монгол гээд л амаа
хаттал худлаа ярьдаг нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Дээдсээр амьдрах заяанд төрсөн Монгол
түмэн нэгдэж чаддаггүй нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Дархан Монгол улсаа мандуулж өөд нь татаж
сэргээж чаддаггүй нь юу вэ юу вэ юув, юу вэ юу вэ юув
Ээ дүлзэн сөгд сөгд
Ээ лүндэн бууг бууг, бууг бууг
Өвөг дээдсийн өвлөж өгсөн газар
шороог хайрлаж чаддаггүй нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Өтгөс буурлын захиж хэлсэн үнэт
сургааль худлаа болдог нь юу вэ юу вэ юув
Өнө л мөнхөд мандан бадрах чонон
сүлдэт Монгол түмэн тэнгэрийн тамгатай
Хөвчин дэлхийд нэрээ дуурсгах хүмүүн
тахилгат эзэн Чингис нартад залрана, нартад залрана
Ээ хар сүлд сэр сэр
Ээ хаан төр мөнх манд, мөнх манд
Юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ
Хачин юм бэ
юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ
Юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ
Хачин юм бэ
юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ юу вэ
Ээ хар сүлд сэр сэр
Ээ хаан төр мөнх манд, мөнх манд

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Caveat: as fast as I can

I present a flashback to the mood of this blog 2 years ago – when I often posted contemporary songs I thought would resonate with my middle-schoolers.
I continue to believe Taylor Swift is one of the best songwriters of the current era in the pop genre.
What I’m listening to right now.

Taylor Swift, “The Man.” The context for this song, is, at least partly, her ongoing legal battles with the condescending record company execs who absconded with her intellectual property, and who are, perhaps not coincidentally, men.
Lyrics.

I would be complex
I would be cool
They’d say I played the field before
I found someone to commit to
And that would be okay
For me to do
Every conquest I had made
Would make me more of a boss to you
I’d be a fearless leader
I’d be an alpha type
When everyone believes ya
What’s that like?
I’m so sick of running
As fast as I can
Wondering if I’d get there quicker
If I was a man
And I’m so sick of them
Coming at me again
‘Cause if I was a man
Then I’d be the man
I’d be the man
I’d be the man
They’d say I hustled
Put in the work
They wouldn’t shake their heads
And question how much of this I deserve
What I was wearing, if I was rude
Could all be separated from my good ideas and power moves
And we would toast to me, oh, let the players play
I’d be just like Leo, in Saint-Tropez
I’m so sick of running
As fast as I can
Wondering if I’d get there quicker
If I was a man
And I’m so sick of them
Coming at me again
‘Cause if I was a man
Then I’d be the man
I’d be the man
I’d be the man
What’s it like to brag about raking in dollars
And getting bitches and models?
And it’s all good if you’re bad
And it’s okay if you’re mad
If I was out flashin’ my dollas
I’d be a bitch, not a baller
They’d paint me out to be bad
So it’s okay that I’m mad
I’m so sick of running
As fast as I can
Wondering if I’d get there quicker
If I was a man (you know that)
And I’m so sick of them
Coming at me again (coming at me again)
‘Cause if I was a man (if I was man)
Then I’d be the man (then I’d be the man)
I’m so sick of running
As fast as I can (as fast as I can)
Wondering if I’d get there quicker
If I was a man (hey!)
And I’m so sick of them
Coming at me again (coming at me again!)
‘Cause if I was a man (if I was man)
Then I’d be the man
I’d be the man
I’d be the man (oh)
I’d be the man (yeah)
I’d be the man (I’d be the man)

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Caveat: they are all cutten down

What I’m listening to right now.

Loreena McKennitt, “Bonny Portmore.” This song is not her composition, however – it’s a traditional Irish folk song, linked to a fallen oak tree at Lough Portmore, Country Antrim.
Lyrics.

O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many’s the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, “Where will we shelter or shall we sleep?”
For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down
And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore.

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Caveat: Cake for Cake’s Sake

Arthur, on his own initiative, ordered a birthday cake for Juli. The thing is, Juli isn’t here – she’s down in Portland. I believe Arthur was mostly looking for an excuse to have some more chocolate cake, in the wake of the one we bought and ordered for our respective birthdays last month.
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Anyway, in fact, Juli’s birthday not until two weeks from now. But we celebrated anyway.


Earlier we went into town for our Thursday shopping day. And we picked up the boat from where it was being serviced at the boat shop. Arthur surprised me, because as we were going to the boat launch area to put the boat in the water, out of the blue he said, so do you want to drive the boat back, or the car?
Our standard division of labor on these ventures has always been that Arthur drives the boat, while I drive the car. I couldn’t quite figure out the motivation behind this offer, but I often have found that when Arthur offers for me to do something that is normally his remit, it’s because he wants me to. So I took it to mean that he preferred that I drive the boat. So for the first time ever, I drove the boat alone, while Arthur drove the Blueberry home.
I did OK. I’m not as good as Arthur at backing the boat up – which I had to do when departing the boat launch. So it got a bit hairy when I was trying to go around another boat parked at the boat launch. But once on open water, I made my way home without incident. It was quite windy and choppy, this afternoon, on the open bay between Craig Harbor and the entrance to Port Saint Nicholas. Perhaps that’s why Arthur wanted me to drive the boat? I even managed to land and tie up the boat alone, at the dock at home, in a quite gusty east wind.


What I’m listening to right now.

Cake, “Comfort Eagle.”
Lyrics.

We are building a religion
We are building it bigger
We are widening the corridors
And adding more lanes

We are building a religion
A limited edition
We are now accepting callers
For these pendant key chains

To resist it is useless
It is useless to resist it
His cigarette is burning
But he never seems to ash

He is grooming his poodle
He is living comfort eagle
You can meet at his location
But you’d better come with cash

Now his hat is on backwards
He can show you his tattoos
He is in the music business
He is calling you “DUDE!”

Now today is tomorrow
And tomorrow today
And yesterday is weaving in and out

And the fluffy white lines
That the airplane leaves behind
Are drifting right in front
Of the waning of the moon

He is handling the money
He is serving the food
He knows about your party
He is calling you “DUDE!”

Now do you believe
In the one big sign
The double wide shine
On the boot heels of your prime

Doesn’t matter if you’re skinny
Doesn’t matter if you’re fat
You can dress up like a sultan
In your onion head hat

We are building a religion
We are making a brand
We’re the only ones to turn to
When your castles turn to sand

Take a bite of this apple
Mr. corporate events
Take a walk through the jungle
Of cardboard shanties and tents

Some people drink Pepsi
Some people drink Coke
The wacky morning DJ
Says democracy’s a joke

He says now do you believe
In the one big song
He’s now accepting callers
Who would like to sing along

He says, do you believe
In the one true edge
By fastening your safety belts
And stepping towards the ledge

He is handling the money
He is serving the food
He is now accepting callers
He is calling me “DUDE!”

He says now do you believe
In the one big sign
The double wide shine
On the boot heels of your prime

There’s no need to ask directions
If you ever lose your mind
We’re behind you
We’re behind you
And let us please remind you
We can send a car to find you
If you ever lose your way

We are building a religion

We are building it bigger

We are building

A religion

A limited

Edition

We are now accepting callers
For these beautiful
Pendant key chains

picture

Caveat: Andar bien relajao

What I’m listening to right now.

Cimafunk, “Ponte pa’ lo tuyo (ft Juana Bacallao, El Tosco, Roberto Carcassés).” This is contemporary Cuban “tropicalized funk” genre, with video – an interesting window into Cuban culture right now.
Letra.

Con mi dinero
Yo hago lo que quiero
Si lo vacilo por aquí
Si lo derrito por allá
Eso es un problema mío caballero

Con mi dinero
Yo hago lo que quiero
Ponte pa’ lo tuyo
Y déjame tranquilo
No quieras que me ponga majadero

Hay gente que vive del chisme del mal ambiente
Y forma intriga por detrás y nunca te hablan de frente
Yo no me meto con nadie no no no no
Soy un chamaco tranquilo
Andar bien relajao, ser feliz, eso es lo mío
Me gustan las fiesta, las noches, las niñas
Farándula rica, hay días que ando al deroche (pero niño hum)
Pero lo mío es lo mío y yo a nadie le quito trabajo
Muy duro así que no quiero
reproches (andas a lo loco, andas a lo loco)

Y ahora andan diciendo por ahí que yo ando a lo loco
Lo que yo quiero es compartir y disfrutar un poco
Tu lo sabes mami

Con mi dinero
Yo hago lo que quiero
Si lo vacilo por aquí
Si lo derrito por allá
Eso es un problema mío caballero

Con mi dinero
Yo hago lo que quiero
Ponte pa’ lo tuyo
Y déjame tranquilo
No quieras que me ponga majadero

Yo suave resolviendo
Y tu perdiendo tu tiempo en brete
El ambiente lo tienes caliente
Tu sigue pegao a lo que hace la gente

No te preocupes más yo voy, yo vengo
Si yo traigo, saco si me falto, tengo
La única manera de yo hacerte caso
Es que te inventes algo rico como esto
Te duele que yo ande en mi salsa
Tirate unas pastillas a ver si se te pasa

Con mi dinero
Yo hago lo que quiero
Ponte pa’ lo tuyo
Recoge que te quedas
A dar el berro caballero

La calle cogió candela
Oye, tremenda sabrosura
Esto es música cubana oite
Te la voy a entregar viva, viva!
Ay ampárate, ampárate
Eheh ponte en la lista y pa la tropical
Maria Silvia carah!

Caveat: climb higher on the chain link fence

At Karma Academy in Korea I often used to teach a class to students (upper elementary and middle school levels) which involved repeatedly listening to and learning the lyrics for English language pop songs. The kids enjoyed it, and it was fun for me too.
As a result, I developed a habit of surfing the internet to find appropriate music to use for these classes. There were some criteria to be met: a catchy tune, not too old, inoffensive lyrics, an engaging video.
Sometimes, even though I no longer need to, I still find myself doing this, as a kind of lingering habit. I found a song earlier that is absolutely perfect for this type of class, and the video is ideal.
What I’m listening to right now.

Mates of State, “Staring Contest.”
Lyrics

Hey, I like it like this

I can’t tell if it’s early in the night
I left my phone on a step all night
I reach for the light, but I don’t turn on
Spend my day running on your lawn

I’m wild
Like I once was (I once was wild)

Heart stop, take me to the blacktop
Fear where I can find a place to stay
(Where I once was wild)
Climb higher on the chain link fence
It’s all about you, I’m wild about you
Eye to eye, it’s a game, it’s a contest

’94 I kissed you in the train park
I really needed you girl
I drive real slow past your house at night
You’re gonna be mine if you don’t hold tight
Like I once was (I once was wild)

Heart stop, take me to the blacktop
Fear where I can find a place to stay
(Where I once was wild)
Climb higher on the chain link fence
It’s all about you, I’m wild about you
Eye to eye, it’s a game, it’s a contest

Are you staring at me, ’cause we’re having a contest
You’re making my heart stop
And I ran (I once was wild)

Heart stop, take me to the blacktop
Fear where I can find a place to stay
(Where I once was wild)
Climb higher on the chain link fence
It’s all about you, I’m wild about you
Eye to eye, it’s a game, it’s a contest

Heart stop, take me to the blacktop
Fear where I can find a place to stay
(Where I once was wild)
Climb higher on the chain link fence
It’s all about you, I’m wild about you
Eye to eye, it’s a game, it’s a contest

Caveat: Sad and Free

I made a decision to not accompany Wayne and Arthur on the planned fishing trip up to Whale Pass. I feel a bit bad about it – like I kind of dumped Arthur on Wayne. But I was just feeling overwhelmed and burned out. I did talk with Wayne some – I said that I think Arthur was being more judgemental with me and less patient in general, during Wayne’s visit – because he feels pressure to be a good “host” and all that BS.
Anyway. I’m sitting alone at the house here at Rockpit, and with no car, either. And they’re off fishing up north.
So I’ll see what happens.



Black Box, “Everybody, Everybody.” This is from 1990, and the origins of the “house” musical genre.
Lyrics.

Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
You won’t belong to me, I let you down
I walk around and see your night skyline
I feel the light but you don’t want to stay
So lonely now, just let me off downtown
Sad and free, sad and free
Sad and free, sad and free
When I said, it was over you aimed at my heart
Won’t be long for I’m leavin, all my love
But I’ll feel it forever, no sound’s in my life
You can call that no livin, on my own so free
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, everybody
Everybody, . . .

Caveat: ella me llamó pa tras

What I’m listening to right now.

Proyecto Uno, “Te dejaron flat.” I like this song so much. I’ve posted it before (about 7 years ago, here). It’s not that I like it in thematic terms, per se – it’s pretty typical of a certain genre of Dominican-American music, called merengue-house. Rather, I like it because of what’s going on in it linguistically. Constant code-switching, not just between Spanish and English, but between different registers and dialects within each language, too, including all kinds of non-standard calques going on, such as in the title of this blog post. It’s the sort of revelatory text that can reveal how new languages suddenly emerge out of the interaction of existing ones.
Letra.

Primera noche, recibí una llamada, aha
Fue mi exnovia, sorpresa en mi cara, aha
Ella me llamó pa decirme, negrito me haces falta, aha
Yo la quiero sacar a bailar pero yo no tengo plata, a.

So what’s up baby, echa pa acá y yo cocino, aha
Es una mentira, sin embargo es mi estilo, aha
Ella dijo sí, en una hora estoy ahí, aha
Me quedé esperando hasta que me dormí (you tell me)

Uh, ya tú sae, oh, te dejaron flat
Uh, embarcao, he, plantao
Say word, (word…) oh, te dejaron flat
Uh, embarcao, he, bajo ya

Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube

Segunda noche, ella me llamó pa tras, aha
Pero como Robelto Durán, yo dije no más, aha
Ella lloró y me dijo discúlpame por favor, aha
Si vienes a casa te demostraré amor, aha.

Me tardé pero arranqué y yo llegué, aha
Pa la casa de la chama, le toque y timbré, aha
Ella contestó con una cara asustada, aha
Dijo que su novio vino sin decirle nada (damn!)

Uh, ya tú sae, oh, te dejaron flat
Uh, embarcao, he, plantao
Say word, (word…) oh te dejaron flat
Uh, ya tú sae, hey
(Alrigh’, y’all sing wi’ me now)
Eo, eo, eeo, eeo, eieio, eieio
Eo, eo, eeo, eeo, eiooo, eiooo

Sigue

Think you gonna play me out this time? (this time)
Think you gonna leave me stinkin?
Think you gonna hurt me?
Think I had what you been drinkin?

Hey mami no te cruces porque no soy tu jueguito
No me llames por teléfono si tú no quieres dar
Con mala fama y yo te lo confirmo
No quiero problema, tú así conmigo
No vale la pena, ay negra, ay negra
(ay negra, ay negra)
Por qué me trata así, no me digas que me quieres
Si yo sé que tú no tienes tiempo para mí (you tell me)

Mami menéalo, mami menea, nea
Mami menéalo, mami menea, nea
(Break it down)
Dale pa bajo baby, dale pa bajo así
Dale pa bajo baby (pick it up, pick it up, pick it up)

… con Proyecto… Uno!

Y la gente dice

Uh, ya tú sae, oh, te dejaron flat
Uh, embarcao, he, plantao
Say word, (word…) oh, te dejaron flat
Uh, embarcao, he… (break it down)

Así, así, así, así, así, así
Así, así, así

Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube
Que lo que, que lo que sube

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