searching for the ineffable
“Some 60,000 absentee ballots were despatched by authorities in Broward County, north of Miami, this month.
“However, only 2,000 of them have been delivered.”
I no longer care who wins. What do you think the probability is that someone somewhere will demand a recount, regardless of the outcome? Why, god, why can’t this great democracy have a civil election? Get me the hell out of this country. Please. Now.
(Go Sox. I am, after all, a Bostonian at heart.)
Madeline Albright: “I want to be in your parallel universe.”
Jon Stewart: “Well, you’re going to need a bong and a Grateful Dead album.”
Brilliant interview in the Daily Show on the 25th. What a subtle, brilliant and warm woman.
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I’ve been hit with SAD like a ton of bricks. The level of suck is unbelievable. Today was sunny and gorgeous, and it was lucky for me, but after sunset the change in world perception was palpable. Hence, I’m only expending energy on the essentials. Like, um, the Daily Show. But seriously, if I’m constitutionally incapable of doing anything else, well, why not the Daily Show?
Twenty-seven-year-old quadriplegic smokes pot to feel better, gets arrested because he has the misfortune to ride in a car containing a loaded gun and some cocaine, gets sentenced to ten days in prison. And dies, due in all appearances to negligence and callousness.
It boggles me that any human being can be as shielded from emotion as the judge who refused to put the boy on probation, the medical personnel at the hospital that refused to re-admit him when he needed it, and whoever the hell took hours to get him to a hospital from jail in the first place, when Jonathan was evidently in need of “acute medical attention.”
I have been, as a friend recently pointed out, fighting off entropy. So much to write about, but little time for reflection as always.
This photojournalistic take on Burning Man stopped me in my tracks today. Holy gods incarnate, I miss the desert.
To repeat, again and again, lest I forget: I am not what I do for rent money. I am what I do daily. It’s difficult to keep entropy at bay, there’s never enough time, but there should always be time to be who I am. Every day. Now.
Article in Wired today: “New Tack Wins Prisoner’s Dilemma.” Looks like Southampton took the annual PD Competition with sheer numbers – and a cool little strategy. The game goes like this:
[T]wo accomplices are arrested and separated for interrogation by the police, who give each the same choice: confess to authorities (defect) or remain silent (cooperate). If one defects and the other cooperates, the defector walks free and the cooperator gets 10 years in jail. If both cooperate, both get six months. If both defect, both get six years. Neither suspect knows the other’s choice.
Southampton submitted 60 player programs (within the competition rules: an entrant is allowed to submit many entries) designed to recognize each other when they are pitted against each other. Upon recognition, one of them would deliberately “sacrifice” itself to maximize the other’s winnings. As a result, Southampton’s players took the top three spots on the winnings roster. It’s all about research!, they say. That, and a fun way to start my morning. :)
Six years ago today, Matthew Shepard was murdered for being homosexual.
Remember that we do this. Not “terrorists,” nor any other scape goat. We.
(This isn’t about smoking. I don’t smoke, and generally can’t stand the scent of burning tobacco anywhere near me. No, this is about politics again.)
You know how you can’t get Cuban cigars here in the States? Well, now you can’t consume them anywhere else either. I’m incredulous, but it looks like there is nowhere to hide. Unless, of course, you laugh in Big Brother’s face. Exactly how enforceable is this crap? What, are they going to employ local junta to hunt me down if I want to smoke a cigar in Havana? Sheesh.
Thanks to Ben Hammersley for the link.
I haven’t updated in too long. Been too busy living, I guess, as usual. An article I read today intimated something to the effect of “humanists think in words; [natural] scientists think in things.” I’ve been thinking in things.
But this is too good to pass by. In a chat room, my other half just said:
<mindlace> my phone number is at the 9017018th digit of pi
How cool is that?! You can find out where your phone number is, too.
Ethan and I married each other yesterday evening. This first of two weddings took place on the eve of the autumnal equinox. Our friend Molly, a minister of the Universal Life Church, officiated; her husband David smiled and looked generally radiant in his too-cool-for-words top hat; and Zhenya and Jo Ann, my brother and sister in law, witnessed. In attendance was also my four-year-old nephew Tesher, injecting his usual whirlwind excitement at the world.
I met Ethan at Burning Man 2003. Took off driving across the country after that event, not knowing whether I’d see him again, but knowing that something was right with the world. That was August last year.
September we spent largely on the telephone, surprised again and again at the similarities in the worldviews we had developed so carefully before we knew each other. In October, he visited me for three weeks that seemed a long, crisp, sunny day full of tea and quiet work side by side. In February, he moved out to Providence from Seattle; in June, we found ourselves a different apartment to live in. Just over a year after seeing each other – really seeing each other – across a dusty nighttime dome for the first time, we wed.
Ethan is calm and centered, our friend Alex remarked last week, when we visited him in Chicago. Yes, and he’s almost supernaturally intelligent, kind and hilarious. His capacity for caring about other human beings, whether he knows them or not, has inspired me to live more fully, and more simply. His approach to the breakneck pace of daily life that has characterized our first year together continues to remind me what is important, and what isn’t. His encouragement of my professional choices, and the days he has spent working with me on humanities computing tools (another coinciding interest!) is heartwarming. He’s an experimental soul, in just the ways I like. I feel more fully realized as a person.
We got dressed up and went for sushi, because can you really picture any large event in my life not being centered around food? It was noisy and hectic in that little room, but both the company and the food were impeccable. Zhenya, Jo and Tesher had driven up all the way from New York, and later took off again with cheerful fortitude. Molly and David stayed with us, long enough for us to get a coffee together. Smiles all around.
Now, we’ve formalized it. Now, as we settle in for the winter, we dream of spring, when we’ll get married all over again, with friends and family around us. Really, this has all been a ploy to have our wedding night last many moons.
We didn’t get much sleep last night. I am bleary, happy. All is right with the world.
Some of yesterday’s photos are here.
What a great site on the history of presidential debates. Includes TV clips from years past, fascinating stuff. Some of it, of course, I’d love to play for Dubya. Thanks for the pointer, chutry!
