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I've had some first, and last, experiences with smoking forms in the past few weeks. In short, I'm wholly unexcited about the manner, but decided that I'd try just to say skipping out on the experience was an informed decision.
On cigars: I had one puff...no, a half-puff. A hemi-puff. I hemi-puffed a cigar camping last weekend; the taste was absolutely putrid to me, causing me to cough and wag my tongue into the air. Somebody gave me some gum after a minute of me trying to get the taste out of my mouth with the wholly ineffective means of spurting it out in coughs. She averted the spitting phase. That was the first and last time I'll handle a cigar.
On hookahs: The Olympian had an article today on hookahs and the Olympian hookah joint, Earth & Fire. Meredith took Katie, Cass, Aaron and I there after FPRL (which, on a side note, was a damned fine performance that I may get a copy of), but Aaron and Cassie left because there was a really loud [possibly 'Greener] band playing; too loud for them. And then there were three, and an apple hookah setup.
At first, it felt fine to me. I'd inhale, I wouldn't get any smoke, and I'd exhale a fruity taste – scented air, almost. That's actually pretty much what it turned out to be, because we weren't plugging the other hoses in our hookah while the one person (at a time) would inhale. So, when I actually started getting smoke out, I could see a fog emerge from my mouth and nose. A few inhalations later, I could taste the smoke. That's when I started to lose interest; I stopped after about twenty minutes.
It was actually quite a pleasant experience after I stopped, and the band stopped playing. It's just sitting around this ornamental spire on cushions and small rugs with friends; it's quite relaxing. Having the band there was a bit of a detriment to the experience, though the flutist was amusing to watch (a little hyazz flute).
Unfortunately, my throat doesn't feel too hot from the different style, but some same effects, of smoking. Currently, clearing my throat is unpleasant, as is swallowing orange juice too quickly. That may have been the first of two times I'll have a hookah in my life.
But, at least I can say I didn't sit by and refuse the experience, so I'm happy. The experience of cigarettes and chewing tobacco, however, I won't mind not trying. I've had my fill of that leaf.
(Consider this a forwarded e-mail, sans spamming sensation.)
This Saturday marks two Fools Play Occasions you don't want to miss:
1. The Purple Fool makes his triumphant return to the stage.
2. Weird, Dirty Heel, Incredible Bastard, Squid-Bo and more make their
triumphant returns, too, in Fools Play Rassling League's latest
performance: FPRL, Indepaindence Day.
Don't miss one of our most popular Formats accompanied by one of the most popular Fools.
See you at Studio 321 on Saturday!
Mike
Blue Fool
This past weekend was the 3rd camping trip I've taken with my good friends. I'd have photo documentation, but I managed to leave my camera battery at home in the charger; Katie took pictures instead, and she may be holding them for a while. Forgetting things seems to have been the theme of this year's trip; observe the possibly incomplete list:
I don't doubt there was more; if anybody who went can think of something else, note it, else we'll screw up in a similar fashion next year. For tools, we can thankfully mooch act on generosity of neighbors and ask for their tools.
I'm going to note a few other things about the camping site, because it was deemed worthy of a future venture. It was at Ocean City State Park, north of Ocean Shores, WA; to find it, go as west as possible from Olympia, and bam. We reserved two sites, 64 and 61; 64 was in a semi-open area shared by probably a dozen other sites. Interestingly, there was a Tae Kwon Do camp going on on the camp grounds, so some of us awoke to screams of "Yes, Sir!" Site 61 was semi-secluded; we could see other peoples sites pretty well, and our voices from late-night fireside chats surely didn't have a hard time getting into other peoples' tents.
Next time, we should look at sites 112 or 120, which were much like the Special Spot we got at Beverly Beach: Well-surrounded by trees, except for the driveway out. In the site, one couldn't see, but could probably still here, any other nearby sites. Cozy.
The ocean is a mixed blessing. We had great weather, so sun was coming down strong without obstruction. However, there's an inescapable wind on that beach that is perfect for kite-flying, but ridiculing for anybody who tries to fling a frisbee controlledly. Jim tried three times to throw the frisbee into the wind at me; each time, it was blown down to the ground and obediently rolled precisely to his feet.
The wind also made starting a fire on the beach an epic struggle, whose conclusion I didn't witness because I went back to camp for a different lighter. The different strategies to success were either to head over some dunes and avoid the wind, or to opt into what other campers did and park their cars on the beach to block the wind. That was another downside to the beach: A lot of people drove on the beach. There were at least twenty cars on the sand at any moment of surveying. It makes sense if you don't want to lug firewood or bikes or whatever from the camp site and over the soft sand, but...but. It's a big beach.
That's all I wish to say about the mundane-seeming details of the site; what went on this weekend was fairly important for me. One of the fireside chats finally gave me a chance to talk with these fine people I consider my best friends, instead of my usual habit of just listening and enjoying everyone acting out around me. It let me air thoughts on my arguably-non religion, a process which I find important for any topic or idea: Some ideas are like volatile chemicals when locked in the head – when they are finally permitted to react with air, the byproduct is something that sounds incredibly stupid, which should be discovered, noted, and learned from quickly. I'm glad my thought on religion didn't come off as one of the dumb things that have made their way out of my mouth. More on this later if I can motivate myself to write about it (should be pretty short, but there's the whole writing-about-religion thing…).
Somebody also reaffirmed the importance of time in relationships with people. I'm spending not-enough time with somebody I'd like to be around more, but can't for across-the-state reasons. I got to have lunch with her a few weeks ago, and I found our conversation there went the same as most of our IMs; we told stories to each other. It's not a bad way of conversing, and I adore knowing more of what a person has experienced, but…I want to have a different kind of conversation. I feel I've grown familiar with the story-trade communication form, and the math nerd in me pines for another form of conversation.
But, there's a legitimate-sounding reason that we communicate in stories: We spend so little time with each other, we're trying to build on our friendship by playing catchup with each others' lives. I do wish I could relegate that to IM, but habit's there now. I'll get another chance to break the habit in a few weeks.
The after-camp was different this year. Half of us went home, half of us went to Ocean Shores for the afternoon. The short of that was: The Flintstone-mobile, a four-seat bicycle in a 2×2 arrangement, has a brake which is deceptively weak, as I discovered in a parking lot curb-hop. They are allowed through McDonald's drive-throughs, though.
After Ocean Shores was the rock jetty. That was probably the most… cardiovascular fun I've had all summer. My initial reaction to climbing into these six-hundred lb. boulders wasn't too hot — I had both hands full, and slipped on some sand which everyone else had stepped onto and off of with ease — and Katie held my hand for getting across ten or so boulders in the first ten minutes, but soon I was keeping stride with Aaron, showing the mountain goat in his blood by sometimes hopping around the stones. Aaron and I made it out to the end of the jetty, where a flock of seagulls had nested and left their white all-plastering mark. One magnificent wave-splash later, we declared victory in the path and headed back to meet up with Katie and Cassie.
As we were heading back for sand (the jetty extended a hundred or so feet after the beach sunk below the waves), we ran into Caitlin… I can't remember her last name (or was it Kelly?). Zach dated her sophomore or junior year. She and Cassie talked for a little bit. I didn't say much, because the last time I spoke directly with her wasn't on the best of terms on my side. I should've asked what she thought of that, now that five years have passed, but oh well. I'll just have to wait until a reunion or something.
The jetty was the last thing we did on the coastline. It was refreshingly tiring. The four of us gathered at Cassie's house where her mom sprung a cheesecake on us, and massive munching ensued. We didn't get an end-of-trip photo like we had for the last two years, unfortunately; half of everyone splitting off at the camp site brought that prospect down. We'll have to make sure we get that next year, too. (And I'd better get last year's photos online soon, heh…)
Back in our high school days, there was one clear-(un)cut winner for best Jesus lookalike at Oly: Ross...can't remember his last name. I was in French with him; I'd give a description, but I'd be repeating myself. I saw him tonight at the Olympia Symphony concert: Hair cut down to about a half-inch long on top of his head, clean shave otherwise. Completely different look; pretty distinguishable by his large eyes or large grin, still.
I don't know the guy; I was just familiar him as almost-Jesus for Oly.
As for the Symphony concert, it sounded pretty good. They got that echo thing under control this year. For those not familiar with the acoustics of Music in the Park, it's a bnd or larger musical group playing in Sylvester Park, pointing either at the courthouse or at the Olympia Appartments. The Olympia Symphony's setup points them at the appartments – six stories of flat, sound-returning wall. Last year, they played two concerts a half-second apart. This year, though, the only echoes were during the ending chords of Beethoven's Fifth, which was a pleasant effect, unintentional as it was.
Laura, the woman who heads SPSCC's up-and-coming string program played with the symphony tonight; she introduced me to a few people, including the concertmaster, another violinist, and her brother. All I said was I hoped to join the group in the fall; she immediately looked for the head of personnel, but that woman had already left, so she made do with introducing me to some of the musicians. She's such a nice woman.
I'd called the Symphony once before, but I choked as I normally do around answering machines and left something that probably didn't leave a great first impression. Stupid "Wait-for-the-beep" phobia. I think this time I'll remember to mention things like graduating from college, not just graduating period, and more on music than my years at SOGO; I don't even remember if I mentioned OCO, but I'm not sure that would have helped, to be honest, since the group has just started to get a better orchestral sound. Well, Laura said she'd give the personnel manager a heads-up that a viola's looking to call and audition, so I think I'll have a bit more confidence when I call the symphony office tomorrow. I hope this time I get a call back.
The concert today filled the stands. That's the most impressive way I can put it, but if you've seen the Lakefair mainstage stands, you'd know that it means something under two hundred folk sitting in attendance. I think we sounded pretty good: "The band may be small, but it is mighty," the percussion coach Dan Adams said about us. The ranks are about 30-strong, including just one sousaphone, but I think we're fine; could be bigger, but fine.
The people I knew in the crowd were Katie, Jen, my dad, and some of my coworkers, at least my boss. My boss noticed the problems the bass drum section was having (we didn't sound great 100% of the time, but definitely nailed some hard spots), but enjoyed everything – "Naughty Girl" in particular. Chuckle if you wish, but I think it was a pretty cool arrangement too. Sure as hell beat the Black Eyed Peas' "Let's Get It Started," 4 bars of music turned into 40.
The march through town was good times; Cassie and Laura joined up some time right before the band hit Olympia Federal Savings. It was fun playing indoors, lotsa volume and the brass play at the percussion instead of away from us as when marching. The march gave us (well, me at least) a sorta important-like feeling having a 4-motorcycle police escort through downtown roads.
And I didn't hit that f&$*% trash can this time when we went through Lakefair. Someone in front of Aaron knocked it over, and the quad tom in front of me hopped out of the way, as much as he could hop with that mother strapped to him, and I pointed a mallet at it and laughed in triumph that it didn't knock me over. But then later in the food area I walked into the quad tom in front of me when I missed the rest of the band stopping. So much for paying attention.
Honestly, I can't see in front of me if I want to march in a back-preserving manner. I got a picture of me with the mass-assive drum, but I'll see if I can get a better one tomorrow before posting a shot; I had some dumb look on my face when my dad took a picture today.
And tomorrow, there'll be plenty more opportunities for me to run over the quad tom in front of me. Good times ahead, startin' at 5 o'clock with the parade.
Went to two Harry Potter premier parties tonight; the efficient one and the popular one. The Top Foods lineup was a five-minute wait, and Cassie, Aaron, Katie & I showed up at something like 11:20 – enough time for four games of Shithead.
After Top Foods, we went to Barnes & Noble to see the party there. 600 people pre-ordered it at the Oly B&N, and they got yellow wristbands for a non-physical queue purchase order; Cassie got an orange wristband, numbered at 200 something. So, we would've had to wait for eight hundred people to buy the book if we went to B&N. Nutty. Top Foods only had 300 copies, though, so people would have to catch on fast if they wanted a non-preordered book.
For all the advantage of being at Top Foods, I didn't plunk down eighteen bucks for a copy. Damian's at Camp Nirvana, and when he signed in he was offered a Harry Potter pre-ordering, and took it. So, we'd have two copies of the book floating around the house if he bought it, and I don't want to start reading it for a few weeks, maybe a few months, anyway – no point yet in buying a duplicate copy, then. I know that Cassie's family has five copies of the whole set, as she pointed out to me many times since I told her about my resistance to redundant texts in the house. I can have the patience to wait for Damian to finish with his copy; there's stuff I want to do, after all.
About Noon o'Clock: For those of you new to FallenEarth, or who weren't in The Dorginator's 4th-period film lit class in '02-'03, I wrote, produced, directed, edited (all that stuff) a movie as a sort of senior project: "Showdown at Noon o'Clock." The production process went through many travails — the annoying-but-not-painful ones I've noted (1, 2) — but I was happy with the film after it was done. I wasn't, necessarily, when it debuted, but that's another story. In short, it was a Western that captured most of my good high school friends in an absurdist's script.
Aaron and I are now writing the sequel. I haven't figured out the title yet, but the genre has evolved from Western to Politicking. The music, sparse as it was in the original, has also advanced from strictly could-be-Olde-West music (which meant TISQ at the time) to include lots of brass, with (maybe) minimal jazz elements.
The film's going to much more silly this time around. I may release it online with Showdown, I realized iMovie lets me save video as MPEG4 – oh yes, because I have a Mac now, I don't have to go through that godawful-in-hindsight experience of working off of someone else's Mac that had a craptacular Firewire drive. I'm eternally grateful to the guy for letting me use his machine, but damn, what a dumb drive he had. Anyways, I may create a Torrent for the video or something, but that'll come after it's written.
As for the "Celebrity Guest Star That Gets Offed," this time, the hints are: He has a head as shiney as his sense of humor; he runs an organization with a four-lettered name that I'm a proud member of; and I work with him in that organization. I haven't asked him if he'll be in it yet, though, and I probably won't find out for another two weeks. Katie managed to talk with him about it, so surprising him with a finished script probably won't be so much of a surprise anymore.
This will be good.
Lakefair. It's going on literally half a block from my office. We can hear the music that plays in the afternoon. A girl I dance with told me she'd be playing with her band yesterday, on bongos. They were a fun group to listen to – drums, bongos, guitar, bass guitar, with trumpet and trombone. Great show, though they were mostly white guys and one of them rapped – it was pretty ok, well lyricized, and the guitarist jumped off the stage and rolled on the ground. I'll try to buy one of their CDs next time I see that girl. That shouldn't be hard, except I'm blanking on her name; she looks like Ellen, for those of you who go to the Eagles. Any help?
The All-City Band takes stage tomorrow, square at noon. I'm on bass drum for the third year, and they've given me The Big One. Seriously, I could crawl inside that thing if necessary. It's humongous enough that I have the mutually exclusive options of walking with the back straight up, instead of an angle, or seeing in front of me. And, as an added bonus, if I don't shift it a bunch, which always looks awkward, my left leg falls asleep, because the bottom of the low-waist segment rests on my, uh, not-so-well-protected pelvis area.
But. It'll be good times. The concert's at noon, at Lakefair's main stage. Parade's from five to seven on Saturday, and it looks like the All-City Band's only marching once this year. Good, sweaty times ahead.
So.
So-oooooo.
Fools Play was a good show. Damian brought a friend along, who got to see a fairly clean show. (one lesbian action moment, one gesture towards Mike's crotch). Great show, but they did the Scene in Reverse (not to be confused with "Backwards-Forwards"), only, it wasn't like when I was subjected to it, it was just in reverse. No need to remember anything that had to happen again. Harumph.
I had to take Damian's friend home, but Katie told me to go to her house to gather for a Krispy Kreme expedition. This left about fifteen minutes when I was out of the loop.
I dropped her off, dropped Damian off so he could finish packing for his trip to Camp Nirvana, and headed off to Katie's. They were talking about Mormonism, or maybe just Christian behavioral/social constraints in general, when I walked in the door. Aaron dropped a great quote during that chat, which gets its own paragraph here:
"God's not a US citizen, He can't vote."
A few minutes later, we were out the door. Katie whispered in Cassie's ear, which I've realized over the years usually means they're plotting to do something, usually to me, within twenty seconds. She did have a mischievous grin on her face as I was recalling this out loud to Ali. She assured me that it wasn't mischief on her mind, but, er....feminine issues. I took that as an invite to drop the subject and got into her car.
We had a quick detour to get the no-longer-sounding-like-a-helicopter Aaronmobile, and trekked off to Tacoma. We discovered two things: (1) all the cool kids hang out at Krispy Kreme on Saturday night (by "cool," I mean just some jokers with spiffed cars), and (2) Krispy Kreme will not serve you if you walk through their drive-through; it gets the employees in trouble if they do. Disappointing.
After we had our donuts, we headed for what I thought would be the freeway back to Olympia. Only, we ended up turning into the parking lot of what looked to be a fair-sized store, perhaps as big as Best Buy. The sign in the lot read "Mega Castle."
"What are we doing here?" I inquired.
"Asking for directions," Aaron replied in a rehearsed manner. The "Rehearsed" I read in his voice was as in quoting from a movie, like the character he was repeating was about to play a great joke on somebody.
Everybody else got out, and congregated in the parking lot. We walked towards the store, and I noticed the security guard – I mean, I noticed him going in while we were parking, but it didn't occur to me, "Now why would a store have a security guard out front?" The opaque-glass doors also looked a bit odd.
"Hey guys, what are we doing here?" I asked again, this time more directed at Katie. Aaron repeated his answer; I was slowly realizing, No we're not. Why aren't people answering me?
Before we got to the door, we stopped in the traffic lane in front of the store and huddled. "Ok, does everybody have ID's?" Katie asked. I nodded, but couldn't figure out why I'd need it. We came up to Tacoma for donuts, not boozing. Besides, none of us is 21 yet, so what else would we need cards for…?
All the while, I was trying to think of what would be in a store called "Mega Castle," as it looked pretty obvious we were going in. Ok, I thought to myself, The store has "Castle" in its name. So, could that -possibly- mean I'm about to see a suit of armor? Maybe a mace? Katie or Cassie said that it was important, according to I think Cassie's Human Sexuality professor, to not go in and giggle childishly. (This next sentence best thought with the voice of Harvey Birdman in the Flintstone episode:) Huh. I wonder what that's supposed to mean.
When the security guard was carding us, I got a closer look at the opaque doors, and noticed a sign. "Absolutely No people under the age of eighteen allowed," written in a medieval script. I realized when I saw that "No Underaged Folk" sign that I wasn't going in to look at a mace; I was going to see a spikey ball on the end of a long shaft, but the proportions were going to be a wee bit different.
So.
We walked in, and, yup, there'as boobs in them thar hills — plen-ty of anatomy. I thought I had a mature look on my face as the group walked around, past the videos section — I chuckled when I found what was probably the only stand-alone steel in the store, a choke chain — but Katie said I looked …either offended or dumbstruck, can't recall. A little of the latter, I suppose; heck, I came up to Tacoma for donuts that I eat less often than my waffles.
I walked around with everyone for a few more minutes. Apparently Cassie had been before with her professor (and class, I think), or there was some class activity to do with toys, so we spent a while looking at those, where I gleamed the knowledge that if you do get a set, don't go porous. I stopped when I got to the book rack, letting everyone else go off, look around, do whatever. (I remember right now, there was also a sign on the front of the store that said, "No public restrooms [smileyface]." I started reading a Complete Idiot's Guide to …lessee, was it Tantric or Amazing… ah yes, Amazing Sex. I got to finish the chapter on "After the Act," before we quitted the store – but not before we found a purple, meter-long, foot-around dildo. "The Great American Challenge."
As we walked out, Katie said I looked slightly offended. I understand why I looked it – the shock was rude, but not rude in the social sense. I'm not sure if I was really offended by the experience. (I certainly could've used infinitely less exposure to the Pumps area. Blegh. Better watch Austin Powers to get humor back into that mental imagery.) I did enjoy the reading, at least. I was just thinking that I would be dating again before I gave sex any thought, or I'd have first read The Guide to Getting It On – that is in the list, after all.
Someone told me on the way home it'd be important to give sex a lot of thought before getting into a relationship, so the relationship wouldn't feel like intercourse would be …demandingly impending. I suppose that's a fine way to think. It might be odd for my partner if I were to start reading The Guide after we started dating, after all. (I imagine the belittlement, "You, uh, trying to tell me something?")
Well, in any case: After tonight, I can say I've been. It was an amusing deception on behalf of everybody who took me. Katie, darling, you must learn to mind that whisper-&-grin tactic, I'll be on to it from now on. I'm not sure I'll go to a store again on my own will; definitely not on my own, though. Too many peeners for my taste. And please, everybody, don't try to trick me into a nudey bar. I'll go straight to the car, and sit either in it or on it until we leave. Thank you.
Finally, I'm graduated. 'Bout bloody time. I pulled the last all-nighter of my undergrad. years last Thursday/Friday, finishing the neural net project paper. It was a paper about some of the programming, not necessarily about the implications of a neural net, or Connectionism. I was still frustrated by not being able to fix Back Propagation, and noted that, but oh well. If anybody would like to see the paper, I'll post it.
Anywhoo, I spent the rest of Friday napping and driving Damian to a lesson with April Whyte. By his word, she's a fantastic private viola instructor. She's pretty fun as a SOGO coach, too. I'm pretty sure Damian's going to start taking lessons from her and Anne concurrently. I may do the same, if I can just again kick-start that habit of...uh, what's the word...oh yeah, practicing. It was hard to devote time to the viola with so many Other Things going on during the school year. Now, it's dancing, work, exercise and friends that Rosebud's going to have to butt into.
About the latter: Friday was a fun gaming night with Aaron, Ali and Leah, where I mentally transposed digits and over-tipped a pizza-delivery guy. Whoops. I think the lack of sleep and the sudden maladjustment to playing video games for more than an hour induced that little blunder ("Alex, what was your major?" Leah overtly queried).
Saturday looked to be good; a round of golf and Fools Play afterwards. I got bored for an hour in the morning; sorta freaked out (seriously forgot what it was like). Golf was ...fair. I can choose between having power in my swing, and having contact with the ball. They're kinda distinct. At least I spent the day learning this on a mostly par-3, 9-hole course.
Fools Play was Red and Blue. Wasn't as good as last week (oh, Invisible Man, my horrendously perverted hero), but Beau did a Scene at the end, quite well. Good times.
Sunday's golf was OK. I kept myself at about double par, so whoopee, I suppose. That night, I had my graduation party — my uncle and aunt came over for pizza and cheesecake (garlic, then mango goodness, yum!). I'd seen them Friday, after an hour-long biking jaunt to downtown Olympia. My uncle had a pleasant life-philosophy chat with me, so that really let the graduation sink in — it wasn't finishing that paper twelve hours beforehand, it was the talk of the choice of graduate school vs. work, being a bit out of step with my peers. It was the first time I'd taken a look back for a while.
Speaking of a look back, my aunt dug up some old pictures from my youth. I was fat. Ho-ly-whollyfat. My mom was pretty, and I could see my face in my dad's. I'll post the pictures soon, along with graduation and Super Saturday pics.
Of course, after I went to bed that night, I woke up a working man. I put in more hours this week than I did sleeping, but that's not to say I'm working too hard, not at all; besides dancing Tuesday and Wednesday, I also had Harry Potter to contend with. But I'm caught up with the rest of the world now, and like many others I'm sure, I'm filled with pants-peeing excitement at the thought of the next book. I may go to Barnes and Noble to see the horrendous line, but the plan is otherwise just heading to Top Foods or something similar and picking up a copy slightly cheaper. Screw the grandeur of getting it from a bookstore, that'd keep us there past bacon & eggs time.
I have some thoughts after one of the dances I went to this week. They'll be coming soon.