Neither Here Nor There

Unethical Grilling (Part III): Rain-Grilling in Pensacola

2010-06-05T19:31:00.003-05:00

When God gives you lemons, you make lemonade; but when She gives you rain, you make steak. I had been thawing an Allen Brothers steak my father sent me for my birthday for several days in anticipation of a gluttonous Saturday dinner when the Cosmos decided to bless me with relentless precipitation. Come Hell, high water, or tar bubbles on the beach, I was going to make my steak. Here you see the giant piece of meat, salted, and having sat at room temperature for an hour prior to grilling. Notice the marbling on this Prime cut of beef.After encrusting one side using natural wood charcoal, I flipped the slain beast and dumped chopped shallots soaked in olive oil on it, attempting to recreate the mode of preparation at my favorite restaurant Cafe Rabelais.

A few more minutes and I removed the perfect medium rare steak from the grill and allowed it to sit for 5 minutes whilst I finished preparing the steamed broccoli that would accompany the meat.
Below is the final result. See those black specks? No, not the black pepper. See the big specks? Those are sliced French black truffles. A healthy dollop of truffle butter on the broccoli and beef crowned this fabulous meal.
So don't let a little rain deter you from your plans to grill. Find an awning, and be careful not to set the house on fire.

Unethical Grilling (Part 2): On Location (Houma, LA)

2010-04-18T19:55:00.009-05:00

This weekend I headed down to the bayou for a good ol' fashion Cajun crawfish boil in Houma, LA. The experience was complete with Cajun accents, bayou-dogs, accordions, and gators. OK, there were no gators, but it was a big ol' time.This is the first (confusing) piece of Cajun culture I encountered. Well, may be it isn't Cajun, but let's assume it is for the sake of narrative coherence. This picture was taken next to a Chik-fil-a near Gulfport, Mississippi. Stop, enter, do not enter. I was able to appreciate the indecision represented by these signs when I saw there was a 5 Guys burger joint behind me. Chicken or Beef? Waffle fries, or fresh cut potato fries? My decision was easily made when I realized that 5 Guys would not open for another 45 minutes. I decided to stop there on the way back from the bayou the next day.These here's some mudbugs prior to cooking. They were not happy in their cramped quarters.
This was an especially feisty one whom I promised, as a last request, a flattering picture on Neither Here Nor There. Comparing him to the humans behind him, you can see that this crawfish was roughly the size of a grown man and had an armspan of roughly 15 feet.This here's what 'dems look like post-genocide, after being boiled alive. Red and happy, just like Uncle Jim-Bob after a pint of moonshine.This is Bayou-dog. A filthy cur who later attacked me. I may or may not have stepped on him to provoke this aggression. I think he wanted this:
These are the sad remains of the crawfish I ate. They kind of look like cicada shells. They also look like little lobsters. I recommend going down to the bayou and pickin' up yourself some of these nummies.

Unethical Grilling (a multipart series) Part 1

2010-04-15T19:58:00.005-05:00

I'd like to tell a story. It is a story about a boy, his grill, and a calf named 'Din-din'. Din-din was born to a dairy cow named Ida. Unfortunately, Din-din could not produce milk because he was a boy. So he was sent to the veal farm. There Din-din was fed an iron deficient diet to keep the color of his flesh pale and he lived a life of leisure in a little box where he didn't have to exercise one bit. One day Din-din was slaughtered and sent to Publix. The boy with the grill saw Din-din's rib chop on sale and out of respect for Din-din, bought the flesh of this expired bovine and took it home. In honor of Din-din's sacrifice and in commemoration of his short life, the boy with the grill grilled Din-din up hickory-style with some shrimp and asparagus. He will not have died for nothing.

The boy was new to the grill and grilling Din-din, so when he cut into Din-din, he discovered that the meat was way undercooked. The boy with the grill likes his meat rare, but his carnivorous appetite was no match for the squishy pink rare flesh of Din-din. So, Din-din went back on the grill and became this nicely colored still rare piece of meat:

All up in my grill

2010-04-03T11:35:00.002-05:00

So I bought a grill recently. It is one of those Weber kettle grills. You know, the classic egg-shaped grill. I've wanted a grill for quite a while, but never bought one for fear that owning one would mean having to move it (and I move often). The desire for fire finally won out.

The exact moment my impulse to grill struck me is somewhat significant, from a narrative perspective. It was near sunset, and I had to grill. With unwavering purpose I sped off to Walmart where I quickly assessed the selection of grills and made my decision. I then spent no fewer than 10 minutes comparing charcoal brands. I opted for the wood charcoal (which burns faster and hotter), picked up some lighter fluid, grabbed some grilling utensils and headed out. I was losing light fast. As soon as I walked in the door, I opened the box and assembled the grill. This procedure was completed in 15 minutes, 30 minutes quicker than the instructions anticipate.

Grilling Adventure 1 (Chicken thighs)

Once assembled, I put a small amount of charcoal in the grill, a ton of lighter fluid and set 'er ablaze. Fire went out. Repeat. Fire out. The damn thing would not light. Finally I got the thing going. By this time it was dusk and quickly getting dark. The coals were just barely going, but I was hungry, so I threw the chicken on anyway and closed the lid (vents open).

45 minutes later...

Coals are barely going still. I would later figure out that opening the lower vents would help not only to get the thing lighted, but to keep it aflame.The chicken is still not done. I resign. Chicken comes off the grill to be finished on the stove. Grill 1, Me 0.

Grilling Adventure 2 (Lamb chunks)

A couple days later I decide to give it another go. After trimming a leg of lamb to make Georgian mcvadi, I was left with some lamb scraps. Not to repeat my previous mistake, I opened all the vents and filled the kettle with charcoal. I lighted it using 4 or 5 pages of crumpled up CV, and a ton of lighter fluid. The smoke probably could have been seen miles away. Once the smoke subsided and the coal began to do their thing, it became clear that I had used too much charcoal. I figured this out when I could not even approach the grill because it was giving off so much heat.

30 minutes later...

The grill is finally approachable. Lamb turns out delicious. I've grilled twice since this event and I'm still using the left over coals.

In the end, I bested the grill, tamed its inferno, and became a man–a man with a spatula in one hand and sizzling plate of chargrilled meat in the other.

food in Pensacola

2010-02-22T23:58:00.005-05:00

I just thought I'd rattle off some Pensacola dining advice.

Pizza

Ozone has half priced pies on Mondays. They aren't bad. The crust leaves something to be desired, so I recommend specifying thin crust; it is better.

Hopjacks has some of the most interesting pizzas in town. They are pricey, but worth it. I recommend the roasted duck pie. Pizzas at Hopjacks are better than pizzas at Ozone, but if you're on a budget or you just want a good pie and good atmosphere, hit up Ozone. the atmosphere at Hopjacks sucks.

Burger

I have not eaten at the infamous Blue Dot. It is on my agenda. However, the best burgers I have had locally are at McGuire's. They grind their own beef, which means that rare burgers are (as far as I'm concerned) a safe option.

The Pensacola burger crawl ranked the Kobe beef burger at Bonefish highly, but I disagree.

McGuire's.

Jack's Diner in East Hill is terrible. Wait, may be it is called Jimmy's Drive In. Whatever it is called, it sucks. So does the Times Grill up on 9 Mile rd.

McGuire's

Moving onto sushi

In order: Ichiban, followed distantly by Fish House, Dharma Blue and then Horizen. I recommend the sashimi platter at Ichiban. I would not bother getting sushi at the other three places. I have not tried all of the sushi places here. I have ranked those I have tried.

"Fine" Dining

There are no fine dining establishments in Pensacola. Jackson's is mentioned as a fine dining restaurant, but it is anything but. What it lacks in quality, it makes up for in stuffiness. You get all the attitude of a NY fine dining establishment stuck in the 80's, but none of the quality. The service is terrible and the food is mediocre. The cocktails are good though.

The Fish House, owned by the same people as Jackson's, also thinks of itself as fine dining. It is pricey, but it is not fine dining. Dishes are uninspired and overpriced, as at Jackson's.

The Global Grill is OK, but is not fine dining. OK, may be it is fine dining for this area, but it is neither innovative nor particularly tasty. It isn't bad, and probably it is a great place for a date, but I just don't really dig on tapas. It strikes me as a way to charge too much for too little. I did, however, enjoy the turtle soup and frog legs. It is a good place for reptiles.

Oysters

The Marina Oyster Barn off of Cervantes is the only place I'd go. Prices are good, atmosphere is perfect, laid back, and family-friendly. I love this place.

Places to Avoid

Taste of India: yes, it is "exotic" for NW Florida, but it is the worst Indian food I've ever had.
Cactus Flower: ties to be upscale Mexican, but I don't think they even make their own salsa.
Seville Diner: a place with much potential, but basically it is a Waffle House without all the yellow

Really the best place to eat locally is at my house. Feel free to stop by.

New guitar

2010-01-16T19:36:00.003-05:00

These are my electric guitars. Left to right:
*EVH (Fender) Wolfgang (2009)
*Peavey Wolfgang (1997)
*Ibanez S470 Custom (1993)

And my cello sneaked into the picture too. Ignore him. Click the picture for more detail.

I just purchased the EVH Wolfgang about a week ago. It looks almost identical to its Peavey counterpart, but the similarities are only superficial. The two guitars have very different tones (EVH is bright, Peavey is dark) and fairly different feels, most notably in the neck. The EVH has faster, thinner neck with vintage size stainless steel frets, whereas the Peavey has jumbo frets constructed of some other metal, tantalum or rhodium probably.

Not much new

2009-12-05T22:02:00.003-05:00

Semester is nearly over. I have to give one exam on Tuesday, presumably grade it, finish grading exams and a couple papers from another class, and then I am done. Kind of a whirlwind of a semester. I've found many ways to overextend myself including directing a reading group, diving head-first into this fitness and martial arts thing, and maintaining a reasonably active social life. Next term I need to free up more time for research, not that this semester was completely unproductive in that regard, but I need to get more stuff out to journals.

I ordered a new guitar. It will look like this
I've been lusting over this guitar for nearly a year. Bad news is that it is on backorder until February. Two more months of staring at the Musician's Friend Catalog longingly.

Big times for Sebastian as we have just switched his food from California Natural Lamb and Rice (low cal) to Orijen. The gassiness was killing me, and since nothing is too good for Basty, I thought I'd get him the finest bag of food on the market ($60 a bag).

I learned Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" on guitar today.

Sunday Night/Monday Morning

2009-11-23T02:50:00.002-05:00

No television. I spend most nights like this: surf ebay looking for stuff to buy; drool over the guitar it seems I'll never buy since as soon as I think I have enough cash, something expensive happens; catching up on friends' blogs.

Tonight I bought a cool old Soviet era Russian book on ebay about Tbilisi. Call me nostalgic.

Tyson plans to move in sometime later this winter, either in January or February. This will probably be the best thing to happen to me since going to Georgia with him in 2007. Yeah, yeah, I know I got a Ph.D., a sweet ride, lived in Amsterdam, and enjoyed a great job at in central PA between 2007 and now, and those are all great things, but still...

I can now use nunchucks in a non-self-destructive way. I haven't clobbered myself in over a week.

Soon I shall finish Tolstoy's Hadji Murad.

Contemplating my next research project, moving away from psychometrics back into general philosophy of science.

Back on the job market.

Last week I gave a paper in Gainesville, the place where from 2000-2002 I spent the most miserable years of my life to date. While some aspects of the visit were pleasant (e.g., my 2 visits to Burrito Bros. and 1 visit to El Indio in two days), most of the visit was tainted by recollections of how much I hated my life there. Admittedly, over time my perceptions have probably become distorted in light of the fact that my life got so much better upon leaving the swampy, muggy dead end. Nevertheless, it was good to catch up with old professors and the paper I presented was pretty well received. I even heard through the grapevine that at least one person thought it was the best paper at the conference. Too bad only 10-15 people attended.

Semester 1 is about to end at UWF and I've enjoyed my time here so far. It is nice to teach students who actually care about philosophy and don't study it just to do well on the LSAT or for other utilitarian reasons. The colleagues of mine whom I've actually met are extremely cool, and though the University administration treats its visiting professors like second class citizens, my department is very supportive. It makes it hard to hate Florida when things are going so well.

And the news...

2009-09-21T18:55:00.002-05:00

I'm finally settled in almost. There's a room full of yet unopened boxes containing mostly inessential items. I spend most of my days thinking about how I'm going to afford this or this. I've also started taking "kung fu." I decided that I had enough of my slothful ways. It was time to take charge of getting in shape. Since I have no discipline for going to the gym, I needed a physical activity with built in accountability, and the more academic, the better. I found this in a small dojo down the street. The place lacks air conditioning, padded floors, and just about any level of comfort you can imagine. For those really interested in what I subject myself to 4 days per week at 5:30 am, just go here and watch the videos. Those who know me best will no doubt find endless humor thinking of me tossing logs around and getting my ass kicked.

Today is was over 87 degrees. Tomorrow fall begins. My strategy for coping: pretend it is high summer in PA. It has to cool down sooner or later. I hope.

Teaching two days a week has its pluses, but it also takes its toll on me when after 5 hours (practically in a row) of teaching, having gotten up at 5 to get to my martial arts class, my feet begin to ache terribly, my voice is going, and my back is killing me. 4 day weekends are nice, but I have yet to do much productively with it. I have a couple articles I really should be working on, but it is just too damn hot to do philosophy.

I realize that given the infrequency of posts, probably no one reads this anymore, but just in case...

b

Identity

2009-08-24T10:05:00.004-05:00

Today I faced a trial I've been dreading for at least the past week: getting my UWF parking pass and ID card. Mind you, at Bucknell this was an extremely painless process. One might even say it was pleasant. However, I suspected that at a school three times the size of Bucknell, there would be lines and issues. My suspicion was vindicated when on Friday of last week I inquired about the process and was subsequently redirected to the appropriate office where there was quite the line of students. I opted to wait until Monday (today).

For various reasons, none of which really worth mentioning, I did not sleep last night, or I slept very little. My alarm went off at six a.m. signaling me to shower, drink coffee, and face UWF bureaucracy. I wanted to be there prior to the offices opening at eight a.m. so as to avoid a line. Of course I did not manage to avoid the line to get my parking pass, but it was minimal. I had no problems getting the pass. The next stop is the ID center. I walk in and the lady expects a receipt showing that I paid the $10 ID fee to the parking pass lady. I show her the receipt from the parking pass lady and she says it will not do. I respond by informing her that I'm faculty and, therefore, do not need to pay for my ID. Here is where the story gets interesting. She asks me how she's supposed to know I'm faculty and if she's expected to simply take my word for it. After all, she points out, I'm wearing a backpack. She tells me to get a note from my supervisor attesting to my status. I tell her that I will not do that and that she can take as proof that I'm faculty the fact that I'm holding the faculty parking pass I just purchased without incident. Again she is incredulous. I instruct her to run my ID number (printed on my parking pass receipt). This request is met with a deep sigh (mind you, no one else was in this office, so it wasn't like she was dealing with a horde of ID-hungry students). Coldly, she tells me to look at the camera, 1-2-3, and my picture is taken for the ID. Transaction over. On one hand, I was irritated with this woman who doubted that I was faculty, in the face of credible evidence, simply because I was wearing a backpack, and I was shocked by her cold demeanor; on the other hand, however, I was happy to have a business transaction with someone who treated me like shit, didn't call me 'hon', and didn't inquire about my life story ("what brangs ya' down here?, etc."). It was like a little taste of the northeast way down here in the deep south.

I'm looking forward to my appointment at the DMV a week from today.

Martyrs

2009-06-21T09:49:00.005-05:00

If you are looking for a good horror flick, replete with gore, psychological torment (for both the viewer and the characters), and an uncompromising assault on your senses, see Martyrs. Even the final credits are haunting. I won't say much about this film as doing so could possibly ruin the ample payoff of viewing it. Despite the fact that the film is at times nearly unwatchable for its brutality, this is not a piece of torture porn. Or if it is, it is much smarter than its torture porn kin such as l' interieur, Hostel, Saw, and The Passion of the Christ. Because the violence is essential to the story and is presented in a way that is thereto serviceable, I am reluctant to classify Martyrs as "torture porn," a genre marked by its egregious depictions of violence for their own sake. Martyrs, unlike most modern horror, is hardly "easy watching." For example, unlike movies such as Hostel, you don't sit down with a beer and expect to be entertained by gratuitous gore and cheap frights. Viewing Martyrs is a different kind of experience; it is a personal experience. You will not watch it with the detachment with which you watch 28 Days Later or Cloverfield (though both of those are great films). You will not laugh, and at times you may forget to breathe or be afraid to do so. At the risk of inadvertently dissuading potential viewers, I will liken the experience of watching Martyrs to that of watching Requiem for a Dream (or may be The Descent) in terms of the film's ability to draw you into the story. It will leave you shaken, disturbed, and wondering what you did to make the director punish you so mercilessly.

Martyrs is splendidly acted and written. The soundtrack provides the perfect sonic canvass against which this heartbreaking story of abuse and obsession takes place. The color palette is subdued and sterile, which helps bring this feature to life.
Again, I leave this review brief so that you may discover the richness of this story for yourself. Do not read the Wikipedia entry on this movie as it is full of spoilers. However you may safely watch any of the official trailers, which are available on Youtube.

I hate being wrong

2009-05-29T23:57:00.005-05:00

Typically, I don't mind revising my beliefs when confronted with recalcitrant data. This is what any intellectually respectable robot would do. However, some revisions are more fundamental than others, and today I had a fairly earth-shattering revelation. Upon the suggestion of a colleague, I gave the new Metallica album, "Death Magnetic," a listen. I wrote off Metallica in 1992 when the "Black Album" came out and they lost their edge, going pop under the tutelage of producer Bob Rock. Bob made them superstars, making their music accessible to the redneck masses. A series of shitty albums followed. Some contended that "St. Anger," the album before "Death Magnetic," was a return to their roots. No. It was heavier than the pop crap on Load or Reload, but it was unfocused and stupid. "Death Magnetic" is not a return to the greatness of Master of "Puppets" or "...And Justice for All," but it is a return to greatness. This is an album to be proud of. It is not overproduced like the "Black Album" (and its immediate successors), and the song writing has improved immensely. What is similar to "Justice" and "Puppets" is the intelligent orchestration and speed. Best of all, Hetfield has stopped trying to sing, at least on some (the better of the) tracks. He has gone back to doing what he does best: minimally tonal growling. There are still losers on this album. "All Nightmare Long" sucks. "Cyanide" sucks. But that's ok, so did "Escape" (Ride the Lightning) and "The Thing that Should not Be" (Master of Puppets) and "Eye of the Beholder" (...And Justice for All). But at least these two shitty songs on DM suck only because of their lyrics; the music is solid. I'm not going to go on and on as I do about t.A.T.u since Metallica is no t.A.T.u., but if you've lost hope that Metallica will ever be anything more than an embarrassment to their past, check out "Death Magnetic." In the words of Rolling Stone reviewer Brian Hiatt:

"Death Magnetic is the musical equivalent of Russia's invasion of Georgia — a sudden act of aggression from a sleeping giant."

Metallica, you proved me wrong.

Весёлые улыбки

2009-01-24T14:32:00.014-05:00

After waiting months for my signed copy of t.A.T.y.'s (aka t.A.T.u.) new album (Весёлые улыбки, trans: Happy Smiles) to arrive, I lost my patience and ordered it over iTunes. Unsurprisingly, everyone's favorite Russian pop duo has delivered nothing short of a masterpiece. I feel compelled to post a short review. I shall proceed track by track, providing English translations of lyrics when necessary.

"Интро" (Intro):

In a fashion similar to that of their most recent release Люди инвалиды, the album starts off with an instrumental intro. My only complaint with this track is that it is three minutes and nine seconds of my life without the mellifluous voices of Yulia Volkova and Lena Katina. It is a tease, building tension in anticipation of the second track.

"Белый плащик" (White Robe):

This is the first single off the track, which came out nearly an eternal year before the release of the album. You are probably familiar with the video for this tune, which is as provocative as it is beautiful as it is moving. The synths swoop in, bombarding the listener like a Soviet tank only to retreat from the force of Lena's vocals. Yulia's haunting voice dominates the mix of the chorus:

Bullet in the heart
Brain on the door
limb and wings
We’re putting on
This white robe
Soul to heaven
We put it in a box
We let it go

This is one of the album's strongest tracks and rewards repeated listening. The poignant lyrics were penned by a 16-year old fan named Maria Maksakova (Esa on the official t.A.T.y forum). Three of her poems comprise the lyrics.

"You and I":

This track also follows in the steps of the album's predecessor. Like "All about Us" it is sung in English. Devotees will recall that this song is of the same title as the t.A.T.y movie whose release date seems to always be pushed back another couple months. In both structure and melody it resembles "All about Us." It is not nearly as strong as "All about Us," though it is still a delightful ditty. I cannot wait for the movie. I'll drive 200 km/h in the wrong lane to see it, 5 times. Desperation sublimates from the bridge:

No truths to confirm
No lies to deny
Too hopeless to care
We're too scared to cry

"Снегопады" (Snowfalls):

I admit that I don't quite understand the lyrics to this song. But this would not bet the first time that I am faced with the fact that I am just not intelligent enough to appreciate the profundity of t.A.T.y.'s prose. For example, consider the following lines:

We appear together as stars
We're different
You're a blue star
I am bright red

This is a metaphor, I am sure, but a metaphor for what? Whatever it means, I love it. This tune starts out a bit house-y, but soon transforms, becoming dark albeit beat-driven and irresistibly danceable.

"220":

This is THE strongest track. My only complaint is that it is not long enough. '220', a reference to the voltage standard in Europe, begins with a cutting portomento analogue synth line. I could go my whole life listening to no other song. I also recommend viewing the video, which showcases t.A.T.y.'s skills-of-a-dancer.

Teach me to wait
And smile and say
I want everything returned
If this is love, to know at once
You don't understand the dream
If this is love, know that everything is used
Reflections of sunlight on the wall
After sunset I die
Death is twice as easy

It is as if this song were written for me alone.

"Марсианские глаза" (Martian Eyes)

I used to be scared of Martians in my more xenophobic days (as a child, before I learned about relativity theory and the vastness of the universe, I was deathly afraid of an extraterrestrial alien invasion), but not anymore. Indeed, they must have incomprehensibly enchanting eyes to inspire this ballad.

Alright go
I abolish you
I'm alone again
Obviously, I'm painful
And can't sleep again
Count the bunnies
Search the squirrel
I want to stay silent

The listener finds himself suppressing the urge to weep in the face of "Martian Eyes," a moving and, dare I say, magical piece. Clocking in at three minutes and ten seconds, it is the perfect dose of melancholy. Just enough to make you appreciate how happy "220" made you.

Человечки (Little People):

The vocal harmonies on this track are cool as hell, and the arrangement is, if anything, symphonic in its sophistication. We get more of the killer portomento analogue synth that we loved so much in "220." "Человечки" paints a picture of a foggy early morning in a pristine meadow. You're being chased by vampires hungry to taste your blood before the sun peeks over the distance. Or may be you are the vampire, famished, desperate for just one drop of blood. Willing to dare the sun to exist.

"Весёлые улыбки" (Happy Smiles):

The title track is probably the darkest sounding on the album, ironically. Throaty synths and highly reverbed drums construct a lush, eerie, and purple landscape. This short track is instrumental, but alone worth the price of the album.

"Running Blind":

The English tracks on t.A.T.y. albums are rarely as great as the Russian ones. This is one of those rare cases. Something important is about to happen. I don't know what it is, but it is damn important. This is what this song tells me. I'll wait t.A.T.y., I'll wait for you to show me.

Are you near me?
Are you only in my mind?

This song is so good it makes me sick.

"Fly on the Wall"

This song starts of incredibly layered, but softens up for Julia:

When you're naked in the shower
When you're sleeping for an hour
When you're big
When you're small
Oh, I wish I was a fly on the wall.

The chorus revisits the rich, orchestrated synths, which I happen to have a soft spot for, admittedly; however, the melody of the vocal part sounds a bit too predicable for my taste. The lyrical content is unassailable, but melodically it is a bit too close to what you might hear at a strip club.

"Время Луны" (Time of the Moon):

Back to their native tongue, this song opens with a tribal beat that is soon crushed by overdriven guitars and Yulia chanting in a hypnotic, monotone voice:

Start all over
Don't look up to the glass
Don't brake it
They shine contacts and bobbins
We put out their uselessness
Fire and wind
Too late
In order to stop us
Start all over
We take off
And don't dash already

The girls are pissed, and you better listen. Anger makes way for a melodic bridge sung by everyone's favorite Russian redhead, Lena Katina. But Yulia is still pissed and answers with the brutal chorus.

"Не жалей" (Don't Regret):

Atmospheric and downbeat, "Не жалей" is dangerously close to sounding new age (think: Enya), but the double-time vocals and ensuing addition of rock drums save this song from failure. Personally I could do without the acoustic guitar and piano, but it isn't bad. I would have liked to have seen the album end on more of a high note, especially given what triumph the album is as a whole. It is the duo's first release on their own label and they ought to be proud of the gift they've given us.

With t.A.T.y. we learn, with t.A.T.y. we love. No matter how deep the waters in which they lead us, we know that we aren't alone. Yulia and Lena are there to guide us through the dark seas they, themselves, have created for us. Each song is an opportunity for reflection. You look into this ocean only to see yourself as you've never seen before, but illumated by t.A.T.y.'s Happy Smiles.

New Toy

2009-01-15T10:14:00.003-05:00

I just bought a Mesa/Boogie 2x12 Roadster Rectifier amp. It is sweet. Luscious cleans and rich distortions. I can actually hear the tone of my guitar now, whereas before all the processing masked the character of my instrument. The thing weighs a ton! I could barely get it up the stairs. It has like eleventythousand tubes in the back (actually 6). The amp has 4 independent channels each with its own tone characteristics, which makes it basically 4 amps in one. I have yet to crank it past the 8 o'clock position because it is so damn loud. The amp can run in 50watt mode or 100watt mode (you can specify this for each channel!) and there's all sorts of other crazy things you can do with the amp that I haven't quite figured out. It is the most versatile amp at this price point and the second most versatile amp on the market (beaten only by its big brother, the Mesa Road King). I still haven't figured out how to get super saturated distortions out of it, but supposedly they are there for the taking. Yes, I know the music room is aclutter. I need to find an efficient arrangement.

Pics from Tyson's visit

2008-12-19T13:11:00.002-05:00

Tyson and I decided to dress up as Santas and paint the town red...and white....or green, as it were. We were warmly received at the local watering hole.

We also decided to make Georgian dumplings, aka 'khinkali'.
Morning...oats.

"Don't Make Me Get All Virtuous up in this Piece," or "When Various Facets of my Greatness Collide"

2008-12-04T17:48:00.003-05:00

I am the most punctual person you will ever meet. I would say that punctuality is my foremost virtue. You will never have to wait for me nor will you have to be inconvenienced by my dilly-dallying. If I cannot make an engagement on time, then I will just not attend the engagement. For example, if I cannot get to the symphony on time, I will not go. I will not walk in late or even wait until intermission. If you invite me to dinner and I know that a prior obligation would result in my being late, I will politely refuse the invitation. Much to my dismay, others are not as punctual as I am, nor are they as considerate as I am when it comes to avoiding showing up late, holding up the show, etc.

Group dinners always annoy me. You try to assemble 7-10 or more of your friends to go to a restaurant. There's always someone running late that makes that planned departure time of 7:30 become 7:40, or worse, 7:45. That person ought not to go, in my opinion. If you cannot leave at the scheduled time of departure, you forfeit your place at the table or in the carpool. And of course, sorting out the check is another fiasco that invariably occurs in such situations, but that is another story. My summer job confronts me with situations like these at least twice per week.

Students coming to class late annoys me. It is disruptive and disrespectful to the other students and me. If you can't make it one time, drop the class and sign up for something that fits with your schedule better. You might also consider dropping out of college because you're not gonna be able to keep that fancy job you get when you graduate if you can't get there on time.

If you are chronically late, take this into account when making plans. For example, suppose you are always 10-15 minutes late. You want to have dinner at 7 pm with friends, whether you are planning to meet them at the restaurant or carpool, it doesn't matter. If you are the planner, take that hungry time of 7 pm and add a buffer to it. Do not fudge and say something like "7-ish". What does that even mean? Commit to a time, be there at that time (or slightly beforehand), or forfeit your right to make dinner plans. Don't punish other people because you are too disorganized or plagued by constant bad luck which makes you late.

In short, I value punctuality in others. I know there is no one as punctual as I am, and I'm becoming resigned to the fact that I will never have a friend who cares about the fact that it causes me severe annoyance and anxiety to be late or pressed for time. It is a sad, sad world when I find myself feeling like it is Christmas morning when someone is actually on time. Planning effectively is not a superpower. Anyone can do it, though no one I ever know ever will. This brings me to my second most prominent virtue: patience.

These two virtues often conflict. I am very patient when it comes to some things: restaurant mishaps, my dog's whining, slow traffic, slow people, crazytown, etc. I *cannot*, however, deal with tardiness. I may don a veneer of cool indifference at your lateness, but inside my organs are quickly poaching in my boiling blood, and in the back of my mind I am considering 1. all of the various terrible curses I would cast upon you if I had one of those Harry Potter magic wands, or 2. if I set your house on fire while you slept, whether you'd wake up in time to get out, or 3. the street value of your first born's kidneys.

My general malaise is only exacerbated by the fact that tardy people trigger this cognitive dissonance, i.e., the inconsistency of these two virtues I exemplify. I cannot be a nonhypocritical servant of punctuality and also be patient in matters of timeliness. I may be a bastard, but you made me this way.

Logic exercise.

2008-11-23T16:58:00.007-05:00

What are the fallacies contained herein. An assignment for my logic class.

Snow steadily and lazily falls on the hushed arctic plain. Above the purple clouds dances the aurora borealis. The lights whip back and forth, exciting the ambient air like a funeral pyre. With their demon tongues the Northern Lights beckon the winter to come and once again choke this all but lifeless landscape. But beneath the clouds is a semblance of peace, a hushed hoary idyll. In the distance flickers a tiny beacon like candlelight. Approaching the light, one hears the soft percussive voices of bells whose jingles are dampened by the sea of snow. It is a modest gingerbread-style home. Smoke steady escapes from the chimney infusing the air with the scent of sage and thyme. Eight great beasts, worn and weary, are barely standing in the pen behind the house. It is unclear how they will survive the coming winter if the summer has left them in such a terrible state of neglect and abuse. Their coats are missing in large patches, their legs but brittle twigs only just supporting an emaciated frame. Any further south and the carrion birds would have considered them as good as dead. But there is an air of cheer in this modest house. For the inhabitants, the high season is upon them and the lazy days of summer are over.

“Now Nick, do you really need that second helping? You know what the doctor said about watching your weight.”

“Honey, I’m famished. And I’ll be damned if this isn’t the best rabbit stew you’ve ever whipped up. Where ever did you conjure up such a critter? The colored eggs are a nice touch, by the way. Can’t say that I see the culinary sense of pairing pastel colored, hardboiled eggs with stewed rabbit, but it certainly is pretty.”

“Waste not, want not. They came with the rabbit. If you don’t like them, we can send them down in the bucket to the factory”

“I don’t see why we have to feed those filthy little bastards. With their nimble little hands and razor-sharp teeth, they ought to be able to find their own food.”

“But Nick, remember what happened the last time you let them out to forage for themselves.”

“Yes. They took down ol’ Rudolf like a swarm of cheetahs on a lame caribou. It really was something to behold, actually. I don’t think the old chap’s nose ever glowed so bright as it did just before the dentist-elf buried his face in poor Rudolf’s...well, anyway. I suppose you’re right. They really are vicious. I’d say every elf we’ve put to work below has been bloodthirsty vicious savage. I’m convinced the whole lot of them are that way.”

“Oh, I agree Nick. When was the last time you went down into the hole?” she asks as she eyes the trap door under the table. “I sent a pile of seal bones down there the other day. Before I even got the trap door open, the scent had created such a ruckus down below that I thought they were going to start eating each other. I’ll be surprised if they get any work done this year.”

“Oh, they’ll work. They seem wild and unmanageable, but all fall into to line when you threaten them that the ‘Christmas Spirit’ is coming for them.”

They both chuckle. Nick’s belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly.

“And to think, you made the whole thing up, Nicky. What idiots!”

“Oh yeah. I mean you say anything with a deep enough voice and punctuate it with a slow ‘ho...ho...ho’ and they think you mean business. You can see the fear in their beady little gray eyes. They probably think Christmas Spirit is some ghoul that come and pulls their toes off while they sleep. But hey, whatever gets them to meet their deadlines. You think they’re vicious. Try a billion spoiled eight year olds eagerly anticipating a new whatever-it-is-they-want. Now that I think of it, the two groups aren’t really that different. Say, may be I should nab a couple eight year olds and inject some fresh blood into the workforce down below; the elves are starting to get a little inbred. Look. I bet they’d be great workers. Consider this. Elves are tiny and so they have little nimble fingers, they are easily subdued, and will work for pennies. They are great workers. Eight year olds are really no different. They’re tiny, have little nimble fingers, they’re cheap labor (since they have no expenses really), and I’ll be you can take one down pretty easily. ”

“That’s seems right, Nick. Certainly most of the eight year olds I met at the Macy’s Day Parade last year fit that description. I say just randomly nab one. I’m sure he’ll have nimble fingers.”

“Nimble fingers are definitely important. We have a slew of GAP fleece pullovers to make this year. That threading has to be tight.”

“So, Nick, do you think we can use the economy as an excuse not to work so hard this fall and winter?”

“I don’t see why not. People will understand. Santa is a person just like them. I have wife, little ones to care for,” he smirks, winks, and taps the lid of the trap door with the heel of his boot “a mortgage, and a retirement fund to consider. Surely they’ll understand that the economy has affected my Christmas budget just as it has affected theirs.”

“But, Nick, the situation is a little different. After all, our livelihood is sustained by a small army of slave laborers and it is not like the demand for free goods has gone down at all. I think people know we aren’t hurting up here. We’ve stockpiled enough milk and cookies to survive quite comfortably for several hundred years. And it isn’t like we have luxury costs here. We never go out. I mean if we want entertainment, we just incite a pit fight between two elves.”

“Look, something like 95% of the world is feeling the effects of this economic crisis. Am I not a citizen of this world too? I think it is reasonable to expect that I, too, am feeling the effects.”

“Dear, but the world economy does not affect the productivity of the elves. And it isn’t like those gifts cost you anything.”

“Let me ask you something, Betty. Have you seen that sorry bunch of reindeer out there? I may as well put the lot of them out to pasture and sick about 12 elves from sector G on them. Those stupid, dirty animals are on their last legs. They can hardly take a beating anymore and they fly like they’re half drunk. Reindeer don’t come cheap and you can’t buy them with milk and cookies, eggnog, or fruitcake, darling. My only source of extra income is mall-Santa work. Do you think they care at Saks that I’m the real McCoy? No. The economy affects those stores, and something tells me that freelance work for mall-Santas is going to suffer.”

“You mean to say that since most sectors of the economy and job market have been affected by the crisis that so will the mall-Santa sector?”

“Yes. And I have no special qualifications that would make me preferable to any other shmoe in a red suit. You know, Alan Greenspan said just the other day that this would be a particularly bad year for mall Santas.”

“Wasn’t he on the ‘naughty’ list last year?”

“Betty, focus. I’m trying to have a conversation here. And the job isn’t as safe as it used to be. Last year, remember that mall Santa in Scranton that got mauled by a rabid four year old? It just isn’t safe to be a mall Santa anymore. I mean, what if I get attacked, or some kid urinates on my lap and gives me hepatitis B.”

“Nick, that was one incident.”

“Betty. Please. It is a scary, scary world. You know, just the other day I read that about this study. There were several thousand participants, children between the ages of 6 and 10, all of whom had leprosy. Did you know that 80 percent of those lepers said that they had at one time or another sat on a Santa’s lap? This means that 80 percent of those filthy little beggars I have sit on my lap at Saks, Macy’s, or where ever, are lepers. I’m lucky their sniffly little noses aren’t falling off into my beard!”

“Sweety calm down. What do you say we go down below and make a couple elves gnash it out for one of these Cadbury Creme Eggs and these rabbit bones.”

“You’re right. I’m getting a little worked up. I could go for an elf-fight” Santa takes in a couple deep breaths. “Damn, my angina.” He winces a bit. “Betty, what do you say we visit the jewelry sector. I haven’t fed them in a week. They’ll put on a good show. They always do when they’re a little starved. But first let me have a little bit of that egg.” He bites a little bit of the top off and sucks in a bit of the sugary filling. “God, these things are disgusting. Not to mention conceptually they make absolutely no sense.”

Pittsburgh

2008-11-14T08:04:00.002-05:00

One halloween pic

2008-11-11T21:37:00.004-05:00

since I don't have a camera, I don't have more to share, but this is fairly late in the evening. unfortunately I had shed the wig and beard. I took up a fork as an accessory instead.

Long time, no see

2008-10-01T10:58:00.002-05:00

Since my last post I fractured my radius skating. Now when I see a half-pipe, I have PTSD. Professional skating is not in the cards for me, it seems. My new backup plan is to save up my money this year and if I don't find a job, then I will move to Tbilisi and live for a year basically doing nothing except studying Georgian and writing philosophy. I'll scout for possible there jobs when I return in May of '09, but I'd be content just to hang out for the year.

Other news...

Nothing. Lewisburg is a place where nothing happens except arm breaking. I'm now nearly fully recovered, and now I'll have to find something else to do. In November I'll be in Pittsburgh for a conference. Matt will be there as will other grad school buddies. I'm looking forward to that. I have mixed emotions about Pittsburgh, however. Primanti Bros. with their pastrami, coleslaw, and french fry sammiches are calling me, but Pittsburgh represents some of my biggest failures in living up to the expectations I set for myself. So, going there will be a bitter-sweet hiatus from this place where nothing happens.

Backup Plan

2008-08-26T17:00:00.002-05:00

I think that if things don't go well, and I am unable to secure a tenure track position this winter at the APA, then I will become a professional skateboarder. That's right! I recently bought a new skateboard. Conveniently, there is a great skate park mere blocks from my home. With one of my colleagues (who is also just now joining the department) we have formed a sort of skate gang. We seem stuck between two names for the gang. One is 'Sick!' as in the skater slang for 'totally awesome' and the other option is 'team creepy'. This latter name we considered after being in a bar that got run over by undergrads, leaving us the oldest in the bar at a table in the corner amid the sea of standing students. We looked creepy. Then we left. So yeah. Professional skateboarding. I got some awesome (sick!) roadrash today when I totally got hung up on the coping on the halfpipe. Pretty rad.

NB: Skating is not like riding a bicycle. Also, I think my center of gravity has shifted since I was 18.

The Final Countdown

2008-08-16T19:23:00.002-05:00

Tonight I requested (like 5 minutes ago) that the cover artist at my favorite Lewisburg play Europe's 80's hit (and Gob's theme song) "The Final Countdown." Hearing this in a little cafe, synths blazing, is pretty awesome and pretty surreal. What is this place?

3 Noteworthy things today

2008-08-14T18:23:00.002-05:00

Today I witnessed a couple noteworthy things:

Chiropractics seems to be the Lewisburg industry. There are tons of these places.

One of my colleagues can unhinge his jaw. He has nearly a flip-top head like a Pez dispenser.

The "Fully Loaded" Campbell's Turkey Pot Pie stew is bad for my belly.

Georgia Conflict

2008-08-13T12:23:00.003-05:00

I've stayed pretty tight-lipped about the *ongoing* Russian aggression in Georgia. There's enough on the news and other blogs without me simply repeating what other sources report.

I am providing a link here to a website that gives the necessary information for making a contribution to the victims of the conflict. You can double check the legitimacy of the site by googling the title of the article and you'll see that the report is not fraudulent. The wire has been posted on several news sources including Reuters. So I ask that you consider making a contribution to this fund.

Click here.

or

Click here

I've lost my camera

2008-08-05T22:27:00.003-05:00

so don't expect any pictures in the near future.

furniture is here. it looks great. my calvin klein bedding should be here tomorrow.

the fridge is still empty. I haven't had time to go grocery shopping, so I dine out pretty much every night.

What Lewisburg Lacks

2008-08-04T11:57:00.003-05:00

Here are a couple things you'd be hard pressed to find in Lewisburg if you suddenly decided to move here:

1. Mattresses

For some reason there is no store in this town that sells the barest of sleeping essentials. I use 'essential' loosely since I currently sleep on the floor on a blanket and I have not owned a bed in well over a year.

2. Bedding

Ok, so may be it is logical. You don't sell mattresses, so why would you tease us by selling mattress accoutrements? There are lots of home knick knack stores here, but no place that sells sheets. I was told to go to Wal Mart. No thank you. Something tells me that I won't find 400-600 thread count Egyptian cotton top sheets, pillow cases, and fitted sheets there.

3. Recycling

There's no recycling program here. It is incredibly inconvenient to recycle here and you have to haul recyclables yourself, with the exception of one day (yet to be determined) when a truck will come around and pick up your stuff.

4. AT&T coverage

I'm no AT&T customer, but a friend visited who is one. He got no more than 2 bars on his iPhone. I had hoped to leave Verizon for greener pastures and purchase an iPhone, but it looks like I'll be sticking with Verizon for a while longer (excellent coverage up here, Verizon).

5. Mail

Why won't the mail man pick up my mail? My electricity will soon be cut off if he doesn't pick up my agreement with the electric company.

This is not an exhaustive list of things that Lewisburg lacks, but these are the things that surprised me.

It isn't all bad, however. People are polite, meter maids are vigilant, and the weather is great. The town is cute.

Lobster Day!

2008-07-23T21:02:00.006-05:00

My father recently traveled to Maine. While he was there, he told me on the phone just how great the lobsters were. When I mentioned that I wished I could be there to eat some of these delicious little beasties, he put two 2.5lb lobsters on the first flight to Florida.

Here is their story.

Grizzle Bob O'Brien and Jim Nettle Leacher arrived jet lagged. They weren't too active upon arrival and spent the day in my cool fridge.
Basty loves lobster day, so he came in to meet Grizzle Bob and Jim. Basty wasn't quite sure what to make of these two. He preferred to stay in the other room until it was time to eat.

Much fun was had with Grizzle Bob and Jim Nettle. We tried to race them, but they didn't budge. They did get a little anxious, however, when I threatened to turn them upside down.

Grizzle Bob wanted to ham it up a bit before cooked him up and ripped out his insides.

I wanted to liven them up a bit before I drowned them in boiling salted water. So I filled up the bathtub and let them have a big ol' time. They stretched out and soaked up the fluorescent rays. When they refused to put their heads beneath the water, I thought that I should take them out, thinking that perhaps the water was too warm or polluted with soap scum and God knows what else.

No sooner than the boiling water took on the aroma of Grizzle Bob and Jim, did Basty magically appear from his hideout, ready to dine on the warm insides of our strange guests from Maine.

Oh, Grizzle Bob and Jim, you look a little flush! Have you two been drinking again?

That Grizzle Bob, to the end, always hamming it up.

Uh oh! Jim! Grizzle Bob! You seem to have lost your outsides!

Your legs, despite their soft shells, proved to be a bit labor intensive for me.

Hooray for lobster day!

My new favorite song and music video.

2008-07-06T10:27:00.001-05:00

I want to live in this video.

More Basty

2008-06-24T21:46:00.003-05:00

sleepy buddy

Babushka buddy

There's nothing in my trunk

2008-06-22T17:22:00.007-05:00

For the past month and a half my life has basically consisted of waking up at noon, watching the food network, and playing Grand Theft Auto 4. It is not exactly what I'd call a meaningful existence, though my GTA 4 sniper skills have improved markedly. The high points of my time in Florida have been finishing a paper that will be published in early 2009, seeing Saw III (and, by implication, Bahar Soomekh in a mind-blowing role which smashed my face). For the last two nights Sebastian has awakened me roughly every two hours to take him out. Not fun. Oddly, beginning the night after he spent the day at the vet/groomer, he began suffering from a particularly annoying intestinal ailment.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. On Thursday I head up to Saratoga Springs, NY to reunite with friends and teach for 3 weeks.

Recent thought: the coolness of the resurgent knitting craze and roller derby is lost on me.

Oldie but goodie

2008-06-09T23:08:00.005-05:00

A couple pictures

2008-06-09T17:45:00.002-05:00

Here are a couple action shots of the buddy.

And me in Bloomington, at Matt's.
I'm feeling a little lazy right now, but I may write another post tonight about how I almost got arrested the other night for doing nothing at all (well, I had pulled into a parking lot to make a phone call since I hate talking and driving at the same time), which apparently looks suspicious to Panama City's finest.

Dear White Bulldog

2008-05-20T23:18:00.002-05:00

Like a fighting bull from Hell, you came barreling out of your garage towards Sebastian and me on our evening walk. Probably because you noticed that my meat would be acrid and metallic, you went for the sweet meat of Sebastian. You got a couple good bites in, but your fate was sealed when later I returned to the house to make sure you were OK and your shots were up to date. Your master, who refused to have a civilized conversation with me, was combative and no less aggressive than you (though he didn't bite my leg). For his obstinacy, you can expect a visit from Animal Control tomorrow who will inevitably write your bulldog of a master a $50 ticket for violating the county leash law. I hope you are prepared to produce shot records as well. By the way, it'd be to your interest if you have had no prior convictions because after the third complaint, you go big nappy time. You mess with the bull, you get the horns; you mess with Basty, you get a world of hurt (or at least a $50 ticket).

That's RIGHT, Chicago

2008-05-14T18:26:00.001-05:00

The city of Chicago has seen the error of its ways and repealed the ban of foie gras.

The Virtues of Brother Hood

2008-05-10T22:25:00.002-05:00

Because I think it probably goes unnoticed too often, I feel compelled to acknowledge the generosity and good nature of my brother, Josh. Without him, I could not have made my trip to the Netherlands because of my parental obligations; however, he agreed to watch my canine companion, Sebastian. Once I returned to the US, he let me take up residence in his apartment for over a month. When I had to go to PA for a job interview, he did not hesitate to take care of Sebastian on short notice. He does the dishes after every meal and is very considerate; for example, once I had the television on and I noticed him unplugging the Xbox to take it to his room. when I asked him what he was doing, he mentioned that he saw that I was watching television (though actually I was just surfing the internet) and did not want to disturb my apparent television-watching. How considerate is that?! For those who don't know, my brother and I had a rough patch that lasted basically from his birth until very recently. I don't think we were that fond of each other for a long time. Little did I know that there was a great guy lurking there. He probably thinks of me as an inconvenience because of my constant needing for him to help with Sebastian, but I think he's a pretty great guy.

The Latest Greatest Thing

2008-05-08T19:30:00.002-05:00

Today I officially submitted the dissertation and printed out EIGHT copies of the 205 page document. Matt was kind enough to donate some of his print quota to the cause, and IU mistakenly gave me a summer print allotment, all of which I used. That's 1640 pages. And guess what, after spending nearly and hour printing out all this, I found out that it was all wasted. Earlier in the day when I was formatting the document for submission and making minor revisions, I had to delete the bibliography because Endnote is the worst program in the world and lets you basically do nothing to your document without screwing it up in some way or another. In a feat of virtual jerry-rigging I got everything set, or so I thought. Little did I know that Word, under the influence of the nefarious Endnote program, overwrote my section preferences so that the pagination was totally screwed up. I didn't notice this until after all the printing was done (who would have thought to check that, of all things?) and I had HAND COLLATED 3/4 of the dissertation 5 times (also took about 45 minutes, which was wasted). So I had to go back and fix the document and resubmit it to the Graduate School online. Tomorrow I have to print out a fixed copy and pay to have it copied 7 times since my print quota is gone and Matt can't afford to spare 200 pages. I'll also have to find a way to reimburse Matt for the 430 wasted pages (because I feel terrible about it) of his print quota. I also fear that IU will charge me for their mistake in giving me a summer print allotment when I'm graduating in the Spring.

Of course, I would not have had to print out all these copies if the bindery accepted electronic copies of the dissertation; however, when I called and asked if they'd accept pdf's, the lady responded "I'm not familiar with that technology, and we don't do any copy services." First, what idiot who is in the printing business or has ever seen a computer is NOT familiar with pdf format? Second, why hasn't the only bindery in a college town caught on to what is not even that recent of technology, especially in the age where dissertations are submitted online in pdf format? I'm amazed that there is not another bindery in town that can do this. I have a headache.

And don't even get me started on the hassle that my move to Lewisburg, PA is causing me. It never ends. But I guess I knew that there'd be some bullshit that would come up here at the very end that would complicate everything.

A little news

2008-05-04T11:45:00.002-05:00

A lot has happened. The biggest news is that I'll be starting as an assistant professor at Bucknell University in the fall. This is a big win for Brian who would otherwise be either waiting tables in Bloomington, selling airbrush shirts in Panama City, or postdoc-ing in Tilburg.

The dissertation defense is tomorrow. I'm ready. Bring it.

It looks like I'll only be doing one session of CTY. I'll need the extra time to move to Lewisburg and prep for classes. I'm not looking forward to making this move as it will involve multiple trips from Florida to PA.

I'm trying to fit a trip to NC in sometime this summer.

Anyway, right now I'm in Bloomington. It is good to be back, though it is a little strange to have a social life all of a sudden after nearly 5 months of relative isolation.

delay

2008-04-23T01:30:00.003-05:00

Hey all. Sorry I've been so lax in posting. What can I say? Panama City is not that eventful. But soon I will write a post about a man named "Thunder," my dissertation woes, and how my brother is pretty much a cool guy.

2008-04-07T21:51:00.005-05:00

Hours behind schedule, the car is finally tinted, cleaned, and ready to drive away, though first the dealer, Jamar (unrelated to my property management company in Bloomington by the same name), had to show me how to operate this technological terror.

The dealer and I. Navigation tutorial. A Ph.D. leaves one yet ill-equipped to figure out how to use the supremely complex navigation device.

Testing out the Bose sound system with a little t.A.T.u. (200 Po Vstrechnoi).
Turns out that the dealership screwed up and accidentally gave me a free technology package (navigation, voice operation, 6-disc changer, back-up camera) and fog lights.

And the meal I cooked the other night: dijon super lump crab cakes and jumbo French escargot on baguette with gruyere and garlic infused butter. There's some asparagus there too.

My new car

2008-04-06T10:20:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I bought this.

Me Ar Mivdivar Sakartveloshi

2008-04-01T23:08:00.002-05:00

Well, regretfully, plans to go to Georgia in May have fallen through. Tyson and I hope to go in August instead, but I don't know what my schedule will be like in August yet. Sucks.

Derivative Bands

2008-03-27T14:25:00.002-05:00

My top 5 list of great derivative bands:

1. Placebo

One part Pixies, a dash of Nirvana (also a Pixies derivative)*, 1/8 part The Cure, 1/8 part The Smashing Pumpkins, 1/4 part watered down Nine Inch Nails.

2. Muse

1 part Pixies, 1/2 part Queen, 1/8 part Radiohead, 1/8 part Placebo, 1/8 part Kyuss/Queens of the Stone Age

3. Colder

Equal parts Joy Division, Bauhaus, 1/4 part Sisters of Mercy

4. The Faint

Homogeneous mixture of 80's synth pop and 70's punk.

5. Fischerspooner

1 part Franky Goes to Hollywood, 1/2 part The Cure, 1/4 part New Order

*Early Placebo should be mixed using 1/2 part Nirvana.

Smells like America

2008-03-24T07:43:00.005-05:00

At 5:40 yesterday I arrived in Houston, TX after an 11-hour flight from Amsterdam. I slept for the first 7 hours, which made for a more a tolerable flight. I can't imaging sitting awake in one of those 1st class seats for 11 hours +1 hour on the ground as the plane was de-iced, drinking champagne and nibbling on garlic toasts with escargot. Even further out of the realm of my limited imagination is spending that time cramped in an economy seat, which is where I was located. But neverthless I passed most of the flight in comfortable sleep.

When I awoke, pleasantly surprised at how long I had been asleep, I watched an awful movie called "August Rush." Being an obsessed Keri Russell (of Felicity fame) fan, I was very excited to see this featured among the in-flight entertainment. Keri starred as professional cellist who quit making music after being told that she lost her unborn child when she was struck by a car. There was also an inane romance story in there somewhere too. The child was raised in an orphanage (custody having been handed over to the state by her oppressive father who thought that a child would hamper her career as a concert cellist). At age 11 he realizes his gift for music when he runs away to New York and lives with homeless musician-kids and Robin Williams ("the Wizard") in a condemned theater. Robin sees the boy messing around with a guitar one morning in the theater and pimps him out as a street musican in Lincoln (?) Square. The boy thinks that by creating music is he calling to his long lost parents to find him. One day the boy sneaks into a church, beckoned by the voices of the choir. The vagrant boy one day messes around on the church organ, composes (on paper) a piece of the organ after a 6 year old girl in the choir gives him a 5 minute explanation of where notes fit on a staff. He is spotted by a minster who gets him into Julliard where he composes a lame piece that is featured on the same program where his mother (Keri) is performing as a soloist (her first performance in 11 years). Leaving aside particular qualms about the choreography of Keri's cello playing (her vibrato is wide and uneven enough to make an audience of sailors seasick), I found this movie to be an exercise in cinematic idiocy and fodder for the public's romantic and uninformed conception of prodigiousness. For example, no child, no matter how talented, becomes a guitar/organ virtuouso in less than a week. This is made even more absurd by the fact that in his 11 years and 5 months in an orphanage he never once touched an instrument. This fact nothwithstanding, he manages to learn how to conduct a full symphony orchestra, after a week of music theory classes at Julliard and no, as far as what was depicted in the movie, courses in conducting (as if a week of conducting lessons would teach him what he needed to know to direct an orchestra). And where was child services this whole time? One man from child services (the child's only true friend from the orphanage) was searching the city of new york asking people individually if they had seen the child. I guess the people at Julliard were too overwhelmed by the boy's talent to give thought to the legal ramifications of not turning the boy over to social services. But in the end, the boy's music did bring him together with his parents. The boy's father (also an ex-musician who spent the last 11+ years in mourning after losing touch with Keri when her father forbade her from contacting him after their one night of love) happened to be driving by the park where both Keri and the boy were performing, and saw a banner advertising her performance and got out of the car and to the concert just in time to see the finale, the boy's composition. Remarkably, the boy recognized his parents, who somehow found each other in the crowd, from the stage as he stood there receiving applause. Oh, I failed to mention, that it was Robin's late-night harmonica playing that had originally brought Keri and the father together for their one-night stand.

Thesis statement: Barf.

Those who might feel the urge to watch this movie would do better to watch Amadeus and Oliver Twist simultaneously. If you really have an itch for Robin Williams, may be get out the laptop and put Mrs. Doubtfire on as well.

America smells different than Holland.

Here's to you, Reverend Samuell Henshall

2008-03-20T15:35:00.002-05:00

Thank you for inventing the corkscrew. Before you, people must have had to break open wine bottles to get to the elixir inside. May be that is why champagne is still opened with swords sometimes, in order to celebrate your contribution to the world. Similarly for opening ports by heating the neck of the bottle and then breaking it off just short of the opening.

If it is true that in wine there is truth, then corkscrew is the key to unlocking the world.

So, Mr. Corkscrew Man, I raise my glass to you!

Mickey, hold a place for me!

2008-03-17T16:00:00.002-05:00

We all know that the most magical place in the world is Georgia, a nice little country about the size of South Carolina between Russia, Turkey, and Armenia. But did you know the second most magical place in the world is Disney World? I didn't think you did. Right now summer plans include a trip to Georgia with my good friend Tyson "six-shooter" Sadleir. However, recent events might have led us to change our plans. Ne'er ones to sacrifice the magic, secondary plans include a trip to Disney World. I'm sure I will barf all over Tyson's shoes on Space Mountain, but that's part of the magic. Now don't get me wrong, I really do want to go to Georgia, but it seems I've recently become a marked man there. How seriously to take this, I don't know. But who am I to go somewhere where I'm not wanted? But Mickey always has a place for me. I think in Epcot where that walk-o-countries is, there is a little Georgia. I'm not sure, but I heard it is located somewhere behind Little Russia. I'll have to check this out. When you think about the magic to money ratio, there might actually be a better value in Disney. I mean, I can drive there from my mother's place in Florida and possibly stay with friends in the area. I had sushi for the first time when I was staying in Kissimmee the last time I went to Disney. Wow was that magical, even if I didn't get to go to Medieval Times. So, Mickey, get ready. I'm stocking up on cheese and rat poison, just in case we don't go to Georgia.

Pallid

2008-03-17T11:13:00.002-05:00

Today I noticed that I'm looking especially pasty. I think it is a good look for me. I'm not sure of the cause. Perhaps it is hamburger deficiency (because of the cost, I consume very little meat here). May be it is the verbal threats I got over email and mobile text messages from a Georgian man I've never met. It could also be the soul-sucking experience that is speaking with the acerbic receptionist/witch at the housing office.

I put the finishing touches on Ch. 5 and formatted Ch. 4. Dissertation clocks in at 173 pages not including 14 pages of references. I never want to write one of these things again.

Current appraisal

2008-03-16T12:29:00.004-05:00

Dissertation Progress:

Ch. 1 (done): 38 pages, 11,720 words
Ch. 2 (done): 39 pages, 12,285 words
Ch. 3 (done): 31 pages, 9,987 words
Ch. 4 (done, awaiting comments): 35 pages, 11,470 words
Ch. 5 (nearly done): 30 pages, 10,362 words

Approximate total page count: 173*
Approximate word count: 55,824

*(chs 4 and 5 are estimated page numbers prior to formatting. it is likely the above estimations are conservative since they imply 322 words per page. I find this hard to believe considering the number of diagrams. I have, however, opted to use 11pt font instead of the space-eating 12 pt. font that is typically found in dissertations. With 1.5 inches on the left, double spaced, the page count is probably closer to 180 pages)

Nostalgia

2008-03-12T16:58:00.000-05:00

Remember when we had a Vice President? What ever happened to that guy?

Chatty Kathy

2008-03-11T09:13:00.004-05:00

Today I gave a well-received talk in the Department of Methodology and Statistics here at Tilburg University. The talk concerned whether psychometrics is a pathological science. I argued that it is not, despite the claims of Joel Michell. Nevertheless, Michell's critique is important and even if I do not agree with the letter of his criticism, I agree with the spirit. It is important work that should be read by those interested in psychological measurement.

The Q&A session was great. People got very excited (and by 'excited' I mean visibly unnerved) by what I had to say. At least they were interested. Most of the criticisms from the audience were not directed at me, but at the critique I was challenging. If I did a good job, then at least one of them will take a look at Michell's articles.

I'm up to my neck in grant proposals, job applications, and chapter 5 of the dissertation. I'm not sleeping much these days which has afforded me plenty of time to do mindless activities such as format the dissertation, write the acknowledgements, and figure out what, exactly, I have to do in order to graduate in May.

Another pic from the past: The face of psychological measurement

Holland: where with the change you find in your couch, you could feed an American family

2008-03-04T10:32:00.006-05:00

I had a recent call to post more often. I know I've been a bit lax in that regard recently. There's a reason for this: nothing happens here. I think that the exchange rate for Tilburger seconds is analogous (and converse) to the current USD-Euro exchange rate. One second anywhere else is equal to 1.519 phenomenological seconds in Tilburg. This makes for long days. Only here do I dread the weekends, for I know that I'll do nothing but sit around my apartment watching Dutch television and compulsively refreshing facebook. I love Sunday nights because it means that the weekend is nearly over. Weeknights are boring too, but they usually follow productive days, which makes for less boredom and self-loathing.

Yesterday I went to Amsterdam to work. It was productive. I sent a paper off to be considered for publication and tinkered with the dissertation. Working is much more pleasant there, as I've probably remarked in previous posts. There was a plan to go out and then stay the night there, but the plan fell through. Nevertheless, it was a good day. I've decided that I'm going to go up to Amsterdam more often to work (perhaps twice a week).

Today I finished a proposal for a postdoc here (to start Sept. 1) and I preordered the new Murder by Death CD. On the productivity scale (0-10, with 10 being most productive), I'd give it a 5. I'd rate the typical day in Amsterdam an 8 (on average, with a large SD).

All words and no pic make Reader a dull boy. So here, circa late 1998, in my college-friend Audra's dorm room, am I. Yes, my ears used to be pierced in a strange way. This was because my father told me that if I ever got my ears pierced and potential employers saw the scars on my earlobes, they'd never hire me. My solution: get the piercing where no readily visible scar would be left.

Willis Gaumarjos!

2008-02-26T16:24:00.002-05:00

Wonderful news today. Our very own Six-shooter, aka "Willi" aka "Big Shota" aka "Tyson Sadleir," recently got news that he has been accepted to no fewer than 2 graduate programs to study slavic linguistics. This is a big win for Willi since it means that he will not have to become a fireman, where his fluency in Russian would not be likely to help him succeed. American fires do not respond to Russian expletives.

To read more about Big Shota, you can go here. This man is a man's man, and I should know. I've hiked the Greater Causasus mountains with him, I've seen him resist assult from a very angry Ukrainian girl, I've seen him charm the pants off many a gogona in Tbilisi, and no American can put away khinkali meat pockets like this man, even if the khinkali did eventually win. Tyson, if I had anything to drink around, I'd propose a toast to you, chemo megobaro!

Pictures

2008-02-23T12:59:00.002-05:00

Ok, I know I've been boring you all with post after post of nothing but text. To make up for it, I am posting a plethora of pictures taken today.

I don't know what this is. Some white thing extending into a pond on campus. May be a bike ramp?
Washed out photo of yours truly.
This is the other side of the pond with the bike ramp.
I don't know who this guy is. Mr. Tilburg, I presume. This little square is where all the bars and cafes are. Unfortunately it is about 30 minutes away from where I live (on foot).
This is the building where I live. Unfortunately, it is about 30 minutes away from Mr. Tilburg (on foot). My room is on the second floor, on the right side of the building on the corner (with blue window trim).
Some strange courtyard on campus (approximately 34 minutes from Mr. Tilburg (on foot)).
Near the pond with the bike ramp.
A happy couple.

Please weigh in

2008-02-21T15:57:00.003-05:00

Suppose I have a theory (or model) T which makes an assumption A (A is necessary for T). Is a test of T a (indirect) test of A as well? That is, does confirmation of T entail confirmation of A?

Suppose T makes several assumptions, A, B, C, D. Now suppose we test T. Is that test a test of A, B, C, and D? Also, does confirmation of T spread equally over the set {A,B,C,D}, assuming that confirmation of T is also confirmation of its logical consequences?

The main worry is whether a test of a theory is a test of all its parts, the parts necessary for making a prediction.

This is quick, but I'm just heading out the door. Intuitions please.

Sichyashun

2008-02-20T14:57:00.002-05:00

A sichyashun has arosen. Actually, I've known about it for some time, but now it seems that I must do something about it. I become officially illegal in about 5 weeks. Problem: I'm not slated to come back home for another 10 weeks or so. If I stay, then I'll be slapped with a lofty fine and possibly banned from all Schengen countries (most of the EU, including the Netherlands). There's no way to extend a tourist visa and it is too late (and would have been too expensive) to get a residency permit. This wouldn't be so bad were I not applying for a postdoc over here and if I did not have so many research contacts over here. Moreover, I have grand plans of visiting other Schengen countries with Tyson in the coming summers. It seems I have a couple options:

1. Leave early. This is the most reasonable option as it does not run the risk of fines and problems with coming back. The cost of changing my ticket is likely to be expensive.

2. Stick it out. This runs the aforementioned risks. One way of possibly getting around it is to report my passport as stolen and get a replacement. Then there is no record of my date of entry. Technically this is fraud, and so I'm not inclined to do it.

So, yeah. Sucks. However, it does mean that I get to see basty sooner than expected and I won't have to pay my brother as much for watching him. It also means that I can tie up some loose ends in Bloomington post haste.

Amused

2008-02-17T16:05:00.004-05:00

A night of youtubing obsessing over Placebo's Brian Molko and Muse.

I don't know who I want to be more: Brian Molko or Christian Bale.

Anyway, I'm having a bit of an intense fixation on the band Muse. iTunes was just awarded 5 bucks of my hard earned cash for giving me the following amazing tracks:

1. Hysteria
2. New Born
3. Bliss
4. Time is Running Out
5. Knights of Cydonia.

I recommend checking out these videos on youtube. Matt, I don't recommend you check them out since you're sure to hate them. However, I'm posting the video for Knights of Cydonia since it is so freaking awesome. Matt, I recommend muting the music and playing some Johnny Cash since I'm sure you'll like the video even if you hate the song.

Tomorrow I head up to Amsterdam to work for the day. No news. Tilburg sucks. Boring weekend, though I did go to a nice party on Thursday and got to meet some new people including Alex, an Estonian Mastersuperstar. That is his new name as far as I'm concerned.

Office pictures finally

2008-02-08T12:21:00.000-05:00

Below are pictures of my office, which I share with my flatmate, Carlo Martini (yes, that's his real name, pretty cool). I've included pictures of the wonderful coffee machine. So far, that machine is my best friend here. We have a great relationship. Today I sampled 4 of the many coffee/chocolate concoctions he so ably whips up and the push of a button. Very yummy.

I feel much better today, so I hope to go out this weekend and make friends.

Other news: I received an email from a test design company offering me $100/hour to be a freelance test consultant. Nice. Unfortunately, I have so much on my plate right now that I really need not to take on another obligation, not until the dissertation is completed.

Picture delay

2008-02-04T09:43:00.000-05:00

Today I had intended to post some pictures of the office and such. Well, in a my sickened condition this morning, I was just barely conscious enough to realize where I was, so I forgot to take my camera to work. Yes, that's right. I'm sick AGAIN. This time it hit me around 5 pm on Saturday. I was walking back from town and noticed my arms starting to hurt (alot). When I got into the apartment, my health began spiralling downward. By 10 pm I was aching all over and had the shakes. A moderate cough was developing. I ended up sleeping in a sweater, sweatpants, and socks to combat the chills. Mind you, I had felt completely fine the day before and for the past 3 weeks (since the last time I was sick). Yesterday, I mostly stayed in bed and drank water and tolerated congestion. Today I woke up (actually, I woke up throughout the night) and I couldn't talk without aggrivating the itch in my throat (bringing on a coughing fit). Nevertheless, our little trooper stuck in there and went to the departmental lunch thinking about the terrible evil to which he was exposing his colleagues. Other symptoms include shortwindedness probably attributable to fluid in my lungs (e.g., walking and (then) talking are out of the question), lightheadedness (though no nausea), gray skies, and malais. However, the chills I had the first night are gone and the body aches are not as intense as they were on Saturday. The combination of a tender, runny nose and Dutch bathroom tissue as made for an unpleasant condition as well. It is odd how I typically get sick once per year (including colds), if that; then I come here and I get severely struck down twice in a month.

Tilburg

2008-02-02T09:24:00.000-05:00

Below are a few photos I took of my room and Tilburg. Looking out my window you can see the building where my office is. It is a 2 minute walk. Very nice. They have free coffee in there, but I'll save all that until the next blog when I post pictures of my office, the coffee machine, and the building. I have a roommate named "Carlo" from Italy. He is a first year Ph.D. student. Good kid. Today we walked around the city together. I bought a phone finally, which I hope I can sell when I leave to help cover the cost of the phone. I got the cheapest on in stock and it was 49 euros. Pricy. I'd take a picture of it, but it is not that exciting. Speaking of pictures, sorry about the unrotated picture of the church below. I don't know how to rotate. I did it within my camera, but when I uploaded it, it just gave me the unrotated version. Ok, gotta go check on the sausages. More soon.

It seems that everything in Tilburg is blue and gray. I kind of like that. And with few exceptions, most buildings look new and interesting architecturally.

One Pizza Later

2008-01-30T12:34:00.000-05:00

About 36 hours until I leave for Tilburg. At first I was worried that by moving to a sleepy little university town in the south, that I'd become bored and disappointed with it in relation to Amsterdam. However, after being in Amsterdam for 3 weeks and finding myself with little time other than on the weekends to do stuff (during which time I am usually bored), I'm no longer worried about that. In fact, I am sure that in many ways it will be an improvement. There'll be lots of other philosophers around and the department seems pretty lively. Also, I've already started making contacts with psychometricians there, so I'll have two possible social ponds to swim in. By request I've included a map of the Netherlands to show ya'll where Tilburg is.Matt, you'll notice the proximity to Belgium. You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to try to find some people with whom to explore breweries. I don't think you'd want to go anyway. All the monks are ID proponents, I think.

News: I've lost 6 pounds since getting here.

News

2008-01-28T18:25:00.000-05:00

As Matt has noted, my recent deluge of posts has slowed to a trickle. There are various reasons for this though one of them is not that I have nothing to report. On Friday I move to Tilburg where I will reside for 3 months. Tomorrow I must vacate my flat and move across town (closer to work) because my lease at this place ends, but I cannot occupy my place in Tilburg until Friday. A professor in the department here was gracious enough to let me crash at his place for the 3 nights. I'll miss this apartment, the neighborhood, and the few people that have shared the building with me over the past 3 weeks.

Other news: today I found out that a paper of mine has been accepted for publication at a peer-reviewed journal. The reviewers, all of whom thought the paper was interesting and well-written, have called for some revisions that I think will be a bit time consuming. But if I just reserve it for weekend work, it should only take about a month to get through the revisions. Reviewer #1 was quite long-winded and I think he actually hated the letter of the paper, even if he liked its spirit. If he is correct in his complaints, then there are some major booboos that may make for a considerable overhaul. Then there is the logistical problem of finding the sources again. The main paper I discuss in my own paper is a whopping 90 pages long and I don't think that I brought it with me. It is also not available online.

In any case, when I get it done, that'll be 2 forthcoming publications that I got under my belt while I was here. Then there's the nascent paper currently in development. If that gets done and is favorably received, that'll be 3. My advisor is pushing me to publish something is a squarely philosophical journal (the other journals are psychology and measurement journals). I have something I can send out as soon as I get his comments. If *that* works out too, then we'll be at 4. If I can't get a job with 2-4 publications, then I give up. Back to McDonald's or Subway for me.

No pictures for this post, unfortunately.

Reckless Indulgence

2008-01-22T16:38:00.001-05:00

The plastic bag crinkles like white noise as I unfold the clear polymer bag. 8 small chocolate nuggets sit inert, each more curious than the last, for I know that I will be days before I experience the one that remains after all others have been consumed. My gaze fixes on those nearest to me, and I carefully contemplate my selection. None so obviously bears its character, so my decision is but arbitrary. I suspect that jasmine tea sits closest to me, so I with great care and purpose bypass it searching for serendipity, an arbitrary surprising pleasure that will take great care to discern. I also see what I perhaps erroneously infer to be olive and I dig a bit deeper into the bag, noisily complaining, as I search for an unfamiliar morsel. And my choice is made. As I carefully ingest its smell, I can detect only cocoa. An awaiting surprise indeed. The crystalline formations on its crown I recall being salt, but all is an enigma. The first bite. Wow. The salt a perfect compliment to the bitterness of the dark chocolate. A creamy filling resides inside and, honestly, I make neither heads nor tails of what I taste. With disappointment in my ability to identify the overwhelming flavor, I describe it as neither here nor there. It is so subtle as to evade analysis, despite my efforts to cleanse my palate and ready myself for this encounter. Desperate to lift the fog of disorientation, I lift the chocolate to my mouth and take the remainder in hopes that full sensorial inundation will remedy my sorry state. Again, the salt pleasantly resounds on my tongue, but I still cannot make out what I am tasting. Frantically I rub my tongue over the roof of my mouth before the flavor fades, and as it flees existence I'm left unenlightened. My pleasure is empty. Moments of bliss, ephemeral and base. Awash in regret, I contemplate indulging once again.

There's no rain

2008-01-22T11:52:00.000-05:00

I've come to realize that clear days are a celebratory occasion here in Amsterdam. Therefore, I have chosen to celebrate today as the first clear day in over a week. In observance of "first clear day in over a week" I have procured several delightful goodies. On the way home I had the quinessential Dutch snack, the Haring Broodje. It is a sandwich with raw herring and onions. There are places all over town that sell these yummy yums. Bones are left intact, but they are small and easily consumed. At 3.50 euros, they are a bit pricey, however. Without bread (just raw fish and onions) it is 3.00 euros. Unfortunately the sandwich is not pictured. It is in a warm dark place right now. I also picked up a mini baguette to go with dinner tonight, 2 celebratory Jupiler beers (which I now realize I've been calling 'Jupiter' since my first visit last March). Last, but not least, I picked up some chocolates from the legendary "Unlimited Delicious" chocoshop. I'll write more about them once I've tasted them, but the flavors include hot-chocolate and pepper, olive, jasmine tea, espresso, rosemary, ginger, among others. 100 grams for 5 euros. I'm sure it is worth it considering they gave me a taste of the hot-chocolate pepper and it was divine. Tomorrow's forecast: rain.

Not funny, Basty

2008-01-21T13:02:00.001-05:00

Today I found this picture on the internet with the following letter below:

Dear Daddy #1 (or #2)

We have your beloved Basty. If you want to see or smell him alive again, you will send 170 jars of peanut butter, 3 bunnies, and 5...monies to the following address

Florida Apartment
Florida, USA

Failure to comply will result in many baths and scary times and other unpleasantness. You are a bad daddy, number 1.

P.S. I...I mean Basty stinks.

First, Sebastian, I just want to say that this is not funny. Aside from what excessive peanut butter does to your teeth (and, hence, breath), and your overall incompetence in dealing with small furry critters (which only you refer to as 'bunnies'), the attempted ruse is in poor taste. Last time I checked, extortion was still a crime. Why can't you just send me a nice email to tell me how you are in your subtropical paradise? Not even a 'hello' from you in the past month. At least you haven't forgotten about me altogether. Anyway, you need to mind Temprorary Daddy #3 and stay off his computer.

One of my favorite things...

2008-01-18T11:55:00.001-05:00

is not waiting for a bus that is no less than 45 minutes late.
However, one of my favorite things is one of my few selfish rituals I have here. I love stopping by one of the neighborhood bakeries on my way home from work every day to pick up fresh bread to go with dinner. I also got some unpasturized French cheese that I can't wait to dig into.

Who needs friends when you have a fresh loaf of bread?

Me: Hello, Mr. Bread, how are you?

MB: Hi there B, how was your day at work?

Me: Oh, Mr. Bread, you know...same as always, just trying to make the world a better place for Basty.

MB: Well, sir, what will you do tonight? I noticed that yesterday you took the tiny Baguette Twins home. Are they around? Perhaps we could all watch television and recount the events of the day.

Me: I'm afraid the Baguette Twins are not around tonight.

MB: Oh yeah?

Me: 'Fraid so.

MB: Hey, I read on Facebook that you were wanting to go see "Control" this weekend at The Movies down the street.

Me: Yup.

MB: Perhaps we could go together! I love Joy Division.

Me: I'm afraid I have other plans for you, Mr. Bread.

MB: Oh yeah! Fun! What's that?

Me: I'm going to smear unpasturized goat cheese on you and...

MB: Oh wow! You read my very thoughts, B! Let's put on some Barry White and get down to business!

Me: and eat you like the stinking loaf you are!

MB: Oh no! :( But why?! I thought you were adopting me...oh no! The Twins! What Have you done with the twins? You sick bastard!

B: First I put them in the microwave to make them nice and chewy...

MB: Oh god...

B: and then I gobbled them up!

MB: B, what are you doing? Put me down! Oh no! My spleen! You've eaten my spleen! Oh jesus, I'm getting woozy. World fading...can't keep...my eyes...OH GOD! YOU"VE EATEN MY HEEL!!!! Oh please help me! Please, anyone? I know you all speak English out there! Fading...fading...oh what a world, what a world.

Matt, your wish is my command

2008-01-16T10:54:00.000-05:00

Matthew, as requested, I have provided pictures of my workplace. All these were taken today, so you can get an idea of how quickly the weather changes. At 11, the skies were mostly clear and we were approaching the high of 48 degrees, but by the time I took the later pictures around 13:00, the temperature had dropped and it was cloudy. It was raining steadily by the time I left the office at 16:00.

The cafe, Kriterion, is run by psychology students mostly. It is a good place to go for a cup of coffee or beer and is usually packed with students. The building where I work houses psychology and (I think) economics (perhaps sociology too). The campus is pretty spread out all over the city, so you don't get a campus feel. There is a restaurant next door called The Roeter that is not bad. I haven't been there since coming back, but it is a cool place to hang out after Kriterion closes. I once had drinks with Keelan there.

I share my office with 3 people, but usually there are only 2 of us in there. I would have snapped a photo of them, but they were not around much today. You can see the mess that is my desk with my laptop. Taking pictures was an excuse for getting away from the paper that I'm writing.

Today I got a postcard from China (not pictured (neither China nor the postcard)). It was nice to get a little mail, espcially from such a good friend. She's the postcard queen. I hadn't received any post from her in a while, so it was a nice surprise to find when I got home.

So, here I am home by 15:00 and little to do. I suppose it is time to get back to work.

I'm feeling much better

2008-01-15T11:57:00.000-05:00

Today started off no better than last night ended. My right eye was still watering uncontrollably, I was congested (runny right nostril), and I was foggy headed. I didn' get to bed until around 3 a.m. on account of my discomfort, though I did manage to read quite a bit of my Shostakovich biography. I was up at 8:30, reluctantly. Even for the first half of the day I felt pretty miserable sitting in my office trying to comprehend bifactor, higher order factor models, and measurement invariance. My mind was in the fog, and I'm sure what work I did do was equally clear. However, I stepped out for some fresh air and ate a delicious sammich, and I'll be a cow's mitten if I didn't start feeling better. On my way back up to my office I ran into Denny and a visiting philosopher of science. We decided to head across the street for a coffee and by the end of the coffee I still wasn't at 100%, but things had improved markedly. Afterward, I went to a Psychology Department celebration where awards were distributed and all the presentations were in Dutch. I didn't mind. After all, they had a marvelous spread unlike anything I had seen. For sake of my health, I stuck to mineral water and filled my belly with delightful snacks which were not limited to sushi and strange fried ball with meat and cheese inside. After Denny received his award and left, I kind of felt like an idiot just standing around freeloading amongst all the Dutchytalk, so I decided to head home. Just my luck, however, that once I got to Central Station on the metro, I could not find the bus to take me home. Hence, I walked for about 15 minutes in the cold rain and wind. So we'll see if I relapse.

Basty, I haven't forgotten about you!

Sick

2008-01-14T11:57:00.000-05:00

Finally exhaustion, undernourishment, and sharing an office with a sick girl has taken its toll. I'm sick. Nothing serious, just an annoying cold that is making eyes water, making me sneeze, keeping me up at night, and giving me congestion with a runny nose. Gross. So tonight I am cooking some chicken breasts and spaghetti in hopes that a little protein will get me back on track. This weekend I am going to the coast with my pal Sanja to do some experiments on chess champions. Actually, I'll probably just sit there while she and her co-researcher, Daan, do all the work. But at least I'll get to see another part of the country.

I got about 8 pages written on a paper I'm working on, so despite my illness, I managed to be productive. Time to brush up on my linear algebra.

I feel like I'm infecting everything that I touch.

Social time

2008-01-13T07:56:00.000-05:00

Last night I finally met some people. I think it must have been around 1 am when I finally grew sick of watching Dutch television and listening to the neighbors having such a good time. I went out on the balcony and before too long a girl came out of the unit which shares the balcony and asked me who I was. She insisted that I come inside to her place and have a drink. I entered her place and there were 4 girls: a Belgian, Parisian, Norwegian, and my hostess, a Swiss. The Norwegian was exceptionally tall. My hostess, Jackie, was very friendly and we had a fairly long debate about who was worse, Hitler or Stalin. I stayed over until about 3 a.m. As I was leaving, Jackie invited me to go with her and a Dutch friend of hers to the Rembrandt museum. Now, I don't care much for Rembrandt or museums for that matter, but I've been so starved for social interaction, that I'd go just about anywhere as long as I don't have to go alone. Unfortunately, again I slept until nearly 14:00, the time at which I would have had to meet Jackie. She knocked on my door and I had to decline, regretfully.

First Saturday in Amsterdam

2008-01-12T13:42:00.000-05:00

Today I slept until 2, I mean, 14:00. This pissed me off because I had hoped to spend the whole day walking the city, and by 14:00 only about 2.5 hours of light are left. It exacerbated my irritation when I stepped out on my balcony to find that it was a clear day and not too cold. I took a hurried shower, dressed, and headed out the door. Plans for the day included dining at 1870, which is my favorite restaurant here.

I repeatedly found myself lost today in the city center. The streets often change names for no apparent reason, and all the cross streets look the same. Also, the Garmin GPS navigator that my father bought me for christmas does not work well in the city center because the density of buildings does not allow for good satellite reception. The walk was nice however. I especially enjoyed stumbling upon what seemed to be an exceptionally hospitable part of town. Most of the ladies I encountered as I walked down the street were super friendly and tried to get my attention so that they could talk with me. I can only guess that they saw that I was a foreigner and wanted to find out where I was from, what brings me to Amsterdam, and probably also to see if I'd like to join them for a cup of coffee. Since I've had almost no social encounters in Amsterdam, I was happy to get so much attention, but by this time of day I was set on finding 1870 amid the maze of narrow cross streets and canals. So I did not get to stop and talk to these nice ladies. After all, they were hardly dressed appropriately to come out of their rooms for a chat. What a free place this is where women can sit in their windows in lingerie and feel completely comfortable.

Finding 1870 was a debacle. I found myself in the same places time and again, unable to locate Spuistraat, the street where the restaurant was located. Finally I found it, realizing that I had basically walked around it several times during the day. But at this point it was only 5, I mean, 17:00, so I kept walking until I got to a cafe. There I had two cups of coffee and sat for about an hour. Then it was time. I made my way back down the street to 1870. 1870 is a place where you can find good, hearty, cheap eats. It is also a place that serves traditional Dutch food, which I happen to like. The restaurant used to be a place where mostly poor people would come, something like a soup kitchen (1870 is actually down the street from another restaurant called Soup Kitchen). I sat and the same husky Dutch lady that waited on me last time served me this time as well. Her demeanor was less brusque this time and she might have even smiled. She read off the specials, but I knew exactly what I wanted: Stamppot, a traditional Dutch dish consisting of either smoked sausage or a giant meatball (I opt for the latter), mashed potatoes with cabbage folded into them, and a delicious and rich gravy with little chunks of pork in it to add just the right amount of saltiness. This dish is 7.50 euros and fills you up quite nicely. It is perfect for a chilly day. I finished my meal and headed home, stopping at the local grocery store for a latenight snack, some mineral water, and some wine. I had hope to stop at the cheese shop near my place for some unpasturized camenbert, but they were closed. So much for wine and cheese night. Wine, water, and focaccia in hand, I walked home.

It was a good day.

Balcony view

2008-01-10T09:59:00.001-05:00

Here are a couple pictures taken from my upstairs balcony.

Holy Moley!

2008-01-08T15:13:00.001-05:00

I have TWO balconies! There's one outside the kitchen that overlooks the city!

Teaser

2008-01-08T13:17:00.001-05:00

Okay, Matt. You wanted some pictures of my place. I still have not been in the kitchen, so you'll have to wait for that. It is dark, so I don't want to be flashing shots outside, but tomorrow I will go out on my balcony and snap a few. One downside: the previous tenants did not do a good job of cleaning the bathroom. There are whiskers in the sink and, like most Dutch bathrooms I've been in, it smells something foul. The treats on the desk are dinner tonight: cheese sandwich and indonesian sandwich (which smells like Sebastian, but doesn't taste nearly as good as you might think). I love how Spartan the place is. It makes me want to take on an ancient Persian army and become a logical positivist.

Note to self: pack more economically. I don't need all these effin' clothes and the suitcases were a bitch to haul around town. 15 euros for a 1.5 mile cab ride is ridiculous.

Oh, and a shout out to my bros at the airline industry who broke one of my suitcases! That'll make it extra easy to get all this crap back home.

In

2008-01-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

Just got into my apartment. Travel was hell. However, 2 things of note:

1. I am one of two people in the entire building. The girl that I share a floor with looks like Julia Volkova from t.A.T.u. I'll jst call her "Jade" for the sake of simplicity and because that is her real name.

2. There is a person on my iTunes network named "Patrick Bateman."

I love Amsterdam.

Arg

2008-01-06T23:15:00.000-05:00

My day has been pretty awesome. After checking in for my flight, going through security, yadda yadda, I went to the gate to get my seat assignment for my direct flight to Amsterdam. Mind you, I did have a confirmed seat on this flight until I attempted to check in this morning. I wait in line for an hour until a representative shows up at the gate. I'm informed that my seat has been volunteered. Apparently the flight before mine has some mechanical issues so they put all those people on my flight and selectively bumped people who has reservations already. A queer practice. Typically when the airline screws up in this way, they call for volunteers. The next direct flight was full, so I had no choice but to take the following route the following day:

Houston > Newark
Newark > Birmingham
Birmingham > Amsterdam

To make matters worse, once I am in Birmingham, I have to check in all over again. This is going to be problematic seeing as I have 3 bags each weighing around 50 pounds. Getting them around this dodgy hotel was difficult enough. Which reminds, me: when I got done with customer service, I was instructed to pick up my bags at carousel 11. I waited for 2 hours before going to the baggage service office. Apparently, no one had sent down my bags. They were just sitting back at the gate. I waited a bit longer and finally they brought them too me (or, rather, pointed in the general direction of where I could pick them up). They did not offer to help me with them despite my protests that they were too many and heavy for one person. I was instructed to get a "skycap", which I could not afford since I had already changed my money into Euros (naively thinking that I would not need dollars after having passed through security). Thus, I had to manage the bags myself, which was a difficult task. And of course I am in winter gear since I thought the next time I would be outside, it would be 35 degrees; however, this is Houston, so I was slowly pushing this bags around dressed in a pea coat and long sleeves.

So, what do I get for my troubles? I get a $500 voucher to fly on this irresponsible airline again and a couple meals.

Getting things in order

2008-01-04T00:19:00.000-05:00

Things to do before going to the Netherlands:

1. Get an Apostille to prove that I am really an American (because a passport, for some reason, is not enough).

2. Buy health insurance. 4 Months of health insurance in the Netherlands is $193.43; 4 months of health insurance in America through IU's provider is nearly $900.

3. Cancel Car Insurance.

4. Cancel electricity at my old place (should have done this one 2 weeks ago).

Baltimore went well. I should know something in a couple weeks; however, it looks like I will probably be back in Bloomington next year. Anyone need a roommate?

Houston has been relaxing, but a little boring. Great food and wine. I miss my Basty.

Things falling into place

2007-12-26T17:01:00.000-05:00

Little Rock, Arkansas; Airport.

It would have cost $500 dollars to get a flight a day later to Baltimore on Southwest. Funny. Southwest just paid ME nearly $300 to take a flight 4 hours later because they overbooked my original flight. If I am bumped again, I may very well get to fly a day later anyway, get a free hotel, and another flight voucher. That is unlikely, but at least I got $300 toward another ticket.

Though my original plans fell through, something has finally gone my way. A former colleague of mine who will be at the APA meeting in Baltimore has offered to let me share her room with her. I just found this out. So, it seems that I will not have to sleep in the airport tonight, as my anticipated hotel costs were just drastically diminished. Happy day.

I saw Matt Dunn's doppelganger in this airport. It was scary. I wish I had my camera on me. This is moment #3 in which I have wished I had a camera phone. Matt, this dude totally looked like you. You need to hunt him down. There can be only one.

Down to The Wire

2007-12-26T01:18:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow I leave for Baltimore. This is it. If things go well, then by this time next year I will be far from Indiana. If things don't go well, then hopefully I will still be far from Indiana. We'll see. Mostly I am just sad that tomorrow morning will mark the beginning of 4-5 months without Sebastian. It is killing me; it is probably thrilling him. I wish he had been a bastard during all this shuffling around from place to place, but he's been so well-behaved, and especially mindful and tender. He's just doing it to torture me, I'm sure. I shouldn't have taken the spots in Tilburg and Amsterdam. I'm leaving too much behind. But on the other hand, it is unlikely that I'd finish the dissertation in a timely manner if I were stuck in Bloomington.

Christmas produced a bountiful haul of DVDs, books, cds, dolla' bills, and a handheld gps system to keep me from getting lost in europe.

I still don't have housing arrangements in Baltimore. The person with whom I was supposed to stay backed out at the last moment, leaving me up the creek. I really do not want to have to fork out 120 a night to stay in the hotel reserved by the APA. I would not have gone a day early had I known that the prior arrangement would be revoked. I think I might try to camp out in the airport to save some cash.

NB: If you promise to host someone 4 months in advance, and something happens (even something terrible, as the case may be), and you give only a week's notice to the person, you have, it seems to me, an obligation to help the person find other arrangements. It is just wrong to leave the person high and dry. I say this because I once believed it to be common sense, but apparently my would-be host does not find it so.

In preparation for departure (not a job post)...

2007-12-16T23:05:00.000-05:00

OK, so FINE, I've decided that I will miss Bloomington. I've seen almost everyone that I need to see before leaving (Hollingsworth, ahem). Tonight while packing up my place it finally hit me that I'd be gone for 4 months, and it seemed that things were just starting to get good again.

Packing has been a real bitch. I'm so grateful that Matt and Grant have allowed me to store my stuff at their place, but if I have to make that trek across town again with a carload of stuff, I am going to scoopy my own eyes out. I hate the Grand Marquis, but one thing it has going for it is ample trunk space and an expansive back seat. I can't imagine having to do this with my Altima (RIP). It'll be awesome driving 14 hours to Florida while the vehicle's gluttonous gas consumption slowly starting eating away at my dining budget for the first week in Amsterdam.

Matt and Grant leave tomorrow, so today was a whirlwind of moving ass-painery. I'm not sure that I should make just one more trip tomorrow morning, as I'm uncertain that I will be able to fit the items left in my apartment into my car. Many possessions have met their end in the neighboring apartment complex's dumpster for the simple reason that I didn't feel like moving them. However, I'm not sure I want to toss one of my lamps or my desk chair, neither of which made it over today. Also, the guitar on which most of the Grandpa's Man songs were recorded is threatened to end up in the heap if I don't take it over tomorrow morning. It is not a fancy guitar (far from it), but it is legendary. No other guitar I've owned has kept the same strings on it for 8 years. It sounds completely dead, completely Grandpa.

My back is killing me, I got 3.5 hours of sleep last night, and I wore shoes soaked through (because of the snow) all day.

Go see "No Country for Old Men."

Parents Eat this Crap Up

2007-12-13T23:28:00.000-05:00

Tonight while googling myself, I found this abstract of the talk I gave in the Netherlands in November. A mighty fine talk, if I do say so myself. Great audience, good questions, lots of beer afterward.

I also found this page which contains an excerpt from my review of a book. If you click on 'more endorsements', you'll see that my review beat Ted Porter's. (NB: the typo in the quotation of my review is not mine)

And here I pop up trying to lay some smack down. I didn't reread my post since I'm sure that now I don't agree with what I said back then. Since I posted this, I am not that surprised that it is on the web somewhere, but I didn't expect it to come up in a search.

Of course, I'm still a nobody, but it is cool to find serendipitously stuff about yourself posted on this here interweb. The mere fact that I find it cool tells you how insignificant I am. But one day, oh one day, I will be an internet movie star...wait, that doesn't sound so good, or does it?

And all this time I thought the Devil was on my side.

2007-12-13T13:50:00.000-05:00

That's right, you guessed it, Duke has turned its back on me. Coach K, we were so close to realizing our dream of forming an unstoppable, platonic basketball coaching deadly force.

Northwestern, I'll miss you dearly. You are a beacon of hope amid the tyranny that is the city of Chicago's ban on foie gras. I had imagined evenings in Evanston dining on succulent seared foie gras with a 25 year balsamic vineger as I peered at the Chicago skyline pittying the poor souls who allow their city government to legislate morality and diet. This ban on what is nothing short of artistry, is cenorship.

Siena, you are a small Jesuit college in upstate New York. No hard feelings.

UNC, I thought for sure that you and Duke would, for the mere sake of rivalry, fight over me. It seems that the only rivalry going on in this area is who can reject me faster. Sadly, the tar heels take it.

Wisconsin, it is very cold where you are, and your rejection has, I'm sure, a Sobering effect.

NYU, I'm out of your league. (implied by 'x is out of y's league if and only if y is out of x's league')

So, it is a race to see who will be next. Will it be the Jersey boys from New Brunswick? Those beautiful belles from Charleston? Perhaps it will be the liberal artists from Carleton (also cold there). The Buckeyes are looking strong this season as are the fighting Irish. The scene in Seattle still has not died, and Davis may yet call. And we can't discount o' fair New Mexico or [getting lazy] Southern California.

That leaves 9.

UPDATE: Buckeyes just came in! Thanks for the implicit rejection!

That leaves 8.

UPDATE: I apparently forgot that I also applied to Bryn Mawr, Princeton, and UCLA. Also, New Mexico has scheduled on-site interviews, so I can mark them off my list.

That leaves 10.

I'll never know if Ithaca is "gorges"...

2007-12-11T14:55:00.000-05:00

because Cornell has made interview calls those more fortunate that I. Fine. I didn't expect to get an interview there anyway.

Also discouraging, the Washington University program in Philosophy, Neuroscience, and Psychology has made their calls too. This was my dream job, and I was pretty sure that I was competitive for this one.

Oh, I suppose I should mention that U. of Western Ontario has also implicitly rejected me. Irony here is that...well, let us just say that there's irony here. I had reason to think I'd get an interview, but I didn't get one. Ironic. Like rain on your wedding day; like a free ride when you already paid; like good advice that you just can't take...life is a funny thing.

Everyone seems to be getting with the program this week, so I anticipate getting more bad news before Friday.

Let's look at that list of who's left:

Princeton*, Rutgers*, NYU*, UNC*, Duke*, U of South Carolina, Carleton College, Northwestern, Notre Dame, (The) Ohio State University, Siena College, UC Davis, UCLA*, U of Washington, U of Southern California, U of Wisconsin, and U of New Mexico.

17 more to go, but actually 11 as far as I'm concerned. An '*' represents that my confidence that I'll get an interview is very low (to the point that it is probably more likely that I'll get a winning lottery ticket than that I'll get an interview). My pessimism is well-founded as any reader familiar with the job market knows. Perhaps I should have included more starred selections. But for the promiscuity of my credulity, I might have starred 3 or 4 others.

Debbie, did you lose my number?

2007-12-07T15:39:00.000-05:00

Add to the list of places who have extended invitations for interviews (to others, not your humble narrator):

Syracuse
Virginia Tech

You can't build a fence around the soul of a man.

2007-12-05T17:17:00.000-05:00

I don't know what that means, but it was in a great movie I saw last night entitled "Henry Fool." It is a very quotable movie and I recommend it to all (except my mother who hates every movie I like, even "Little Miss Sunshine").

So, here's the most recent in job news. I applied to 29 schools. Here are those who have set up interviews (with others) already (meaning they have no love for me):

Wells College
Tilburg University
Rice University
Yeshiva University
University of Connecticut

This leave the following schools:

Princeton, Rutgers, NYU, Cornell, UNC, Duke, U of South Carolina, U of Western Ontario, Cal State, Carleton College, Northwestern, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Siena College, Syracuse University, UC Davis, UCLA, U of Washington, Washington U, Virginia Tech, U of Southern California, U of Wisconsin, and U of New Mexico.

The first 6 of these schools are almost certain to reject me, especially if I couldn't even get an interview with Yeshiva (though not being Jewish might have hurt me there, who knows) or Wells, neither of which have a philosophy department that approaches the caliber of those 6 institutions. I'd say my chances are also pretty slim at UCLA, Northwestern, and Wisconsin. It would be totally awesome if I had to do this all over again next year. Part of the problem is that this year there were very few philosophy of science jobs, and what jobs there were, tended to be at very strong departments (i.e., not for the entry-level candidate such as myself).

Movie

2007-12-04T11:27:00.001-05:00

"Compare/Contrast," or "Why Ronald McDonald Hates Freedom"

2007-11-27T18:28:00.000-05:00

Ok, there's a lot going on in this post, so you'll have to pay attention. I probably should have split the post.

First a couple pictures from Amsterdam, including a crappy night photo:

Now, I decided to take some shots looking out the front and the back of the apartment where I was staying. Here is the view out the front:

The following two pictures are the view out back. I direct the reader to this link to compare the view out back in Amsterdam and the one I had in Georgia. Interesting. This post is all about compare/contrast. It is our lesson for the day. Keep on reading.

And this is what I look like in Amsterdam (pretty much the same as how I look in America, no duplicity here (I can't say the same for Ronald McDonald)):

Before leaving Amsterdam, I decided to do a little comparison shopping, so I went to the McDonalds in the airport and ordered a "Big Tasty McMenu" which is basically a Big n' Tasty value meal made up of fries, a "Big n' Tasty" burger, and a soda. I recalled that in Tbilisi the McDonalds was actually much better than it is in the US, and I wanted to see if our friend Ronald McDonald really was a janus-faced traitor. He is. Again, I was impressed by the freshness and size of the sandwich. I could not even finish the meal. My only complaint was the chemically taste of the cheese on the sandwich and the mysterious mayonaise-based sauce. Here are some notable points of departure from the American counterpart:

1. Size (about as big around as a Whopper),
2. Meat was thicker,
3. Comes with bacon and 1-2-3 slices of cheese (no cheese OR bacon on the American version),
4. Made to order,
5. No pickles or ketchup, praise Prophet Smith,
6. Unlike in America, where the Quarter Pounder is the largest single-patty burger on the McDonalds menu, in Holland the Big n' Tasty is the largest single-patty burger,
7. The meal was 6.65 euro (about $9.87).

Just to make sure I was not romanticizing European McDonalds, I stopped at a McDonalds in Albany, IN on my way back from Celina to have an American Big n' Tasty meal. It was terrible. I've decided to include pictures to accompany this post, but I don't think the difference in size shows up well. You just have to take the fry container as your reference point.

Dutch Version:

American Version:

Grammar: "I'm Lovin' It!"

Let's get a closer look at that

Today I headed back from Celina, OH where I stayed last night after getting in to Columbus from Amsterdam. A real bed was nice. I had been up for 25 hours by the time I went to sleep. The flight back was uneventful. The woman sitting next to me for 8 hours and 45 minutes (Amsterdam to New Jersey) was a thirty-something school teacher named Marie N. She wore hip glasses, which she put on after removing her contacts, and tights. She uttered not a word the entire flight, choosing to focus on writing report cards. It was a boring flight; however, I did get to watch the movie "Elf," and episode of "House," and some terrible movie starring Catherine Zeta Jones in which she played the executive chef of a fine dining restaurant. I arrived in Newark, rushed through customs, and broke a sweat to find that my flight to Columbus was delayed 1 hour and 45 minutes, which left me with way too much free time (about 5 hours). I spent an hour walking around the food court deciding which slop-hole would win the die toss and get my patronage. The "Wok-n-Roll" won. I then went to the Mexican place to take the edge off with some Coronas. Little did I know they were nearly 6 bucks a piece. The flight to Columbus was equally uneventful.

A little update on the job market. UConn has made their calls for interviews and I am not on their list apparently (UConn never calls anymore).

Returning Home

2007-11-25T13:12:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I leave Amsterdam at 1:25 p.m. and head back to the US. It has been a productive trip. I've met lots of cool people and made some good professional connections. With regard to the latter, I spent an evening in Tilburg with the philosophy of science group, and while it looks like they are not going to offer me a job, the department head said that the search committee was very impressed with my work. Consequently, they would like to sponsor me in an application for an NWO grant (Dutch science foundation) so that I can be there for an entire year. This grant, if awarded, would make me eligible for another grant that provides 3 years of funding. 4 years of research and no teaching...nice. In the meantime, they are happy to support me for 3 months in the spring (feb-april) while I finish my dissertation. The psychometricians want me back too and they are going to try to help me make arrangements so that I can return in January (since I didn't get the funding intended to support such a trip).

My power adapter for my Mac died several days ago when I stumbled in late and plugged it in upside down (also causing a power outage in the apartment). Luckily the adapter was not plugged into the computer. That will be an 80 dollar replacement. I was going to get a new adapter here but at the Mac store they were 90 euro (roughly 10,000 dollars, if my estimation of the exchange rate is correct).

Last night I had the best meal of my trip when I went to a traditional Dutch place. Meatballs and mashed potatoes have never tasted so good. Best of all it was very cheap. My wonderful host, Harald, suggested the place and I packed my belly for the first time since I arrived. I've been living off one meal per day and about 4-5 hours of sleep per night. Mostly what I've been eating is stuff I grab at a convenience store at about 9pm on my way home from psychmetrophilosophizing. The exception, of course, is the Japanese pancakes I had the first night, but that did not leave me sated, even if it was wonderfully tasty. It is probably the calories from that first meal that have kept me from collapsing all week.

I'll post a couple pictures once my computer is back up and running.

Hold on, Basty, I'm coming home.

Planes, trains, and bikes

2007-11-20T16:54:00.000-05:00

I'm now in Amsterdam. Sebastian is serving 10 days. I love it here. I work so much I have to force myself away from the office long enough to eat. The weather is dreary, but I love even that. Today I walked to work (15 min.) in the rain and didn't bitch to myself one bit.

The plane trip was nice. My flight was delayed in Ohio, but that just made for a shorter layover in New Jersey. When I got on the flight, I was sat next to a very hip looking young lady, but I pretty much kept to myself for the first hour. I was next to the alcove where the flight attendants hang out. What a gossipy bunch! I had no idea that they were real people. I always figured them to be robots like your humble narrator. Finally, I remarked that they were a chatty bunch and 6 hours of conversation began. Turns out Dawn is a tour manager for a band, lives in Jersey, and is contemplating a move to CA. She has good taste in music (i.e., likes skinny puppy and old industrial) and was a loquacious, but extremely pleasant flight companion. Her band is on a european tour right now. Anyway, we took probably 10 pictures, but she only approved one of them (the other she took of my orange juice, and didn't undergo peer review). I've posted them below. When we landed and people stood up, a meaty man in front of us mumbled "$500 for a ticket and they couldn't shut up." I guess you're not allowed to talk on flights that cost more than a certain threshold. He was probably just pissed because he was sitting next to a tight-lipped Dutch lady and because of his awful Syracuse University sweatshirt (though I doubt he was ever a student there). It seems that most of the times I fly I get very unlucky in spinning the wheel of freaks and land an elderly woman with too much perfume, or a business man with too much cologne, or a person of considerable size who helps himself to the inner sanctuary of my personal bubble, or I get a whole row to myself (which is not that bad). I don't usually lament not having anyone to talk to, but I had a good time on the trip.

I'm going to try to remember to take more pictures while I am here.

Do not pass 'go', do not collect $200

2007-11-15T22:51:00.000-05:00

Basty, you stand accused of the following crimes:

1. having breath that smells like something that should not be
2. several acute neuroses including, but not limited to,
a. fear of hot air balloons
b. fear of the oven door
c. fear of the vaccum cleaner
d. generalized paranoia
e. some strange perversion that requires that you sniff every stranger's crotch
f. severe aversion to cleanliness
g. coprophagia (esp. as pertains to bunnies)
3. being extremely unportable.
4. 3 counts of walking into my room when you hear my alarm go off in morning, farting, and then leaving the bedroom (it isn't funny anymore).

For these and other crimes I am sentencing you to 10 days in jail beginning November 17 and ending November 27. Conveniently the execution of this sentence coincides perfectly with the time I will be in Amsterdam doing research. I've spoken to Jeff, the warden at Hacker's Creek Penitentiary, and he'll see to it you get your meds and whatnot. I will pick you up after you have served your sentence. Please do not join any gangs, get any tattoos, or get killed. Watch your back especially when in the shower. Keep your head down and your thoughts to yourself, and you should be safe. Reflect on your life and the things you've done.

Ok, now let's go for a walk.

Also,

2007-11-13T00:24:00.000-05:00

I'm quite curious who the person from Poland is who keeps reading my blog. Do I know someone in Poland? I can't imagine this blog appealing to anyone much less a person I don't know from Poland.

2007-11-13T00:05:00.000-05:00

In the interest of keeping my foot free of bullet holes, I am deleting this post about the punctuality of certain folks.

Typo Update

2007-11-08T13:33:00.000-05:00

Praise Moroni! I sent an urgent email to the secretary about the unfortunate typo mentioned in my previous post and she was able to retrieve the application from the outgoing mail. This is one time when her leisurely way of doing things has actually been beneficial. This means I don't have to overnight a new cover letter to the search committee that otherwise would have received the defective letter. This victory is made all the more sweet by the knowledge that a very prominent faculty member in my department (someone with whom I actually have little contact) recently put in a plug for me with the head of the search committee at that very school. I found this out today as I was signing the revised cover letter.

Think psychometrics is hard? Try doing it in a well.

2007-11-07T22:55:00.000-05:00

Another typo recently came to my attention after the application went out. This cover letter was to a university that wanted someone who seriously engages with the relevant science.

Version 1: In order to do this research in an intellectually responsible manner, one must seriously engage with the relevant science.

I didn't like this version since it might have made my work seem more controversial than I'd like for it to seem.

Version 2 (intended): In order to do this research well, one must seriously engage with the relevant science.

Carelessly, I did not delete all the words necessary to make the revision.

Version 2 (actual): In order to do this research in an well, one must seriously engage with the relevant science.

Message conveyed by Version 2 (actual): Either this guy wishes never to work with others in the field (he prefers the isolation that one might find in a well), or this guy surely can't write philosophy if he can't even write a simple cover letter.

In other news, I added UC Davis, Carleton College, and UCLA to my list of schools.

t.A.T.u., Ya tebya lyublyu

2007-11-06T01:53:00.000-05:00

Dear t.A.T.u.,

I just wanted to write an open letter to the both of you expressing my gratitude for writing such wonderful songs. Among my favorites are "Robot," without which I would have never learned to roll my 'r's and would not have learned about artificial love and artificial honey (?) and artificial ice; "Bylo i Proshlo" which makes wonderful use of the lately underused vocodor; and "Ya tvoya ne pervaya" (I am not your first) in which you lament a one-sided relationship. Lena Katina and Yulia Volkova, I don't care that you are not really lesbians. It was a great marketing gimic (credited to your producer Ivan Shapovalov) at the beginning of your burgeoning career to pretend to be lesbians masquerading as two girls who just really love each other a lot. The only thing cooler than Russian lesbians is faux Russian lesbians, because that means that all hope is not lost that I might one day wed Yulia (or Lena, if Yulia is taken). Your ruse on the world was something out of perhaps a latter day incarnation of Bret Easton Ellis' _American Psycho_. It was a clever expose of the early aught's fixation on a transgressive fantasy. It was a brilliant trick, and when you came out as heterosexual on the video "Anatomy of t.A.T.u" in December of 2003 and further corroborated the fact when Yulia had a child with Pavel Sidorov in September of 2004, I'll bet that you alienated that segement of your fanbase consisting of 50 year old single men living in their mother's basements, but those were not your true fans. Those of us to whom this makes not matter appreciate your artistry and don't need a gimic to sell us your music (great music has neither sexual orientation nor statutory rape clause). Though as I stated, that you had such a gimic, as such, makes me love you only more. It was a device for facilitating social self-consciousness. We learned a bit about ourselves as a culture when you kissed on Mtv and we cheered and purchased your albums because of the spectacle only to find it was all a charade. It took me a while to see the genius in your work and by the time I came around, the lesbian facade was dropped. Once we were ready to be truthful with each other, we were ready to love each other.

-Brian

Thesis Statement: Awesome

2007-11-04T12:29:00.001-05:00

It looks like several applications have gone out with a typo in the first line of the cover letter. I'm a champion.

More about jobs

2007-11-03T16:06:00.000-05:00

Here's what little news there is:

I've decided to apply for a position at Virginia Tech.
I've decided to apply for a position at the University of New Mexico.

The majority of the schools to which I applied had Nov. 1 deadlines. So, I expect to hear nothing very soon.

Like most application processes, once the application is sent, there is little one can do. For this reason, I don't have much commentary on the process. Like last year, I'm not terribly stressed about it. Now, if December rolls around and I don't have an interview, I might start getting a little anxious. However, worrying at this point is premature and achieves nothing. There are lots of annoying things about the process, but it is just part of it; you can accept it and work with it, or you can rant about it and imbitter yourself. Of course, were it not for the modicum of support I get from my department, I'd probably be singing a much different tune. I'm lucky that my department charges me only $2 to send out my dossier (even to programs overseas), and that the secretary prints off my cover letters on letterhead for me and stuffs my envelopes. From what I understand, that is more than a lot of places do for their graduate students, and if I had to pay $5 bucks per application (as some do) and do my own envelope stuffing (as some do), I'd probably be as bitter as this guy is.

Will Philosophize for Food

2007-10-25T00:17:00.000-05:00

So it is job market time, and for those who are interested I have listed the preliminary candidates below.

Washington University*
University of Washington
Rice University*
Wells College*
Yeshiva University*
Bryn Mawr
Siena College
Duke*
NYU*
Rutgers
Princeton
Cornell*
University of Southern California
California State University*
Northwestern University*
University of Wisconsin*
Notre Dame*
Ohio State University*
Tilburg University*
University of Western Ontario*
Syracuse University*
University of Connecticut*
University of South Carolina

(* application has already been sent)

I will probably add at least 10 more to this list over the next month, which is probably a good thing since NYU, Princeton, and Rutgers would never consider interviewing me (they are top 5 schools). I'll go ahead and throw in Cornell, Duke, and University of Washington as completely hopeless too. So that's 1/4 of my list. Time to lengthen the list.

Ch. 1 Completed

2007-10-15T21:13:00.000-05:00

Today Ch. 1 of Latent Variable Realism in Psychometrics met a favorable reception from my dissertation group. Finally I have a draft of an entire chapter that does not require too much revision. I feel like celebrating; however, Sebastian is proving not to be much of a party animal.

Next is Ch. 2. I'm trying a new approach to the dissertation: writing linearly. Ch. 2 deals with the concept of validity in psychological testing and the relationship between validity and classic problems in the philosophy of science. Let us hope that it is the hit that Ch. 1 was.

Dear Snappleknt,

2007-10-05T21:08:00.000-05:00

I don't know your real name, but your mischievous attempt at trickery was a failure. As I left the Crazy Horse and approached my car from the rear, found your snapple bottle (containing a straw) positioned under my rear passenger side tire. You must try harder next time. I give you an 'A' for audacity since you had to attempt your ruse directly in front of the Alley Bar, Irish Lion, and Crazy Horse; however, I give you an 'F' for the execution. A more clever foe would have put the bottle under the front passenger tire where it would likely be obscured by the body of the vehicle.

-Brian

Sorry, Basty

2007-10-03T08:48:00.000-05:00

Please believe me when I say that it was not by design that in the middle of the night the cello case (cello and all) crashed down into your bed while you were sleeping. It was as much of a surprise to me as it must have been to you--well, probably not, but it still startled me. I do my best to provide you with a controlled environment free of unpleasant surprises to make living easy on your fragile nerves. I suppose now the cello case, deservedly, will join the ranks of the vacuum cleaner as a suspicious item.

-Brian

Dear Basty,

2007-10-01T21:32:00.000-05:00

Tonight I came home from Soma, where I was working on chapter one of Latent Variable Realism in Psychometrics to find that you had gotten into the trash. This displeased me very much. It has been so long since you misbehaved in this way. Our relationship has taken a step backward. How can I trust you to be on your own when you do such things? Now, I realize that scraps of my dinner must have been quite the temptation. It is not every day that someone so masterfully whips up pasta with a balanced blend of cajun spiced sauteed mushrooms, asparagus, roma tomatoes and mustard sauce. I myself could not resist such as artistic creation and ate all but a few scraps. You must have been thinking the following: what pefectly prepared angel hair pasta, neither too firm nor too soft, and how creative of you to think of making a sauce out of course ground mustard and butter and olive oil, what insight in to the culinary world you must have had to make such an unlikely pair (tangy, yet smooth) harmonize. You, Brian, make the paradoxical divine. And the mushrooms(!): quickly sauteed in cajun spices,butter and olive oil to the point where they just became slightly crisp. You displayed particular foresight and aptitude when you threw the asparagus in at the last minute so that it would not be overcooked; after all we both know it takes longer to cook mushrooms than asparagus, even the thin kind which you know to be superior to the logs of asparagus that they sometime sell. As if it was not already a sauce befitting the most fastidious of palates, you added fresh and chopped roma tomatoes. How did you know the acidity of the tomatoes would complement so well such a daring dish? Did you not worry that the acidity of the tomatoes and the spice of the mustard combined would overpower the mushrooms' delicacy and drown out their subtle melody? I am bewildered at what a complex and virtuosic symphony you have composed.

I know these things must have been going through your head while it was stuck in the garbage bag. But please, in the interest of keeping peace among roommates, you must not dig in the garbage. I hope the coffee grounds were a nice addition to the dish.

Yours truly,

Brian