Fun with cats (involves catnip)

I live with three cats. Yesterday night, we got them stoned on catnip. Blackie, one of them, chases after a laser pointer in this video. Not exactly a scorcher, but more of an experiment:

How to paint a room

Whoever said painting a room is an easy job had no idea what they were talking about. Take it from me, its hard. How do I know? Well, I am painting my room. My room was formerly occupied by a 7-year old kid, who fancied pink for the walls. Fearful of the effect of staying in a pink room for too long, I finally decided to take action and color it pastel. Yes, pastel. A lime greenish tint. Its a step up.

I am chronicling, with pictures, my experience of painting the four walls of my room. I hope the pictures and step-by-step descriptions will be of help to anyone who should wish to paint their room.

Here's the album (I will keep updating it as I progress with the job):

Painting my room

Sep 24, 2006 - 26 Photos

Hiking the Sandwich Range in the White Mountains, NH

On Sunday (September 17, 2006), I bagged two peaks in the Sandwich Range: Mt. Whiteface and Mt. Passaconaway. Both are just over 4,000ft. and our loop around the two peaks was about 11.6mi. Here are some pictures:

Sandwich Range

Sep 19, 2006 - 15 Photos

Mencken on America

H. L. Mencken is one of my favorite American intellectuals. I, like many others, was shocked by his ability to put into searing words some of our darkest suspicions, and our most cynical opinions. I lived and studied in northern Italy for a period of six months before I came to America. Naturally, I compared, and still compare, the two experiences. I found America somewhat crass, and sometimes downright vulgar in sensibility, in comparison to Trento. I used to find it difficult to articulate the difference until I read this passage in Mencken's essay, "On Being an American":

And [in America], more than anywhere else I know of or have heard of, the daily panorama of human existence, of private and communal folly—the unending procession of governmental extortions and chicaneries, of commercial brigandages and throat-slittings, of theological buffooneries, of aesthetic ribaldries, of legal swindles and harlotries, of miscellaneous rogueries, villainies, imbecilities, grotesqueries and extravagances—is so inordinately gross and preposterous, so perfectly brought up to the highest conceivable amperage, so steadily enriched with an almost fabulous daring and originality, that only the man who was born with a petrified diaphragm can fail to laugh himself to sleep every night, and to awake every morning with all the eager, unflagging expectation of a Sunday-school superintendent touring the Paris peep-shows.

What is slightly unsettling about this passage is the fact that America's penchant for crass is not recent. This essay was written in 1922.

Another passage from an article written in 1920 in the Baltimore Sun is almost seer-like in its foresight, and certainly topical. Mencken speaks thus about candidates campaigning for national office:

The larger the mob, the harder the test. In small areas, before small electorates, a first-rate man occasionally fights his way through, carrying even the mob with him by force of his personality. But when the field is nationwide, and the fight must be waged chiefly at second and third hand, and the force of personality cannot so readily make itself felt, then all the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically, the most devious and mediocre — the man who can most easily adeptly disperse the notion that his mind is a virtual vacuum.

The Presidency tends, year by year, to go to such men. As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.

That great and glorious day, obviously, is upon us. It has been, since 2000. (Some would say it first dawned in 1980, when Reagan took office.) Note also, in the passage, the damning assessment of the "plain folk". To their credit, the "plain folk" of the time suffered Mencken's aspersions with a fair degree of tolerance, even wreathed him in laurels. It is doubtful they would, today. And that is a tragedy.

Sleepless in Somerville

Its 1.30am. I get into bed. Every bone in my body screams out in relief. I am surprised. I didn't know I was tired. But now I feel weary as all get out. Must get sleep.

Its around 2.15am. I know because my notebook's screensaver came on sometime ago. Its set to start after a half hour of inactivity. It makes dull, pink patterns on the walls, and on the ceiling. I am still trying to sleep. But my mind is still too active. Its that new gaming rig I want to buy. I spent all evening researching it, and I am stoked.

2.30am. I had almost crossed over into sleep, but I am roused back up. A car alarm just went off. That is just great. Exactly what I need for sound sleep.

2.35am. The car alarm is still going off. It seems to be coming from a side street a couple of apartments down the street from mine. Its monotonous wail has not only snatched away what sleep I was slipping into, but now I am irritated. Irritation is not good for sleep.

Suddenly, I hear what sounds like a gunshot, accompanied by a flash of light. My heart starts pounding. Irritation has been replaced by fear. Someone shouts, "Get in the house!". A female voice responds, indistinct to me. "Get in the fucking house", the first voice screams again. I want to lean out the window and see what's happening, but I am afraid I will catch a stray bullet to the head. Sleep is a distant memory now. Second gunshot rings out. "Holy shit!", I am thinking. I hear my roommate stir in the other room.

A cop car, and some fire trucks are approaching the scene, as is evident from the flashing red and blue lights, and the distinctive sirens. Now, I am a bit emboldened. I lean out the window, and I can see smoke rising from that side street. I see a fireman standing nearby. From my partially obstructed view, I can also make out shadows of men moving about on the street. More activity.

I hear my roommate going out to investigate. He comes back, and I find out that a car parked on that street caught on fire. Each "gunshot" was apparently the sound of a tire popping from the heat. And the neighbor wanted his son to stay in the house, while he tried to make sense of what the hell was going on. That accounted for the shouting. But why the fuck did the car catch fire? I don't know. Arson, maybe? Faulty electricals?

Whatever the fuck it was, it made sure I am not getting any more sleep for a few more hours. At least I have a reason to get up late tomorrow. And yeah, its 3am now. Wish me good night.

BUDA Ultimate Disc Tournament

I played in an Ultimate league organized by the Boston Ultimate Disc Alliance (BUDA). The flying disc used in the game is better known as Frisbee, which actually is a trademark. I have to say that Ultimate is, without exception, the sweetest sport I have played. Today was the tournament capping a season of league games, and Lava Mouse (my team) made it to the semi-finals. I didn't play because of an injury, the cause for which is too embarassing to mention here.

Pictures from the tournament are here:

BUDA Frisbee tournament

Aug 12, 2006 - 25 Photos

UPDATE: While browsing the Ultimate page on Wikipedia, I saw a picture of my team captain in the article! Gareth was the captain of Lava Mouse, and he is also the captain of Contra, the Ultimate team at Washington U. in St. Louis. The picture shows him making a layout over another guy in a bid for the disc. Neat!

Berkshire Camping Trip

I haven't posted in a while. I have been out most weekends, and last weekend was a particularly sweet one. I was out camping in the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts, and I went tubing for the first time. Tubing is pretty fucking sweet. I also saw the Boston Symphony Orchestra (BSO) in concert in Tanglewood (Lenox, MA). Check out pictures from the camping trip here:

Berkshire Camping Trip

Aug 8, 2006 - 17 Photos

W. T. F. ?

Look at the spike in traffic to my blog over the last week (25 June 2006 - 1 July 2006):

Image modified from one supplied by Statcounter (statcounter.com)

All of that spike has been caused by Australians, who seem to be looking for information on "the big brother incident", and the various search engines are sending them to my post about my encounter with the FBI.

Hey, Australia, what's with the sudden interest in the works of Orwell? Or is this just a sign of the times we live in, where the government snoops on everything from your phone conversations, to your financial records?

Adventures with Brian Dean

Brian and I visited his parents' in upstate New York over the weekend. Upstate New York knows - Saratoga Springs in particular - knows how to party, let me tell you. Not many pictures from that time, sorry, since I was pretty hammered myself. But it was also a nice holiday, with a backyard pool, barbecue, and badminton games.

A week before that, I visited Brian's place in New Bedford, where he hosted a party. The next day, over very pleasant rum smoothies, I ripped some music from Brian's unterminably huge CD collection ...

Update: It appears that pictures of Brian that I posted here and on my Tabblo webpage are being misused. So, I am taking down all pictures of Brian and his family that I posted online. Brian, I really apologize for the inconvenience.

Earthfest (May 2006)

Earthfest happened on May 28, 2006 at the Esplanade in Boston.  It was a good time ... See my Tabblo>