Except, just possibly, the United States Army. Ouch.
I had been thinking about avoiding the leaked Radiohead album, but when the BitTorrent link started doing the rounds on Delphi, I folded instantly. I'm so weak. First thoughts: Richard might like the first track...
...but not the third track. Obviously.
Yesterday afternoon, it was still above 20˚C. Last night, there was a huge thunderstorm. This morning? Snow. The sun comes back tomorrow. Truly, this is a town where Strange Things Happen.
I have finished my tax returns, and I've come to the inescapable conclusion that the Treasury of the United States owes me $375. Excellent. The state only owes me $10, so I've decided to donate that to the State Wildlife Fund, rather than hassling them for a $10 cheque. Incidentally, on the federal tax forms, you can make a donation to offset the public debt, which places a lot of faith in people's altruism: "Why sure! I'll give $100! Let's see, $10 trillion minus $100 is...hang on, perhaps I'll keep it and buy some DVDs instead."
I've never really understood the concept of rave culture; surely it's just a bunch of people dancing to some records that a DJ is playing in the distance. This is normally called a disco.
But:
It's just gone 3am. This is the second party you've attended tonight. The directions were given to the group in a confused mess of broken English and French. We're miles away from the campus, somewhere off the interstate. There's over 100 people packed into the house. You've been dancing non-stop for the past two hours. You want to fall down and die. The DJ plays another song. A wave of euphoria envelopes the crowd.
As you begin the third hour, you finally understand.
The trouble with not drinking very often is that when you do, you tend to find yourself becoming drunk rather quickly. On the other hand, I'm fairly sure that the bartender put the equivalent of four shots in each drink, so I might not have completely let my country down with respect to the drinking situation.
Sona and Rishi have decided to make me their project for the last few weeks I'm here in America. They're breaking me in easily, so far, but I sense bigger things are on the way, especially when Rishi remembers that it's my birthday shortly...
A follow-up to yesterday: still thinking about dropping Global Frequency, but this is really cool. (link nabbed from the debonair Brem X Jones )
This pile of marking sadly is resisting my attempts to make it disappear by giving it stern glances, so I suppose I'll have to get started shortly...
"By George, I think she's got it!"
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This makes sense: the UN won't be allowed to run Iraq once the the Allies finish the liberation, but they will be able to contribute to the running costs. That sounds fair.
Hmm. I seem to be turning into a warblogger. This must stop, before I start to recognise the man who cleans the webcam in Baghdad for Reuters. That must be a fulfilling job. "Bill? The camera's dirty. Get up there and give it a wipe." "But it's been eight hours since the BBC showed the B-52s taking off from Fairford!" "Bill, do you know how many thousands of people are watching, waiting to see if the Americans hit the bus station? Will you disappoint them? Or will you rise above the risk, and maintain our journalistic integrity? For Reuters, Bill! For Reuters!"
I'm sure the universe was laughing at me today; I scrambled around town trying to find a working cash machine, got on the bus to RTP instead of Southpoint, and forgot to go to the one shop in the mall that I went there for in the first place. Bah.
I still haven't decided whether Ellis's decision to write issue #6 of Global Frequency as an extended version of a BBC trailer is a mark of genius or a further example of how this series has failed to live up to expectations. Nice cover, though.
I remember posting an entry here earlier today, but it appears that it never arrived. Hmm.
Courtesy of the United States Navy: How To Jam GPS Signals. And Phrack even has circuit diagrams. Build exciting illegal weapons! Wonder whether Iraq has an extensive chain of Radio Shacks just waiting to be hit by precise Tomahawk missiles!
I didn't update yesterday mainly because I couldn't summon up the effort to talk about the Oscars; even with Michael Moore's antics, it was easily the dullest ceremony I've seen for years. A helpful note to the producers for next time: when the show is starting to drag, it's not a good idea to stop the show dead to introduce us to 50-odd past Oscar winners. In fact, it's a really bad one. I was almost asleep, and I was in a decent time-zone this time.
He's probably not reading this, but I imagine it'll get back to him somehow: well done to Aaron for doing well at school this year. Keep up the good work!
The US Tax system is like a fractal; it looks rather simple from a high-level, but as soon as you start looking at the details, it becomes an infinitely-complicated, self-replicating monster. I prefer the British version where the Inland Revenue takes the proper amount out of your paycheque each month. Much simpler, and I don't have to worry whether I can take the standard deduction, or if my donation to a charity means I have to fill out form 1040NR instead of 1040NR-EZ. And why do students from India get all the tax breaks? Aren't we supposed to be the ones with a special relationship with the US? Or is that relationship simply an understanding that we're to be used as target practice...
I've given up on watching the war on television; US news channels annoy me to the point of wanting to put my fist through the screen. Simpering interviews with US/UK officials, reporting rumours as facts (the 51st division has surrendered! Oh hang on, maybe not. They've fired Scuds! Whoops. Our bad! US fired missiles into Iran! Wait, Iran's now saying that they were Iraqi? Gee, we're sorry), or showing us continual pictures from that camera in Baghdad, even when nothing is happening (Ooooh! I can see a lorry driving past. That's why I tuned in, naturally). The web news sites tend to be a little less hysterical.
Good to see that the Americans are believing in the Geneva Convention again...
That was...different.
I've heard all the stories about Cat Power concerts. About her chronic stage-fright which can sometimes lead to her spending two hours trying to play a song on her guitar. But this tour was supposed to be different; she has a backing band to provide some stability, and she was apparently looking forward to this tour.
The first signs were rather ominous; the band didn't start playing until 23:30, because they were late getting into Carrboro. They open with 'Baby Doll'. It becomes clear that something is bothering Chan. At the end of the song, she complains that she doesn't think the sound is right (to be fair to her, the monitors at the Cradle do seem to be rather abysmal). The next three songs continue in a similar fashion, with Chan breaking off at the end of the songs to ask for more "whoomph" on her guitar, to turn her vocals up, or to fiddle with her amplifier. It's not going well.
And then the backing band guitarist's amplifier dies.
The rest of the band leaves the stage; Chan says that they'll be back later (they never reappear), and continues alone with her piano and guitar. This turns out to be a mistake. She falls to pieces. For the next hour and a half, she manages to stumble through some songs like 'Names', 'Knocking On Heaven's Door', and 'Evolution', but for the most part she only can play snatches of songs before losing her place, saying that the piano is "too tight and bright".
She seems to get increasingly desperate; she spends the whole show sitting on the edge of a piano stool, tipping the other end up at a distressingly high angle (I really did think that she was going to fall towards the end). She tries to tap out a tune on her guitar using the lead when she's waiting for Matt to attach her amplifier directly into the sound system. She apologises again and again, and does her best to continue. She plays the first song she ever wrote, called "Wizard of Oz', and then lays her head on the piano. She confesses that she doesn't know what she's doing, and that she'll play all night.
After a glance at the long-abandoned set list, she manages to play a few more songs. As it goes past 1am, it's quite tragic; despite having spent money on the concert, all you want is for someone to go onstage, put an arm around her, and say "Chan, you can stop. You don't have to carry on." Eventually, at about 1:30, the tour manager does this, coming into the wings to say that she only has time for one more song. She gets through one last performance on the guitar, says goodbye, and runs upstairs to the dressing room.
As I turned from the front of the stage, I see that the sold-out crowd has dwindled to just a few die-hard fans. Some of the backing band are talking to the remaining audience. It's almost 2am.
I want to hold Ari Fleischer down and kick him repeatedly. That is all. Oh, and can we stop with 'shock-and-awe', please? Why not call it by the more famous original name: Blitzkrieg...
Marine Cobra helicopter gunships firing Hellfire missiles swept in low from the south. Then the Marine howitzers, with a range of 30 kilometres, opened a sustained barrage over the next eight hours. They were supported by U.S. Navy aircraft, which dropped 40,000 pounds of explosives and napalm, a U.S. officer told the Herald.There are rumours that one of those new MOABs was used in Baghdad. That's 25,000 tons of TNT. Funnily enough, thats roughly the equivalent power of the bomb dropped in Hiroshima...
We just lost the BBC Iraqi TV feed....
Our secret weapon in the war on Iraq. This isn't a joke, by the way; I've had it confirmed by friends of mine who actually know him. I don't think he's thought it all the way through, as Prime does tend to have a habit of dying...
Comic thing in progress. Polished up a script last night, and I've had three emails from pencillers responding to an web advert. No idea if any of them are serious (they haven't seen the script yet, either), but I shall keep you updated as soon as I make progress.
Cat Power concert tomorrow night. Apparently, these can be something of an event. Sometimes she's fairly normal and gives a great performance, but often she spends two hours shyly plucking her guitar and breaking down in front of the audience. Top-flight entertainment, our kid!
Well, the CEOs of various oil companies, a President falling in popularity, and the New American Century group, naturally.
Sorry, a little cynical there.
No matter what the sport, some things are universal.
I may have mentioned that one of my regrets about my time here is that I never managed to get to an American football match, or a basketball game. I didn't realise that the football season ended in December, and the basketball games normally sell out within five minutes of tickets going on sale.
On Monday night, I received the day's clump of mass-mailings from the university. One of them informed the university that the UNC basketball team had been invited to perform in the NIT on Tuesday night, and that tickets would go on sale Monday morning. Useful.
But I read the university newspaper on Tuesday morning, which sad that only 6000 tickets had been sold, and that students were almost guaranteed a ticket if they went to the Smith Center Box Office before 5pm. So I managed to get to a basketball game after all.
College sport is a big business in this country, and the UNC Tar Heel basketball team is historically one of the best in America (Michael Jordan made his name here, for instance). Recently, they've been going through a rough patch, although beating Duke two weeks ago made up for a lacklustre season. Or so I think; I know very little about basketball beyond the part where the players throw the ball around and try and get into the basket.
Anyway, after thirty minutes of brass band playing, chants, requests for the audience to respect the officials (ha!), and the inevitable national anthem, they finally start playing. For the first five minutes, DePaul runs rings around UNC, going 0-4 up. And then the ball goes out of play, and everybody stops.
The clock reads 15:21, and they've all stopped? The cheerleaders are back out on the court, and the band is playing. What's going on?
It seems that during a 20-minute half, play often stops for 'time-outs'. I'm not entirely sure whether these are TV-induced (the game was on ESPN), or part of the normal game, but they're rather annoying. You wouldn't expect everybody in a Man Utd v. Arsenal game to politely sit down after five minutes while the people back home are informed about Ford's newest car, would you? There would be riots.
By the ten-minute mark, UNC look halfway decent, taking the lead, and scoring an impressive number of three-point shots. But then they start literally dropping the ball, and by half-time, DePaul has 35 to UNC's 29.
There then follows more cheerleadering, a poor man trapped in a mascot suit, and a brass band playing DJ Otzi's Hey Baby. The horror.
The second half started with UNC drawing level within the first minute, and ended with the Tar Heels winning comfortably with a 83-72 final result.
So I got to see a basketball game. One thing that struck me was the friendlier atmosphere than you'd get at a football game; admittedly I haven't been to a match for a few years, but there was no constant hurling of abuse at the opposition that you normally get at these sort of events (the referees were fair game, but even then criticism was respectfully directed at his eyesight, rather than violent accusations of his parentage).
I'm off to go and pick up my comics. And this week's Angel? Funny. In a Superman III-type way...
I'm easily bought. Polyvinyl Records included a watermelon chew sweet with the CD they just sent me. Bless their little packing-pixies.
"Mr. President, we've discovered that the Iraqis have access to model airplane technology."
"THE BASTARDS. Get me the 101st."
Diplomacy is a ploy. Good to know, thanks.
LOOK —EVERY INTELLIGENCE SERVICE HAS SAID THAT IRAQ DOES NOT HAVE A CONNECTION TO AL-QAEDA. SO STOP SAYING THAT IT DOES, YOU SMIRKING DOLT.
We believe in the UN. Except when it has the audacity to disagree with us, of course.
And hey! We didn't sign up to the ICC, so although British soldiers could be tried as war criminals, US troops can go crazy...
Pax America! Pax America!
War crimes will be prosecuted, apparently. Interesting, in light of the comment I just made.
Protect the fatherland—er, the homeland. Sorry, Mr. President.
The risks of inaction are too great for us to avoid war, apparently. So could China occupy Taiwan tomorrow, because it might be a threat sometime in the future?
Ah, the Chamberlain defence. Incidentally, what's going to happen after the Allies have defeated Iraq? Are they going to go back to the UN to ask for help in rebuilding the country?
Well, it looks as if we're about to get our war on.
Why are they bothering to talk up the Iraqi forces? During the last war, we were told that Iraq had a formidable army, and we should expect massive casualties. We completely annihilated them. Twelve years later, the Iraqi military is a shadow of its former self. And on the border of Kuwait, the greatest army ever assembled in the history of mankind faces them. I don't think they're going to do much fighting, to be honest.
Sometimes, the American media depresses me. The Democrats aren't supporting the President enough, apparently.
Oh no! We're back at Orange! Break out the duct tape!
Hmm. Someone on Fox News has suggested that the US would not want to engage in door-to-door fighting in Baghdad. Instead, they plan to surround the city, use psychological warfare (loudspeakers, leaflets and radio transmissions) in an attempt to turn the populace against Saddam. Is it just me, or is that just a step above the "let's defeat them with our special beams of love" technique?
The Office of Homeland Security. Making Americans a laughing stock all over the world. Eh, hang on a second —
Sources say the kinds of activity they would consider suspicious include people taking pictures at bridges and subway entrances, and people sitting on train platforms who appear to be monitoring the timing of arrivals and departures.Um, don't mind me, I'm just going to find a safe place to hide...
NTL's email server seems to be as reliable as ever, so apologies if you've sent me any mail in the past few days. I'll probably be able to read it on Sunday.
So far:
- The! White! House!
- Time taken on meticulous plans: at least two hours. How long these plans lasted: 5 minutes.
- Seem to have spent the past two days seeped in death; Korea and Vietnam Memorials, the Smithsonian exhibit about Japanese-American Internment, and today I went to Arlington Cemetery.
- Tomorrow: Capitol Hill, the Supreme Court, and the Library of Congress! And then I run out of ideas...
The Metro is nice. Clean, fast, and mostly on-time.
STUPID NTL. BUY A BETTER MAIL SERVER.
It's not often that a concert ends with a high chance of the entire audience being arrested.
To be honest, I was a little apprehensive about going to see Godspeed You! Black Emperor (aside: I really hope that the next release sees them change their name to Godspeed! You! Black! Emperor!, just for old-time YS/AP hilarity); their image suggests that they live together in a long-abandoned railway shack on the outskirts of Montreal preparing for the oncoming apocalypse. I was concerned whether seeing them live would break some of the mystery behind their music. Silly, I know.
It took them over half-an-hour to set up. There's nine members (five! guitarists!); everybody has a ridiculous amount of effects pedals (okay, so Norsola only had three — but when was the last time you saw a cellist use an effects pedal? Eh? Eh?) that need to be checked in a certain order, two drum kits need to be miked up, there's a glockenspiel to sort out, and so on. Eventually, they finish this labourious task, and begin the performance.
At this point, I realise that it might not have been such a good idea to be right at the front (and I mean right at the front; an outstretched arm would have have touched one of the guitarist's chairs). GY!BE are loud. Very loud. And I'm standing right next to one of the main speakers. For two hours, I feel every low-frequency note played on the stage. However, any worries I have about not being able to hear for the next week are far outweighed about two minutes after the band start playing.
As I'm standing straight in front of her, I spend most of the concert watching Norsola, the cellist. I was interested in her bow technique. Honest. And her inventive use of the cello as a percussion instrument at the start of 'Moya'. Or when she broke her bow towards the end of the same song; she calmly put it back in her bag, walked over the to the side of the stage, took another one out of the equipment boxes, and went back to playing. Very very fast...
I wish I could give you a set list; I remember that they played most of f#a#∞, all of Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada, and at least the first three tracks from Levez Vous Skinny Fists Comme Antennas To Heaven!. I don't think they played anything from Yanqui U.X.O. (strange, as it's their current album UPDATE: I'm an idiot. They definitely played "09-15-00" at least. UPDATE 2: And "Rockets Fall On Rockets Fall". I told you I was bad at set lists). However, it's mostly a blur of beautiful and mesmerising music, the soundtrack from the day after WWIII; filled partly with despair, destruction, and isolation; but mostly brimming with hope. They had a white sheet in the corner of the stage upon which they projected short films: images of deserted cities, burning oil fields, collapsing chimneys; alongside sunrises, country journeys and the hand-scratched title of "Hope". 'BBF3' is accompanied by footage of recent protest marches, and the song gets a laugh from the audience as the Minidisc-provided voice of Blaise Bailey refuses to speculate about the year 2003, as he "doesn't have a mind that inhumane".
After two hours, the concert ends, and the group disappears for the pre-encore break. When they come back, they play 'Moya', and then one of the group actually gets a microphone. He (I think it was Aidan, but I'm not exactly sure) says that the next song will be their last, but that some local people had spoken to them, and they'd be meeting in the car park shortly afterwards for a parade. Everybody was invited to join them.
When the lights finally come up, people file out to the car park. There had obviously been a little planning involved (although not much; I spoke to Matt, a sound engineer at the club whom I know from my course, and he said they came up with the idea about an hour before the band went on stage); people were being given paint-tin drum and rice shakers to make as much noise as possible.
And then we marched to Chapel Hill.
It took five minutes for the first police car to turn up. Thankfully, They decided not to arrest us all for disturbing the peace; instead, they held back traffic while we walked down the main street back to the town, and blocked us off at the end of Franklin Street so the crowd couldn't advance further than the courthouse. I quietly slipped away from the crowd at 1am, because I had to see Sona about getting a lift back from Durham train station next Sunday.
They weren't hooded hermits from a deserted shack in Canada. But they were still fantastic.
Next concert: Idlewild, this Sunday. By which time, I presume my ears will have stopped ringing...
Today's entry is something I've been meaning to write for several weeks now. I was going to wait until after my trip to Washington, but I've had a change of heart; I want to get it out of the way before I go away on Monday.
I'm coming back home in May.
It's a hard thing to finally say. It was always a childhood dream of mine to live in America. I'm here. After all this time, I'm really here. So why am I giving it all up and going back to the UK?
Maybe I went to the wrong college. I came to Chapel Hill mainly for the location and for financial reasons, rather than being enticed by the department's research interests. But I don't think this is the real reason. I'm no longer that interested in computer science; I don't want to be a programmer. Or a research scientist. I love it here, and I would stay if I could, but I can't leave the department and stay, unfortunately. I don't fancy the idea of living in America without a valid visa at the moment.
So I'm coming home.
What will I do? That's a good question. Having achieved one of my childhood dreams, maybe it's time to work on another. I going to try writing. Time to jump off a new cliff...
I'm so dreadfully sorry about that. I've tried to keep dated-cartoon references to a minimum, but I couldn't help myself. Incidentally, iTunes just came up with the greatest segue in the history of pop: Madonna's "Into The Groove" followed by Radiohead's "Lucky". I defy you to come up with something better...
I refuse to call today Fat Tuesday. That's just silly. Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day if you must. Pass the tea.
That new Blur single is currently burrowing into my mind; I found myself humming it several times today. Still not entirely convinced by the rest of the album yet, but again I imagine it'll grow on me. Over in the 'instant crush' category, Black Box Recorder's 'Andrew Ridgely' is the best thing I've heard all year.
Finished all the marking last night, and so spent most of the day wandering around again. Two differences from Sunday: I managed to write seven pages of comic script, and this time I got lost in a residential area instead of woodland. It was like something from To Kill A Mockingbird — straight rows of wood-panelled houses. Very pretty, but I didn't bring my camera, so you'll just have to take my word for it. You can trust me. Even if I do harbour a secret collection of Cathy Dennis records. Curses.
And I didn't get any pancakes. *sniff*
Clear blue skies, another strange person ranting in the Pit (this time, a conspiracy theorist. A change is as good as a rest, I suppose): all is well in Chapel Hill. Except for the stack of papers I have to mark. Hopefully, I should be able to get through the majority of them tonight...
A further example of why I could never be a music critic: the new Blur album is rather pleasant. Nothing that you'd call outstanding or surprising, but listenable enough. On the other hand, my heart has already been won by the new Black Box Recorder album, and I've only heard the first track so far. I promise I will buy both eventually, but for the moment they'll be accompanying me on my trip to Washington via illicit CD-Rs.
According to a sign I saw in the town today, there's another Washington D.C. protest planned for March 15th. Which is my last full day there. That's going to be interesting, to say the least. RIOT IN DC!
I just got an email from Sona. I was asking him whether he could pick me up from Durham station when I get back from Washington (I was stupid and booked the train back on a day when no buses run. How...clever), and that he needn't worry about getting Catherine's number, as I managed to find it myself. Anyway, he's just replied; he's in New Orleans at the moment, which is why I haven't seen him for a while. He says that he should be back in time to pick me up, but we'll sort it out on Thursday. Oh, and he found something out about Catherine which he meant to tell me before he left:
She's engaged.
I think everyone got their signal-reading abilities mixed up last Saturday, somehow...
It was such a wonderful day outside that I couldn't justify spending the afternoon checking out the latest flame-war on Delphi or watching the film that the Netflix genie dropped in my mailbox yesterday. The idea was to find a quiet place and get some writing done. An excellent plan. And like most plans, it was thrown out of the window within five minutes of getting outside.
Instead, I decided to walk through various miles of woodland, cross streams and interstates (I'm getting worryingly good at the latter, by the way), getting lost only to clamber out of the trees to find myself looking at University Mall. Have a look at some pictures:
Having walked several miles out of Chapel Hill, I remembered that I hadn't had anything to eat since last night, and that I was actually quite hungry. I was by now about two miles away from the centre of the town, but I was sure that if I kept walking in one direction I'd find something. Eventually I found a barbeque restaurant, and by this time I was hungry enough not to care about sitting alone in a sit-down establishment. Things I learnt whilst eating there:
- You have to admire a menu that offers to cook a hamburger "anyway that the law allows"
- Yellow barbeque sauce tastes much better than you think
- When they say that the sauce is hot, they mean it. Seriously.
- While it's nice to see that they have crayons and paper for children to draw pictures, the gallery of various renditions of pigs does tend to put you off your meal somewhat. "Look! You're eating piggy!"
A long walk back follows, and what originally was meant to be a two-hour walk ends up being five. Mind you, it was a very nice day...
This new Blur song is quite, well, nice, isn't it?
The day is almost over, and I have not yet been hit by falling meteorite debris. There's still two hours left, of course, so maybe I shouldn't be quite so cocky. I even managed to dodge an $800 mistake (keeps fingers crossed); this is a Story For Another Time. All I'll say for the moment is that I hate poorly designed websites.
I decided to go visit the mall today, mainly to buy a guide to Washington D.C. So far, the Lonely Planet guide has saved me $15/night by giving details of a cheaper hotel which is a bit closer to the centre of the city than the one in which I was originally planning to stay. Hurrah! Not entirely sure as to whether the site will be updated while I'm away; there appears to be a few cyber-cafés dotted around, so I may be able to post from there. Oooh. Free wireless access? I wasn't entirely convinced that I should take the iBook with me, but that's tempting.
One hour and thirty minutes to go.