Archive: September 2002
Sep 28 02: dateline: ithaca
Am upstate. John and I drove up here last night through torrential rain. Professor Sokol’s leading the Glee Club tonight at the Homecoming Concert, for the first time in ten years. He came out of retirement to take over for his replacement, Scott Tucker, who’s on sabbatical this year. Tom Sokol was a seriously beloved figure, a paternal presence in the life of every Clubber since sometime in the 1950s. The Professor taught discipline, professionalism, and artistic sensitivity, and you respected him even if he couldn’t remember your name. Alumni are coming out of the woodwork to attend.
Although you wouldn’t know it. I’ve been wandering around campus for much of today, visiting old haunts, investigating changes made to the university since I left. Many of these visits have proven fruitless; empty offices, locked doors. And I’ve seen basically nobody I know. Presently I’m stalking a contact in the University’s human sexuality collection to make sure that she received the archive of Wet Rags that I delivered last June. (For those of you at home, the Rag is the quasi-quarterly lit-mag-thingy published by Team NY Aquatics. I was its editor for quite a while.) She gets out of a symposium in about 45 minutes. Perhaps I’ll go over to Seal & Serpent and see if it, at least, is unshuttered.
Sep 26 02: pleas; knees
So today featured another mission by the Team New York Bad Relationship Extraction Service and Aquatics Brigade. This time, it was Karen whose worldly goods had to be evacuated from a former lover’s apartment in a hurry. It went fine, although I probably should have declined to take part, if only to avoid needless up-and-down-stairs-while-carrying-heavy-things. Previously it was Brad, and I was in Colorado during that one, so I guess I felt guilty.
Yes, my knees are acting up again. They have been for a few days. I am developing a creeping terror that they’re going to go back into serious meltdown and keep me from swimming in Sydney. I’m afraid of stopping my training, though, because I’ve been doing so well and am primed to kick some serious butt. And I’m not clear on how the swimming is the problem, although doubtless it is. Probably the breast-stroke kicking, and the flip-turn-push-off-the-wall thing. And my habit of taking all staircases two steps at a time, that’s probably not good either.
I am afraid. Who are the gods of knee-injury recovery? And how do I get their attention?
shout-out to Brookie: Mom, if you’re reading this, I hope you liked the flowers. Had I been smarter, I would have sent them ahead of you to where you are now, so you could have enjoyed them for more than 18 hours. Happy birthday, again.
Sep 24 02: see what’s become of me
Oh, and meanwhile, I’m obsessing over chronological order and how strictly to adhere to it in this forum. I realize the following can be looked upon as insane or inane or most likely both, but hey, it’s my damn blog. At any rate, here’s the conundrum: Do I put the entries within each day in reverse chron order, so the journal will flesh out like this?
Friday (3, 2, 1) — Thursday (2, 1) — Wednesday (4, 3, 2, 1)
Or in chron order, so that the journal will flesh out like this?
Friday (1, 2, 3) — Thursday (1, 2) — Wednesday (1, 2, 3, 4)
The former allows one to read from top to bottom of the page until one sees something one recognizes, at which point one can stop. The latter makes a day’s entries more logically structured within the day. You don’t get to the evening’s answer before the morning’s question, if you follow me.
A more formal introduction will be made at some point soon, but consider yourself acquainted with my deranged alter-ego the Avenging Virgo. I have changed the settings about seventeen times in the last twelve minutes. Let me know if any of you (assuming somebody ever reads this) have an opinion you wish to share.
(Finally, let us reflect on how unlikely I thought it would be for me to make more than one entry a day. That entry is either above or below this one, if you need to catch up.)
null set
This is a second post, even more content-free than the last. I wanted to see what it would look like once I had multiple-per-day entries.
As if I’m likely to do that anytime soon.
What am I doing? I don’t have time for this anyway. I have to get to practice.
fiat lex
I can’t help wanting to say something profound, given that this is my first post. But given that nobody even knows where this is yet, I guess the impulse is kind of pointless. We’re still putting the design, the includes, and all through their paces. I’m tremendously pleased with the way it’s turning out—and a good thing, too, given that I keep staying up until stupid o’clock to whomp it together.
Um, Paul and I ran out of mustard today, for the first time ever. We moved into this apartment 4 1/2 years ago with five jars between us, for reasons we could not explain. And then people kept giving it to us for Christmas. Also inexplicably. But now it’s all gone.
More mind-shattering news as events warrant.