curious thoughts and remembrances

Saturday, January 31, 2004

squeeze the cheese 

bandpass filters. steep rolloff. section into thin slices of frequency range many nice songs. time-stretch to beat-match, and maybe pitch-shift. randomly mix slices. play as one. do many times. create genetic algorithm for slice-mixing success. breed new music. talk to Michael about general information theory and omega research possibilities for making slice-mixtures, and for genetic algorithm heuristic.

Friday, January 30, 2004

A little self-analysis never hurt, never did much good. 

I've always been predominantly math-minded. I'm a problem-solver. And that's why I'm not comfortable being happy. Where's the problem to solve in that? I need something to figure out, some system to analyze, some policies to establish, some mistakes to recognize. A 'friend recently posed the possibility to me that maybe I want to be sad. My response to her was "I don't think I want to be sad." And it's a silly thing to think, right? Who wants to be sad? But, it resonated within me. And so I'm wondering, what is it to be happy? A novel thought, I know. To be happy: to kick ass? to not care? to be insatiable and ever-motivated? I thought "love" was confusing, but now I think "happiness" is even more elusive. I picture it perhaps as a hermitic state, obsessing over one's own mind, lost in thought, with friends and lovers simply augmenting what is a generally satisfied disposition. Music makes me happy, at least. Blah! Bedtime.

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Another thing to worry about. 

I was reading a friend's blog just now, admiring various aspects of his writing, when it sunk in that it was time to go to bed, so I went to brush my teeth. I brushed them as usual, starting with the molars and so on, and finished with a gargle and a hack and a spit. The spit was bloody. This has happened before. Perhaps a toothbrush bristle hits my gum wrong, or I haven't flossed recently enough, and I get a little blood. So, I rinse out my mouth with some water. No blood. I hack again, and spit. Blood. I repeat this a few times and finally realize that the blood is coming not from my mouth, but my throat. And now I'm worrying. As I type, I feel coagulation in my throat, and an iron taste to my breath. I will go to sleep now, hoping that it has been some lack of sleep (there is certainly a lack) that has caused this bleeding. Correction, I will try to sleep, and wonder if maybe I saw a little blood in my spittle last night, or this morning. I will tell myself about the changes I need to make, the habits I need to curb. I guess I'm already telling myself these things. Good night, and may your throats be safe.

Thursday, January 22, 2004

Mixed Bizness 

So, for those not in the know, I work at a small start-up that sells things for people on eBay. Pictured here is our latest consignment. It weighs about, oh, 8000 pounds. Did I mention that I'm the one in charge of shipping here?

The Hourglass 

The Hourglass is a symbol of time and its urgency, but also of the female form. In either case, it is a subject of fixation, awe-inspiration, anxiety-inducement. It is beautiful and has the power to enslave.

Sunday, January 18, 2004

Remember Me 

Friendster, Blogger, and numerous other sites offer a lovely proposition when you "log in" to them: "Remember Me". It's good to know that something out there will do so.

I have the bones of at least 3 new songs worked out, 2 of which focus on an all-too-familiar subject that happens to have a new instance in my life, and the 1 other tune being about a teenager whom I am still trying to know better (I'm not referring to myself or my maturity here). I've taken to less lyrical whining and more telling-it-like-it-is, I like to think. My serial pseudo-obsession (is it even pseudo?) with this female and that manifests itself way too much in any song I ever try to write, so then I make myself write about something else like a magical bird that's killing everything, and I think "that song really sucks, Chadwick... go back to writing about girls again, you're better at that." And the process continues. I'm making headway though, being forced to even, as I find myself in a situation where every freakout, weird mood, and thing left unsaid only rips things apart, as it seems to me it should. Each day a step toward being the person who walks into a somewhere and it's just like anywhere inside his head. Ommmmmmmmmmm. Did anyone else get that joke?

Sunday, January 11, 2004

I've taken to taking baths lately. 

Hrm... my financial life is stabilizing and improving... my laptop is kaput... my roommate is still out of town... my brother is turning 17... and I'm flying to Massachusetts for a few days in February to celebrate my Grandmother's 85th birthday.

I signed into Friendster for the first time in maybe a week today. That thing is starting to get boring.

I'm trying out a different prescription for contact lenses tomorrow.

That's me me me.

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