Northeast to Southwest

During my time as a Cantabrigian, I took some care to try to explore the northeast nook of the country.  Most of this exploration was restricted to the sunny (and not-quite-so-scholarly) months of the summer.  Lots of trips to NYC (short bus ride away), one brief venture to Montreal for the jazz festival, some trips to the White Mountains (among other mountains) in New Hampshire, a bit of time on island with the flora and fauna of Martha's Vineyard, skiing in Maine and Vermont, and even a short journey to Provincetown on the tip of the Cape (grâce à my old adviser).

One thing that slowly dawned on me after a few weeks living in San Diego is that there are such mini-adventures to be had around here as well, if not so densely packed in as in the Northeast.  The first evidence of this was provided by the camping adventure of a few weeks ago, and over the past week I have had quite a bit of additional evidence.

First, a visit to the city of angels (a first for me) because friends from the East Coast were around.  Only a couple of parts (the downtown area, mostly, and a bit of Koreatown, where I stayed) did I really explore, so I'm excited to go back and delve in sometime soon.  The best part was decidedly renting bikes to go down from Santa Monica to Venice Beach (not the last Venice I'd experience in the week).  Absolutely lovely... See picture above, down a teensy little crook of a pathway between lots of houses over-flowing with plants (in the good way).  Somehow I never feel as though the beaches of SD are that available to me, when I really should be making more of them.  Biking around the area's a bit difficult (maybe easier once I bring back Yoshi?) and I hate the idea of driving to the beach -- for some reason it just seems worse than driving other places.  As if the beach is this totally amazing natural phenomenon that I'm lucky enough to live near and then... I have to drive there.  I may crack eventually and decide to move far away enough to live by the beach peaceably, but then I'd have to drive to school...  File under overprivileged guilt, or something.  And just guilt at luckiness.  It really is beautiful here.

A second recent southwest meandering led me to Vegas. V. (former roommate V., not current classmate V.) flew into L.A. the last day I was there, and after a couple of days in San Diego, we headed out for Thanksgiving in Las Vegas.  A weirder Thanksgiving did never I spend.  I've been describing the trip as a great Vegas-y trip (total experience without getting too nuts) but a not-so-great Thanksgiving-y trip (buffet at the Rio had some great stuffing but sheesh, so not the same).  However: It was indeed a fabulous first go at Vegas, and I came away with some first-timer tips:

1. First and foremost: find your place in the gambling sun.  For some, this might involve the sexy cabaret dancers at Paris; for others, the casino next to the amazingly re-created northern Italy setting at the Venetian; and for still others, the sophistication of Caesar's palace.  But when we saw our place, we knew it: Bill's Gamblin' Hall.  After a few minutes at the roulette table we were SURE we had found it -- not only did V.'s $1 bet on black 31 pay off (40 to 1 odds!) immediately, but we were also lucky enough to find a place with karaoke until 2 in the morning our first night there.

2. Leave the table once you quit doing well.  A lucky streak is a beautiful thing; once you feel like you're leaning away from that local maxima, go to a new table (or cash out).

3. Go to at least one truly Vegas show.  We may have hated ourselves a bit for it, but a woman sporting 10 hula hoops at once and a lover/roller-skater duo topped with a juggling pianist isn't a scene to be had just anywhere.

4. Don't pay for any drinks.  There will be plenty of free ones.

5. But don't get too drunk.  And if you do, go home.

A ukulele, an Oedipus complex, and a pomegranate

So play your favorite Beatles song

And make the subway fall in love

They're only $19.95, that isn't lots of money

Play until the sun comes up

And play until your fingers suffer

Play LCD Soundsystem songs on your ukulele

Quit the bitching on your blog

And stop pretending art is hard

Just limit yourself to three chords

And do not practice daily

Better words were rarely spoken.  And thus came into existence my desire to own a bright green ukulele (in bright green case!) shown above.  Apparently Amanda Palmer is not the only one to have written a song about the ukulele -- Stephin Merritt is also excited about ukuleles (me-kuleles?).

There are two primary reasons I decided it was time to own a ukulele.  And two corollaries.

Reason 1: It is simple to play.  Simpler than the guitar, which I would like to play soon.
Corollary 1.1: I found out it only takes 3 chords to play "Absolutely Cuckoo," one of my favorite Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs, and that's amazing.
Corollary 1.2: One of the reasons that I want to learn to play guitar is that I once wrote a song (in a moment of doom and gloom... mostly gloom) and I want to be able to play.  Somehow the piano just doesn't cut it.

Reason 2: It cost less than $15.
Corollary 2: Amanda Palmer has sanctioned ukuleles BECAUSE they only cost about $15.  Ok, according to her, $19.95 (and in an interview, that's "plus tax"), and also because of Reason 1: seriously, just learn THREE DAMN CHORDS.

Ok, I think that's enough about ukuleles for now.  On to Oedipus complexes.

In our core cognitive science class (that I have referred to before), we discussed the idea of "conceptual blends" this past week.  Related to metaphor, but not quite the same, conceptual blends involve the simultaneous use of two concepts in a single description.  Fictive motion is once example -- for instance, "trees running down the side of the river" blends the concept of a physical line of trees with the concept of an objet moving down the line.

Well, The Gospel at Colonus was a spiritual (in the musical sense, not necessarily the religious sense) retelling of the second play by Sophocles of Oedipus, after his arrival at Colonus post-gouging-out-his-eyes-upon-realizing-he'd-killed-his-dad-and-screwed-his-mum.  Woops.  A preacher simultaneously took on the role of storyteller and enacter, quoting "verses" which ended up being lines from the drama about Oedipus.  It was a blend of a church service, complete with (amazing!) gospel choruses and bible readings, and of the drama of Oedipus, where Oedipus at times became a Jesus figure, nearly seeming to wander the desert, and his daughters become virgin-Mary-like figures.

It was a play I saw with a friend at the San Diego Continuing Education Educational Cultural Complex (which was a fantastic space!) put on by the Ira Aldridge Repertory Players -- a friend of his was acting in the show, and did a stand-up job.  What was so cool was that there were many San Diego groups involved -- a jazz band, a men's quartet, a gospel chorus, individual soloists and actors... very impressive.

Item #3, the pomegranate, probably sounds the lamest but I'd claim stands an equal ground with fantastic local shows and acquisition of new instruments.  Here is a top-ten-type list of Things Noticed Whilst Eating A Pomegranate.

1. Pomegranates are Active Fruits. (You have to work to eat them!)
2. Plants and animals share some really strange apparently homologous features. (The thin layers of "skin" between seeds in a pomegranate truly _must_ echo the epithelial layers of animals, RIGHT?)
3. Corn kernels and pomegranate seeds are SO SIMILAR.  (Seriously... they are pretty much exactly the same size and very nearly the same consistency.)
4. Pomegranates are neighborly fruits. (I say this because I was invited to share a pomegranate, presumably because eating one is so much damn work that you want a companion in the process.)
5. Pomegranates are SO DIFFERENT FROM OTHER CITRUS FRUITS. (As I typed this I started thinking, hmm... I really hope pomegranates are _actually_ citrus fruits!)
6. Meat rocks maybe aren't that weird after all. (See this article published this past summer.)

Ok, think that's all I got for now.