Reading (For Dummies)

Banff Again

They say that history repeats itself until the first new episode of the next fall season. I haven't owned a television in 3 years, but I assume that this universal constant still applies. In with repeating history, I played film coordinator for the Banff Mountain Film Festival (check it out, Banff will be coming to your area soon). Our films were decent this year, with over 200 people in attendance for the fest. I only wish someone would have told me that I should keep my head shaved (which I'm doing again). That bald spot on the back is getting pretty nasty...

Guinness Book

Syracuse University spent a few thousand dollars over the weekend (part of Winter Carnival) in order to beat out a poor 14 year old girl from London. I would like to accuse the University of being the only entity in the world with a desire to take away a teenager's pride, but apparently we're not the only ones to break her feat.

In the meantime, we (SUOC, that is) decided to build a fortress around the snowball, three feet high and one foot thick, made from blocks of compacted snow. I dubbed our sculpture Snowhenge, and am predicting that it will melt exactly on the vernal equinox of this year. Any takers on the bet?

After all that funness of playing in the snow, lifting 30 pound blocks of ice, etc, I went with Bert and Arielle to see our pal Polar play with some folk for the Syracuse Irish Music Session. The bar had more musicians than regular patrons. It may be time to dust off my guitar and learn some traditional irish tunes.

Darkness, Darkness

I got out of town once again, this time to hear Antje Duvekot, who some might recognize as the lyric credits for a few songs by the Irish supergroup, Solas.

Antje is a pretty mellow performer, perfect for a Saturday night at Cyber Café West in Binghamton. Missing a little quality time with SUOC was okay, I spent the night drinking some Ommegang wheat beer and scribbling short nothings and reviews in a notebook. I wasn't the only one. The coffeehouse seemed to be full of people sitting alone at tables with food or coffee or booze, writing. It had all the makings of a Bad Poetry Workshop. So much hope from so many older people, who haven't given up the Emo dream...

Vert School

In preparation for West Virginia, I took some vertical rope ascending lessons at the old E-Room. Rope goes up through a pulley in the ceiling, through the ascending hardware, and down to a pulley on the ground, where ground control lets rope out so you practice ascending and descending with all that fancy gear. Climbing rope is tiring, but at least not technical. Rapelling half so. All aboard.

Change is in the Question

Those that know me know I don't tend to use a certain word except in jest. But, sorry, the last two days have been magic.

Peter Mulvey came to the Westcott Community Center (thanks to the Folkus Project. I sat, transfixed, zenning out like a 2-4 staged footstomp over a simple melody that was in love. Mulvey is a different kind of singer-songwriter, the type that's underappreciated, a god on the guitar, a fine wordsmith, witty. Audiences never seem to know what to think. Sure, there's applause, but it feels like there should be something more.

Singing the praises of a great singer aside, there were other reasons to be in a good mood. Like William, I'm writing again. I hammered out five pages of doctor-like scrawl, borderline sock-drawer poetry and another short story. Or perhaps both the same thing. Decisiveness is oh-so-much easier when you have something that can bypass logic and go straight to the lizard part of the brain, tapping into endocrine production that is the one true preludium of unique thought.

High on caffeine, poetry, wine, and virtue (as I please), I headed off to HAD-HOWL for a "what will you do for money?" party. I didn't partake in much of the debauchery, just sat back and watched as madness unfolded. And smiled a lot.

As is often on the weekends, I also had a SUOC outing. Our trip was rather small (most of the young ones were hung over from the night before) and rather ill-conceived. We ended up not-snowshoeing (as in hiking) in Highland Forest. The 4 mile loop proved quite tiring in thick crunchy very cold snow. Poor J-Lo (right) did the hike with her freshly broken collar bone, and lived to tell the tale with cold hand in tow...

Welcome Back, Comments

I finally got around to upgrading the blog to the latest Movable Type, and I even re-enabled comments. And the lurkers rejoiced.

High-Brow, meet Low-Brow

In lieu of new experiences, like ice climbing, I've been doing other things, like riding an indoor bicycle trainer, and drinking beer.

Ale is a good time, but sometimes things happen that just make you want to leave a good time. So away I went, a drunken Stevis in tow, to home. And to better things, like the SSO.

So I heard Saint-Saën's Piano Concerto No. 5, which was a lovely little piece that I may even have to look into. David was in attendance, as well as a whole bunch of logicians from the U. Exercise, beer, and Music have left me feeling rather up about the world...