70179

70179 is the PLU code for Thompson's organic raisins at the HEB on Oltorf. I bought a pound of them last week but the mice were into them a couple hours later. I rifled out of bed when I heard them scrounging and... didn't even see them. I had to toss the whole bag.

It's been a great weekend. I found out the best way to make it an effective weekend is to pack as much in as possible.

I went out to eat with my sister and ended up crashing there Thursday night. She needed a ride to the airport early so we were up and moving at 6. I dropped her off and she presumably made it to Denver. I went back to her place in the hills and slept for three more hours before being awoken by a screaming hawk outside. It was pretty cool. When I went out on the deck, I found out it was actually a rotary saw screaming through a piece of lumber. I can't say I wasn't disappointed.

I scratched the classical guitar and washed clothes for a couple hours. Then John called me from the tablet repair shop in California to tell me all was good and the machine is fixed. Apparently a memory socket had failed and... it just seemed like a power issue. It's as good as new and the USPS is bringing it on back to Texas :) John tried to tell me that the failed socket had completely corrupted the brand new OS I had installed and that they needed to charge me an arm to reinstall it. After I informed him this was not the case, he backpeddled awkwardly, upped the price on the physical repair and then we talked about payment :) So instead of paying an arm and a leg, they made off with my leg and I'm happy about it. I ran home, updated all my PayPal info and got it done. I'll have my beloved machine back shortly :D

I checked the UT music schedule and saw there was an organ student performing his master recital at Bates. I had just enough time to pedal up to Wheatsville and grab some frito pie before running to the concert hall. I ate half of it out front and then had to get into the hall.

This was the first time I had ever actually wanted to hear organ music in person. I was not raised in a religious environment and every exposure I've had to the instrument in my life has been through some hollow, repetitive piece that just begged for an ending. Last night, however, was nice. I was bowled over by the 50 feet of pipes on the wall in front of me. The picture above is the organ in Bates Recital Hall taken on some other occasion. Some pipes sounded like MIDIsauce trinkets and others sounded like barges' horns. It was tremendous. I had an old lady sitting behind me the entire time content to clear her throat once a minute. One cell phone went off, but it was otherwise a great show. The program was varied, contemporary and ancient and not too heavy on the musical indoctrination. I found myself grinning and cringing interchangeably through an incredibly demented Bach piece, lost but for a few moments of kind melody. That freaking guy. I'm glad I went. I was underdressed and I know everyone around me was jealously aware of the frito pie in my backpack.

After taking his bows and enjoying his veritable graduation into the Masterful realm of organstuffs, he sat back down and finished with some flipshit piece that I think he might have written. I can partially understand why he performed it if it was his... some kind of personal celebration. But if it wasn't his, he should never be allowed to touch an organ again in his life. And if it was his, he should never be allowed to compose another piece for any instrument, especially the pipe organ, again in his life. What he played, what he left the audience thinking about, was easily the most disgusting collection of notes I've ever heard. There was not a single melody. There was not a single coherent statement made throughout this five minute long death of Beauty. Please bear in mind that this is coming from someone who can comfortably listen to Herbie Mann's Gagaku and Beyond. Anyway, I guess since I just went to hear sound come out of the pipes, I'm partially happy I heard what purely bad organ music sounds like. It was so fucking bad. I was reluctant to clap and acknowledge his musical accomplishments as a whole simply because he subjected his friends and family to what is easily one of the worst-assembled compositions known to mankind. I'd rather listen to 40 cats having sex in stereo. I heard someone asking him about it in the lobby after we all stumbled out of the auditorium and he said he considered it "enchanting" with a grin on his face. A goddamn volcano is enchanting but that doesn't mean you tell your friends and family to go swim in lava. Anyway, I heard a huge organ being put through its paces. Mission accomplished.

I rode on home and although I had intended to post on here last night, I started watching Bones on Hulu and was unconscious about 20m into it.

I was up around 9 today and scratched on the electric for about an hour. There's not much better than playing an electric guitar naked. You can't play a church organ naked, anyway.

**Just remembered there's a St. Vincent album I need to get.**

After the guitar, my landlord called and we talked for about 30m. I'm gonna remote into his and his mother's computers sometime this week and clean them. TeamViewer rocks like that. And earlier in the week, my roommate told me he'll be moving out. There's a freaking chance I'm gonna have the place to myself for a bit.

In my endless pursuit of Consistency, I took off on my bike again around 2 this afternoon. I needed pecans so I went to Whole Foods and got 8oz. I also got a Jonamac apple which tasted like flowers of all things. Created in Geneva, NY, the Jonamac originated from a Mclntosh x Jonathan cross made in 1944. Formerly identified as "N. Y. 44428-5," the name "Jonamac" was selected on September 21, 1955 from a population of 2,474 seedlings originally planted. Yep.

Then I rode a few miles to the Green Belt to check the water levels after all the rain. There was a lot of standing water and even a big pool down at the bottom of Campbell's Hole. It was good to see water down there. I called my mom and talked to her a bit while I ate my pecans on the rocks. There were no people there and... it was good.

I left and went down the road to the Springs and put my head under a waterfall. It was also... good. I am rich with adjectives this evening. I watched the dogs bark and swim and the kids smoke their pot on the banks. I feel sorry for anyone who's not in Austin.

After that I just pedaled home, up Bouldin (literally) and made it back successfully exhausted. Then I went to the grocery store and got all sorts of good stuff including, but not nearly limited to, 70179, Thompson's organic raisins.

I also got a Key Lime Pie and ate a quarter of it a little while ago. But I need more. I just need more key lime pie.

>> "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley

I've got another note, now. Proofreading and music kept me from the pie. You know how sometimes you hear song that make you want to throw your hands up in victory and look around the room to see if any invisible people might want to celebrate the song with you? No?

>> "The Grace" on Act I of Neverending White Lights

The strength of the song is not in the lyrics for me, and is probably therefore not too rewarding to most the first time through. I think the dynamics were mastered in the most formal sense and the song is just presented very well over the air. Jimmy Gnecco will, in fact, be on Act III which will hopefully be released later this year. That album will probably pull me up by the bootstraps and single-handedly get me through a large part of 2010.

Key Lime Pie.

Completely off topic... if you have the time, watch some of the old recordings of Van Cliburn's performances on video.google.com.