Tha bomb

Never before have I referred to anything as "tha bomb." It's just not normal. But after the flipshit week of clusterfuck calls and absent-minded everything, my mind is at rest to this recording and it's.. tha bomb.

The Orientalist fuses Tibetan monk chants & throat singing with hideous break beats, ripped dub tracks cut with aggression, while managing to dingle and dangle with primitive percussion to round out the highs. The bass kicks hard and it's... rolling me into my weekend.

Love was in short supply this week.

It started out with a call from my mom in the ER with an irregular heartbeat. The doctor considered it a withdrawal symptom from the vicodin. I sat with her in the room for a couple hours before her heartrate came down. She was a nurse before mucho madness happened and now she's particularly good at paying excessive attention to her own symptoms. What can you do? She's trained in the science of healing and she's in a state that requires her to sit inside all day, every day.

Anyway, I got her home after making sure I understood the doctor's orders better than she did. She ended up getting to bed that night and... the email the next day injected some nice humor into a generally lackluster week.

The next morning I got an email about how she had gotten home the night previous and had taken her Ambien to sleep. Apparently, shortly after taking the medication, she got up and got a bowl of cereal... shredded wheat to be exact. However, instead of getting the milk, she grabbed the chocolate syrup. She was inevitably unable to do anything alongside the strength of the medication and ended up passing out in her bed in a pool of chocolate syrup. She wrote the next morning and described the scene. In a response from my isolated desk, I responded, "There are worse ways to spend your days than rolling around in bed in chocolate syrup." Anyway, it was a good laugh. The only other humor in the week was Corey Ann's post about hating war.

The next night I was tending to Mom again. A generally morose tone assumed my attention as I just faded through the rest of the week. I still don't know what's actually happened between today and four days ago. My mom was on her back in the ER and... did I work? 46 hours of work must have taken place somewhere in there. I don't know. I'm back blogging to people who might or might not listen while planning how to spend my next 48 hours.

I didn't get to trade at all. I think I ended the week up 7%. I'm generally discontented when I don't get to trade.

GBPJPY has turned and the Euro might have topped out. GBPJPY moved 3.4% yesterday. It bottomed out at 140, as I had anticipated three weeks ago, and just decided to stand up today. It hasn't moved like that since this time last year during the financial debacle. But this time, it moved in the opposite direction.

I've finally gotten almost everything I need automated. While working full time, I'm not able to have an actual idea of what the market's done over the course of a given day. I've taken my non-technical time to figure out how to export all the price data so I can get a snapshot of market sentiment at any given time. I've got 15 page spreadsheets I update every night and scripts to generate price ammortization over a given period.

So I don't know what I'm going to do over the weekend. So far I got off work late, as usual, but was able to get home to new stuff on the computer. I'll be going out riding again this Saturday morning with a coworker, one of the developers up at work. I met him today and he seems pretty cool. We're gonna ride the 20m route I did last weekend.

I thought about going to the Elephant Room tonight but ended up getting some Guinness and coming on back. I'm watching movies on justin.tv and just got rid of a pizza that was offending me. I have a fantastic knack for getting rid of culinary company that's overstayed its welcome. I just eat it. Simple fix. I wish humans tasted that good.

I had a dream last night of my high school sweetheart. She was with some other guy and I was generally unhappy about it. Truth is, I lied to her when I was 16 and told her she was the first girl I had ever kissed. Only two people know that's the case.

It's supposed to get cold here in the not-too-distant future. I don't know what to make of it.

Recently I've been getting these painfully realistic, euphoric sensations that remind me of a calmer time in a calmer place. I used to spend clearer moments in places much more beautiful than this. Places that allow silence to flourish and humane consideration to infect willingly. The trees were taller, the land was greener and the air was kindly cleaner. There was moss on the ground to cushion a fall or to serve as a mattress after a long day of relentless love, humor or happiness... the tools of the youthful trade. The people spoke with intelligence and the birds sang with enthusiasm. This seems much too far away. After I started meditating a few years ago, I began to consider memories of friends to be legitimate emotional interactions with a purpose. This has gotten me through days otherwise too quiet for productivity. I'm generally too trusting, but that's always been my nature. Maybe that's why I don't talk very much. It gets me in trouble. I have to continue to believe the people who have impacted my life stop to think about me just as often as I do them.

I'll pass the time this evening by jamming to dub and taking comfort in the fact that some people aren't called to action until late in their life. Every day is a battle. The persistent, curious tinkering of relentless minds has done more to further mankind than any other human activity. The mind races for a reason. It must.

>> "Tibetan monks playing fuzzy bass tablas" on 1000 Sounds Lotus by The Orientalist