Rawkin aht in the ‘burgh

Went to see Nine Inch Nails and Jane’s Addiction last night, both great performances. NIN was unexpectedly good. Trent Reznor has a strong stage presence. I guess it was a farewell tour. He’s all fleshy and sober-looking now, but still got that goth-vibe. I couldn’t quite believe that he managed to sing “Hurt” with a strait face, but it was actually awesome. The whole audience sang with him.

Jane’s Addiction just fucking kicked ass. As a band they are tight, tight, tight, and Dave Navarro was just stunningly good, a shredder, as they say. Perry Farrell came off as a spacey-dork-o-rama, but I guess that’s just the way it should be. And I guess I had forgotten just how sentimental many of their songs are. No matter. Rock-n-roll Love.

We got rained on, pavilion seats, just two rows away from the end of the pavilion. It didn’t matter; I was head bangin’. But, man! Recovering from the night-time rock out is a lot harder when you’re a little older and have to go to work the next morning.

probably all too silly

I was thinking about an ex-mathematician friend the other morning as I walked my dog. Actually, I was kind of thinking about math and, more specifically, Number. For a long time I have accepted the notion that abstract concepts Exist, I guess in the Platonic way, and as such, Number is Real in some way (note all that significant capital-sprouting). What occurred to me the other day was that I’m not sure other abstract concepts exist; there’s really something different about the Good, or Justice, or Whatever-n-stuff in Platonic existence, yes? I guess I would like them to exist, and it would certainly help me for other reasons to identify God as some kind of uber-existent uber-Form, but somehow that is way more difficult for me to swallow. Maybe I just shouldn’t balk there; maybe I should be able to accept the ones as Existing as much as the other. I mean, I’ve pretty easily swallowed the first abstract concept, why shouldn’t there be, well, more of them. But, really…? And, incidentally, if I accept that formulation as some kind of definition of God (which, somehow, I’m inclined to), I am going to have an ESPECIALLY hard time identifying that God with, well, the Higher Power with which I’ve come to have a halting and sometimes uneasy spiritual relationship, one ongoing and mysteriously effective in my day-to-day life. Which is weird.

Now, I use the word “God” to describe that HP, partly because that helps other people to have some kind of idea of what I’m getting at, but for whatever reason I don’t think it’s merely short hand. I do actually believe that my HP is at least participating in God-hood, but I cannot seem to say that they are identical, because, really, why would it be that the God, uber-existence itself, would have any kind of relationship with a flawed and finite, minuscule even, being, (the usual objection) except in the way that all things participate in God-hood? Mostly, though, I don’t think about this at all. The HP (’god’ in my usual parlance) is good enough for me. Ha ha ha.

This whole thing started because I was wondering if I should take an online math class, assuming such a thing is out there, with a view to becoming a high-school math teacher. From the mundane to the sacred. Ain’t it always the way?

food, conspiracy

Most of my friends know that I have a mostly suppressed but lingering tendency toward conspiratorial thinking. I think of myself also as a pretty rational person, so I try to keep this cogitation at bay and avoid sharing it with others. But, one thing that always gets me going down this pot-hole filled path is thinking about the prepared and fast food industries.

I’ve been working for Greenwood Press as I have on and off for the past couple of years, doing some basic indexing for their very fine database, Pop Culture Universe. Recently, I’ve been reading the The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food and Drink Industries. It’s a reminder: fast food is evil.

The authors and editors of this work, of course, say no such thing outright. The tone is measured, scholarly, and informative, even if a tinge of leftward slant is noticeable. The stories about some of the big companies, Heinz, to take a Pittsburgh example, can be pretty interesting. And I for one, had no idea that peanut butter was pretty much invented by J.H. Kellog, of 19th century cereal and Battle Creek health spa fad fame. But the industrialization of eating freaks me out. McDonald’s, which has more complete histories elsewhere, (esp. Eric Schlosser’s well-known must-read, Fast Food Nation) started it all. I’m reminded of of its status as the perpetrator of industrialized ill-health and corporate manipulation. And they were only the beginning.

In a mere twenty years, McDonald’s went from 7500 ‘restaurants’ to over 30000. It cannot be an accident that these twenty years are the same ones that have seen the growth of the obesity epidemic, especially in children – huh! McDonald’s target market. Though they continue to addict and fatten the world, they now make the majority of their money through rent, not food. Kentucky Fried Chicken now out-sells Mickey D’s worldwide. The two companies buy most of the chicken farmed by the two hugest, most industrialized poultry producers. McDonald’s virtually owns the entire potato production of the state of Idaho (see Schlosser’s book).

Nabisco, purveyor of yummy, unhealthy sweets and crackers, is now a part of multinational conglomerate Kraft Foods, but has been owned by R.J. Reynolds and Philip Morris. Big Tobacco and Big Crappy Food Makers together to make billions off your addictions, your obesity, and your consequent early death. So comforting.

Don’t get me started.

quick update

I managed to complete a full draft of the aforementioned application letter. It has me exhausted. I sent it off to two willing guinea pig readers, and I refuse to think about it for a couple of days.

My eyes are computer-fried today, and I’m going to read some nice print on an actual paper page.

Tomorrow I will attempt to write something less newsy and more thoughtful.

Goodnight, everybody.

hard

Why, why, why is it so hard to apply for jobs? I really, really, really would like to have this job. That I could do and be good at this job I have no doubt. I don’t have precisely the experience level that they state, but I’m completely capable and would be very enthusiastic about working for this organization. Writing the letter is unbelievably hard for me. I realize that I’m not alone in this feeling, but when the rubber hits the road I’m the one who’s gotta do it. Mostly alone. I have worked on this letter already, though it has literally taken me almost two months to work on it for a couple of hours. It’s not ready; I haven’t said what I need to say. I secured a willing person to read it almost two weeks ago but I still haven’t sent it to her. The whole thing gives me a headache.

first cat post

Pigpen is still for food and not much else.

Well, the inevitable is here. I’m writing about my cat(s). I’ll leave it to my friend Mike to do the appropriate intellectual analysis, but the fact is – I am a cat (and dog) lover. I have a new cat, and I’m gonna write about him.

Pittsburgh has not been good to my kitties. Since moving here in the summer of 2004 I have lost three cats to that great nip garden in the sky. Donut came down with pneumonia and had to be put down a few months after we arrived. Little Man escaped and flat out disappeared into my unfriendly (and soon to be ex-) neighborhood. Sweet sweet Malla recently died of complications of an unfortunate interaction with a car. I’m developing some resentment against the ‘Burgh for its consumption of my kitty sweetness, but, naturally, that hasn’t prevented me from filling the recently emptied cat-hole in my heart and home.

Having been abandoned with limited food resources (he was found in a recently-evicted apartment with bunch of rotting donuts and a stick of butter) Pigpen spent his first fortnight in isolation eating. Any person walking in the door would be greeted but frantic purring and head bumping. After the requisite trip to the vet and some additional time isolated to treat a massive ear mite infection, and after creating the biggest mess I’ve ever seen perpetrated by kitty, Pigpen has been released into our home environment.

He gave Pugzly a cold, which I’m hoping won’t get any worse, and is having a hard time getting used to the dog. But, I’m optimistic that this big-eating, cat-box scratching purr monster is going to fit nicely into our home. Cute.

my German just won’t cut it

Behold! There is another Lonely Librarian on the other side of the globe. She linked to me, so I had to give her the shout out! Hey! Ho! We are both a little less lonely, though she definitely has the advantage over me of being obviously bilingual. [Not so sure my design is all that much nicer, but thanks!]

Still enjoying Pittsburgh’s run of impossibly beautiful and warm autumn weather and looking forward to my walk at lunch-time. I want to absorb all the sun I can because heaven knows when it disappears for the Winter I’ll be suffering.

This is a good opportunity, though, to enthuse about Pittsburgh weather. My friends here balk, but there’s a lot more sun and balminess to be had here than in my former town of Ithaca, New York. The Winters here feel like a personal gift. Sure, it can be a little wet and dark, but unlike other places I’ve lived (ahem!) Spring has fully arrived by April around here, Fall actually hangs on for a while (to wit – the previous paragraph), and Winter hasn’t destroyed your soul by January 20th. ‘Burghers, you don’t know how great you’ve got it!

first in months

I got a comment from an old high-school friend, which reminded me that I hadn’t written a thing here in oh-so-many months. I’m inspired.

I’m inspired about what happened last night, and grateful, and proud. Proud not only of the first Democratic popular majority since Jimmy Carter, but also the sense that many many people are also proud.

In recent years I’ve become a teary, teary gal, who gets choked up at every happy, sad, touching moment that happens around me or in my head. Today is a big day for me and the tears.

Even John McCain figured it out. I can’t even imagine how it must feel to be Amanda Jones.

America! Fuck yeah!

been a long time

I woke up this morning with an overwhelming sense of incompetence. I haven’t really managed to do anything I have recently set out to do: write a scholarly paper, quit smoking, clear up my library’s archives, do some job applications, keep up with this blog. It’s not like I have scads of readers out there wondering why I haven’t posted….But, anyway, I thought I would at least try to get something on here.

Sorry for the self-pity. I seem to be in a rut and can’t quite make it out.

I spent a good deal of time earlier today looking at library-related blogs. I’m adding a couple to my blog roll.

A couple of days ago I read a recent best-selling thriller, Tom Rob Smith’s Child 44. Really, really fun. Okay, so maybe fun isn’t quite the word because it is has some strong violence and the paranoid discomfort of life in 1950s Soviet Union. Smith stretches the limits of my tolerance with an ending that seems incongruously bright. This really is in the last three pages or so, a hollywood-ish it-all-works-out-in-the-end scene that very well could have been demanded by a publisher/editor who needed a little relief from the black and bafflingly arbitrary world of a totalitarian regime. But, Smith can be forgiven, even if he did write those last pages this way himself. Certain plot points are a bit outlandish, but when isn’t that the case for a thriller? Unlike many too many popular thrillers the writing here is well-honed and tight, the characters thoroughly believable. Oh, and a loosely-based-on-a-true-story serial killer, too. What’s not to love?

funny funny funny

I have been feeling kind of crappy the last couple of days, but this afternoon I found this blog/online mag that I spent reading and cracking up with. So, I thought I’d share it with my two readers:
The Sneeze

I found the sidebar produces some hilarious stuff, esp. the Best of….Good. Good.

That’s All Folks!