Internal Mirror Plane

Sleepity sleepity not gettin no sleepity sleepity

I should be in bed now. Actually, I should have been in bed a long time ago. But sleep doesn't come easy when you've been thinking and reading and writing and your brain is snap crackle popping with ideas and energy like some kind of electrically active bowl of Rice Krispies or Puffed Rice Cereal or whatever they're calling the off-brand nowadays, with milk conducting impulses like a college student on break in Cancun.

In case you also would like to be unable to sleep, I will give you a partial listing of the books of the past week:

Wonder When You'll Miss Me, by Amanda Davis
Circling the Drain, by Amanda Davis. Here is a place where you can hear the author reading the last story in this book.
selected writings of St. Thomas More
selected writings of M. Fethullah Gulen
My Name is Bill, by Susan Cheever. This is about Bill Wilson, the guy who founded Alcoholics Anonymous.
Anything but Straight, by Wayne Besen. This is about the failure of so-called "ex-gay" ministries. It would be a lot more convincing did the author not (1) work for the Human Rights Campaign and (2) make broad generalizations like "(insert sin of the flesh here) is natural! That means it's healthy!", but still, it's worth a read, and he's dead on about the disgusting trend in Christianity to focus on stupid stuff like who's having sex with whom in what manner instead of important issues like, oh, say, MAKING IT POSSIBLE FOR WOMEN IN AFRICAN VILLAGES TO GIVE BIRTH WITHOUT HAVING TO WALK FIFTY MILES WITHOUT SHOES WHILE IN LABOR.

Good night, sleep tight, happy trails, don't let the bedbugs bite, although how exactly a person is supposed to keep bedbugs from biting is beyond me. Tiny muzzles? Threats of punishment? Polite requests? ("'Scuse me, Mr. Bedbug, could you kindly refrain from chomping on that? See, it's my leg, y'know. . .") I don't know, guys. I just don't know.

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE

Okay, so all I have left to do tonight is physics homework, so my idle little hands are just itching for the Devil's proverbial use, and so I went back to the FlavaFriends website and played around with the nickname generator a little more.

Benjamin Lee Whorf has the very pretty choice of "Princess W," "Dream Girl," or "just call me Whorf."

Rita Dove could be "Dreamy R," "Missy D'light," or "Rita Dove."

Galileo Galilei, now that he's been un-excommunicated (recommunicated?), and some Jesuits are even operating an observatory of their own, merited a little typey-typey, which yielded him the attractive options of "Wiz Kid" or "Wonder Boo." Guess the program couldn't think of anything cute to do with "Galileo."

Rachel Carson would hereinafter be referred to as "C Hipster" or "Missy Star," unless of course she opted for the infinitely more boring and ecologically sound "Carson."

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., if he used his childhood already-nickname of "ML," would be faced with a Solomon's choice between "Fabulous M" and "Stylin' Sista." If he opted for the more sedate "Martin," he'd be "M. Bubbles" or "Candy Girl." Becoming more formal with "Dr. King," he could find himself appellated "Angel K" (finally, an appropriate one!) or "L'il Bunny." Awww. Bunnies are Easter symbols. Easter means nobody has to die forever. We all know that Dr. King's ideas about non-violent resistance and equality for black Americans live on, but how often do we think of his living faith and belief in the promise of J-sus?

Anyway. I highly encourage all my readers, especially the male ones, to scope out some hot and happening nicknames for themselves.

Upon Discovering That I Have Half a Loaf of Bread, Half a Jar of Peanut Butter, a Jar of Strawberry Jam, Six Eggs, Three Slices of Pasteurized Processed Cheese Food, a Jug of Juice, a Can of Soup, and Two Packets of Oatmeal "Standing between Me and Starvation," as My Mildly Melodramatic Grandmother Would Say

I am eating free pizza at meetings
that I go to not for content but nutrition
I get dirty looks when I'm buying books
'cause my mother thinks I'm wishing
on a star, but med school's not too far
away: I think I can almost touch it,
or maybe that's just what I try to say
so I can think it's not too much-- it
might be. Is it worth the effort?
Should I just get a job?
Is an animal a leopard
if it doesn't have spots?
You know, I don't know,
but I love it all the same.

and I'm doing physics late into the night,
and phonetics and phonology inseparably delight.
see, I'm losing weight, but my brain's gaining mass--
no, density! physiology is gonna kick my ass.
I love o-chem, some mol gen, Swahili on the side
and what it is that keeps me here is more complex than pride:
it is the sheer charge
of being awake at large.

I'm crossing borders for quarters, dirty as I am,
and my clothes all pose in a jubilant kind of heap--
reflecting their owner, footloose and on the lam,
hopped up on five damn hours of sleep.
It's not easy being green, but Kermit's never seen
half the things we did in lab to show him why.
from wavelength I can calculate the f and v,
pontificate on What It Means, 'cause I love pi.
Pie, I could use some, or groceries, any kind,
but who can think of food when on the desk a Latin mood
is just plain begging to be learned and declined?
You know, I don't know,
but no one's mentioned my name.

and I'm writing poems late into the night,
and chirality and processes are a kind of second sight
that makes a molecule, and makes me want to know.
and after all the screaming, after all, the screaming of
these concepts past my ears in a startled show
is not quite perfect, but it's what I'm dreaming of.
all I want is maybe a chance to soak it in,
and I'm new as the shoes I just barely got broke in
two years ago. They'll be good for longer yet:
I will work through worse, and gladly, just to say that I have met
academia, and learned, and shook its guiling hand,
to know that I can give my most and maybe understand.

Short Story Goodness

Louisiana Loses Its Cricket Hum.

Mom Reappears

Forecast for today: hi 79, lo 58, sunny with a chance of showers.

Comment on the whiteboard in the computer lab of Campbell Hall: "What are you doing here?? Go outside and play! (smiley face)"

Who says nobody cares about you once you're out on your own?

"FlavaFriends"?

Oh my. Check the hip lingo in use on this rad website.

I have met Jewish grandmothers who speak more-convincing and less-exploitative AAVE. (Actually, that's a bad example. Jewish grandmothers tend to be really fascinating and versatile people. Ummm . . . Ku Kluxers. I have met Klan members who speak more-convincing and less-exploitative AAVE. And then promptly run far, far away.)

Should we be happy that a culture other than the dominant one is being recognized? Should we be offended at the stereotypes ("Frost Yo' Nails"), the pathetic attempts to capture language innovation ("These games are tight!"), the still-unrealistic representations of the human form? Should we decry the commercialization of culture in general? Or should we resume our usual policy of "dolls? who cares? I'm rewiring my Easy-Bake Oven (TM C R etc) to provide a power source and projectile-firing unit for my working scale replica of a World War II tank!"?

Ah, FlavaFriends. You make me wonder. And you name me things like "Diggity R" or "Funny Bunny." No. No. "Just call me Rachel."

Happy Easter!

HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY EASTER!

There! Now you're taken care of for the whole Easter season! All fifty days of it! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!

Easter Vigil

HAPPY singing!

Good Friday

Singing. Or crying. Whichever comes to heart.

Maundy (Holy) Thursday

Singing about Mary, and about suffering, and about other common Catholic themes. . .

NOTE, parts one and two: 1. I'm still not a Vatican-II-rejecting nutjob, and 2. The English translation, while traditional, is not that great. If you have studied Spanish, French, Italian, Portugese, or Latin at all, you'll probably want just to read the Latin. The English is really saccharine and wordy compared to it.

Wednesday of Holy Week

Singing some more.

NOTE: This hymn tune ("Aurelia") is also popularly sung with the lyric titled "I Lay My Sins on J-sus," which is also very much appropriate for the time. However, I am not going to sing any song that rhymes "J-sus" with "diseases." So. The lyric, minus the second verse:

I lay my sins on J-sus,
the spotless Lamb of G-d:
He bears them all and frees us
from the accursed load.
I lay my sins on J-sus,
To wash my crimson stains
white in His blood most precious
till not a sin remains.

I rest my soul on J-sus,
this weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,
I on His breast recline.
I love the Name of J-sus:
Immanuel, Christ, the L-rd--
like fragrance on the breezes
His Name abroad is poured.

I long to be like J-sus,
strong, loving, lowly, mild.
I long to be like J-sus,
the Father's holy Child.
I long to be with J-sus,
amidst the heavenly throng,
to sing with saints His praises,
to learn the angels' song.

Pretty Protestant, but the operative word there is "pretty." I get a little twinge just from thinking about it, the way you can tell the weather from your broken bones, because I played this a few Easter Vigils ago at a friend's funeral. He died six years ago today, quietly, in his sleep. So.

in memoriam PETER JOHANN SWANSON, 1983-1998.
requiescat in pace et blackened catfish with a side of rice.

Tuesday of Holy Week

Singing again again.

Monday of Holy Week

Singing again.

Palm Sunday

Singing.

(NOTE: I'm pretty sure the website is operated/maintained by a group of "traditional Catholics" who are currently in schism with the Church over their refusal to accept Vatican II, which is unfortunate (both their failure to accept Church teaching and the fact that their website was the only place I could find Adoramus Te). Inasmuch as I like the way Mass is currently celebrated (in a language spoken by the congregation, with the priest facing the congregation, etc.), and I don't believe modern-day Jews bear responsibility for killing J-sus Christ, and I feel Christian unity is better accomplished by dialogue than by threats of Hellfire, I disagree with them on many theological points. So I'm not endorsing the Society of Pius X. I like traditional Church music, not "traditional" Church darkness. Mmmkay?)

Suffering

Hmmm.

A good friend wrote me an e-mail about something fairly pedestrian, and I was just about to write him back and delete his email when I reread it and caught the postscript:

P.S.
i wish you
the best of the best of the best that Gd may provide for you even if the
best according to HIM is suffering.

What do y'all think?