tables

fulghum is smiling smugly somewhere

Submitted by raymond on Mon, 06/23/2008 - 1:25am

for speaking at a conference, I received a gift bag that included a matching "padfolio" and lunch cooler. I felt my bpa-free stainless steel adult thermos filled with red kool-aid would go well with my adult trapper keeper* and my adult lunch box. despite having all this neat stuff, however, I'm still not (yet) invited to eat at the cool kids' table in the cafeteria. perhaps I should find an adult equivalent to the slap bracelet.

*as if I needed further verification that I'm getting old, I asked a student worker if she knew what a trapper keeper was and she said, "isn't it just a folder?" is it possible to explain how many nascent nerds felt that their entire social status hinged on acquiring one of these "just a folders?"

reflections on recent explorations

Submitted by raymond on Tue, 04/22/2008 - 6:48pm

being Chinese-American and mistaken for "Harold" on a regular basis, I have, as many would expect, sort of a soft spot for Panda Express. any time I'm in the mood to forget nostalgic notions of savory home-cooked meals, I can always trust in Panda Express to offer tender, delicious, bowel-convulsing cuisine that reminds me nothing of the comfort foods mom (or in my people's native tongue: "ma") used to slave away for hours in the hot kitchen to stuff our bratty, ungrateful mouths full of.

most people may not know this, but ironically (or "cleverly") "Panda Express" is actually a Chinese phrase. an allusion to exquisite tea houses and fine restaurants of the Qing dynasty, the phrase translates roughly to "Glorious House of Succulent Temptations and Unending Flatulence." even as I toured several in the area (side note: outstanding romantic evening out for the more adventurous of you lovebirds out there) these "Glorious Houses" indeed never failed to live up to their name. each place created a unique evocative atmosphere exactly like the one before it.

if I were to impart only one of the countless touching memories I amassed during these visits, I think it'd have to be one from College Avenue and University. I found a choice seat in the corner and had my book open to indicate that even though I was eating alone, I was still busy and therefore important. I had my gwailo-impressing chopsticks at the ready and the scents of orange- like- flavoring- on- chicken were already making my mouth water and my stomach nervous. as I sat with twitchy anticipation, not unlike a heroin addict, preparing myself for instants of delicious bounty and hours of regret, I paused for a moment. I found myself marveling in awe at the wall-hangings of Chinese calligraphy. words cannot describe the beauty and poignancy of a language that has characters that can mean either "tasty" or "gaseous" depending on the pronunciation. my joyous appreciation would later manifest itself in an extra-loud burp.

a moment of silence

Submitted by raymond on Wed, 09/26/2007 - 7:01am

Wir müssen durch viel Trübsal in das Reich Gottes eingehen.
We must enter the Kingdom of God through much sorrow.
(Acts 14:22)

about twelve years ago, I attended a fairly rigorous music camp. by rigorous, I mean that every student had a three hour mandatory practice session scheduled every day. in addition to that, there were other blocks of optional practice time which *limited* students to a total of 7-8 hours a day. at the end of the optional evening practice times, the camp counselors would have to go door to door to remove students from the practice rooms 1/ for legal supervision reasons but primarily 2/ to keep the students from practicing so much that they injured themselves.

"fairly" rigorous.

writing dirty

Submitted by raymond on Fri, 05/04/2007 - 10:11pm

"I'll tell her you said, 'hi.'"
"okay, thanks"
"anything else you want to say?"
"'konichiwa, bitches.'"

"I don't understand how guys could do that."
"that's because you see women as actual people and not just life-support systems for vaginas."

"i'm glad you work here...it makes the days that my brain feels like it's about to fall out of my butt not so....brain butt falling."

the picture should probably be filed under "shit that's funnier when you're drinking." in a brazen display of "not being down with the lingo", we spent some time coming up with alternative meanings to the phrase "ridin' dirty." here is a selection:

-- winging it
-- making shit up as we go
-- paying with credit instead of cash
-- car full of drugs
-- sex with no condom
-- riding a horse with no underwear
-- riding a horse with no saddle
-- robbing a bank with no gun
-- riding a horse while drunk
-- refilling a beer glass without washing it
-- a car with only three working spinners
-- turning your underwear inside out instead of changing it
-- making out with someone after throwing up
-- flossing your teeth with hair
-- not washing your hands after using the bathroom
-- sitting down on an uncovered toilet seat
-- masturbating at a friend's house
-- sex with only boots or black socks on
-- dating someone's friend for revenge
-- sex in parent's bed

looking back, I like that some of them have ambiguous phrasing.

cogitate your dissonance

Submitted by raymond on Fri, 02/09/2007 - 10:01pm

eschew avoidance
seek stillness, not denial
peace amid chaos

meme infection and innoculation

Submitted by raymond on Wed, 01/25/2006 - 5:57pm

printed in blue
"I have no idea why I obsessed about getting one of these notebooks. I don't really have a use in mind for it, but before purchasing one, every time I walked past one, I'd be overwhelmed by the urge to possess one. maybe I was simply overwhelmed by the desire to be hunched over one of these in some exotic location scrawling furiously passionate thoughts that needed to be expressed right then and right there. maybe I imagined that possessing a notebook like this would inspire me to fill it with great ideas I didn't yet have because I didn't yet possess such a wondorous medium for catching great ideas. I suppose, the bottom line is that I'm a sucker for great marketing."

tap the glass

Submitted by raymond on Thu, 12/15/2005 - 1:05am

"interesting water," said the fish.

the premature setting sun reflects off a display case and glares at me. what the hell time is it? stop thinking about that. I continue to stare at my cursor, willing it to move. I flick between the two documents I'm working on. what the hell time is it? shit. it's been 45 minutes since the cursor has moved for either of them. I feel myself losing hope. a part of my brain seems to have resigned itself to the belief that I am not going write anything of interest today. it's meandering around trying to convince the other parts of my brain that this is so. periodically, the polite society of my brain devolves into a lord of the flies-esque fiasco. factions fight over what to do next, other factions just sit around; very little compromise, lots of thrashing.

maybe I've just been watching too much fucking Lost.

the buds of my ipod throb in my ears. the bass usually helps me focus; usually helps me drown out distracting side thoughts. right now, the music seems to be drowning out all of my thoughts. either that, or my internal voice is mumbling. I glare at my ipod for a second and go back to squinting at the cursor. I feel like I'm on the brink of something. somehow the last couple of articles and books I read and re-read, the movies and tv shows I've watched, they are all coming together. more and more, I've said, "YES! that's totally related to what I wanted to say about... about... THAT."

there's a thought, an idea, a theme that's begging to be expressed. Michelangelo once said that sculpting was easy; all you had to do was cut away whatever wasn't part of the statue. Bach said that organ playing is just as easy; push the right keys at the right time. on the subject of writing, Just said "get the thinking right and the sentences will follow." all you have to do is put the right words in the right places.

I can put this non-thought into words, I just need a few more moments longer. block out the glaring sun. block out the bass. block out the smell of cigarettes, the fly that just meandered by, the sticky table, the pain in the ass metal chair, the little nubs on the 'f' and 'j' keys, the...

fuck.

I give.

wait... I clench my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose in a last, desperate attempt to squeeze that intangible idea out of my head.

fine. fine. fine. you win, ADD. I'm done.

I sigh, open my eyes, close my laptop and look around the room for some sort of inspiration. inspiration usually comes in a 16 oz cup, 150 mg at a time. I think I bought a dud. my cup is almost empty; what's left tastes a little like cigarette smoke. I don't think inspiration is supposed to taste like cigarette smoke.

I'm sitting in an internet cafe / bar. the guy at the table in front of me is staring at his laptop. the girl at the table next to me is staring at her laptop. the couple next to her is staring at their books. two more people at the bar have laptops, another is reading a newspaper and another just fed a dollar into the bar game thingy. three people have headphones on. I would've been the fourth, but I just pulled my earbuds out. in this moment, the only two people here looking at anyone else is the bartender and me.

strike that; the bartender is walking toward his computer and I just re-opened my laptop to scribble down this thought.

there it is.

when Michelangelo finished sculpting his Moses, he took his hammer and hit the knee of the statue and yelled "fuck yeah!" or something to that effect.

Milan and I used to joke about how it'd be awesome to write like a rockstar. like get so pumped about what we were writing that we would type with one hand and throw a fist in the air. I'm starting to type so intensely that I feel like pointing to someone and yelling "AWWWWW YEEEAH!" before putting my laptop on my shoulder and typing more. I should buy disposable wireless keyboards so I can rock out around the coffee shop and smash them into a table when I'm through.

now, I'm smiling. I close my notebook again and look around the room again, just trying to soak the strangeness in. I feel like throwing my notebook across the room, putting my hands in the air and yelling "THANK YOU, PHOENIX!!! WOOOOOO!!!"

reawakened past life

Submitted by raymond on Thu, 11/10/2005 - 5:35pm

hunched monks clicking chips
meditate on fate and choice
seeking clarity

ketchup and coffee

Submitted by raymond on Wed, 04/13/2005 - 3:11am

eager for breakfast
but lacking sufficient funds
feast on condiments

overload for sanity and survival

Submitted by raymond on Thu, 06/27/2002 - 6:00am

Frequent readers of the site and others who keep close tabs on me understand that my life is not one that would be called "particularly interesting." As such, I spent one evening rummaging through old pictures I took with my digital camera. I forgot that I had amassed quite a collection of photos of tabletops I started sometime last summer for lack of anything else to take pictures of (neighbors got a new set of curtains.) Here is the first of what will be a regular feature.

July 20, 2001 in dorm room (Evanston, IL)
This is why I thought I was cool enough to have a website. It is the top of my fridge and shelf-thing in my dorm room and it just happened to show a good cross section of most of my interests at the time. Last summer I had absolutely nothing to do. I was taking one class that met 3 hours a week and that was taught by a friend of mine. I was playing ultimate frisbee three or four times a week. Outside of that, the only thing I had scheduled was occasionally sleeping. Most of my friends had left the area or were working more than a few hours a week. The people who lived around me in the dorm were all taking Orgo-- one of the hardest classes here at NU-- so none of them intended to see any daylight that summer. After a few weeks, I figured I had to find something better to do before they killed me out of sheer irritation. There were a few times I bumped into them as they came back from 8 hours of class whereas I was wandering out of my room having just woken up at 5 in the afternoon (did I mention that I had a night class?) Whenever that happened, they didn't say much, but those eyelids got a little twitchy.

The only arranging I did for the picture was to move the case logic in the back to where it would be more readable. In it, you can barely see two DVD rips; Rounders and Chasing Amy. That case logic contains about 80 DVD rips-- the rest of my collection is elsewhere. The stack of books on the left contains Idoru by William Gibson, the Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis, Hold'em Excellence by Lou Krieger and Modern Portfolio Theory by Robert Hagin. Next to that, there's my Brood War CD caught in a rare moment outside my computer. For a few years, I think my interest in the game Starcraft and the expansion set Brood War could be classified as "near fanatic." My cool friends (as opposed to my dork friends) think they appreciate how much of a complete dork I can be. They have absolutely no idea. I can be downright embarassing without even trying. The stack of CD's was meant to introduce and educate me in the ways of misc rock (popular and non) as was the Rolling Stone magazine. I read, skimmed, and referenced the stack of books on the right to learn Perl and to create the dynamic and magnificient site you see before you today.

Then, of course, there's a Red Bull to help me get through everything. The water and Gatorade are to keep my piss from coming out like toothpaste. Like I said before, I played a ton of ultimate. It's humid as hell out here during the summer; I basically irrigate the field with my sweat every time I play.

So that's what I spent a bunch of my time on. I didn't sleep any earlier or any less, but I guess staying in my dorm room more kept me from wandering around in my pyjamas and annoying my suitemates to violence.