I am sorry for the deception, but it was necessary (to protect myself). Parenthetical remarks. Self-referential-tarts. Recursion smarts. Yes yes--
that will be fine. Inventing words is the only way to get anywhere. When you run out of words, that's when you know you really have something.
An embarrassment.

Certain pieces of expression begin to have a devastating effect. This can be a signal of an unusually creative period approaching, a time for a
gathering.

I have finally scanned my pictures from Grenada, directly from the negatives for quality assurance purposes. Their appearance will, for convenience's
sake, likely coincide with the relaunch of this site at its new home, which will happen as soon as I can...think of a name for it.

Back on the horse, or... off the horse? of the OED. A new search for words that are rare rather than obsolete has revealed a whole other universe,
a query with as many results as my original one, with amazingly little overlap and an incredible density of great words. So, this ought to keep me
occupied for another few months, unless I lose my access.

Battling a bit of mental exhaustion as I wrestle with Sphinx on the Mac, it's not Sphinx's fault though, Sphinx is a good thing. It appears to be
Mac's fault.

Awakened from a groggy after-work nap by what sounds approximately like the world ending. Looking outside, it appears that Central Park is exploding.
Or perhaps just the finale of a fireworks display, but at an ungodly sound level that sets off half the car alarms on the street below. Then someone
in the adjacent building yells "get back in yo' window!" I do so. The Upper West Side needs its own drudge report so I can figure out what the hell
is going on. We need drudge reports at all levels of community. And we will get them.

Later, out for a walk to clear my head, I synchronize my singing to the oscillation of the posterior of a girl walking 30 feet in front of me. (I
also do this with the heart monitor when in the operating room, but this is difficult when the patient gets nervous and the tempo changes a lot.) A
few blocks later, someone yells something resembling "giant!" at me from a cab as I stand on the Broadway island. I think to myself, if I were
famous, I would probably always interpret events like this as being recognized. But no, sometimes people just like to yell things.

At Chicken Fair, where I obtain late dinner, a man and woman come out of the bathroom together with mischievous looks on faces. The employees chatter
suspiciously in Spanish. One of a pair of young women asks lightly on the way out, "does that happen normally?" getting a smile from the manager.

* * *

Two nights ago I did the closest thing currently possible to spending a night in Japan. Watched an episode of FLCL, then went over to a friend's
place and drank sake while playing video games, then saw "Lost In Translation," then went to a very cool and seemingly authentic Japanese restaurant,
then talked to Amanda-sensei on the phone for a while. At the restaurant I spotted Michael Maronna of the Adventures of Pete & Pete, one of the
great television shows of our time and, one might say, a distant cousin of FLCL in its treatment of the infinite possibilities of youth. I didn't
say anything to him because, I don't really have anything interesting to say, and for all I know maybe he's now embarrassed about P&P, though he
really shouldn't be. But I did note he has a good grasp of basic Japanese, perhaps about the same level or higher as I currently do.

A funny time, the first September in memory that I haven't been in school. Friends all around are starting to decide what to do with themselves, or
as the case may be, not deciding. The idea of making a lifelong decision on the matter at this point, or at any point for that matter, has always
been loathe to me. Why would I want to devote all my attentions to one thing? If I end up doing that, and enjoy it, then that's fine, but trying
to predict even at this ripe age the one thing I would regretlessly enjoy seems foolish. I prefer to keep a set of things to touch on, and do my best
to stumble into each of them at some point without forcing it.

Apparently not enough happens in Japan in a week for a whole 20 minute news program, because the international channel reran the same one on
Sunday from the previous week. I wouldn't mind so much, except that it contributed to a recently lessened ability to tell one day from the next.

There are a lot of businesses around my residence that I've never patronized, and likely never will. Many of them have been around a long time,
becoming so much a part of my environment that I no longer see them as commercial entities. Contributing to this in some cases is never seeing
anyone go in or out their doors. A few are actually in this building--a hardware store, a plumbing company and a furniture and fabric store. I
remember going into the hardware store once, and it being very disheveled in appearance. When I asked for a copy of a key the proprietor belched,
"you got money?" It must be a real problem, people asking for keys to be made and then not being able to pay for them.

Across the street there's the law offices of something Lewis, which could certainly be abandoned, except that in this area it couldn't possibly stay
that way very long. I suppose law offices aren't much of a window shopping business, but this place's one window is always shuttered and protected
by big iron bars. Even lawyers need a little sunlight now and then, don't they? Maybe not.

On the few blocks of Amsterdam atween my parents' residences, there are a slew of restaurants that I almost never go to, some of them not so old and
not shabby at all. Somehow I just don't consider them, as if the momentum I have when leaving the building must propel me to Broadway or Columbus
before I can safely stop. The pizzeria right across the street has been an occasional exception.

I advertised to this after a Seinfeld episode in which Jerry George are riding on a bus, and the background shots being shown in the windows were
of the aforementioned stretch of Amsterdam. I saw several storefronts that are now long gone, such as "HATREXCO," what the hell was that place
anyway? Something to do with hats and kings, perhaps.

Tonight Mr. X and I attended a great lecture by Slavoj Zizek, academic rockstar, obscenely prolific writer, philosopher, and former candidate for the
presidency of Slovenia. An assistant prof. introduced him, speaking for 30 minutes or so without an understandable word, except Zizek's name, which
he said about 100 times. He used lots of air quotes, and said not only that Zizek was an idiot, but the world's village idiot. After that I was
ready for a nap just like my school days, but Zizek was surprisingly clear and entertaining. I understood about 1/2 to 2/3 of what he said, although
it would have helped a lot if I were more familiar with deconstructionism, or with the work of Lacan, Deleuze, or about 20 other thinkers whom he
constantly cited.

I'll take a bit to relate some of his memorable thoughts. First, there was talk of how the 'virtual' can be more real than reality. For example,
pain produced by directly stimulating the pain center of the brain, we might call virtual because nothing physical is causing the pain in the usual
sense. But (so Zizek says) our senses are really a level of indirection that makes physical pain less real, and brain-stimulated pain, is in a sense
more pure, therefore more real.

The other big thing I remember was about all the contradictions in our society. An important one is, we tend to think of ancient or primitive people
as really believing in the crazy things in their culture, like the Greek gods, or animal spirits. But if you look more closely, you find that those
people really didn't necessarily believe in it, or they might all say they don't really believe it, but their parents and grandparents do. And it's
in fact today that people are really believing in these crazy religions. Another example from my own experience is the paradox of consumerism here,
where we are always being told to indulge ourselves, yet we must somehow remain slim. So we get coffee without caffeine, beer without alcohol, etc.
Zizek crystallized it with the example of the chocolate laxative, its own counteragent.

Finally, he had a great bit about the phrase "if God doesn't exist, then everything is permitted." In fact, he claims, it's quite the opposite!
(Sentences to this effect permeated the lecture.) If God (and the afterlife) exists, then you can do anything and say it's in his name, and no matter
what you do here, as long as you meet the criteria, you can look forward to eternal life in heaven. If God doesn't exist, then you must make the most
of your life, because it's short and all you have, and you are solely responsible for your actions.

The common criticisms of philosophy could apply. Apart from the dense language, he's basically stirring things up by providing seemingly outlandish
and perverse interpretations of life and society that tend not to mean much from a practical perspective. But Zizek's strength is that he does
provide real life examples, even from current events and popular culture. You really have to do that unless you only care about being understood by
professional philosophers, which is kind of pointless unless you're just testing the ideas out. For my part I don't mind it, because even if it
doesn't change the way you walk down the street, it's interesting now and then to look at things from a very different perspective, and wonder why it
should be seen as perverse or dangerous, rather than simply another way.

It appears the day of reckoning has finally come. On October 8th, or thereabouts, I will lose my umich email, web space, and so on, which means
migration for this site. So as soon as I can decide on a domain name, which is no easy task for me, the process will begin. I envision a new design,
new organization, more content, and lots of fun. What will actually materialize, remains to be seen. But there will certainly be something.

Part of what I'll be losing is web access to the OED, which for the past 8 months has allowed me to work on my dictionary of obsolete, rare, archaic,
and otherwise interesting words. So I've kicked production of the second pass into high gear, although I have almost no chance of finishing.
Fortunately I am able to get at the OED at work, thanks to Columbia, but since it is work, I'd rather not have to do much on it there.

It's always a bit awkward when I'm making a purchase, and decide to use some of the copious coinage usually present in my pocket, such that the change
is only one or two cents. I can't bring myself to simply walk away while the cashier is getting it ready--it seems like a violation of the procedure,
and might catch them by surprise, or worse cause them to call after me, so that I'm going to even more effort than I otherwise would to get my
pittance. There's also sometimes the matter of the receipt, although in most of these transactions (the greatest portion being when I'm buying candy)
that's even less important to me than the pennies. But I also don't want to look like I really care about the change. So I tend to try to look busy
or nonchalant (an ability I lack entirely), or even take a step toward the exit, and then simply put my hand out for the cashier's offered fist, as if
I don't even know what I'm getting. But who am I fooling: I already used some coins to pay, so I know exactly what's coming. For those thinking I
should just say "keep the change," forget it, way too condescending coming out of my mouth.

Ah, excruciating minutiae.