The Runcible Blog

I went to Somerville to check out what the Mars Music Store had for bass cabs. The last time I went there was about 4 or 5 years ago. There are signs up for the store on the building and near the strip mall containing it, but when I pulled up, all I saw was a storefront that looked like it had been hit with a missile. There was a fence surrounding the entrance and a large plastic tarp flapping in the breeze where the door should've been. Wha' happened?!

Little did I know, Mars Music filed for bankruptcy and liquidated their assets 2 years ago. Doh! That explains why I stopped getting their advertisements in the mail.

That leaves Guitar Center as pretty much the only game in town (Daddy's Junky Music reeks, and smaller stores have a limited selection). Ah well.

Saturday was Scott's tent party and my first gig with Travels With Charlie (and my new amp). I didn't hear many complaints, but by the time we played, most people were very drunk and not paying much attention. And those who did pay attention were probably being generous with their compliments. "Disaster" might be an exaggeration, but I definitely think we could've played better. I got lost a few too many times. Fortunately, I don't think most people noticed. eh.

I think there was way too much consumption at that party, and I'm not saying that as a NARC. It's one thing for the "audience" to be loaded, but it's not cool if the band is also. I don't know why someone would want to impair themselves. It's not fun to play crappily.

After we played, Scott's neighbor started talking to me about this and that. I'm not sure, but it seemed like he was hitting on me. Here are some clues:

• He started by saying that he "admired my bass", which of course is a euphemism for something else.
• He asked my age (while sizing me up...)
• He mentioned living in San Francisco....
• His friend played in a band called "The Queers"
• He wouldn't stop talking to me. I had to find an excuse to get away.

Oh, and by the way, I love when I get stuck in conversations like this one:

cool guy: Have you heard of Kid Creole and the Coconuts?
me: uhh, no.
cool guy: What?! Get outta here! I can't believe you haven't heard of them....yadda yadda
cool guy: You must know [some other obscure band], right?!
me: no...
cool guy: No way! Oh, you're missing out. That's unbelievable!

Now imagine the conversation continuing like that for 5 minutes...

I don't know what the deal was with that guy, but I'd like to know what happened to the groupies. Did they get lost in the shuffle somewhere? Let's see, there were a couple skaaaaaanks, a few timid onlookers, a couple embarrassed girlfriends-of-drunken-fools, Phil's fiancé, and Scott's wife. Where were the TWC go-go dancers? It's just not right. Some teacher told me that "chicks dig guys who rock", but let me tell you, there wasn't much public "digging" going on (unless you count the 40 year old guy talking my ear off). *sigh*

So to summarize the day: gallons of booze, loud music, lots of strangers whose names I won't remember, creepy neighbor, shortage of fans.

Tomorrow night I'm going to play with a couple "electronic performers" (drum machine and synth) in Allston. I'm excited because I'd love to try something different like that. Who knows; I might jump ship and play techno!

Since my Ampeg 15" 100watt combo amp struggles in open spaces and sometimes during loud practices, I decided it's time to make a step up. On Friday, I bought a David Eden WT-500 250Wattx2 channel head and an Ampeg BSE-410hlf 4x10" cabinet. It's quite an upgrade. Eden amps are very highly regarded, American-made, boutique-type equipment. It'll output 500Watts (if I attached another cab) -- which should give me much more headroom and avoid any ugly distortion. This particular 4x10 cab has ports in the front for better low-end frequency response. It has more booty-shaking bottom than my current 15". Although 4x10 cabs are more versatile and should work well for me, I can always add a 2x15" or an 18" cab if I really want to move some air.

I paid much less than the new price (they're used) for the pair and probably a bit under the average used prices. I was able to talk the salesman down $130 but might've been able to go lower if I had better haggling skills. I'm sure it was a win-win though: I paid less than the sticker price, he made a commission, and Guitar Center made a profit on their highly marked-up merchandise. Unfortunately, I have to wait until Wednesday to pick up the head because of some law that requires a 7 day waiting period for newly received used equipment. I'll be camping out in front of GC Wednesday morning, waiting to snatch that amp.

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• I bought Purple Rain to broaden my Prince experience. I was still in diapers while doves were crying and Darling Nikki was grinding in her castle. So, 20 years later, I'm just discovering the artist formerly known as Prince, some symbol, and now currently known as Prince again. The album is alright, but I'm disappointed that it sounds so thin. Where's the bass, Prince? I thought he was into funky stuff, but the bass is hidden somewhere in the next room. Oh well.
• Roger Daltrey is awesome (as is The Who, of course). I love how Pete Townshend seems like such a dorky guy, but when he's on stage, he's a crazy rockstar. That's cool.
• I was listening to Fire by the Pointer Sisters and thinking it's a pretty good vamp. However, the song never goes anywhere. It just drags along. It's kind of funny because I'm thinking, "Ok, this is neat. Let's see where it goes." but it never gets better. (maybe funny isn't the right word) Either way, I think it would be fun to play that vamp with the band between songs or something like that.

At Subway the other day:

a 15 or 16 year old girl walks in...

18 or 19 year old guy sitting behind me: Excuse me. How old are you?

girl: (takes one look at him) Young.

and she just walks away.

Well, I thought it was funny.

Here's a summary of what my work day:

mail# ps aux

switch terminals

ns2# ps aux

switch

db# ps aux

switch

dave# ps aux

repeat indefinitely with various other machines.....

Sometimes I alternate between ps aux and top. I'll also do a tail -100 on every log I can find. I'm not looking for anything in particular -- just filling time by constantly checking what all those boxen are doing.

On very slow days, the tedium is unbearable. But there's so much down-time because of poor management/no goals or direction/low morale, etc. And when I do have something to do, I'm usually finished much quicker than expected (not to honk my own horn).

At least when I worked in that box factory for a week, when I finished one thing, there was always something else to do. But it wasn't a rushed feeling. It was more like, "Ok, you did that. Now do this thing." So, no matter what pace you work, there's always something in the pipeline. With this job, I spend my downtime wandering in the wilderness, wasting away. And frankly, I don't care enough to search for things to do.

That's another observation about my job: nearly everything that I've done which has helped someone or the company has been something that I've done on my own or was told not to do. It's sad that in order to do any good there, you have to stay under the radar and be sneaky about everything. Otherwise, the political territoriality and massive egos crush any potential for progress.

Helpful advice for that guy who lives on Elm Street:

If you're going to watch porn on a big screen TV in your living-room, perhaps you should close the window shades first.

Kakuan, a Chinese Zen master in the twelfth century drew the ten ox-herding pictures to describe the phases of Zen training:

1. Searching for the ox: The ox has never been lost. What need is there to search?
2. Discovering the footprints: Not yet having entered the gate, nevertheless he has discerned the path.
3. Perceiving the ox: If he raises his eyebrows by keeping his eyes wide open, he will become aware of the fact that all things are nothing other than himself.
4. Catching the ox: If he wishes for pure harmony with the ox, he should not fail to whip it.
5. Herding the ox: Hold the nose-ring tight and do not allow even a doubt.
6. Riding the ox home: He will not linger even when caught with a trap.
7. The ox transcended: We only make the ox a temporary subject.
8. Both ox and self transcended: Mind is clear of limitation.
9. Reaching the source: One who is not attached to "form" need not be "reformed"
10. In the world: Inside my gate, a thousand sages do not know me. The beauty of my garden is invisible. Why should one search for the footprints of the patriarchs? I go to the marketplace with my wine bottle and return home with my staff. I visit the wineshop and the market, and everyone I look upon becomes enlightened.
    

For more commentary and the actual pictures, see Zen Flesh, Zen Bones and An Introduction to Zen Training.

After completely realizing one's true self (finding/herding the ox), one returns to the world to help all creatures. This stage transcends holiness -- in fact the enlightened person forgets about enlightenment.

At this ultimate stage of enlightenment, nobody, "even one thousand sages", can tell any longer whether he is a fool or a clever man, and whether he is sacred of profane. To such an extent has he lost his own identity, whether he is enlightened or unenlightened, good or bad, male or female. In addition, he has completely deprived himself of his beauty gained at any cost. It does not matter to him at all now, if others call him a lunatic or a traitor. He is, therefore, no longer bound to external laws in his freedom, and no longer arrested by any moral codes in his self-liberation. He is capable of acting freely at will in accordance with his varying opportunities and circumstances without necessarily restricting himself to the "good examples set by his wise predecessors."

Although I would not presume to have even seen the ox's droppings yet, I chose to tattoo the tenth ox herding image on my back as a reminder -- Sentient beings are numberless. I vow to save them all.. I first glimpsed then stepped on the Bodhisattva path a few years ago. They say once you start walking the path, you never leave it.

Now, if someone asks why I got that tattoo, I can repeat what I just wrote. Or, to save time, "I got it because it looks cool and stuff."

I always wonder why people ask me why I do this or that. The latest question is, "Why do you have a mohawk?" Well, geeze, I don't know why. Does anyone expect a profound answer? "I want to get in touch with my Native American roots." Nah, sorry. There's no profound answer.

More often than not I've found that the question "Why?" is actually meant as a statement -- "I disagree with you. Explain yourself." Other people, I think, reflexively ask "Why?" when they see unusual things or behavior. As a result, I tend to give bogus answers whenever the question arises. I should apologize for being unresponsive to anyone who honestly wants to know why. I've heard so many people ask questions without listening to the answers that I just assume nobody cares.

In defense of "Why?", I find myself constantly asking that question. Everything I do at work -- "Why? What's the point?", when playing music -- "Why play it like that?", when reading the news, etc. Every time I put the camera to my face I ask "Why?". What am I trying to show? Why would I capture this moment? It's a very serious process.

So I shouldn't be hard on people who ask why. After all, doesn't the question point to the ultimate quandary -- "Why am I here?", or "Who am I?". Asking others why they do the things they do leads us one step closer to asking ourselves why we do what we do and one step closer to understanding.

And if "the unexamined life is not worth living", then what more meaningful question exists than "Why?"

Today is that artificial holiday, Mother's Day. Saturday morning I was woken up between 3 and 4am by the sound of my mother hammering nails into some cabinets she's making. And last week I got to hear her drilling screws into the wall (stripping every one of them) at about 5am.

So for mother's day I thought about doing some construction of my own, at 2 in the morning. There's nothing like a jackhammer to ring in such an important holiday!

But that wouldn't be very nice. Instead, my gift to her is just being myself. I figure, when you have a son like me, every day is cause for celebration. Am I right or am I right?

I've never felt that kind of pain on my spine. The needle seemed to hit my nerves at times, though I know that's not the case. As painful as it was, I didn't feel nauseous like I did the first time. But I did bleed quite a bit.

I'm bandaged now to keep from staining everywhere. I can't look at it until tomorrow. Then I'll know whether it was worth so much money and irritation.

I'm going to bed with a burning spine and an ancient piece of art permanently etched into my skin.

• I wouldn't go so far as to call my room a fire trap. After all, the fire won't be trapped -- I will be.
• Sometimes I don't think. The other day I had sand in my shoes, so what did I do? I dumped the sand on the floor under my desk. Now there's sand all over the place.
• One bad thing about wearing shorts is that I have to find matching socks. It's harder than you think.

• It's funny how something trivial like a haircut can affect someone's approachability. I know that whenever I have normal length hair, strangers make eye contact and ask me for directions or the time of day. If I cut my hair, fewer people approach me. Now that I have a pseudo-mohawk, the effect is even greater. The first day at work, some people seemed afraid -- as if I were packing heat. Look out! Others tried not to acknowledge my existence.

  I suppose if there's any point to anything that I do, maybe it's challenging stereotypes. Most people take their body modifications and hair styles to the extreme: they have an image to fill (badass biker, the goth look, punk/hardcore/whatever you call em, etc.). And perhaps they change their personalities to accommodate their physical appearance.

  Personally, I think a sort of nuanced approach is much more interesting. I mean, I don't like punk music at all, I'm definitely not an alpha-male, and I'm about as "straight-edge" as possible (though I'd never ever call myself that). Yet I'm not shy about piercings or tattoos (I'm thinking about getting my next one soon).

  It almost seems that my appearance and my character contradict each other. Or maybe they don't. Maybe that's the point. Subconsciously, I want to make it very difficult for anyone to know me by my appearance. It's like my own personal daily prank on the world. The other day at the recording studio, when the engineer asked if I wanted a drink, Scott said I was a whisky drinker (he knows I don't drink), to which the engineer replied, "Yeah, I figured." I laughed to myself. "I fooled you!"

  Life is more rewarding when you have to spend some time to get to know someone. My guess is that if anyone bothered to look past my scary visage they might be surprised that I'm not exactly one-dimensional. Then they'd be in on my prank. heh.

  Either that or they'd think I'm crazy. What the hell do I care?!

Anyway, now it's late. Here's a quote that I find particularly meaningful. It's the 10th phase/gate of the "10 Ox Herding Pictures" -- metaphors for the phases in Zen training. This quote resonates so much with me that it'll be part of my next tattoo -- a permanent reminder of how to live:

Barefoot and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the world.
My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever blissful.
I use no magic to extend my life;
Now, before me, the dead trees become alive.

I found another seemingly trivial task that Java forces the programmer to jump through hoops to accomplish: copying an object. You can't get more basic than that, or so I thought.

Let's say there's a Subscriber class which is a very large bean that holds everything there is to know about a subscriber. In the servlet I was modifying, I wanted to load a Subscriber from the database, make a copy of that subscriber, and change one field, the publication that the subscriber subscribes to. I had to keep the original subscriber, too.

I knew that Object has a clone() method because of my supremely bloated IDE which pops up a list of methods for everything. I figured it would be a simple (for Java anyway) matter of saying:

// get the publication
String pubType = request.getParameter("pubType");
// Static method to load the requested Subscriber.
Subscriber oldSub = Subscriber.loadSubscriber(params go here);
// copy the old one to a new Subscriber (notice the annoying casting involved)
Subscriber newSub = (Subscriber) oldSub.clone();
// set new subscriber's publication.
newSub.setPublication(pubType);

But that's only part of it. The Subscriber class also needs to implement the Cloneable interface and apparently, override the clone() method like so:

public class Subscriber implements Cloneable {
    // a lot of bean code...
    public Object clone() {
        Object obj = null;
        try {
            obj = super.clone();
        } catch (CloneNotSupportedException ex) {
        }
        return obj;
    }
}

(that's another thing about our code; we never do anything with caught exceptions. What's the point of having exceptions if you never even print out the result?)

All I wanted to do was copy an object! Java is so anal about protecting the programmer from himself that the verbosity and required hoop-jumping get in the way most of the time. Why can't there be an easy way to copy an object, and if you need finer control, then use the more complicated method?

Well, Python comes to the rescue again! Here's how you might do it in Python.

import copy

pubType = "Stinky Times"
# You probably wouldn't do something like a JavaBean
# in Python.  Nor would the bean know how to "load itself".
# For the sake of the example, assume that
# Subscriber's constructor takes the required arguments
# to load itself.
oldSub = Subscriber(params go here)

newSub = copy.copy(oldSub)

newSub.setPublication(pubType)

The "Python Way" assumes that you want to do something simple most of the time, so the language is very easy to do most things. Of course, if you want to do fancy things like control how your object is copied or make a "deep copy", you can do that too (override __copy__() in your class and use copy.deepcopy(), respectively).

But the point is that Python doesn't force you to do it the hard way for simple things. In that sense, it's more "scalable" than Java. You can use the basic features for small tasks and gradually use more and more of the language for more complicated projects. You don't have to know about everything all at once.

My boss was defensive when I remarked that the Java way was convoluted and unnecessary. He said, "You have to do it that way because it's the Object-Oriented Paradigm." and trailed off into some lame excuse. The problem isn't object-orientedness -- it's that Java sucks.

I've been wondering lately: If you aren't disgruntled, does that automatically make you gruntled?

Well, it turns out that someone content with their situation is not gruntled. Dictionary.com knows of no such word. In fact, the dis in disgruntled means "completely", and "gruntled" means "grumbling". Go figure. So, one wouldn't want to be disgruntled or "gruntled".

Ya can't win either way!

I've written a potentially useful (but mostly useless) weak, one-way encryption program for generating pseudo-random, easily memorable passwords. It's meant to be used for creating an initial, somewhat secure but easy to remember password which the user should change as soon as possible.

For me, at least, it's hard to think of a good password when creating new accounts. Maybe someone else will find it useful.

Try out Lousy Encryption version 0.1 now or download the package