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1. Set up the slackline in the yard. Sixty foot span. Tight as a drum skin.

2. Met the neighbors–in more of a hang out and talk sense than a say “Hello–what’s your name?”

3. $2 pints at Specs with the crew.

4. New circus trick … involving a giant wood spindle and awesome walking skills.

(#2 entry in the “Cool pictures of silhouetted friends doing cool things” category. Left to right: Christina, Eric Gowens, Eric Moog.)

5) Discovery of “Stop Making Sense” — and completely re-evaluating my idea of a “concert video.”

Also, this cool thought:

Concert set lists are arranged differently from album set lists. Each follows a general formula, and the two formulas are generally different.

It’s like this: if there’s a band that’s touring to support it’s new album, here are the set lists I expect to see, listed in terms of relative (and consensus, not absolute) goodness of songs. Assume each as 12 songs. (In reality, of course, any concert is filled with past favorite songs, typically between song number three and eleven.)

Concert
1. #4-ish best song. Best song off of previous album. Something to build energy.
2. Something … a pretty good song.
3 – 8. Some “okay” songs punctuated by a few hits.
10. #2 best song, or another previous #1.
11. Pretty good song.
12. Probably #1 best song. Really get the crowd going.

CD
1. #2 best song.
2. #3,4,5, or 6 best song
3. #1 best song.
4-9. Pretty good songs.
10. #5 best song, doesn’t match the band’s perceived style.
11. #3 best song, doesn’t match the band’s perceived style, or some random song.
12. If 11 is not #3 best song, then #2 best song that doesn’t match the band’s perceived style.

Or, stated differently:
Concert
1 – 3: High energy openers
4 – 9: Sine-wave energy–moving from high to low to high or low to high to low energy.
10 – 12: High energy build up and finish.

Album
1. High energy opener.
2. Pretty high energy.
3. Most catchy song.
4 – 9: high to low energy.
10 & 11: low energy, soulful songs
12. Something completely random–and possibly quite good, but different from tracks 1 – 9.

But, of course, there are some exceptions–like when Pink Floyd toured for Dark Side of the Moon or The Wall, or when The Who toured for Tommy. In these instances, the concert and album set lists were the same.

Really, it’s not all that “profound”–but I still find it interesting to think about why the same set of songs would be arranged/ordered differently on an album than at a concert. Differences in the way that the respective mediums are consumed, I suppose. Invokes Jean Epstein and Stan Brakahge and theories of media specificity.

This would be interesting to compare: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band — concert versus album.

Friday: a solid foot of snow covered the ground. My peers and I bundled against the cold, hurried from class to class–building to building, heads down and feed trudging under dreary, snow-spitting sky. A hearty few rode their bikes. Most drove, rode the bus, or just stayed at home in bed.

By Monday, MSU is transformed.

Monday: bright warm sunshine beams down from the sun’s still low perch in the Eastern sky. The snow has melted–almost entirely–to reveal a lush and vibrant green carpet underneath. Gone are the thick, synthetic winter coats. In their place, my peers now sport an array of sweatshirts, tee-shirts and tank-tops. The sidewalks team with bicyclists, pedestrians. On my way to EPS, I notice a girl–clearly an American who knows she has a right to bare arms–walking barefoot, shoes in hand.

Seemingly overnight, Spring has come to Bozeman!

So, I’ll be honest with you. It’s Wednesday, April 15th, 2009. And I’m writing this because I have nothing–absolutely nothing–else that I need to be doing. Sure, sure. I have things I could be doing. Projects, coming due in the next couple weeks. Books to be read. Movies to be watched. A new copy of The Economist to be read. Emails I could send. Mario Kart races to win. Etc.

But, instead, I’m sitting next to the fireplace, listening to Lucero (who is excellent, by the by–a little dramatic, but who perfectly suits my mood), and writing this … nonsense. This drivel. This transcription of ennui. This reminder to myself of what it feels like to have a moment to myself.

Christina is out of town for the weekend. The walk has been shoveled. My room’s a mess–just how I like it.

This is likely to be the first semester of my college career that I’ve completed every assignment on time–no extensions. Heck, I’ve already completed my CS 221 assignment, due next Tuesday.

And so, I have this moment for reflection and contemplation. Truth be told, I’m not sure if it should be embraced: it seems, as of late, the secret of my happiness is busy-ness.

Socrates famously said that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” But, of course, Nietzsche aptly points out that Socrates was rabble. And rabble always has its back up against a wall.

I say: the examined life is a luxury unfit for the 21st century. I say: suppose the unexamined life is, in fact, not worth living. Does that imply that the examined life is?

In statistics, if you fail to reject the null hypothesis at a given significance level, you’ve discovered only that the null and the alternative hypothesis are both probable–not that the null hypothesis is true.

H(0): the unexamined life is not worth living
H(1): the unexamined life is worth living

And, of course, if you’re performing a hypothesis test, you’re likely using some bell-curve distribution–which Nicholas Taleb characterizes simply as “the great intellectual fraud.” The GIF. The bell curve doesn’t account for The Black Swan. And, all too often, it’s the Black Swan that determines the world we live in.

Where does that leave us?

It leaves us with the gravel-soaked, melancholy lyrics of Lucero.

There are words, sure. I don’t know what they are. It’s not the words that are important, it’s the feeling.

And on this Wednesday night, it feels just right.

Observe this Robbin:

He’s confused. Really confused. It’s April 15th. Three days ago, it was 65 degrees. I rode my motorbike. Wearing flip-flops.

Three days ago, this would have been fine! The lifts were still open, and snow was always still welcome.

But no. Three days ago, it was warm and sunny. The snow was nice and puffy, like cream cheese. Must say–it was the first time I’d seen someone (and not just one!) skiing in a bikini top. The picture, in my mind’s eye, still seems slightly incongrous.

But that was Monday. Now, it’s Wednesday.

To snow like this the day after the lifts close … it’s damned snarky of Mother Nature, I’ll tell you what!

Bovard’s friend Matt, who works at a hospital, had this to say:

You know what the productive difference is between when the lifts are open, and when they’re not? When the lifts are open, people do productive things in the snow, like go ski. When the lifts are closed, people just do stupid things. Like try to see how fast they can drive their car through the snow.

Matt works at the hospital. …

I guess I should enjoy it while it lasts, though–in other news, I’ve been lucky enough to be offered an internship with my brother-in-law’s clinic (Arizona Pain Specialists). Which I’m quite excited about–I’ll be helping with, among other things, their new Electronic Medical Record (EMR) system. But it’s also in Scottsdale (see: Phoenix), AZ. Which should be wonderful–but I should enjoy the cold while it lasts.

…

Friedrich Nietzsche once said,

“The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.”

I like it.

I will now accept my honorary degree in Electrical Engineering.

(By the by, if you are a potential employer reading this post … please consider my other talents and abilities. For examples, I can play the guitar solo for “Man In A Box” behind my back. In Rock Band 2, that is. Consider what an asset I would be for your company!)

Meet my dryer.

It doesn’t have the name, but it certainly deserves one: it’s been a champ. An absolute warrior.

Ken and I picked this baby up at a garage sale, for a tidy sum of $50. We immediately realized a $0.76 return on investment (ROI), from the change we shook out of it while finagling it down to the basement of our old house.

Well, recently, the old sport lost it’s dragon’s breath.

That is, it stopped heating my clothes, while spinning and bouncing them in endless circles.

Moog–excellent Electrical Engineer that he is–diagnosed a failed thermal fuse.

So, we ordered a replacement thermal fuse online.

In the mean time, though, we had wet clothes.

No worries, though–I’m quite qualified to deal with these … challenges. I was trained from an early age in the nuances of short-circuiting a fuse. Christmas lights blow out? Wrap the fuse in tin-foil. Fireplace give out? Short it with a paper-clip.

240 volt electric dryer stop drying? Short it with a paper clip!

So that’s exactly what I did. And, boy, did those clothes get dry.

Not until the replacement fuse arrived did I discover … this:

and, this …

In retrospect, I suppose that 240v is a lot of current. And, in retrospect, I realize that the paperclip I used to short the dryer was about as thick as the wire used for its heating coils.

Boy, don’t I feel clever now!

Good news is: the house is still standing (near as I can tell, there aren’t even any scorch marks on the wall).

Bad news is: the replacement thermal fuse (which burns out at 325 degrees Fahrenheit) burned out right quick, soon as it was replaced.

Guess I should have left the paperclip!