thoughtcrumbs : january 2000

The social lives of librarians

Jackhammers at the construction site next door vibrated me out of my office yesterday, and not in that good way. So, I spent a stint at the reference desk, waiting for the quaking to subside. Alan was there, too. After a random abercrombie winked at me, we decided to have a little contest to see who was more approachable: the thirty-something blond librarian with hipster glasses or the twenty-something woman with Heidi braids. Never mind that he has an MLIS and I only know where the stapler and bathrooms are. When a student walks by the reference desk, it's all about sex appeal. Though I didn't stay at the desk long enough for any kind of experimental rigor, I did stay long enough to beat Alan, four to two.

Get your labels right

From a Fortune article about geeks performing hi-tech remodels of average people's homes: "These geeks—as different from nerds as orcs are from trolls." Also: "We let the geeks pick their own uniforms, though: They chose The Matrix: Reloaded T-shirts and Tevas."

I've been holding my breath for three years

And Quicksilver is finally out tomorrow. From Christina Schulman's review:

This is also not a book that gets anywhere quickly. It's 900-plus pages, and it's not padded so much as it is fractal. Stephenson wanders down side tracks, stages elaborate adventures and morality plays, explores philosophical issues and geometric proofs, assembles obscure puns, and drags in all manner of famous people and events, purely for his own amusement. Either you sit back and enjoy the game, or you hurl the book (with effort) at the wall somewhere in the first few hundred pages.

To appreciate how long I've been waiting for a sequel to Cryptonomicon, consider what's happened in the dating lives of my friends in the meantime (names changed). Brian, I was reading Cryptonomicon that day in the quad at UO after the Valentine's party when I mentioned (at Jo's request) that you hadn't returned her email (which, turns out, you'd never received). The UO mail ghosts had frustrated her nascent love life, especially when coupled with your surprising delivery of roses to Jo's roommate the next day. But, never fear, with a little help from yours truly, you and Jo eventually found each other and dated for several months. Then she moved across the country and pursued a dating career worthy of the best reality tv shows (which we all live vicariously through; thanks, Jo). Brian, after an appropriate period of relationship mourning, found your match in roommate #3, and you and Heather have been happily hiking and baking bread for almost two years. And me? I've just been waiting for this book to come out.

OregonLive

Anyone care to comment on the grotesque usability issues of the Oregonian's website?

Feeling guilty

For going to tvguide.com to see the new fall lineup. In case you were wondering, I'll only be available to hang out with you on Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays.

International meetup day

Apparently the whole world converges at my favorite local coffeehouse. A sampling of the groups that have monthly meetings at Java Vivace:

• Klingons
• Flat Earth Society
• Kerry in 2004
• Leonard Cohen fans
• Paint ballers
• Mensa
• C/C++ programmers

Wouldn't it be fun if some of the groups got their dates wrong, and, say, Mensa and the Flat Earth Society people had to duke it out? Or the Klingons joined the Kerry bandwagon?

Bumbershoot 2003 wrap-up

The Decemberists
Did I mention I have a little crush on the lead singer? Colin, if you read this, email me. I want to buy you coffee (though absinthe seems more appropriate) and listen to you extemporize. The Decemberists played a mellow set with excellently articulated words, so vital when the song's charm lies in its lyrics. Colin asked the lighting manager to project something on the huge screen behind him. After some thought he added, "I hope I'm not inviting anything . . . maybe just project something tasteful." A few minutes later the audience gasped at the twinkling stars filling the screen, and Colin smiled the way a snarky hipster does when reaching bliss. Stacy pointed out how excellent Rachel, the drummer, was. While I've always loved the beats (expecially the gotta-bounce ones in Legionnaire's Lament), I'd never really noticed them live, a mark of a superb drummer.

Maktub
Overhyped. Not as good as Spearhead.

Ian Moore
Has that Jeff Buckley etherial high-register thing going on. Not what I'd expected, but perfect for a soporific Saturday afternoon read.

Saw a Taiko drummer's t-shirt
that said "WANNA MAKE OUT?"

Macy Gray
Wearing a cyan pantsuit, Macy Gray shook her booty and got "all you sexy people" to shake theirs, too. Even though the sound didn't carry well to the bleachers, her attitude did. With a DJ on stage mixing in tv themes and samples from a zillion other sources, and a bass player who stripped to his boxers 3/4 of the way through.

Kinky
Hey, they're the ones that sing that más y más y más y más song!

Dandy Warhols
Painfully loud but strangely entrancing. Maybe this drowsiness is my body's defense mechanism against hearing loss? After four songs, they'd only played one I knew from their new album, and it wasn't one I particularly liked. Too loud, so I left.

Dead kitty
Part of the short film festival, Rachel Max's excellent film lamenting her, well, dead kitty. The groomers tranquilized the mean-tempered cat, and it never woke up. They sent it home in a box. And charged Rachel for both the grooming and cremation.

My favorite busker
He juggles machetes while spinning a plate on a pointy slick in his mouth. While balanced on three boards atop a rubber ball. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm David Kelly, and this is how I'm paying for college. After the show I'll be passing my hat. You should know that the average donation to a street performer is three dollars. (pause) This trick is above average. And you can be above average, too."

Augusten Burroughs
The author of Running with Scissors is derangedly entertaining in person, as expected.

Rhett Miller
Do guitars have such a thing as concert pitch? Because otherwise he really needed to tune his guitar between every song. Give this boy a roadie.

Gay boyfriend
I want one! Another excellent short film.

Dolour
Dolour's lead singer is a fraggle! My favorite song went like this: "There's a billion-odd people that are better than me. But you don't know them." Catchy power pop, so saccharine it should only appeal to 16-year-olds, but I was jumping, too.

Nickel Creek
Amazing, as always.

Café Tacuba
Definitely the coolest and rowdiest place to be. The lead singer dresses like a porn star: powder-blue leisure suit, pink dress shirt, white tie. And the whole band broke out synchronized dance moves for the last song. Sabroso.

Did you call me?

Monday afternoon I was in the stands at Bumbershoot when my cell phone rang. Despite the blaring speakers, I answered, thinking it was the friend I was searching for in the crowd. Instead, it was a male voice, (Mark? something with a hard consonant sound at the end), but not someone whose number I recognized. A 503 (Portland) number. You asked something about the Pink Martini concert and were suprised when I said I was in Seattle -- but that's literally the extent of our communication. Other than lots of me saying "What? Huh?". I told you to call back and leave me a message that I'd check when I was in quieter environs, but then I stupidly answered when you called again. (The whole vibrating phone thing just suprises me so much every time that, as Jill will attest, I literally jump.) Then you never called back. Jill's theory is that a woman fake-numbered some guy in a bar, and the fake number just happened to be my phone, hence the invitation to Pink Martini. And my it's-too-loud-to-talk confusion flustered you too much to call back. But I think it's someone I know, and you weren't deterred, really, were you?