constant narrator

In my possible quest for grad-schooldom, my friend Anderson (local bad-ass, Ph.D. candidate in computer visualization of accoustics and general dancin’ fool) told me about this book Getting What You Came For - The Smart Student’s Guide to Earning a Master’s or Ph.D. Being that I’m in a media-buying hiatus, I went online to the Austin Public Library’s catalogue and lo they had it - at a branch library I’d never been to. I also found that they have a bunch of eBooks online that you can register for free to read at home without ever having to hunt down “Branch X - THE SECRET LIBRARY”.

But I like secret libraries, especially when they have a map to tell you how to get to them! This branch is up by Swad on Rundberg and caters to the multi-ethnic mix in that neighborhood with lots of immigrant services like tutoring and ESL. I found my book, geeked out with a punk-rock shelving girl, spied on a computer class and then got sucked into the cookbook section. Austin libraries really take their cookbooks seriously. I didn’t get away without checking out Julia Child’s The Way to Cook (why not brush up on basics?) and Laxmi’s Vegetarian Kitchen, as well as a big fat modern art book.

See, I go to be all geeky and professional and end up deliciously sidetracked and winking at cute boys in computer classes. Everybody’s happy in the library, it’s an oasis. I’m always smiling to myself when I’m in one, it’s so incredibly luxurious to have such a public resource. I feel so silly about them: I forget they exist. And then when I’m whining that I need some media/input/trebuchet-to-unstick-and-fling me there comes a little light far in the back of my head that speaks: … “the library… you will find it… at… the library!” And Ausin’s libraries are so great and have so many freaky books and boring business books and strange religion books and such nice friendly people.

I’m all warm and fuzzy inside! I could be a giant literate stuffed animal!

Walt Disney Home Video to test market self-destructing DVDs:

http://www.nytimes.com/2003/07/21/technology/21FLEX.html?8hpib

An incredibly stupid idea with tons of extra plastic and printed paper waste for landfills! Brilliant! Why buy something you can keep and watch over and over when you can pay almost as much for something that is a worthless piece of trash 48 hours after opening it? I hope the loss of a few million dollars will help repair a little of Disney’s short-sightedness. Bleach! Grak! Blergh!

I live in a second story apartment in Hyde Park that overlooks some unlucky freaks’ yard. They’re tolerant enough of me staring at them from my giant west-wall picture window, but you can tell everyone is slightly uncomfortable with the situation. These kids have turned their garage into an artists’ studio/band rehearsal space/dungeon and lots of dogs and dyed-haired hotties go back and forth between it and the house, occasionally looking up to where I am, spacing out in the general direction of their yard and suddenly making eye contact where none was desired.

When I first moved in, it was a different set of freaks occupying the house and they had two giant sculptures tossed behind the garage: a 5 foot tall tropical fish painted in gaudy colors who had seen too much rain and was slowly disintegrating into the lawn, and a 4 foot tall extremely pink and well proportioned disembodied hand that appears to be giving a giant Thumbs Up!

Some new freaks moved in and the fish eventually went bye-bye after a series of storms made it commit suicide. The new freaks moved the hand from behind the garage to a center stage appearance behind the deck. Now it is in the middle of my field of vision whenever I look out my bedroom window. I cannot stop staring at it. For a year and a half I have stared at the giant pink hand. It commands the eyes, it’s always saying “Way to GO!” “Keep at it!” and “HEY! YEAH!” with its giant thumbs up. It is mesmerizing. Its image is seared forever on my retinas. I’ve thought about going around the block to talk to the kids in the house to see if they would move it, but the thought of how that conversation would play has stopped me.

*knock knock*
“yes?”
“uh, hi, i live in the building behind you, the window right above your backyard?”
“yes, you’re the one who’s always staring at us.”
“ah, yeah, well i don’t mean to. look, i was wondering, could you move the giant hand?”
“what’s wrong with the hand?”
“i can’t stop staring at it.”
*blank look at weirdo on doorstep*
“it’s driving me crazy.”
*more silence*

You see how it would be.

Michael took me out for birthday dinner last night to a restaurant I’ve been wanting to go to for more than two years, Vespaio. I got all dressed up and we went and feasted on things like Brandied Shrimp Bisque with saffron oil and fresh lump crabmeat (I would have licked the bowl if it weren’t Uncouth) and polenta-encrusted softshell crab on ricotta gnocci. We drank a bottle of really tasty chianti and finished by sharing Torta di Polenta Ciccolata with house-made espresso gelato - essentially a molten chocolate cake with intense gelato and a chocolate sauce that I would like a full bathtub of. One word: Oh My God.

Afterwards we tottered to the car full and high from the extravagant food and went to the Congress Street bridge in our fancy-pants clothes to watch the bats come out. It was a gorgeous night and standing in the middle of the bridge-span there was a warm, sultry breeze. On the horizon to the south-east we could see thunderheads giving us a good lightning show. It was gorgeous and with Michael’s arm around me the whole world felt beautiful. I love Austin in the summer, the texture of the town and the people change and softens and melts in the heat a bit. I’ve always liked having a summer birthday; it makes the celebration slightly dreamlike, and I enjoy drawing my friends into that.

Earth and Fire turned me on to the concept of the Birthday Fortnight: 24 hours isn’t nearly long enough to properly celebrate a birthday and it’s more fun to spread the carousing and gifts out so make it a fortnight! Also, one never gets the opportunity to say “fortnight”, so it’s pleasing to run around saying “Birthday Fortnight! Birthday Fortnight!” I’ve had the pleasure of spreading this meme to other happy people who agree that one day of birthday just isn’t enough.

The fortnight begins when the birthday-girl (in my case) receives her first present. While my birthday isn’t until Friday, Michael came over with a big box in pretty blue celophane last night, and inside it, after much shaking of the box and general bouncing about, was the new hardcover Margaret Atwood book, Oryx and Crake. I <heart> Margaret Atwood. She can come to dinner.

Future plans for the Birthday Fortnight include a sumptuous dinner with Marty and David, some swimming at Barton Springs and also painting my toenails - w00t!