Sometime in late 1991 or early 1992, at a record store in Greenfield, MA, I picked up a CD with cover art of an inverted starfiled. It was by a band named Codeine, and called Frigid Stars LP. I bought it, unheard, because I found the cover intriguing, and because it was on Sub Pop, the original home of Nirvana who were blowing up at the time. That was how we discovered new music back in those days; it didn't always work, but as soon as I put the CD on I fell in love.

Codeine sounded entirely original, and found a sweet spot for me (as a sad and angsty teenage boy) between power-pop and art-punk on the one hand (Teenage Fanclub, The Pixies, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr) and goth-tinged synth-pop on the other (The Cure, Depeche Mode). I listened to Frigid Stars on pretty much non-stop repeat through the winter of 1992.

For the next few years, if asked of my favourite band, Codeine would invariably be the answer. I thought that I had seen them live twice, both times at the Iron Horse in Northampton, MA, during the 1993 and 1994 Loud Music Festivals, but according to a show list on a semi-official website it seems they only played the second of those. Soon after that in any case, and the release of their third album, the band broke up. I grew out of my teens and my angst (mostly, though not so much the sadness) and found new favourite bands, but would still find myself digging out the Codeine CDs and 7"s from time to time.

Back in February I got the weekly email, which I typically ignore, from the Bell House about upcoming shows, but this one caught my eye because the first word in the subject line was "Codeine." They were playing Brooklyn in June. A week after my birthday. A little more digging revealed that a remastered, deluxe box-set of their recordings was being put together, and they were playing about a dozen shows in the spring and summer, their first shows in 18 years, and the first with the original band members in almost 20.

I bought tickets the moment they went on sale, and pre-ordered the box set. The box set arrived on my birthday last week. Tonight was the Bell House show, the first of two in NYC. And I'm sure that my 17 year old self would have been—well, maybe if not exactly "happy"—glad to know that 20 years later I'm still really into something he was into way back when.

Back in late January or early February I discovered The Chris Gethard Show, a comedy variety/talk show that happens live every Wednesday night on Manhattan public access TV (and streams on the internet). I was vaguely aware of Chris as a comedy personality; he does improv at the UCB Theatre (where a previous incarnation of the live show happened), had just recently had a book published, and had starred on a sitcom that I had never seen. But I think it was his interview on Julie Klausner's How Was Your Week that got me to start watching the back catalogue of the show.

I started with the most recent episode, entitled "Loser Is the New Nerd," which was based on the premise that nerddom had been coopted by the mainstream as something that's actually cool, and "a loser is a nerd who doesn't have a choice." It was incredibly uplifting and empowering. Yes we're awkward, was the message, but we can build community from that awkwardness. I had worked my way through about a third of the archive by the time the next show aired.

I watched "Search for the Next Random" live on a glitchy feed in my living room. The term of the second "Random," Andrew, a temporary cast member without connections to the show, was coming to an end, and it was time to find a replacement. I wanted to make my way to the taping at the MNN studios on 59th Street in Manhattan and try for the position myself, but was unable to overcome the inertia of staying home in Brooklyn and the fear of new people and things. Regret crept in over the course of the hour, and when the show ended I sent out a tweet:

The next week, when the field had been narrowed down to two and the final choice was picked, I again watched from home. The week after that, I think on the afternoon that the show was to air, Ted Leo was announced as the music guest. I've seen Teddy quite a few times over the years, from in-stores and tiny little clubs to big summer venues, and that familiarity, even if I've never really interacted with him in person, was enough to get me out to the show.

And it was totally worth it, I had a great time. But still felt shy and awkward when the show was over and shuffled out into the cold and the subway home. I came back the next week though. And the next. And the next. By my fourth or fifth week I had had some interaction with the audience wranglers—Andrew, Keith, and Rob—and some of the other regular attendees, and tagged along to the bar afterward.

I avoided interacting with Chris, one—because I'm shy and awkward, but also two—because I wanted to stay random enough to be in consideration for the next round of choosing a new Random. That round came, somewhat unexpectedly last night. It had been announced as Melissa's last show, but no call had been made for a new crop of potentials, as had been done on the previous two occasions. (The first Random, Jean, was truly random; she called into the show during its second week on the air, having stumbled across it on public access. She asked what they were up to and was invited to come hang out.) That call was made on the fly, a few minutes into last night's show.

Although I had been thinking about it for four months I wasn't exactly prepared to make my case, and was also, truthfully, a bit drunk from winning shots at bar trivia just prior to showing up. Also in an accelerated manner, the field was winnowed to two in minutes (by Andrew and Melissa) rather than over the course of a week in online voting. I was surprised to find myself in that final two, and to be brought back out before the Human Fish for the final selection. The Human Fish (called the show's "breakout star") is a half man/half fish who has only recently emerged from the sea and is figuring out the world of man in the form of one dichotomy (A vs B) at a time. He was presented with the conundrum "Random Ellen vs Random Bean," and didn't go my way.

Pretty much every day for the past few weeks we've been told that some builders, coming to replace the front windows in our house, were imminent. Finally today, at 9:00am, on the one morning that I had turned my alarm clock off and made a conscious decision to sleep in, they showed up. One of the first things they did was to knock my video projector off of the shelf that it sits on in the living room. Luckily, aside from one scuffed up corner, it seems to be fine. I was planning on taking it with me to studio today anyway, to do some testing for my final video project, so I quickly removed it from the scene. I hope that they've taken better care of my bedroom, though the only easily breakable thing (aside from my big glass desk, which should be well enough out of their way) is an Ikea lamp that I already broke a couple of years ago. And I really should replace that anyway, I got a glass sliver from it last night.

Half way between my house and my studio, which is only about a three minute walk, is a bagel shop. The smell of bagels is seductive, although I seem to get an upset stomach about one out of every three or four times that I eat their tofu cream cheese.1 So most of the time I just keep walking. But today I got a bagel and grapefruit juice, and was going to go without coffee, but began getting a headache almost immediately. So after setting up my projector I went back out for some caffeine. I've only had about half a cup though, I'm still sipping on it now at 6:30.

The test for which I wanted to use my projector was not as successful as I would have hoped. The plan was to project some scrolling text across myself, in the green screen room, video tape2 that, and key out the green, to be replaced with some abstract footage that I'm going to shoot out in the world. Unfortunately, my projector is not really bright enough to illuminate me if I'm already well lit enough to stand out off of the green backdrop. It still might work, but it's going to take some tweaking.

Fall, the season, is about half way over. It's just now starting to look like it. Fall, the semester, is two-thirds of the way through. I'm only taking two real classes this semester, book arts and advanced video (I guess I've previously mentioned this). I'm finishing a project for each this weekend, then moving on to the final projects. I'm also at the "just stop thinking about stuff and start making stuff already" phase of my thesis proposal. With any luck I'll be able to tie all these threads together into a cohesive sort of push to the end of the semester with momentum that will carry me into a good working system for the actual body of my thesis.

Which is to say, I hate the fact the days are getting shorter, but I like the orange and yellow and I'm optimistic about my work buoying me through the winter.

1. 644 words.
2. Live from Democracy Plaza.
3. New York is depressed.
4. A gallant, but unnecessary gesture.
5. In your green coat.
6. Family portrait.
7. Three martinis later.
8. Worst. Hangover. Ever.
9. 11.59p
10. The coffee shop is not your home.
11. Pretend it's hot coffee.
12. Sober bowling?
13. Saturday. Still not drinking.
14. Let's find the dinosaurs.
15. A bear. Three conversations with girls.
16. At least they had coffee today.
17. 800sf my ass.
18. Little old lady.
19. Bush Gardens sushi winds down.
20. A staircase to nowhere.
21. Twenty-one.
22. Hypothetically speaking.
23. Inwood, revisited.
24. Exit NYC.
25. I'm thankful for...
26. Slow day in CT.
27. Slow day in CT take 2.
28. More questions than I'm asking.
29. Jump into a crisis. Fix. Repeat.
30. Yuh huh. I do, I do.
31. Four big potatoes. Two cans of chickpeas. $3.
32. Zip code 10034.
33. Txt msg.
34. Moving furniture.
35. Spreading knowledge of vegetarian eateries.
36. Lack of narrative content.
37. Dress socks are a business expense, right?
38. Squeak.
39. Shower Curtain.
40. I'm not dead. I'll call soon.
41. Moving Day.
42. First Night.
43. The morning after.
44. Books.
45. ____ will have a party.
46. 577 KiB/s.
47. 250 no Moore.
48. No longer a teenager.
49. First snow.
50. More free drinks.
51. 7.42a
52. Dadap family homestead.
53. Last to leave.
54. Fuck it. I'm just getting on the train.
55. Low-key Christmas.
56. Can I give you a ride?
57. Quiet Monday.
58. BAC Broadcast Saga. Part I.
59. BAC Broadcast Saga. Part II.
60. Half day and the theatre.
61. Low-key New Year's.
62. Global warming.
63. One month of silence.
64. Groundhog day.
65. March is the month.
66. Bean used to be like this all the time.
67. That age-old question: Did someone beat me up yesterday?
68. $11 subway cut.
69. Sixteen glasses.
70. Five becomes one and a half.
71. I'll take that spatula.
72. Easily distractible.
73. Maybe I should try those nose strips.
74. Pool balls and Truchet squiggles.
75. Bubbles.
76. Too cold to paint.
77. It's like a lit class. With wine.
78. I could have just drank the paint.
79. Maybe I should have bought a lotto ticket.
80. Have I told you that 8 is my lucky number?
81. I'm a sucker for a girl with a guitar and a pretty voice.
82. 733MHz two-headed beast.
83. Long lost.
84. Apparently immune to Mother Nature's charms.
85. Orange Burst. 230B-6.
86. House white.
87. What does March sleet bring?
88. Alien speakers.
89. Well vodka.
90. Flatware.
91. Lime Light. 700E-2.
92. You say you want a tessellation.
93. Poisoned!
94. Thank you, fucking A train.
95. Jamaica Bay and Village Square. 500D-4. 730D-5.
96. Eight to twenty-five.
97. You've got to pull the plastic whale.
98. So that would be 7.15 in yesterday's time.
99. Physical exhaustion. Emotional exhaustion.
100. At a newsstand in Times Square.
101. Steps.
102. Dust in your eye.
103. He told me he was coming in tomorrow.
104. The future of rock and roll.
105. Indoors on the nicest day of the year so far.
106. Somewhere between more and much more.
107. Anything to anyone.
108. Free drinks.
109. I'm just the monkey with the stupid hat.
110. Genetically engineered to not play soccer.
111. Guest appearance.
112. Almost just like.
113. Steamed bread.
114. Scent of spring.
115. April cold snaps bring TV watching binges.
116. Where I've been and why.
117. Slide.
118. Squeeze.
119. Step.
120. Older? Wiser? Just more drunk?
121. As Chris would say.
122. Out of time and place.
123. Beyond my pay scale.
124. The boys of 438.
125. The birth of Shitty.
126. A return to a different kind of doughnut Sunday.
127. Part-time.
128. Minus one.
129. This is summer.
130. Some things never change.
131. Thirty.
132. And a day.
133. Bad news equals alcohol equals no cake.
134. Loss.
135. I want a new bag that's not too pursey.
136. This second year.
137. I really had no choice.
138. These gel insoles don't do shit for my feet.
139. Inwood needs coffee shops.
140. Almost everyone in New York is probably up on a rooftop tonight.
141. Squish.
142. Dinner was cold by the time I got home.
143. All again.
144. My house is littered with cardboard boxes.
145. Ball of wax.
146. Chris Kitten is a rockstar.
147. Alone.
148. Movie reviews.
149. Distressed typewriter font.
150. Bleach, lightbulbs, toothpaste. Six-pack of beer.
151. Could say.
152. Measly four.
153. Ultimatum of sorts.
154. Another excuse for after-work drinks.
155. And I'll keep kicking you in the shins.
156. And the weather breaks.
157. It seems all my friends are rockstars.
158. Another big cardboard box.
159. No new ink. Yet.
160. The further mis-adventures of Emo-boy.
161. Happy birthday to my mom.
162. If I could afford to live in an apartment like this.
163. Scaredy cat.
164. First impulse.
165. Shut up, you.
166. Hear ye, hear ye.
167. It's always nice to see good theatre.
168. Two show Friday.
169. Dance party.
170. Save the nasty comments for the internet.
171. It's stress. Or something.
172. Matchmaker.
173. My heart is covered in paisleys.
174. Pukk and Boogaloo.
175. What's up with kids these days?
176. I must have spent close to four hours on the train.
177. Working holiday.
178. Working holiday. Part II.
179. Tuesday is the new Friday.
180. Wednesday is grey.
181. Man without a country.
182. Stating the obvious.
183. Extravaganza in the old 'hood.
184. Two fifty-seven.
185. Even with extra rest.
186. Nerdhead.
187. Bean is afraid of phones.
188. Chesterfield is afraid of vacuums.
189. Published, sort of.
190. Returnings.
191. For me, at least, no closure.
192. Democracy Plaza redux.
193. Still doing this dance.
194. Three facts for Wednesday.
195. And the summer is over.
196. Technical difficulties.
197. Flashback to 1 September.
198. Like pulling teeth.
199. Missing bolts.
200. Fly off.
201. If I had health insurance, I'd see a shrink.
202. Perilous.
203. Scent of fall.
204. I guess people still rent VHS tapes.
205. Mirror image.
206. Tied.
207. Unresolved.
208. Trimmed.
209. Maybe not this year.
210. October and November.
211. December, December, December.
212. Still not one of the cool kids.
213. Wash. Warm. Repeat.
214. A clean home and a fridge full of booze.
215. Push back.
216. Slack for one.
217. Yeah, no.
218. Drinking after work equals new three-day crush.
219. Debt is such a grown up concern.
220. Hacker in Cairo.
221. 21 months, 3 days, a few hours.
222. Twelve-twelve.
223. Threads ending.
224. More overanalytical thoughts about dating.
225. Surprise.
226. Old world themed.
227. Three score. And one score and one.
228. NYC really is home.
229. I wasn't about to walk 168 blocks.
230. Non-standard commute.
231. The strike ends, the days get longer.
232. Normal sorts of things.
233. Traditions have to start somewhere.
234. Waffles.
235. I shouldn't be working, it's Boxing Day.
236. Charlotte is a funny little city.
237. Best decision.
238. Last night in Charlotte.
239. At long last.
240. Add seventeen.
241. January recap, or, the first 34 days of 2006.
242. At the end, things are packed into boxes.
243. Given to lengthy pauses.
244. Into the belly of the beast.
245. Home office.
246. Procrastinator.
247. Licensed.
248. From the desk of.
249. They killed my favourite character?
250. Three phone calls I didn't make today.
251. Sixty-six point six six seven percent.
252. Apparently I'm very HEX-y.
253. Handed over.
254. Sexy accents.
255. Pickup line? You be the judge.
256. I haven't been to Brooklyn in forever.
257. And maybe.
258. Find it in the street.
259. A personal fable about grocery shopping.
260. Hot-shot international designer.
261. Hope for best decisions.
262. You know.
263. Playing dress-up.
264. This scary, grown up world.
265. Even my glasses are probably worth more.
266. Red-eye.
267. Sunset panorama.
268. Link-heavy London architecture.
269. An airport to nowhere, and many exhibits.
270. A long day's journey home.
271. It's just what you do.
272. Spring preview.
273. Neural imprinting: a cautionary tale.
274. Dreamt about.
275. The operative word is: Promethean.
276. Not quite neighbours.
277. The long Saturday night subway ride home.
278. Thanks for inviting me.
279. Below the cut.
280. Wherein Chris and I discuss four girls.
281. Yet one more.
282. The home-office paradox.
283. Bronx rainbow.
284. It's more to do with spring, than with work.
285. Today's photo is unintentionally ironic.
286. Walk to Brooklyn. Twice.
287. Little projects are sometimes worse.
288. Basically what I'm saying is that I'm an enabler.
289. Overachievers.
290. Family guilt.
291. TV doctors and lawyers.
292. Yahtzee!
293. More or less all about girls.
294. Throwing off the curve.
295. The 401.
296. A shocking lack of quality control.
297. Pascal's Wager is a quaint, but flawed notion.
298. Responsible things.
299. Imaging junkie.
300. Brunch. Walk. Sandwich. Rock show.
301. The art world right now.
302. Lodged beneath the exhaust fan.
303. Not even drunk dialing.
304. Rabbit, this time with feeling, rabbit.
305. Mostly about yesterday.
306. Are eye pee, ell eye dot com.
307. Not where I had planned to watch from.
308. Slippery slope.
309. Rooftops and windows.
310. The pumpkin will have to wait.
311. Snippets of Saturday.
312. Cyclone vs laundromat.
313. Relatively unharmed.
314. Of lists.
315. A West Coast story.
316. Bean sings 'Fake Plastic Trees'.
317. Coffeeless.
318. Running horses beneath Siberian volcanoes.
319. Of tradition.
320. All about inertia.
321. I so absolutely adore thunderstorms.
322. Shirtless.
323. Pulled from the trash, again.
324. Rewrite.
325. In absentia.
326. Flaking rust.
327. Of productivity.
328. Allergic to cinnamon.
329. Stupid things.
330. Escape from Maspeth.
331. All about Matt.
332. Brunch. Brooklyn. Boozes.
333. Sunday is about ineffectually reaching out.
334. Wolf in Monday's clothing.
335. Pasta salad.
336. 90° at 3:00AM tomorrow.
337. Sewing machines and vampires.
338. Lucky undies.
339. August ketchup.
340. Buddy System.
341. Ghostcosm.
342. Along with every other blog on the block.
343. sometime / 2699 a1.
344. Sick!
345. The non lease-holding tenant.
346. No lecture. No music. Food.
347. Not letting my stomach keep me down.
348. Of phones. A revisit.
349. Art kids. 1000 dots.
350. Lightning is my favouritest.
351. Knock, knock.
352. Again with the silence.
353. Dave's Halloween party.
354. Happy birthday, Chis.
355. Goodbye DST, hello SAD.
356. Glad you're not blind.
357. Six hours (round trip) to say bon voyage.
358. Snail's pace.
359. Thirty hat-tricks come to an end.
360. Aside from the crushing awkwardness it was nice.
361. Something vaguely resembling sleep.
362. Three open letters.
363. Growing up.
364. Family outing.
365. Another day indoors.
366. Am I dreaming all of this?
367. Take two.
368. Active procrastination.
369. Percolate.
370. East 32nd Street.
371. Yeah, I guess I'm a bit of a creep.
372. Know any good NYC doctors?
373. Marked by a lack of thought.
374. Talk back.
375. Second fewest words.
376. Four crappy beers for $5.
377. Chris says: Girls ruined my year.
378. When I was a man I wore a tie.
379. 65 years later.
380. But run by middle-aged acid burnouts.
381. Not leaving town.
382. Nothing if not awkward.
383. In the name of Spain.
384. Cycles and transformations.
385. Naming conventions.
386. No joke.
387. Cats and dogs.
388. Under 100 blocks home.
389. Park Slope run-ins.
390. Old favourites.
391. In your blood.
392. New Year's Weekend.
393. Jenny.
394. Last photo of 2006.
395. With forty minutes in January.
396. Fancy dinner.
397. Internet declaration.
398. Page number one thousand.
399. Someone to cut my hair.
400. Happy observed birthday, Chesterfield.
401. Spring cleaning, day 1.
402. Spring cleaning, day 2.
403. Late lunch.
404. Discover Card's death spiral.
405. Naptime.
406. Delay of spring.
407. There's no colour here.
408. The long road back to Brooklyn.
409. Half May.
410. Regroup, remoralise.
411. Plus six, times two.
412. Bite-sized.
413. Four letter words.
414. 300 year old songs about coffee.
415. Jamaican jerk seasoning.
416. I found a dollar in the dryer.
417. I had every intention of looking at the clouds.
418. Not stepping on any toes.
419. Now is the time.
420. Big cats.
421. Icy and unproductive.
422. Little lightning bolts behind the eyes.
423. Disheartened.
424. A month of every interest.
425. Questionable.
426. Automagic double-sided prints. Who knew?
427. A secret and a one terabyte hard drive.
428. Protest vote.
429. Golden Era.
430. Medicine.
431. Greens.
432. Millennium.
433. Cha-Ya.
434. Beanpoint. Or maybe Jennypoint.
435. Goodbye, winter beard.
436. Hello, spring.
437. Garlic asteroid.
438. Love for the new 'hood.
439. 7:18.
440. Newfangled.
441. Blue Shift.
442. Personal-sized planets.
443. Happy birthday, mom!
444. Plus Minus.
445. Lamppost.
446. Wishing you.
447. [Redacted.]
448. Something to do with growing up.
449. Rivers the colour of my eyes.
450. So apparently "spirits" get a personal name main entry.
451. Ah, nostalgia.
452. They're gone now.
453. Empty apologies.
454. So now we get to see what the room looks like.
455. Catastrophic data loss.
456. What do these things have in common?
457. LCSH.
458. Dreams, sweat, and maps.
459. $, $$.
460. Four songs, MARC, maps.
461. Under a melting snowball.
462. Unsent.
463. A conversation with Angie Harmon.
464. Three or four words.
465. Gears turning.
466. It's those dastardly adjectives again.
467. Nineteen hours, 12 foot radius.
468. Too many jellybeans.
469. In the time-lapse movie, we sort of just flit past today.
470. And so. I'm here.
471. One beer as precaution.
472. If I'm being completely honest, I'm actually kind of a little bit jealous.
473. Out of state.
474. Grandfathers.
475. One single solitary lonely point.
476. Magic misconceptions.
477. CRRR-ACK!
478. On Mars, no one can hear you overshare.
479. Light the ferrous coast.
480. Champagne toast.
481. Cats.
482. Fever, and a hand up.
483. Spent.
484. I was told there'd be cake.
485. Reverb.
486. Double.
487. To keep.
488. Stating the obvious.
489. So, um. Twenty-eleven is it?
490. "It makes me happy too."
491. Pink fur.
492. Red planet, pink pie.
493. The snapping turtle.
494. Wherein I complain about Pratt's facilities management, UPS's Brooklyn/Queens distribution centre, and bad hold music.
495. This feels familiar.
496. Stabby, stabby.
497. Soup dinner.
498. Moon-men.
499. Deal with it.
500. $6.66 lunch.
501. Felt more like Sunday.
502. Wrong fillings.
503. S, W, and N.
504. So was it really Sunday this time?
505. My mind: absent.
506. Where things stand.
507. "April Fools," says the sky. "Here, have some more snow."
508. Is it wrong that I almost hoped someone would try to mug me on the way home from the bar because I sort of wanted to throw a few punches? Answer: yes.
509. X-reference.
510. Above all, we are, every one of us, an island; the act of mapping an island is unavoidably an act of mapping ourselves.
511. And one other bit, that I won't go into.
512. W. E.
513. A bit.
514. Caffeine holiday.
515. Another boring sysadmin entry.
516. May showers bring?
517. Wait, um. No, never mind.
518. Not exactly the most pleasant way to spend a Tuesday.
519. Stuck. In dreams. At the café.
520. Learning to make gunpowder.
521. A stack of magazines beside me on the couch.
522. Again, as yesterday.
523. Monkeys and mirror images.
524. Other worlds, the practicalities of daily life, and booze.
525. And then I lose track.
526. Summer reading, 2011.
527. Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit.
528. Two bridges.
529. Ago today.
530. Whence July? Whence August?
531. Whence my coffee?
532. Bean and Greg guest-host Trivial Dispute.
533. Some infographics about last night's trivia.
534. 534 titled entries.

A breakdown of questions by point total earned (see the questions themselves in yesterday's post). Questions 1-3 are worth one point a piece. Questions 4-6, presumable a bit tougher, are worth two points each.

Both of my question 4s ended up trending easy. 10 of the 11 teams who played the first half remembered what I thought was a largely forgotten Michael Keaton film. Only 8 answered the Freddie Mercury and Werner Herzog questions correctly. Only one team managed to name the fraternal trio from Newhart, although a few others were on the right track.

In the second half, 8 out of 9 teams were able to name the island home of the pink land iguana, while only 6 knew who originated the role of Inspector Clouseau. I was impressed and heartened that 5 teams knew who recorded Pink Flag, but was disappointed in the lack of knowledge about flamingo biology (I gave one point to the team who was closest to the mark).

Greg's rounds parsed out similarly, with only one team correctly answering his final question about angels, and with no one able to decipher the lingo in his final question about diners (though had we been more generous, 3 teams could have claimed partial credit).

For prosperity, my rounds, both tangentially related to Labor Day; rollover the grey bars to reveal the answers.

Born Today

1. Q) Today marks the 373 birthday of Louis XIV of France, and, according to a fictional theory set forth by the prolific 19th century historical novelist Alexandre Dumas in the third and final part of the third and final book of his Musketeers trilogy, also Louis's twin brother who was jailed by the French court and hidden from the public. What is the popular moniker of the actual prisoner whose true identity remains unknown, but who was posited by Dumas to have been the Sun King's twin?
   
   A) The Man in the Iron Mask


2. Q) Posthumously celebrating a 65th birthday today is Farrokh Bulsara, the rapt-Bohemian himself, Freddie Mercury. Mercury was born in Zanzibar but spent most of his childhood in the state of Gujarat in western India. Mercury's family were Parsis, practitioners of Zoroastrianism who had left their ancestral homeland in the 10th century due to religious oppression from the growing Islamic majority, and settled in India. From which middle-eastern country did Mercury's ancestors emigrate?
   
   A) Iran or Persia


3. Q) Born today in 1942, bad-ass filmmaker Werner Herzog. In 1980, to settle a bet with fellow director Errol Morris, Herzog cooked and ate his own shoe. In 2006 Herzog was shot with an air riffle by an unknown assailant during an interview, but shrugged it off with a smile, saying "It is not a significant bullet." Herzog's films include Heart of Glass, Nosferatu, Fitzcarraldo, Grizzly Man, and this 2009 film, set in post-Katrina New Orleans, starring Nicholas Cage and sharing a name with a cult 1992 film by Abel Ferrara (in which Harvey Keitel goes the full Monty), though Herzog claims it is not a remake or a sequel, and that in fact, he had never even heard of Ferrara or seen any of his films.
   
   A) Bad Lieutenant


4. Q) Turning sixty years old today is Mr. Mom, actor Michael Keaton. In addition to the titular Mister, and being a stalwart of Tim Burton's early feature films—playing both Betelgeuse and Batman—Keaton played four roles, construction worker Doug Kinney and three clones, in this 1996 box office bomb.
   
   A) Multiplicity


5. Q) 99 years ago today, the world welcomed into it visionary modern-music pioneer John Cage. Cage explored silence (4'33"), graphical scores and alternative musical notation, non-traditional instruments, and the connection of the human form to music through his collaborations with life-partner Merce Cunningham. But perhaps his most iconoclastic move came in his embrace of chance as his primary compositional tool. Throughout his career Cage used this ancient Chinese divination text, known in English as the Book of Changes.
   
   A) The I Ching (易經)


6. Q) Lets all wish a very happy 82nd birthday to beloved comedian Bob Newhart. Newhart is certainly best known for his series of eponymous sitcoms: 1972's The Bob Newhart Show, 1982's Newhart, and 1992's shortlived Bob. On Newhart Newhart plays Dick Louden, a New York City transplant to rural Vermont, where he runs a bed and breakfast and acts as straight-man to a cast of crazy and quirky locals. Among said crazies is one of my favourite character actors, William Sanderson, who is the ringleader and eldest brother of a backwoods trio always introduced with the line "Hi, I'm _____, this is my brother _____, and this is my other brother _____." Fill in the blanks.
   
   A) Larry, Darryl, and Darryl

The Colour Pink

1. Q) In June 1918, the children's clothing trade magazine Earnshaw's wrote: "The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls." This flip-flopped after World War II, and now pink is girly, girly, girly. Barbie even has her very own shade. Matched to Pantone 219, Barbie Pink is a trademark owned by what toy manufacturer?
   
   A) Mattel


2. Q) In 1955, a 20 year old Elvis Presley bought his first Cadillac, which had been re-painted pink by a previous owner. Within six months it was destroyed in a ball of flame on the side of an Arkansas highway. He bought a new blue Caddy and painted it pink too, giving birth to an American icon, which no doubt inspired the founder of this cosmetics company to buy a Cadillac in 1968 and have it custom painted to match the firm's mountain laurel shade of blush. She soon began giving custom pink Cadillacs as incentives to the company's top earners. According to Wikipedia, as of 2006 GM had produced an estimated 100,000 pink Cadillacs for what Texas-based cosmetics giant?
   
   A) Mary Kay Cosmetics


3. Q) 1963's The Pink Panther featured an ensemble cast led by Academy Award-winning British actor David Niven as Sir Charles Lytton, a dashing playboy thief planning the heist of the titular Panther, a giant pink diamond. On Lytton's trail was the bumbling Inspector Jacques Clouseau. Clouseau was portrayed by this British actor whose comedic delivery and pratfalls stole his scenes and spawned a franchise (11 films to date). Inspector Clouseau would be played by other actors—Alan Arkin, Roger Moore, and Steve Martin—but is still most closely associated with the man who first played the role, name him.
   
   A) Peter Sellers


4. Q) The pink land iguana is, well, a big pink lizard. A big. Pink. Lizard. The pink iguana was only recently, in 2009, identified as a separate species from its more common cousin, which a famous naturalist described as "ugly" and possessing a "singularly stupid appearance." Both species exist only on this island chain, better known for its tortoises.
   
   A) The Galapagos Islands


5. Q) Flamingoes are pink because of all the bubblegum they chew, right? Or something like that. In fact it is this decidedly un-pink planktonic substance that imparts the distinctive pink colour to their feathers. Flamingoes whose diet is made up primarily of this substance are darker pink, whereas flamingoes who eat more tiny brine shrimp who have themselves fed on this substance tend to be paler. What turns flamingoes pink?
   
   A) Blue-green algae (or, cyanobacteria)


6. Q) Reuters. Field Day for the Sundays. Three Girl Rhumba. Ex-Lion Tamer. Lowdown. Start to Move. Brazil. It's so Obvious. Surgeon's Girl. Pink Flag. The Commercial. Straight Line. 106 Beats That. Mr Suit. Strange. Fragile. Mannequin. Different to Me. Champs. Feeling Called Love. 12XU. What I just read is the track listing for Pink Flag. Released in 1977, Pink Flag is the first studio album by this seminal British art-punk group. It is also, since 2000, the name of the band's own record label. Who recorded Pink Flag?
   
   A) Wire

Slept late. Dreams about time travel. Returning again and again to some point early in the 20th century in an attempt to put something right.

Forgot to buy a cup of coffee on my way into studio. I could have made coffee at home, but the French press has been sitting unwashed for a while and is growing some mould, I've mostly been drinking tea at home, but the impending return to school precipitated a corresponding return to coffee. Now it's half past one, and I have yet to introduce any caffeine into my day.

Dribbling back into (my third year of) grad school after a week of earthquakes and hurricanes. I'm taking what's looking to be two rather intensive studios—advanced video and book arts—as well as continuing to refine my thesis proposal. Intensive studios are a good thing; if I've had one serious complaint about the Digital Arts program, it's that it hasn't been as studio-based as I had expected/would have liked.

And over the past few weeks work-work has been picking up as well. Also a good thing—the summer was quiet.

Now if I could just get these allergies to stop stomping on my brain.

Thirteen years ago today George and I, on a cross-country road trip—which had previously taken us through Austin, where we would both end up living in the fall—drove from Carlsbad to Colorado Springs through a spectacular summer hailstorm. Colorado Springs had wild bunnies like other cities have squirrels.

Twelve years ago I finished up the summer transfer program at RISD, ate Japanese food, and saw Frank Black. Frank Black, going again by Black Francis, played here in New York last weekend, but I didn't go.

Eleven years ago I had Japanese food for lunch, then semi-crashed a wedding in Western Mass with Cybèle, who was invited, and Chris, who like me was not. I flirted with a cater-waiter named Courtney, had a terrible headache, and posited that I'd not be one to have a big formal wedding of my own.

Ten year ago I made plans to visit Connecticut—from Providence, at the time—and play foursquare, which has nothing to do with the social geolocation app.

Nine years ago I was in Connecticut for the second half of the summer, having broken up with Stef for the third or fourth time. Went lake-swimming with George in the evening.

Eight years ago I was also in Connecticut, although only for a brief visit, as Stef and I were back together and subletting a place in Providence for the post-graduation summer before moving to Austin in the fall. I met George for lunch.

Seven years ago, now in New York City, it was the first thoroughly unpleasant day of the summer. Went to a crappy midtown bar after work, then to see Susie play a show in Greenpoint.

Six years ago I have no idea.

Five years ago I was living way up in Inwood, at the end of 204th Street, and spending a lot of time on social networking sites in an attempt to feel connected. Also, I started my "Same as on TV." Flickr set.

Four years ago I have no idea.

Three years ago I have no idea, though I did take a photo of stars on the ground, which I did again this past week. I suspect I was happy.

Two years ago I have no idea. I suspect I was unhappy.

Last year I have no idea.

Fourteen+ years ago today I've got absolutely no inkling of an idea.

On July 30th over the last 13 years I've been weeks or months away from Austin on a number of different occasions. I've been at and away from home, wherever that's been at the time. I've eaten Japanese food at least twice. I've hung out with George, Chris, Cybèle, Susie; others I'm sure. I've been in love, I've been heartbroken. I've had crushes on strangers. I've watched TV and live music and frozen water falling from the sky.

Today I've had a bagel with tofu cream cheese and a coffee. I've coveted homemade pickles. I miss having regular Saturday brunch. I've thought about dinner. At quarter-past three in the afternoon I've yet to take any photos. I've listened to Electric Light Orchestra, and Depeche Mode remixes, and the Smashing Pumpkins.

I've finally gotten into the swing of my summer reading over the last week or so. Coinciding roughly with taking up drinking caffeine again, though currently only a big glass of iced Earl Grey in the morning.1 I finished Jonathan Letham's Chronic City and Will Self's Liver last week, and am nearly through Scarlet Thomas's Our Tragic Universe. Feeling that it was maybe speeding by a little too quickly, I also started The Complete Stories of Lydia Davis this afternoon. Though stylistically very different, both are very sad (and at times funny) and both make me want to write.

[Obviously there was to be something about walking across bridges in here.]

The sun was peeking out when I woke up this morning, but by the time I finished showering and turned the water off, the drip-drip-drip continued, but on the roof instead of me. Dressed and put together, it had dried off again. So the café, a bagel and a fancy (caffeine-free) coffee drink and today's crossword.

Some sprinkles on my way back towards campus. A stop into the Pratt Library and a stern talk with my own nerves.

Studio. And another.

Dropped into Project Parlor to see if, as last year, I was entitled to a free birthday drink. Newish bartender and brand new barback had no idea if that was still policy. One fancy cocktail. Two happy hour beers.

Home to dinner and some TV.