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sound of silence

… people writing songs that voices never shared … no one dared … disturb the sound of silence …

The hard drive in my computer failed recently. Mixed luck had it that of the two drives inside the machine, the one with the operating system and the bulk of my files survived unscathed, while the one with all my ripped MP3s died a horrible, ticking, scratching death. On a side note, I took the opportunity to basically build a new PC and installed a new OS, but that’s not the point of the rant.

After getting the new drive in and everything hunky dory again, the task of ripping all my CDs reared it’s ugly, repetitive, tedious head. I think it might have been the fact that I had a little over a thousand CDs to do that really got me excited at the prospect. But off I went, ripping while reading email, ripping while doing my daily check of certain web sites, ripping while playing a game of Spider Solitaire before bed, starting a rip when I went to bed or to shower or to the gym or for a bowel movement.

And along the way, something from my past came back to haunt me with a passion. There was a time, in the early ’90s I think, where bands had either a really bad sense of humor, or just wanted to piss people off. Some of them still haven’t grown up and recent releases offer the same viciously annoying trait. Silence!

You know what I mean. You’re driving along, listening to a CD and all of a sudden, you get silence. It might be that after the last listed track on the CD you get five minutes of silence before a hidden track starts. It might be like the Cracker CD that has many tracks along the way of five seconds of silence. It might be like the Korn CD that starts at track 32 (or something like that), with loads of silence up front. Even an angelic goddess like Sarah McLachlan somehow fell victim to this pastime, putting a wonderful vocal version of Posession at the end of Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, before her record company decided to put the enhanced data on Mirrorball Sessions into the first audio track, rendering many CD players and computers totally stupid in the process!

Why? Why? Why?

It’s just flat out annoying. I submit They Might Be Giants as another offender on Appollo 18, although theirs is not silence, merely 30-something songs of about five seconds each that really mess with you when you decide to play the CD in shuffle mode.

I like my music. No, I love it. But don’t make it hard for me to listen to it — that’s just downright stupid. And when someone has been a victim of a hard drive crash, it causes blood to boil when the 783rd CD to be ripped is another item of evidence in the “Case of the Sound of Silence”.

Thankfully, the practice seems to have died off recently. But if you know a band that is about to release a CD, beg them to do the right thing and forever hold their peace.

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tits on a bull

… life … did you answer the question of life … what are we doing here …

I’m not entirely sure how we got there, but I was talking to some friends the other day when the topic of useless things came up. There was one in particular that had us stumped.

Why do men have nipples?

I have no idea. Perhaps it was a birth defect that was inherited down the male side of the tree. Perhaps they are purely for decorative or pleasure purposes. Perhaps there is a really good reason

And what of guys that have extra ones? What’s going on there? Two useless things weren’t enough? Or were they simply born during a buy-two-get-one-free sale?

I think I have to ask someone in a medical role this one. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course.

(1510, June 13 2002) OK, this is scary — a friend of mine sent me an email out of the blue with the answers to my questions. How he knew, I have no idea! Thanks Aaron.


The default template for the human body is inherently female. It’s only with massive spurts of testosterone (at various developmental stages) that a human undertakes the process of developing male brain wiring and physiology. I guess mother nature saw no need to erase the nipples. In fact, we males actually have the latent ability to lactate, if you can believe that one. However, it requires a dramatic hormonal imbalance.

As for > 2 nipples (also occurs in females, it should be noted), I suppose that’s one of those random mutations. Leftovers from eons past, and/or a preview of the future…

(0147, September 19 2002) Hmm, it just gets weirder. This one seems to have struck a chord. Michael submits this url into evidence.

Salon article

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wisdom

… it only hurts when I’m laughing …

Whoever named them “wisdom teeth” was not a very wise person. Either that, or they had a very bizarre sense of humor.

It is a seriously unfortunate name for those little pieces of calcium that start pushing their way out of the back of your jaw, causing pain and other silly things to start happening.

They start out as curious things, something new to wonder about. You run your tongue across them every now and again, the sensation of having something new appearing back there just too intriguing to ignore. Then they start to annoy you. Little pieces of food get stuck back there and no matter how hard you try to clear them with your tongue, all you get for your troubles is cuts on your tongue. Reaching for a toothpick becomes a ritual after most meals and that is just the beginning of the inconveniences. Your dentist says, “there’s no need to take them out yet.”

When they finally start to collide with your other teeth, the fun really begins. Little pieces of your teeth start to chip away and if you’re lucky, it will only be from your newest dental residents. Remember when that annoying family moved into your neighborhood? It’s a lot like that. Of course, your dentist says, “there’s no need to take them out yet.”

You wake up one night, most likely a cold night, when your teeth are super-sensitive, and the pain racking your head feels like it is about to explode. Trust me, no amount of Anbesol and Tylenol can make this pain go away. You look around for a pair of pliers, maybe a piece of yarn and a door handle, or simply try to yank it out with your fingers. When you finally get through the waiting period for your dentist, you’re told, “we should probably take them out now.” Really? I thought we might let this pleasure go on for a few more weeks!

Did you remember to sign up for the right health insurance plan? Damn! And with this being a pre-existing condition, you’re at your dentist’s mercy as to where the official yanking will take place. The nickname of my dental hospital was “The Butchery” — a learning hospital in Melbourne that, on first appearances, lives up to its name. It’s an old building, lots of small rooms fitted with what look like torture devices, high up on the top of a cliff-sided mountain, circled by ominous clouds and bolts of lightning. OK, I made up the last bit, but you get the picture.

When you awaken after the surgery, your mouth is full of cotton swabs, soaking up the blood that’s gathering in your cheeks. They let you rest for a few hours, then pack you up and ship you out, minus those cotton swabs. Now when you try moving your tongue over into the back corner of your mouth, well, it hurts. It takes a day or two to be able to feel those stitches or, if you’ve been handled well, just the vacant lots at the end of dental street. Eating is a chore, so enjoy the soup, jelly and other goodies for a few days. Be very careful with your toothbrush or you might catch on something you shouldn’t!

At the end of it all, when the pain subsides, it’s all worth it. Life is a happy, sunshine day once again.

But you have to wonder about the fact that someone was so deranged as to call them “wisdom teeth”. I have a knuckle sandwich for that guy to eat.

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bitterness

… no matter how bad things get … life will be better when you’re not in it …

I like to think that I’m a reasonably positive person. I mean, I know that I can bitch about things that I don’t like with the best of them, but overall, I think I keep a pretty positive (albeit realistic) outlook on life.

I try to be friendly, to be generous, to be kind and giving. I try to make people feel good about themselves, to consider their feelings when I’m interacting with them. I say, “please” and “thanks” because it’s the right thing to do. People don’t owe you anything so when I ask something of them, I do it the right way, and show my appreciation of their efforts.

Last week, I had a visitor from Australia — a girl that I last saw about 8 years ago, but someone that I have spoken to over the phone in the meantime. I broke up with her when I was 21 because we weren’t happy together — she never seemed to be happy and my friends became alienated. She had since told me that she had grown up a lot since then and that she didn’t know why she was so childish in those days.

Anyway, she came to visit and I took her to Yosemite National Park — a place that I find amazing. We had decided to go there before she arrived, so when we got there and started visiting some of the most beautiful places in the country, I was shocked to find that she was never happy. She complained, she whined, she abused, she belittled, she reduced everything around her to her level. She got angry with everyone, insulting waitresses, shopkeepers and in turn, me, along the way.

I put up with her ways for a few days, but in the end I couldn’t deal with having to apologize to people once she had left. I was sick of shutting her up so that I could help innocent people from feeling like they had done ghastly wrongs because she made them feel that way. I tried telling her how she was acting, but she blew up on me, and so I took a stand.

Three days before she was due to go home, I put her in a cab and sent her home. OK, I gave her the option of staying somewhere other than my home for those three days, but she didn’t take me up on that offer — I suppose I could have given her more of a chance to decide, but I didn’t think she deserved it.

There are people in our lives who are extremely negative, they are bitter, angry and abusive. They don’t care about anyone but themselves — and don’t you dare to question them on it.

I observed, I questioned and then I gave her backside one hell of a kick. I hope she finally does grow up and realize that the world owes her nothing if she doesn’t give something to it first.

I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last 8 years, but I can’t say the same about my one-time friend.

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constant sorrow

… I am a man of constant sorrow … I’ve seen trouble, all my days …

I’m a simple man. I have my simple pleasures, and overall, a simple life.

I have my family (in a distant country) and my friends (all over the place) and I love them all. I miss them all, those who aren’t nearby and those who are but I don’t see. I keep them close — in my heart and mind at least.

Then I have these other people. People whom I wish to be close, but they stay distant because that’s who they are. They are distant from me, for some reason. In my own heart, they may just be closer than they think, and closer than I can bear at times.

I’m not the most perceptive, or intelligent, or even paranoid guy, but there are times that I think that people are looking at me. That they are wondering about me, who I am and what I’m thinking. That they might be contemplating just who I might be, and how they might begin talking to me.

Then again, maybe not.