To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.

We are upon the eve of Craig's move...I am flying to STL on Monday so we can pack, clean, and drive into the sunset. Zipper will sit between us in the cab, just like a homosexual modern-day Norman Rockwell painting.


Nostalgia triggered by catching up with old friends on Facebook has put the last two years of my life in perspective. The first year was marred by loneliness, doubt, and alienation. The second year was characterized by a return to normalcy, intellectual fulfillment, and happiness with new found friends as I explored the city and calmed the fuck down.

I've lived like a science-monk. The past few months have been especially heinous, but I am glad I experienced this. I'm excited to strike a more appropriate balance between work and play.

Craig and I have plans for him to get back into conducting, and for us to audition and sing in more choirs, etc. I'm thinking the San Francisco Choral Society. I might take voice lessons again this fall, but it will be tight squeeze between lab, TA-ing, and classes. Regardless, I will enjoy having Craig and music back in my life.

Instant domesticity awaits. Window treatments, doggy playdates, and breakfasts in bed. I also plan to hold a series of dinner parties at our new place in West Menlo, and have already been planning menus. First up: chilled cucumber soup with braised salmon and red chili compote.

Is this the beginning of the end of my great rugged-individualism California experience?

BTW, Has anyone proposed lighting the ocean on fire?

Dear gentle reader-

This post finds me in a fantastical mood. I've followed the BP gulf oil scandal with bated-breath, devouring any photos of the event I can get my greedy fingers on. I'm not so much interested in the Morning Show style of "failed heavy mud dump" talking points, but more along the lines of "how will we survive when the oceans have become poisoned and Ed has to live in a post-apocalyptic world he has yearned for?".

Look at this image I found of boats trying, as far as I can tell, to make pretty designs in the surface sheens.



The color palette immediately immediately reminded me of William Blake's Nebuchadnezzar, one of my all time favorites.



The painting of course depicts the dream in which Nebuchadnezzar goes insane (the un-PC term would be stark raving mad) and lives in the wild like an animal for seven years. For what some have surmised to be clinical lycanthropy, in which the affected person has delusions of being transformed into an animal, does this foreshadow a more conspicuous example, perhaps Kafka's The Metamorphosis?

Regardless, living alone in the wilderness doesn't seem like such a punishment to me. I would miss the internet and civilized facilities. After all, it was Mencken himself who said, "I'd trade the whole Acropolis for one American bathroom".

But I digress. Where were we? Oh, yes. The oil spill and finger pointing.

I like how the speechifying pontiff-in-Chief would rather play puppeteer to 15% of the nation's economy than show some goddamn exectutiveness and fix arguably the largest man-made environmental disaster since Chernobyl.

Staring agog from across your computer screen: But, Ed how can you, from your ensconced throne of curmudgeonly libertarianism, advocate government interventionism? Of all the 10th amendment trampling in the last few years, wouldn't this qualify for the general welfare clause more than "cash for clunkers"?

But there is plenty of blame to go around, and I'm sure the filth of the tawdry scene will cling to everyone involved like oil on a damselfly's wings.



Update: Yes they are apparently planning on burning the ocean.

Pierrot says goodbye to the moon

Dear gentle readers-

This post finds me deliriously happy. My first committee meeting is over, I feel refreshed and enthused for another round of science. I bought a one way ticket to MO so I can help Craig pack and move to CA in two weeks.

One nagging thought remains: I will be forced to become perpetually diurnal for the first time in two years. The nightowl routine has shielded me from the horrors of day-living: interacting with the passively vacuous, mouthbreathers of the 9-5 world. "But I like being a science vampire," the nerd says.

I used to think I was broken, no matter what I do I can't give up a knee-jerk misanthropic outlook. Recently I've realized it is not a dislike of humanity in general, I just like being left alone. Grocery shopping at 1:30AM is one of the greatest pleasures of my life. To some extent it fulfills my Mad Max-esque fetish of living in a postapocalyptic world, something about which I regularly daydream. And you a develop strange, unspoken relationship with the night Caltrain conductors, the janitors, and the checkers at Safeway. I can honestly say I've never talked to--or for that matter met--any of my neighbors in the two years I've lived in Mountain View.

Unhealthy, non?

Oh night, I will miss you.

I can't begin to give a justice to the happenings of the last few months, but here's it in a nutshell: Craig and I got back together and he's planning on moving out in June to live with me. The science is going well (slowly but well) and I have two Nobel Laureates on my thesis committee (yikes!). I got a $120,000 NSF GRFP grant (third time's the charm). I saw the sun rise on my favorite city this Sunday morning after missing the midnight caltrain back from visiting Mike, Jenn, and Ella so I got a hotel room and made the best of it. Brunch on Market was delicious and poetically lonely.

Update over.

Tonight I watched the Madonna episode with Liz, Jay, and Lia...some of my favorite people in the entire world. And I was totally gagging on the eluh-ganza!

This is me reading Elmo to Ella this weekend--who PS has a view of the Golden Gate bridge from her bedroom window--Jealous!:



It was nice to spend time with a child that wasn't a monster after teaching Splash (the insect taxonomy class) to 7-12 graders this week. Although to be fair, I think I was probably a pretty shitty human being during those years too.

But seriously, y'all. Could my life get any better? I mean the Met might call and offer me the title role in Rigoletto and I could wake up tomorrow with six-pack abs...

Krone des Lebens,
Glück ohne Ruh,
Liebe, bist du!

[Crown of life,
Happiness without peace,
Love, are you!]

If I saw Goethe right now, I would plant a big sloppy kiss on him.

Craig is coming to visit on Thursday. Come what may, indeed.

Why do I feel like Carmen in Act IV, only this time both Don Jose and Escamillo are going to stab me to death outside the arena?

Rastlose Liebe

I'm twitterpated.

And our third date is on Friday.

The reinforcements have been called in because I "have to design a lighting concept... and costume decisions".

The last time I felt this way, was well, a long time ago.

Edit: I bought filet mignon and Trojans at the grocery store Friday evening, garnering scandalized looks from my middle aged checker. I only made use of the meat. What kind of girl do you think I am?