so, if you want to visit the site, head on over to http://www.doxicnonsense.com.
if you want the new feeds, stick one of these in your reader:
i’ll keep posting reminders here whenever i post at doxic nonsense for a while to make sure no one misses the change.
]]>frederik seiffert created the brilliant LastHistory which takes your last.fm listening data and gets all scientific with it. the analytical mode plots individual tracks versus when you listened to them (with color coding representing genre), but the real magic is personal mode, where the same graph is supplemented by photos from your iPhoto library as well as events from your iCal calendars. and, if you’re anything like me, you’ve been waiting for someone to statistically graph out your life with respect to what you listen to and where you were (infered by iCal and iPhoto data and metadata).
what fascinates me is that i can look at my LastHistory graph and immediately notice a few big spans where i either wasn’t listening to music via iTunes/iPod/iPhone, or i wasn’t scrobbling that information to the last.fm servers. looking at the iCal data that corresponds to the empty chunk of the graph, i see that, well, august and september was when my laptop got stolen in the middle of moving into this apartment and finishing my first off-broadway design, so that six week gap is pretty understandable. january and february 2008? i was in la jolla working on a show, drove to work in a rental car, and probably didn’t have internet access at the company housing. july 2009: in london with the TEAM and, honestly, not really using my iPod. it’s also interesting to track my sleep habits with this data: when i’m home, i usually fall asleep listening to an album, so that’s pretty well documented here. what’s also evident is when i shift time zones, marked by the moving of the silent band that usually hangs out between 3am-ish and noon-ish.
i find all of this, yes, a little creepy, but also extremely compelling: this is what i want out of my personal data.
]]>blah blah “amazon associate” blah blah blah “tiny percentage of your purchase” blah blah blah blah blah.
]]>so go ahead and add the current’s live stream to your iTunes: i listen to it almost every morning, and i swear it makes me a better person. or something.
blah blah “amazon associate” blah blah blah “tiny percentage of your purchase” blah blah blah blah blah.
]]>anyways, this is an attempt to get off my ass and start writing things longer than 140 characters, and to share things with the void of the internet. i’m thinking of very brief reviews of new albums, and maybe some recipes. i can promise with almost full certainty that there will be no more poorly conceived and poorly written epic prose homages. i stopped posting here (i think) because i finished/grew tired with playing with the form of the site (learning php, markdown, polishing up my css), and, quite frankly, twitter was serving my appetite for content creation.
but you can’t post a recipe in under 140 characters, nor can you really give an album its just dues. so i’m going to try to go into depth with some of that. but i’d also like to follow john gruber’s lead and write long posts when they need to be long, and write short posts when they essentially just need to share a link.
so… yeah.
]]>he hates eating alone more than almost anything else in his life, and supposes that this has just as much to do with the programming of his upbringing as it does the fact that it highlights the solitary nature of his current lifestyle, which just because he has come to terms with it doesn’t mean he has to be proud of it, or even be particularly happy about its status as fact, and so basically tries to avoid thinking about it, much less exhibiting it in his choices and actions. how he allowed himself to return to the same diner again, with the same large novel again, and order the same dish again, is a mystery even to him, as he considers this to be an eating pattern on the order of “crazy cat lady” in terms of loneliness. in considering this, the term “creature of habit” surfaces, giving him chills and filling him with a particular dread.
he realizes that he only puts cream and sugar in his coffee in diner-type situations, and figures that this is probably an unconscious homage to his father’s mystical fascination with the swirling cloud figures of cold dairy liquids being slowly absorbed by piping-hot coffee. that and maybe also due to the fact that most diner coffee absolutely requires at least three packets of sugar and the dilution of a considerable amount of creamer to be even remotely considered palatable (the possibility that this all might be just an excuse for high-lipid dairy products and refined sugar actually does not even occur to him).
the grilled chicken club sandwich is the consummate non-breakfast diner food, at least in his opinion. it is perfected by american cheese and mayo, in harmony with bacon and white bread, though no one wants to admit it in quite those terms: it is negated by the rather pretentious selection of a fancier cheese or less-processed and therefore (theoretically, at least) healthier bread, if you ask him. this already pro-level diner dish is taken to a whole new class of excellence with the addition of edible cole slaw in a ceramic dish (both qualifiers hard to come by in his experience) and, perhaps most importantly, a good, solid, fresh-tasting pickle spear. the french fries occur as more of a fact of the plate than as a result of a conscious decision on the part of anyone involved. part of the pleasure of the grilled chicken club lies in the degree of difficulty in eating the sandwich without dropping anything or looking like a ravenous slob. the same is true of most barbeque sandwiches. after consuming chicken breast meat in sandwich form, the cleaning of the spaces between ones teeth with a toothpick is a not necessarily un-pleasurable but potentially compulsive act, and he finds one toothpick to be inadequate, but three or more to seem greedy when taking them from beside the register while paying.
he likes eating rather a lot. and primarily (though not solely because, c’mon, who is he kidding here) enjoys drinking for its prandial and gustatorily pleasurable aspects.
it occurs to him that it might be more efficient, though way less satisfying and/or enjoyable, if he could actually consume his money, rather than giving basically all of his earnings away in trade for things he ingests.
blindered with headphones, large novel under his arm, toothpick in corner of mouth, and thinking about his exotically interesting-sounding profession, he marvels the destroyingly dull nature of his current high-profile job, and laments that it doesn’t really pay more than the moderately more-interesting but certainly lower-profile work that he usually is engaged in. the term “stunningly quotidian” comes to mind, and he casually but with certainty applies it to his thoughts on his life in general; and then, just as matter-of-fact-ly and surely, though without a necessarily causal relationship, applies the term to his existence as a whole.
]]>i can’t recommend any of these highly enough.
]]>and yesterday was definitely a happy-blues day:
“i get all happy ‘cause my life is so damn good.†– los lobos ‘life is goodâ€
]]>content to follow.
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