M.O.M.
I took this picture of a hall clock as I was walking out of the office tonight. Only, this clock has been frozen for at least a week. I mean, it's clearly not ticking at all. Look at that lazy ass clock.
This is what time it really was. That Dead Clock up there is way off.
Tonight was a pretty loopy MOM. There were lots of Ninja Cobbling Janitors. One particularly hagish woman was riding some sort of sweeping/buffing vehicle around. It made me jealous and I thought of Mario Kart DS, lonely at home.
It was pretty difficult to concentrate tonight. The papers were fine--or a couple will be once they cash in their Rs--so that's not what made it difficult. Two things were the prob: !) The Thesis was a good reason/excuse to get away from grading for the last couple weeks, making it difficult to transition back into regular grading; and @) My head was stuck in Chess mode--mostly because I ended the day 2-3.
Phil's good. We had a game today in which he mated me (not mated with me--sigh) without either of us taking any pieces. He called it a "fluke game." I don't know what that was. It didn't help, though. The good news: I got an email today from Games by James about my Chess 4 shipping today! That's right, Kasparov Beotches: four-player chess. It'll probably be here Saturday or Monday, I'm guessing. Then, it's officaly, nerdily on.
Earlier, in order to justify her losing to me, Naughtilie claimed her head was in grading mode and not chess mode. This MOM, my head was certainly not in grading mode. At one point Joe Henderson's "Granted" started playing on my 'Pod. Seven minutes later, by the head-out--[EN: head-out in jazz means the last time the verse and/or chorus are played (typically ABA)]--by the head-out, I realized I had been drumming on Desk Djembé the entire time, drum humming and staring blank-eyed at my poor student's paper.
After the chord-swelling bird's eye of "Granted," I said fuck it and threw on Mastodon's new album of old re-mastered tunes, "Call of Mastodon."
Holy fuck. Caveman Metal at it's finest. I rocked out to Mastodon on Desk Djembé through damn near the whole offering. Brann Dailor's drum fills are swarms of fire ants. His slippery ease between duple and triple-feels are shifting ice floes and tectonic buckling. Volcano rain. His bass drums are of an ancient -dillo breed. Chugging riffs trample like stampeding behemoths. Vocals are Man's early utterances.
Urgent and frantic instincts to communicate.
In other words, Troy yells a lot. Mastodon also devoted an entire album, "Leviathan," to Moby Dick and another seabeast themes.
Their awe of powerful things (mammoths, trains, horses, whales, swarms, glaciers) speaks to me on a primal level. It makes me want to pound other things in my own mini creations of power. Desk Djembé understands and lets me utter my Mastodon urges through it.
Mace...out
This is what time it really was. That Dead Clock up there is way off.
Tonight was a pretty loopy MOM. There were lots of Ninja Cobbling Janitors. One particularly hagish woman was riding some sort of sweeping/buffing vehicle around. It made me jealous and I thought of Mario Kart DS, lonely at home.It was pretty difficult to concentrate tonight. The papers were fine--or a couple will be once they cash in their Rs--so that's not what made it difficult. Two things were the prob: !) The Thesis was a good reason/excuse to get away from grading for the last couple weeks, making it difficult to transition back into regular grading; and @) My head was stuck in Chess mode--mostly because I ended the day 2-3.
Phil's good. We had a game today in which he mated me (not mated with me--sigh) without either of us taking any pieces. He called it a "fluke game." I don't know what that was. It didn't help, though. The good news: I got an email today from Games by James about my Chess 4 shipping today! That's right, Kasparov Beotches: four-player chess. It'll probably be here Saturday or Monday, I'm guessing. Then, it's officaly, nerdily on.
Earlier, in order to justify her losing to me, Naughtilie claimed her head was in grading mode and not chess mode. This MOM, my head was certainly not in grading mode. At one point Joe Henderson's "Granted" started playing on my 'Pod. Seven minutes later, by the head-out--[EN: head-out in jazz means the last time the verse and/or chorus are played (typically ABA)]--by the head-out, I realized I had been drumming on Desk Djembé the entire time, drum humming and staring blank-eyed at my poor student's paper.
After the chord-swelling bird's eye of "Granted," I said fuck it and threw on Mastodon's new album of old re-mastered tunes, "Call of Mastodon."
Holy fuck. Caveman Metal at it's finest. I rocked out to Mastodon on Desk Djembé through damn near the whole offering. Brann Dailor's drum fills are swarms of fire ants. His slippery ease between duple and triple-feels are shifting ice floes and tectonic buckling. Volcano rain. His bass drums are of an ancient -dillo breed. Chugging riffs trample like stampeding behemoths. Vocals are Man's early utterances.
Urgent and frantic instincts to communicate.
In other words, Troy yells a lot. Mastodon also devoted an entire album, "Leviathan," to Moby Dick and another seabeast themes.
Their awe of powerful things (mammoths, trains, horses, whales, swarms, glaciers) speaks to me on a primal level. It makes me want to pound other things in my own mini creations of power. Desk Djembé understands and lets me utter my Mastodon urges through it.
Mace...out
posted by Mason @ 2:56 AM
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