Kittys, cars, and asynchronization

Yesterday I went to the "Cross Talk Series" performance at the University of Utah. This concert involves students from the U as well as BYU, who are in the computer music composition class. I can't believe how lousy it was.
There were a few neat ones like the kid who hooked some sort of sensing electrode thingy up to his chest and his breathing controlled the sounds being synthesized. That was cool. Most of the entrants from the U had some sort of picture collage thing controlled via MAX/MSP which is a synthesis tool. Why they use it to control pictures I will never know. The pictures are very pixelated, the motion is choppy and well lets just say some people could have been nabbed for copyright infringements. Most of the pictures were just lame landscapes or pseudo thought provoking dribble. A pixelated mess that is supposedly a photo would show on the screen. Then it would jerk to a zoom in setting, click, wait, click, wait. Then some weird pixelly filter would be put on it, then it would jump to another photo of shoes. Seriously, one was a bunch of different shoes and a cat. There was one that had a bunch of nebula photos and star photos and the like and there was this point when a galaxy photo started slowly rotating and falling away and I had a hard time not makeing my laughter audible. It was so bad, there is no way to say how bad it was. Check out this video and it will give you a hint at the quality, except this might be better.
The music was actually of a higher caliber than years past for the most part; still some pretty bad stuff came out.
So it is not that the images sucked or the little spell check and grammar check squiggles showed on the power point of visuals, it is that the performers seemed to not care. It makes me ill to my stomach seeing this stuff performed. How could they not notice that the photos look like crap and are jerky as they move about? How could they not notice that the squiggles were showing. It seems if they looked outside of their cave for maybe half a day they would realize that writing a piece intended for visuals needs some sort of compelling visual element. The composers get stuck on the idea of having to make some musical "masterpiece" full of interesting sounds and hoaky gimicks for composition, and they forget to LOOK at what they are doing. Open your eyes please (and some need to open their ears). If you are making me laugh uncontrolably at your work, something is wrong. If you want to use photos that meld and are altered and whatnot, excellent. Don't use MAX/MSP to do it though. Five minutes with iMovie and you could have something infinitely better.
I am just ranting about close-mindedness. I will stop.
The photo of the post is something beautiful from the Uintahs to break up my frustration with close-minded crumb bumbs.
p.s. Pete I think I saw your mate Paul Jacobsen at the event. Not entirely sure it was him, but pretty sure.

The mysteries of Utah

I went on a little trip this last Friday and Saturday. I went to the San Rafael Swell (Spelled like the Ninja Turtle but pronounced like the Egyptian Sun God toppling) to do some hiking with my mate Braden. We explored some sandstone canyons and came away satisfied and fulfilled.
The first day we hiked a short hike and went to these two caves, one of which had a skylight arch cleverly named skylight arch. It was really a fascinating place to go and be away from "Stuff." It was cool but not cold, the sun was low, and the sky was blue, the color of deep blue with a hint of yellow that only the Swell gets. It was nice.
The next day we went on a much longer hike that took us through some very narrow narrows indeed. The canyons were gorgeously sculpted by years of erosion into swooping, sweeping designs of nature. Words do no justice. Check these pictures to to see for yourself. I will (and plan) to go back many many times to explore further reaches of this vast geological wonder. As we hiked, it felt like time stood still. Before we knew it we were at the top of the canyon, ready to head down the other side of the loop. This meant we had hiked roughly 4 miles; both of us agreed we felt like it was maybe a mile. This place does weird things to a man.
I ate leftover thanksgiving dinner for my camping meal on Friday night. I just mixed stuffing, potatoes, gravy, turkey, and goopy string beans and cooked them over my stove (the yams were separate because I like it that way thank you very much). What a camping treat. That is all for now.
Picture is from the trip of course. Little wild horse canyon. Not the skinniest section but the most sensuous.

I so smart

This is my first post in the field. I decided to bring my laptop to school because one of my classes was canceled. Instead of doing homework, this is what I am doing; but it is in response to homework.

When is metaphor too much metaphor? Is it possible to use too much metaphor? This reporter asserts that it is possible to overdue metaphor. This is in specific response to John Milton's Paradise lost, which I am currently reading for a class, but can be seen in countless other epic poems, poems in general, conceited books etc. In paradise lost, the use of metaphor interferes with the idea that the metaphor is trying to present. Satan's dominions, as they assert different strategies to battle heavan, take 300 lines to say "let's take them directly, who cares if we lose, we are already dead and in Hell. Can't get much worse than this."
Sure the metaphors (I'm not even going to bother sharing some because they are too long to even right,) add interesting depth to the characters and insight to the general tone of the situation, but after about 100 lines of deep intertwining metaphor the meaning is lost in obscurity. Once the punch line is reached, the beginning is lost so you ahve to go back and reread the whole convoluted mess again. At what point does the metaphor go too far? when the meaning has become lost in words.
This over-doing of the academic is not unique to epic literature; music is a major culprit as well. The idea behind a lot of music being written in colleges these days is to make it as complex as possible and basically take the human element of music out (they do not think this explicitly but it is the result of their conceits). The composers are making music for other composers, basically preaching to the choir. The only other people who enjoy the music, or at the very least understand the music are other composers doing similarly "academic" things. This is the same with these pieces of literature. Milton constructs these eleaborate metaphors to prove his writing prwess, not needing "the jingling sound of like endings," to show he is a good poet. What is more effective; 1,000 academics reading your work and praising for its technical excellence, or 1,000,000 everyday people reading your work and having their lives changed, minds altered, posititions altered even if only a mm?

Today's photo is me thinking very hard about this subject.

Potty Break

So today, I had to see a man about a tree after my Spanish class. Mi Compañero de clase went in a few seconds before I did (He was unzipped and straddling a urinal just as I walked in). I walked over to a urinal two urinals away. This was in the OSH building and if you are unaware of the OSH men's bathroom situation, the walls are lined with urinals with no dividers. This is a highly uncomfortable situation. So I walk over to my urinal and wait. I wait. He waits. No sounds yet. I wait some more. He waits some more. We are the only two occupants of this restroom. We wait some more. "Greg you're giving me stage fright dude. I'm going over here," he says as he walks to some urinals lining another wall, still grasping his special purpose. I was laughing very hard at this point which was not helping the urination situation. I wait a little longer. He waits a little longer...then Yesss!! I begin. Shortly thereafter I hear him start to trickle. It was a major battle but through Perserverance we conquered our fears. I don't know if I'll be able to look at him in the eye tomorrow.
Second bit of potty humor related stuff: In my linguistics class there are a good number of people. It is held in a medium sized room filled half to capacity. I generally sit mid-back; I experimented with alternate placements but this is where I felt comfortable. For the past three weeks someone has had a small leak in their bum-hole. Every five minutes or so a very unpleasant smell creeps into my nose. These are not brush it off, not so bad, move on farts; these are old, stale, musty, dusty, thick, cling to your clothes farts. It is creating an unbearable learning environment. I thought I narrowed down who it was so I moved. Simple. But the bastard decided to move also, right behind me. So the next day I moved again. Again, within a very near proximity. Well this is becoming unbearable, and I think this fellow has it out for me. Even today I was unable to shake the The Fartinator, and I think I am starting to forget stuff. I am going to try a drastically different position next Tuesday and see what happens.

Today's picture of the post is of course potty themed: it is a potty (The wooden shack on the right). This is the potty at the saddle of the Grand Teton. You have to pack out your poop (eeeewwwwww) so they made a convenient method for pooping in a bag. You wrap this special bag (that comes equipped with toilet paper and a moist towelette) around the rim of the throne and go to it. Then you seal it up and put it in your pack next to your bagels. I must say however, that this was the 100% most scenic office work I have ever done.

Slip of the Brain

Today as I was driving to work I saw a truck with a license plate that read "JROTC." I got to thinking about what ROTC meant. I have heard it since high school at least and quite probably even before then. I have no idea what it means acronymically (I know what it means figuratively; the whole military preparation situation.) So I thought who could I ask? My Dad was in the ROTC, I'll just ask him when I get home. As many of you know this is a ridiculous sentiment as my Dad died 7 years ago. This is one of those strange, rare times when I fully realize that I do indeed miss my Dad, that he is still on my mind, even if it is only subconscious slips. I don't think I can type how weird it felt to think to ask my Dad something, and then realize that I haven't asked him something for quite some time. Still, I sit here thinking about it, wanting to write more to try and flesh out my ideas, but there is no way to fully verbalize how it makes me feel. It is almost like it is an inconvenience that he is gone, I can't ask his advice. That is getting sort of close.
Today's picture is a picture of my Dad, In memorium I suppose.
Well, Check back later for the picture because blogger is being a bogger and won't let me upload the photo for some reason. Maybe tomorrow. Thanks.
Yeah! It worked.

Dreams with everyone

Would you look at that; two days in a row.
Last night I had a dream that started everybody in my life that I don't know but am very aware of. To clarify: There are certain people in school, public transit, work, life, etc who I take a keen awareness of for no particular reason. I become very interested in this person(s) and observe them whenever we are near. I rarely get to know these people because it is just hard for me to approach people, so they remain faces with personalities only exposited by their actions. A weird thing about this is that I will see these people all over town in different settings than my normal observation setting. I never know if I should nod a hello. Is it possible they observe me as well?
So this dream was like a theatrical exposition of these various members of my karass. The setting was my elementary school playground (note: I have a remarkable number of dreams whose setting is my elementary school playground, but it is always a way cooler playground than it really is.) and all these loosly associated people were walking around doing "things." I can't remember what it all was, but some were in swim trunks doing tricks with blocks of wood, some were riding unicycles, some were just wandering around as far as I can remember.
Perhaps this dream is telling me that I am creepy and I should stop observing (stalking?) people in my classes and on the bus.
I chose this post's photo because Peter pulled out his finest male model pose just for this occasion, while the other two of us are not exactly at our prime. What a sweety.

Oh to be relaxed forever

So in contrast to my whining post about not having enough time to do any extracurricular activites (I may have exaggerated a little) I will tell the tale of my trip to Moab, UT from 11/3 to 11/5. Maybe I will just highlight the good stuff. We got down to our campsite friday late so we didn't do any outdoor playing that night.
Friday Morning we packed up the gear and went to Klondike Bluffs to do some biking. It was an excellent ride. A mix of sand, dirt, slickrock, whoopty doos, hills, drops, and fun. It takes you to the back side of Arches Nat'l Park and you can hike in (without paying, truly amazing) and check out the backside (snicker) of Arches.
After that we headed down the Potash road to Wall Street where we did some climbing. It was some good old sandstone crack climbing fun. We met some fellows from Switzerland (who I thought were speaking French, but others said they speak German [or Swiss-German] in Switzerland. Any clarification?) They took a month off from work to climb and ski in UT. What a wonderful thing it is that people take time off from Switzerland to come to Utah.
We packed up and went to Pasta Jay's for some delicious pasta. I had Tortellone that was soooo good. It may not have been THAT good but I was incredibly starving and it made me very, very happy. Joelle (friend of friend who I went with) got a creamy pesto with tortellone and chicken that really was out of this world. I have never had a creamy pesto.
We thought about going to the Moab Folk Festival until we found out it was $30.00 US. Are you crazy Moab Folk Festival? I'm not paying $30.00 to see some guy with a guitar sing about his troubles.
So we went back to camp. I sat and looked at the fire while others read or conversed.
We went to bed.
We woke up (although Kristen [friend who I new] slept for like an hour after everyone else was up.) and then we headed out.

Let me just say that the importance of this trip is beyond words. I rarely feel so rejuvinated after a trip. I came back 100% relaxed with a new outlook on life, school and everything. I felt like I took a shower for the first time in months. Why can't it last forever?
p.s. I didn't have my camera during our action outings so I am posting one of my artsy fartsy photos from camp.

I've been kicked in the behind to get going

Thanks to Peter's little subtle yet effective kick in the pants, I am back on the blog bandwagon. (It may seem I was never on the wagon in the first place. I think I was trying to catch the wagon as it sped off into the dusty distance). So to kick off my rejuvinated blogging spirit, I feel it appropriate to explain my absence. I began this blog to keep as a sketch pad and a document of life's happenings as many people do. The genesis of my blog was a few days before the school year started and I had a few hours of unscripted free time every day that I felt I could devote to writing in a nice blog for my homies and homettes. It turns out when I started school, my few hours of unscripted time became a negative few hours of unscripted time. I'm not kidding here folks, I had so little time that showers seemed like a major chunk of down time. This isn't "Oh I'm so busy, I can only watch one episode of Lost tonight and then talk to my girlfriend on the phone for an hour and then I have to do two math problems." Boo Freakin' Hoo I say. I have had no time for any Greg time. Weekends have become particularly sweet however. Every movie seen seems like an Oscar winner, every meal so succulent I feel like dying, every second spent with good friends a relief from the pains of constant cognitive load (remind me to tell you about my Moab trip last weekend).
I exagerate a little, perhaps adding a little drama to the play; but not really. I had one thing that was extracurricular that contributed to my lack of blog writing. I began a little something I like to call the "Daily Dose". My friend Sam, his brother and father Dan and John, and I took advise from Bradbury and made a pact to create some sort of creative work every day. Each of us had our own limits. Mine, at least a page of creative or essayic writing. Sam, Compose something, like 15 sec. was his limit. Dan, Visual art of some sort whether it be gessoing a canvas or sketching or taking lovely pictures. John, pretty much anything but he is a writer.
So I have taken about an hour or two to work on these creative endeavors. Sorry to all my (one) blog enthusiasts. I will now sacrifice my showers so that I can write a little something here, something un-selfconscious.
And as promised, a picture of one of my most favorite places on earth, The Spiral Jetty