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Monday, the doctoral student I advise passed his qualifying exam with the proverbial flying colors, using the techniques I imparted to him to excellent effect. Tuesday, another advisee passed her M.A. exam. She also made good use of my advice on how to handle the pressure of the event. Wednesday, I spent the five hours before teaching meeting with a series of students I mentor, all of whom had produced better thinking than I would have expected when I first encountered them. Thursday, I held office hours all day after getting up at 5am, managing not to lose the thread of my ritual advice-giving. And today, Friday, the two students whose Honors theses I directed this semester presented their work at the Department's end-of-year reception to much acclaim while a third student, who had delayed turning in her thesis from last spring, came to see me, pleased that I'd continued to work with her during a difficult time and relieved to have finally completed the requirements for her degree. I'm exhausted, but also proud of the work my students have done and, a rarity for me, of the work I did helping them to realize their potential. Tags: autobiography, everyday, work
Current Location: 85704
Muse: "It takes strength to be gentle and kind. . ."
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Here's my version of a traditional central Italian "midnight snack" pasta: • Cook spaghetti until toothily al dente, then tossing with a little olive oil after it has been rinsed off and transferred to a bowl
• While the pasta is cooking, begin simmering anchovies -- I used two standard-sized cans -- in olive oil
• Add crushed red pepper and garlic to taste
• As the mixture starts to thicken to the point of not sliding easily across the bottom of the man, add a little white wine to deglaze it, turning down the heat until the sauce is barely bubbling
• Toss in a few handfuls of raisins and about half as many capers
• Add the juice of two lemons
• As the sauce thickens to the consistency you desire, grate pecorino romano cheese
• Once everything is done, sprinkle the cheese over the pasta liberally, then toss with the anchovy-raisin-caper sauce
• Try not to eat as much as I did tonight Although the combination of salty, sweet and sour flavors might not seem like a good match for the cheese to some, I was overwhelmed by the heady savor of the combination. Tags: everyday, food, recipe
Current Location: 85704
Muse: a memory of the aria from La Wally that is featured in Diva
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As I prepared to clean the kitchen floor and both bathroom floors by doing the dishes, I listened to The Smiths' "This Charming Man" and then about half of The World Won't Listen. Reading the Mojo magazine feature on them from a few months back has me thinking again, as I have with increasing frequency this decade, about just how unique they were. And yet, they were also products of the same Manchester post-punk scene as New Order, a fact which got me inspired to hear some of the latter. Before I could do that, though, I had the urge to revisit Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks' latest, Real Emotional Trash. I liked the record on first hearing. Somehow, though, the fact that I'd been listening to most of the songs in live versions recorded at their January 9th, 2007 concert here in Tucson made me less excited than I wanted to be. Interestingly, though, after hearing them performed again live on Thursday, also at Plush, I felt my desire to memorize the album, something I've done with all of Malkmus's work in Pavement and as a solo artist, suddenly activated. Maybe it was the Jicks' new drummer Janet Weiss -- she of Sleater Kinney and Quasi fame -- saying "Hi!" to me at the merch table that sealed the deal. Whatever the reason, though, I found myself completely captivated on today's hearing. It lessened the burden of all that floor scrubbing. Real Emotional Trash is a great rock album that is not ashamed to summon the ghostly spirits of album rock's heyday. I guess "Fillmore Jive" closed Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain for a reason. After so much guitar, I felt the need to hear something without it, so I put on Carl Craig's More Songs About Revolutionary Food & Art. Generally speaking, the world of dance-electronica-techno has been oriented more towards the 12" aesthetic, with its emphasis on remixing a few strong songs, than albums, but Craig's masterwork, which I've been rediscovering after finally obtaining it for myself on CD, is emphatically meant to be listened to as an album, as its title suggests. Once I'd had my fill of Craig, I returned to the idea of listening to New Order. Only now I wanted to listen to some of their "dancier" synth-and-beats tracks, the sort I generally had the urge to skip through in my guitar-centric past. When I went to pick out an album, though, I was reminded of how much I'd liked their last record Waiting For the Sirens Call and opted to listen to that first. I made it through four-and-a-half songs before it started to skip. Luckily, my favorite songs on the album are the ones that open it. And track four, the single "Krafty," may just be the best distillation ever of their melancholy pop sensibility, with its "Love Will Tear Us Apart"-style fusion of rock and dance music cultures. For that one I felt obligated to dance, watching my legs reflected dimly in the television screen. Then it was on to Republic, the album with the highest percentage of the "dancier" songs I used to find uninspiring. I still think that one is their weakest pre-hiatus album, but it did sound better after listening to Carl Craig. Part of the problem is that the first song "Regret," which rivals "Krafty" and "Age of Consent" for the crown as catchiest New Order song, is so good that it makes everything after it seem sort of tepid. The effect is especially pronounced in my case, since "Regret" has great personal meaning for me, since I purchased the pre-album release CD single on one of the most complicated days of my life and one, fittingly, that flooded me a great deal of regret. Tags: autobiography, everyday, music
Current Location: 85704
Muse: a memory of the "space" in the middle of the song "Real Emotional Trash"
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PREVIOUS 
Now Thing Two has officially become an "outdoor cat." Whether the scare quotes will persist is unclear. I have my doubts whether he will prove savvy enough to survive long in the wilderness he has long been eager to explore. Still, it was better to give him that chance than to consign him to an animal shelter where placing him in a new home would have been extremely difficult. He was happy this morning playing tiger in the weeds. I, however, am not happy at the prospect of spending my nights without his company. It's hard not identify with his plight. And it's even harder to have my sense of isolation so viscerally confirmed.