My other vehicle is the Mahayana.

Pity there’s no room for a bumper sticker on a unicycle. Pity I don’t even have a unicycle.

What I’ve been doing:

• Watching Battlestar Galactica (and being both intrigued and infuriated by it).
• Suddenly wanting some books about 20th century history to read (hello, library card).
• Having ideas that are easy to have when you aren’t in a position to implement them. (Will they last until I get my mojo back?)
• Playing UnAngband (a surprisingly awesome hybrid of Nethack and Angband).
• Letting several posts simmer quietly on various back burners.
• Observing the gradual disappearance of my willingness to make pointless noise.
• Hatching plots.

I’ve been doing other things as well, of course, but you get the idea.

1. There just aren’t elegant electronic equivalents for a lot of phrases, are there.

Neal Stephenson’s new book, Anathem, is out. When I heard that it was coming I took evasive action immediately; I didn’t want to read a whole lot of blurb-driven speculation that would colour the way I read the book itself.¹ Stephenson has written four of my favourite books of all time (Cryptonomicon plus the three books of the Baroque Cycle²), so it’s fair to say I was looking forward to this one.

Unfortunately, there were reaction-spoilers in the hover text for this XKCD comic (WARNING: reaction-spoilers! Caveat clickor!). Caught between excitement over new Stephenson and creeping XKCD-generated dread, I opened Anathem a couple of days ago in a state of profound anticipivalence.

My initial reaction? It’s true! It’s all true! Randall Munroe is a prophet of doom. Damn it.

Let me explain that in a somewhat roundabout way:

In the Baroque Cycle, the thing I hated most of all was the clever-pants way in which real-world historical figures would be coyly introduced as characters, with clever hints about their identities dropped by Stephenson leading up to the Big Impressive Reveal³. To be fair, Stephenson is far from the only author to do this; maybe it’s impossible to put historical figures in your fiction without doing it! I do not know.

All of Stephenson’s pre-Anathem novels have been set either on Earth (albeit a far-future or historically modified Earth) or on planets that are probably Earth (or at least could be).

Anathem, on the other hand, is set on an Earth-analogue planet, Arbre, which is explicitly not Earth. There are lots of made-up words (cf. XKCD) which are almost-but-not-quite like English words, and an awful lot of space in the beginning of the book is devoted to showing the reader bits and pieces of Arbre and its history (OH LOOK ANOTHER PARALLEL ISN’T THAT CLEVER) using lots of those made-up words (WHAT’S THAT? A PARALLEL? HAVE YOU NOTICED THIS CLEVER THING YET?). All of this makes it much more difficult than it needs to be for the reader to get comfortable (in what is really an intriguing setting) and await the unfolding of the plot.

While I am writing this prematurely, as I am only about halfway through, I am of the opinion that it could quite easily have been set on a far-future Earth, thus dispensing with the “need” for much of the cleverness while still allowing for clever new words and different views of history. After all, several thousand years in the future language will certainly have mutated and it would be entirely unsurprising if (for instance) Plato had become a mythical figure surrounded by all sorts of disputed lore. There would have been plenty of room left for Stephenson to be clever, with perhaps a bit less room for him to overplay the cleverness quite so dramatically.

If it turns out that Anathem is set somewhere other than Earth because there is going to be some kind of contact with Earth and that is what everything is leading up to, I am going to be very very cross.

For all my complaining, though, at some point the cleverness stopped grating, Arbre became familiar enough that I was able to focus on reading the story rather than being constantly distracted by recognising things, and I forged ahead. I can tell that this happened, because on page 305 I had what I can only call a “Holy Crap!⁴” moment. Not because of a dramatic plot development, per se, but because of a fairly minor event which, in context, was earth-shaking in its significance. The characters knew that this meant there was Serious Business going down - and, judging by the way my jaw dropped when it happened, so did I. Without realising it, I had managed to suspend disbelief (and irritation) and go along for the ride.

Nine pages later, a throwaway line⁵ filled me with glee (and inspired the title of this post).

Okay, Neal, your sins are forgiven and I will probably enjoy this book after all. PROBABLY. Don’t forget that I could still get very very cross.

Postscript: There is a bit later on that reads like it came straight from the same cranky, technology-elitist Stephenson who wrote In The Beginning Was The Command Line:

This took longer than I’d expected beacuse it wasn’t made for literate people. I couldn’t make any headway at all with its search functions, because of all its cack-handed efforts to assist me.

Heh heh heh.

1. As it turns out, the little I did hear turned out to be quite misleading anyway.
2. Some people dislike these books, particularly the Baroque Cycle, for their frequent outbursts of geeky fascination with stuff, but that’s a large part of the reason why I like them so much
3. Oh! That’s Isaac Newton! I would never have guessed, how clever that Neal fellow must be!
4. This is the biggest swear in my usual vocabulary!
5. Or is it ?!

The Meme Gods have laid temptation before me and, lo, I have succumbed. After a preliminary skirmish over my alleged level of Radiohead-worship, clappamungus has tasked me with listing my ten favourite songs by The Mountain Goats.

While I tend to enjoy music in album-sized units (a habit which I may dissect at great length sometime), if I have to think about individual songs by any band then The Mountain Goats are as good an option as any. John Darnielle is firmly ensconced in my personal pantheon of Gods of Awesomeness because, boy, can he write a song.

I haven’t titled this post “My 10 Favourite Mountain Goats Songs”, because nominating only ten songs from fifteen years or so of prolific songwriting and recording¹ is more or less impossible (and, as we will discover, I am still cheating a little bit). Instead, I have chosen ten of my many favourites, limited to a maximum of two from any one album², and I just hope the rest will forgive me.

It’s interesting³ to note that despite my affection for the early boombox albums,⁴ all these selections come from Darnielle’s more recent, polished efforts.

from All Hail West Texas (2002):

The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton

This is, for me, the epitome of what I will pretentiously call late-middle-period Mountain Goats. The tale of Cyrus and Jeff, a couple of misfit kids who the grownups just don’t understand, told with exuberant defiance. When Darnielle gets to “Hail Satan!”, it is a beautiful and unironic thing.

This video on YouTube comes with a lovely introduction from Darnielle.

Fall of the Star High School Running Back

Was 2002 before or after unwieldy song names became popular with the indie crowd? No matter. This tiny little song (it clocks in at 1:49) is exactly what it sounds like, a snapshot of a jock’s fall from grace, but taken with humour and compassion rather than judgement. Darnielle’s simple yet eloquent lyrics - with the occasional surprise rhyme, sprung on the listener with some kind of brilliant sleight-of-hand - don’t even need two minutes of your day, and they will make it better.

[See post to listen to audio]

from Tallahassee (2002)

No Children

This song bears more responsibility than any other for my conversion from “mildly obsessive indie music fan who has heard of The Mountain Goats” to “slavering Mountain Goats junkie”. I came across it on a music blog somewhere, and listened to it at least 200 times while I was travelling overseas last year. Not only did I not get sick of it in that time, I arrived back in Australia with a burning need to acquire as much music by this band as humanly possible.⁵

People relate to each other in so many ugly, destructive, hateful ways, and there are any number of songs that deal with that with anger or sadness, self-pity or revenge, but I have never heard a song so unapologetically celebratory as “No Children”. If I had to choose just one reason why I love The Mountain Goats, it would be this ability to find beauty in darkness and celebrate both for what they are.

[See post to listen to audio]

Game Shows Touch Our Lives

“Game Shows Touch Our Lives” is a love song to an unhealthy relationship, just as “No Children” is a celebration⁶. It is a sad song, just as a life resigned to stifling in suburbia is a sad life, but yet again Darnielle doesn’t judge or criticise, just expresses the reality of the characters’ lives. Perfect.

YouTube again, with Darnielle talking quite a lot at the start. But listen to him, for he is awesome.

from We Shall All Be Healed (2004)

Letter from Belgium

I’m not sure what to say about this song, except that the sense of community that the characters cling to as they self-destruct is probably why I like it so much. While I can’t say I’ve ever been part of quite this kind of social scene, there are certain parallels that can be drawn.

Yeah, we’re all here / chewing our tonges off / waiting for the fever to break

Your Belgian Things

And when everything has finally fallen apart, there are consequences and grief. If I try to write about how heartbreaking this song is, it will come out all wrong. You will just have to take my word for it.⁷

The men were here to get your Belgian things / They’ll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs / I shot a roll of 32 exposures / My camera groans beneath the weight it bears

from The Sunset Tree (2005)

Broom People

This song is a breath of fresh air. Unlike the characters some of the earlier songs, the narrator of “Broom People” is being saved (by a girl, I expect!) from the oppressive nature of his adolescent existence, rising above it all. Pure escapism.

Up The Wolves

Perhaps it is wrong of me to choose two uplifting songs from The Sunset Tree, especially since I’m not even talking about “This Year” or “Dance Music”. But, darn it, I just can’t leave either of these out. “Up The Wolves” acquired a certain personal significance for me this year; an always-timely reminder about maintaining optimism in the face of adversity and uncertainty, with that signature Darnielle defiance.

Also, the vocal harmonies in this one are awesome. And I like the use of strings, too. A nice example of the less bare-bones approach that The Mountain Goats have taken since moving to studio production.

Our mother has been absent ever since we founded Rome / but there’s gonna be a party when the wolf comes home

from Heretic Pride (2008)

Sax Rohmer #1

Somewhat in the vein of “Broom People”, only grown up now and with a big ol’ chip on its shoulder, “Sax Rohmer #1″ paints a picture of a world in the process of collapsing, loss and despair around every corner, and a protagonist whose jubilant refrain reminds us that everything is going to be just fine. Another song that has had some personal meaning, this year.

I like the official video, too.

And I am coming home to you / with my own blood in my mouth / And I am coming home to you / If it’s the last thing that I do.

Lovecraft In Brooklyn

According to the man himself (i.e. Darnielle, in a radio interview I heard earlier this year), the protagonist of this song is not a sympathetic character, and it would probably not be a good thing to identify with him: paranoid, delusional, liable to flip out at any moment. Be that as it may … well … I admit, I’ve had days like this.

Stylistically a bit of a departure, “Lovecraft in Brooklyn” is more electric and more, I suppose, “rock” than everything else I’ve heard from The Mountain Goats.

Woke up afraid of my own shadow / like, genuinely afraid / Headed for the pawnshop / to buy myself a switchblade

Bonus song (from We Shall All Be Healed)

All Up The Seething Coast

Yup, I cheated with the “ten songs” thing. But this song, in a bizarre way, seems to me to be the other side of the “Lovecraft in Brooklyn” coin, so much so that it seems wrong to mention one without the other. There is just as much paranoia and panic in “All Up The Seething”, but instead of rage and violence this protagonist turns to repression and bizarre behaviour. It’s creepy stuff; I often find myself holding my breath part way through the song.

I go back to places I remember / see what’s been going on without me / Stare down the strangers at the bus stop /
pretend they’ve been gossiping about me

And that about wraps it up: ten of my favourite Mountain Goats songs (and another one). The rules laid down by the Meme Gods say that I must now provide any who ask with a band to post about (one they know and love, as far as that is possible). The Meme Gods also point out that vox_diabolica asked me to list my ten favourite songs by The Postal Service; however, as I have heard a grand total of ten of their songs you can just work from the assumption that those ten are my favourites.

Stupid Meme Gods.

1. My iTunes library lists 249 unique Mountain Goats songs, only a handful of which are covers
2. Yep, I cheated on that as well.
3. Well, it’s interesting to me
4. John Darnielle started out by singing and playing guitar into a tape player. Not for anyone who can’t stand the vocals being drowned out by tape hiss; adorable to lo-fi aficionados.
5. Hence the 249 unique songs, you see.
6. Note to self: stop using the word “celebrate”, damn it. Find a new word.
7. Or you could even get hold of the album and listen to it yourself! There aren’t any good videos on YouTube, though, and I’m tired of uploading mp3s already.

When I walked down to the river today there were birds of paradise clamouring to be photographed. Not the avian kind, but pretty just the same.

It is such a spring-feeling day that I was going to post an e.e. cummings poem, but then I realised I had already done so a couple of years ago. It is a day for optimism and also for being subjugated yet again by sunscreen.

I’ll just finish by saying that I hope people also notice flowers that are not as glamorous and dramatic as birds of paradise, because I think they are every bit as nice.

The more observant readers of this humble blog may have noted the complete absence of Project 365 pictures (indeed, of any content at all) over the last few days. While I continued to take daily pictures, it became (was becoming? has become?) increasingly clear that my current circumstances make Project 365 not only difficult but downright counter-productive. After a few consecutive 9pm realisations like “oh, it’s the end of another day in which I did nothing but feel unwell and went nowhere but the next room, and I have to find something new to take a picture of”, it gets to be a drag.

So, rather than turn something I enjoy into a obligation that rubs my nose in my misfortune, I have resolved to keep taking pictures of picturesque things as they present themselves, but to put Project 365 on hold until it can be what it should be: a way of recording something interesting that I come across each day, instead of a dreary search for something to photograph in defiance of the day’s complete lack of novelty.

II. Needs Moar Words

When I started using this blog it was my intention to escape from the shackles of LiveJournal and start actually writing down stuff that I found interesting, without feeling constrained by the expectations of the disparate mob of family, friends, acquaintances and internet strangers that had gradually boiled down my LJ-voice to a flippant, ironic shadow of itself. Since this is strictly an opt-in business (and untainted by the social pressures of “friends lists” and the like), I feel safer in the assumption that anybody reading is either a) interested enough in what I might have to say to make the effort (however trivial), or b) if not, then certainly bringing their disappointment upon themselves.

All that is a long-winded way to work up to saying that turning thoughts into words and then sharing them with other people is something that I find rewarding, so I am resolving to knuckle down and throw off the inertia that has kept me from doing so for so long. I am also focused on returning to a more ert state in the real world, so here’s to riding that wave all the way back to frequent(ish), enjoyable blogging.

III. Needs Moar Comments

For those reading this via the syndicated feed on LiveJournal, a reminder that it is fairly difficult for me to keep track of (or even notice) comments made directly on that feed, and they get deleted after a couple of weeks anyway. My attempt to insert a comment link in the feed itself has failed (due to the flakiness that Feedburner has been exhibiting since being acquired by Google, boo hiss), so for now the best way to ensure that I will see your comment is to click on the link at the top of the feed item, which leads to the post itself, and then leave your comment. We apologise for the inconvenience.

Postscript: If you enter your email address (which is not displayed) when you submit your comment, it will have a unique pattern-y thingy or your Gravatar if you have one! Isn’t technology wonderful? If you don’t trust me with your email address, your pattern-y thingy will be the same one that all the other distrustful folk get.

I wasn’t, actually.

There was a matching sign on the opposite side of the alleyway, too.

Today it rained.

The camera’s other lens, lookin’ pretty.

It’s fun to have a more wide-angled lens to play around with. I used to get so irritated when I wanted to fit more of my view into a picture.