This event happened last night. Ron and I met at Hatch music hall and Charles joined us soon after. The first performance, Lauren's, blew us away. The programme led me to believe the music was of a romantic nature, which traditionally, I suppose is true, but that sound that came from the speakers, the computerised score, which reminded me of a waterphone... that erratic bowing and plucking both with and without rhythm... it sent shivers down my spine. So spooky. It set the tone for the entire concert. Each performer had a subtle computer-made backing track, which sometimes didn't sound real, tricking the ear into thinking it's just an echo, or a ghost or whisper of something else besides the performer on the stage. The next two performers played piano, and flute (and then the Switch~Ensemble came on), and they all sounded like something out of a Lovecraft novel.
We walked to Java's after, and talked about the concert, computer music, Cory Doctorow's Maker, and the book Feed, over coffee afterwards (I gave Ron my copy of Feed last year, and he loved it so much, he tells people about it whenever he gets the chance. I hated it for personal reasons, but I don't deny the book is superb, if you can get past the txt-talk).
Today began like any other asshole Tuesday. I have weekends and Mondays off, so Tuesday's the asshole day that wakes me up earlier than I had for the past three days. Reminder: I work tech support at a community college. Most of the calls I received came from parents of high school students looking to pay their bill or activate their accounts, or people who think this is the default number to call for all their bullshit problems. In short, most of the calls I received involved listening to life-stories before they said what they needed, and redirected them to the right number they should have called so they could tell their sob stories all over again.
Otherwise, my morning was so slow that I actually helped students on the floor (I work in a computer lab), even though it's not my job. The one time I did, it was to explain how the ENTER button will move your text down, and so I decided I don't get paid enough to find examples of how I work for a college with literally zero standards for their student body, and didn't help anyone on the floor the rest of the day. *staples palm to face*
Lunch break. This is where it gets interesting.
I walked over to Java's. No, wait. I walked down Main Street, and one street from Java's, I almost got RAMMED by a bicycle!
Now, I'm downtown fairly often, and I'm used to seeing shitbags who don't know the laws riding their bikes through the crowds of people on the freaking sidewalk, and I've gotten pretty good at hearing the sound of bicycle spokes coming up from behind me. I didn't think much of it, just move over a little, but I could hear this guy wasn't slowing, or swerving to go around, and when I looked behind me as I slowly started moving to the side, I realized I needed to HOLY SHIT, JUMP! FUCKING JUMP NOW!! And I let out a scream as I did, just as the guy jumped off his speeding bike, and it came crashing right at my heels (clipped my boots as I leapt just far enough to evade injury). I swore up and down at that piece of shit as he laughed, explaining that he didn't see me, and that his jumping off his bike was an act of courage on my behalf (are you FUCKING kidding me?!) and picked up his bike to speed off. I'd have called the cops if his bike didn't look like most city bikes, and if he didn't look like every other cracked-up asshole downtown.
I almost decided to just pack it in for the day and not go back to work after lunch. Because this is the kind of day I've had.
In other news, I'm playing Bioshock for the first time! It's my first shooter game, and I love it. It helps that there's a beginner mode, and it helps more that it's steampunk'ish, and it helps most of all that I LOVE that music! I've had the soundtrack for about half a year. The Ink Spots are one of my favourite groups! I'm already pretty ace with the shotgun. It's my favourite weapon, though I use the machine gun more often.