Caoine

Boo

So Halloween weekend is officially over, even though the day itself is not until tomorrow. In addition to the usual pumpkin shopping trip to the farmer's market and the watching of much spooky television, I had two events to hit up on Saturday night. The first was an awesome Halloween party with a Quentin Tarantino theme, held by our friends Meg and Johan. The costumes were tremendous and while I was sorry I couldn't stay the whole night, it was certainly a good time.

Afterwards I headed downtown to meet up with a different group of friends before heading to Smack, which has the honor of being the most bizarrely entertaining club event I've ever attended. There were three distinct groups which made the whole thing possible: the goths (who were there for the music and dancing), the fetish people (who were there to show off their shiny and complex clothing), and the regular Halloween partygoers (who were there to gawk at the goths and the fetish people). My friends and I fit most closely into the first of these categories, although it's fair to say we did a considerable amount of gawking ourselves.

Among our favorite club patrons was a middle-aged guy who looked like he ought to have been teaching a high school math class, but was instead dressed in PVC hotpants and a t-shirt that read "MASOCHIST." Also, white socks and sneakers. We kept encountering him, either hunched up against a wall or, more commonly, hobbling from one end of the club to the other in search of something or someone - the world may never know what. Also entertaining were the guy dressed in a Sexy Female Firefighter costume and dancing on a glass table that we all kind of hoped would break, the guy with the giant inflatable penis strapped to his waist, Creepy Red Bra Man (who needs no further description), and the usual slew of girls with intimidating quantities of fake hair and blacklight-reactive body paint.

The music was great, though - I can't remember the last time I heard Skinny Puppy played somewhere other than my iPod. And also worth noting is the fact that my friend Al's Morrissey costume (consisting of a black velvet suit and some hairstyle adjustment) was so successful that at least two distinct groups of people mistook him for the real thing. There are worse people for whom someone could be mistaken, I think.

Anyhow, eventually we all made it home and I spent Sunday eating Halloween candy, watching horror movies with Chris, and pampering my aching feet. All in all, as strange and enjoyable a Halloween weekend as any I've had in recent years.

The floor is made of lava

So, it's almost the end of another October. The weather has cooled down pretty quickly - I really should have switched to a winter coat a few days ago, but I'm clinging to fall clothes for a little while longer. I would rather shiver than sweat, anyway.

In the wake of another catastrophic Thursday morning hangover last week, a friend suggested her tried-and-true cure: an ice-cold shower followed by a bottle of Gatorade and a bag of Fritos. None of these things sound very appealing when you wake up in the dark at five in the fucking morning, but I'll be damned if it didn't work. By around 10am all I felt was a little tired.

My cousin Edith was also here last weekend - I hadn't seen her in a couple of years as she spent a considerable chunk of time in Antarctica last year, and this year I've just been really bad about visiting Massachusetts. She got to see my place and meet Chris for the first time, and I got to meet her beau as well.

This weekend is going to be pretty nuts, as it's the weekend before Halloween - that holiest of holies. My friends and I were really surprised to discover that there really isn't a single traditional goth event taking place on Saturday, now that Albion is on Fridays. But I have a party to go to on Saturday anyway that I'm really looking forward to, and we might hit up another event afterwards. And I've got something tomorrow night if I can get my work done in time, plus pumpkin carving on Sunday. I wish Halloween weren't on a Tuesday as I actually don't really have any plans for the night itself, but I suppose the weekend before is close enough.

The next generation

On my way to work in the morning, I often stop in at this little bakery around the corner from my office. It's tiny and cramped, but it smells fantastic and the coffee's cheap. Anyhow, this particular morning as I was trying to summon my keys from the depths of my purse while holding an overly full and fiendishly hot cup of coffee and an umbrella, I encountered a sight on the benches outside of this bakery that filled my heart with glee. What was it, you ask?

A scrawny teenager, dressed all in black, reading the first pages of a crisp new copy of Neuromancer and smoking what was undeniably a clove cigarette. It makes me unutterably glad that teenagers still do this. Given that the ones who live in my building all favor oversized sports apparel and Camels, I was beginning to lose hope.

Gonna need a bigger boat

Because I have the dubious honor of taking the subway home at the peak of the evening rush hour, there are a number of strategic decisions I'm faced with each weeknight. Things like which end of the platform to wait on for the best chance at an empty car, or which station entrance is least likely to be packed with lost tourists. For instance: I happen to know that between the stop at which I get on the train and the stop at which I get off the train, the doors open on the same side of the subway car the entire time, with one exception (23rd St). This means I often choose to lean against these mostly-unused doors, as no matter how crowded the train inevitably gets (34th St, 42nd St) I don't really have to move or scramble for something to hold on to, and then when I arrive at my stop there is nothing between me and the doors through which I need to pass.

However, sometimes when I'm waiting on the platform, the train arrives temptingly empty and I'm carrying shopping bags or something, and I have to decide whether or not to risk taking a seat. If I do, it's always the sticky-out seat in the middle of the car - to take anything else is pure folly as you're inviting strangers to squeeze in next to you and subject you to their body odor and generally offensive proximity. But even if I do wisely choose a sticky-out seat, when the train fills up I'm then stuck as far away from the doors as I could possibly be, watching a treacherous sea of hostile asses form between me and freedom.

These are the kinds of things I think about for the two hours a day I spend traveling between my office and my apartment. Stand by the doors or take the empty seat? Tonight I took the seat, and as I was faced once again with the ass-sea, I regretted it most keenly.

Why I'm dumb

So a couple years back I had a subscription to Audible, which allowed me to download to copy-protected versions of radio shows and audiobooks for about ten bucks a month. I was mainly interested in the former, especially the handful of NPR shows I really enjoy.

Now, this might seem crazy - why would anyone pay ten bucks a month when most or all of these shows are available for free on the web? Well, one reason is that (as I mentioned in the older post linked above), the shows you can get from the various NPR websites are generally streaming-only, not downloadable. There are of course a number of ways to get around that, including using a program like Audio Hijack Pro to make a recording from the stream itself. And indeed, this is something I dabbled with for a little while.

But in the end, I was ultimately uninterested in keeping up with any of the various hacky, inelegant solutions. I just wanted something like a podcast - subscribe once and forget about it without missing a show. Audible seemed like a pretty good approximation a few years ago, but I was continually frustrated by the cruddy sound of even their highest-quality recordings, and it seemed stupid to pay a monthly fee for something I wasn't enjoying all that much. So I cancelled my subscription and resolved to try and listen to the actual radio more often or content myself with web-based streaming.

Now, I know what you're thinking. The various public radio organizations do produce free podcasts - you can subscribe to them in iTunes just like anything else. They're all handily listed under the "Public Broadcasting" section and it really couldn't be simpler. High quality, no copy protection, no monthly fee. So why didn't I jump at the chance to subscribe to them as soon as iTunes added built-in podcasting support?

Because I'm a fucking moron, that's why. I don't know why else it wouldn't occur to me to see what public radio podcasts were available - I guess I assumed the only way to get legal, downloadable NPR shows was through Audible. And that's partially true - my two favorites, All Things Considered and A Prairie Home Companion are not available as podcasts in the form of complete shows. But many of the news podcasts that are available collect stories from ATC as well as other shows, and the reason that there is no tidy PHC podcast is, as it turns out, pretty reasonable. And there's plenty of other good stuff to listen to - Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and This American Life are both available as entire shows, and there are plenty of little 5-15 minute digests that are worth a listen as well.

So a number of these have now been added to what was previously a subscription collection of only two - the Penny Arcade podcast, and the weekly audio version of David Pogue's print column for the NYT. I know it's still a meager bunch compared to what some of you are listening to, but give me a break - I'm clearly a little slow.

links for 2006-10-11

• Google code search (kottke.org)
  (tags: funny google pp)

Alas, poor Wiz

Chris and I stopped by Cafe Spice for dinner last night. It's on University Place, so we got there by walking through Union Square - where I lived during my freshman year at NYU and have spent a great deal of time over the past seven years. I hadn't actually been there at all in the past year or so, though, and it was a little disorienting. That Whole Foods on 14th St? It was a Bradlee's when I first moved here, and it's where I bought all my college student dishes that one of my roommates later stole when she moved out. The Vietnamese place on University used to be a Healthy Pleasures, the Rugby shop next to it was some sort of discount futon place, and the generic chain clothing store on 15th and Union Square West (American Eagle? Abercrombie?) used to be the Wiz, where I lined up for tickets to The Cure in 1999. I understand that this happens constantly, all over the city. But there are few neighborhoods I think of as especially mine as much as Union Square, so it's just strange to see it change so much in what seems like such a short period.

It's comforting that the Greenmarket is still there a couple days a week, though, and that the park is still packed with college students and crazy people, and there's still a cruddy diner less than two blocks from my old dorm. As long as these vital bits remain unchanged, I suppose I can't be too upset.

Anyhow, dinner was delicious and the service surprisingly good. It's always been kind of hit or miss at that place, but we had a friendly and attentive waitress who neither ignored us nor mocked our atrocious pronunciation of half the dishes we ordered. These are all good things.

links for 2006-10-10

• Calendar of Upcoming Events
  I always forget to bookmark this and then spend ten minutes Googling for it.
  (tags: goth events nyc newyork)
• Geek 24: Gadgets, Technology and Geek: Spotted - The Geekiest License Plates
  (tags: photo geek pp)

Ahem

So it was four years ago tomorrow that Chris and I went on our first date. And by "date" I mean that he asked me if I wanted to go get drinks or something, and I said yes and then gave him the wrong address for the bar we were supposed to meet at. But because of his awesome bar-finding skills, he made it there anyway.

Four years later, we've survived two moves, three years of cohabitation, two frustrating job hunts, one MMO, and a special needs cat. I still smile whenever I think of him, and look forward to coming home to him at the end of the day. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I love him very much.

The fun never stops

So Chris was away for a couple of days on business, leaving me home alone. Did I have a wild party? Did I stay out all night drinking? No, I cleaned the apartment and caught up on The Daily Show. This is what my life has come to. (Thanks, TiVo!)

Although that's not entirely true - I did go out and consume alcohol with others last night, but compared to last week it was a relatively tame experience. But that's probably for the best. I only have so many brain cells, I have to carefully ration how many of them I kill off in a given week.

I've been reading Forever on the recommendation of a wise man, and so far I've really enjoyed it. Much of that is because it's set in New York and is closely tied to the history of all my favorite neighborhoods, but I think it would be a good read even for those poor souls who don't live in the city. But the fact that I've lived and worked gone drinking in so many of the places that are featured prominently in the story makes things just that much more interesting for me, I think. Give it a try, anyhow.