(we're all about bandwagons…)
Fri, Nov 17, 2000 at 11:12 AM
I dreamed last night that Sen. Lieberman had won the running and was going
to be heading the local superwalmart at which I worked. His first
directive was to put all the dimpled scissors out of children’s reach.
There were Christmas decorations for sale too.
There is an exclamation point in the subject of this letter because laundry is exciting.
Well, it’s not usually. I haven’t done laundry since before the war, and… Actually, the last time I did laundry was in Knoxville, TN, sometime in early-mid-August. Aside from simply not having any money, Peter, my room mate, assured me that he would tell a rental company to come by our apartment and install a washer and drier.
One of the very neat things about the place I’m living is that it has washer and drier connections. My first response was, “I don’t have a washer and a drier, and chances of me being able to afford one during my college career are not good…” So I wasn’t too excited. Peter found out that for $32/month we could rent both a washer and a drier. That got me excited. I’m sure I spend at least $16/mo on laundry in quarters, so this seemed perfectly reasonable once split between two people.
Peter had assured me of this washer and drier before I ever moved in, and, after I moved in, told me that he’d contact the company before he left for New Orleans on August 17th or so. He didn’t.
I had no idea where, who, or anything about the washer and drier, or if Peter had requested one or not until Peter came back and FINALLY requested one.
Today was the first time they could come install it.
Today was the first day I’ve done laundry in quite some time. Hopefully I’ll start smelling better.
I auditioned for the Senior Studio productions and was cast as the all-important-extremely-exciting part of “Mob 1”. I have been assured that I have the most lines of any “Mob” part, of which there are 4. I’m playing the leader of a Mob in E. E. Cumming’s “Santa Claus”.
Actually, I’m thrilled to have gotten cast at all, and even more thrilled to have been cast in THIS play. I read the script before hand, and it is a REALLY neat play. E.E. Cummings is just… the man.
Luckily this won’t take up too much time, and the rehearsals are all at night, so it won’t affect much if I ever find a job. That’s why I’m in the computer lab at 9:30pm tonight, because our first rehearsal is at 10pm-midnight. It really feels nice to be part of a cast again.
I’ve been to a few more classes, and have a few books now. Abstract Algebra blew me away this morning. At least I understand why it’s “Abstract Algebra” now. Our professor defined functions in terms of set theory today, gave several theorems about sets in terms of set theory and then proceeded to prove them. While functions are by no means new to be, I’ve never dealt with them like this, specifically in terms of set theory. I’ve got to struggle to keep up.
Philosophy of Science is going to be a neat class I think. It’s mostly about trying to answer the question, “Can one really KNOW anything through scientific methodology?” At first, this didn’t seem too exciting, but after the first class I’m fascinated. I’m also thoroughly interested in answering, “Can PHILOSOPHY ever know anything?” It seems to me that one might very well have to answer no, in which case “what’s the point?” But then, I guess that’s why I’m a post-enlightenment fan. And I still say Nietzsche (even though I’ll never be able to spell his name) is great. Even though I KNOW he’s wrong, he’s so much fun. Anything so I don’t have to read any more Aquinas.
Oh wait. That’s just what I’m doing in Theology. Aquinas. Thomas, like most “philosophers” sounds a whole lot more convincing than he is. I think I get frustrated with Aquinas simply because I’m at UD, and the Catholics have trouble distinguishing Aquinus from God. (“Three persons, one God. No really, God isn’t divided!”)
I’m tiring of Catholic theology. It’s impossible to argue with because it’s based almost entirely on “faith” and “revelation” or, better yet, “sacra doctrina.” This is all fine and good if I thought it made sense, but it doesn’t. I realize that it’s good for me to learn such things, but I’d much rather be studying things that excite me. I’m excited to find out that there are THREE non-Christians (including me) in my theology class. This is almost unheard of at UD. Not just three non-Catholics, but non-Christians. This at least makes the class dynamics a little more exciting, otherwise it seems more like a Sunday school class I’ve accidentally walked into.
I really shouldn’t end my sentences with propositions.
I was going to write about making the newfound washing machine overflow, but I must go.
I’m at Dad’s house in Atlanta (Well, Douglasville).
I’ve been unable to get a job, and, as a result, am going to be with Dad until he leaves for Birmingham on Monday 8 August, at which point I’ll leave for Knoxville and return to Douglasville on Friday 11 August. I shall leave Douglasville on Monday 14 August for Dallas.
These “plans” are subject to change at any point (by either my capricious self or any of the parties mentioned above), and may not be relied upon for anything other than a device to make you stop worrying.
I’ll be checking email, so respond if you like. If you are simply so worried that this email hasn’t done any good, (e.g., Mom), then feel free to call me here at 770.489.3352. I suppose you could call for any other reason as well, since you’ll be paying for it.
I passed the strangest thing on I-65 about 100 miles south of Montgomery today. I had the top down, cruise control set, my music playing, and was, in general, doing my best, even if somewhat unsuccessfully, to enjoy the drive, which was doing its best to be entirely uneventful. Few things exciting happen on I-65 between Mobile and Montgomery, AL. The road is boring and patrolled. The weather wasn’t too terribly sunny because of several Mobileish clouds covering the southern Alabama sky. These clouds were waiting for the Mobile Afternoon to come around so they could pour rain for a few hours, then mysteriously disappear, I’m sure. I was heading north, though, and figured I would get far enough by the time the afternoon rolled around that I wouldn’t get too wet. I was wrong. This happens occasionally, but not with great frequency.
I was alternating between passing the endless stream of large semi trucks (WHY are they semi trucks? There is nothing semi about them, they’re whole and complete trucks!) and letting the endless stream of redneck pickup trucks pass me, when I glanced up at the trucker I was passing. I can do this with the top down, but am completely unsuccessful with it up. I usually glance at the truckers because they usually glance at me, and in doing so, create a small moment eye contact of a sort peculiar to the highway. This time I was unable to make eye contact with the trucker because she was wearing sunglasses. I was traveling at least 10 miles an hour faster than she was because she was stuck in the right lane behind a very slow redneck. (I should be fair, its possible that the drive wasn’t redneck simply because of Alabama plates. Nah.) As I flew by, I thought I was seeing things. As someone who has looked at a lot of truckers, I’ve seen the occasional female driver. Never have I seen a beautiful young woman driving a truck. I looked in my rearview miror to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, and hoped I was awake. I was, she noticed me staring, so she smiled and waved. I waved back as her truck faded into the distance.
That was about the only interesting thing that happened. I stopped about 40 miles south of Montgomery, and the clouds, which had become darker and more ominous (ever notice that clouds are always ominous? I would bet that the world ominous is most frequently used to describe clouds than anything else.) than before, began to pour rain. I put the top up in the Miata, and drove rather slowly for quite some time, while the rain cleared. It never really cleared until I got fairly close to Atlanta. It doesn’t rain in Atlanta this year.
I tried to take a short cut instead of heading all the way to Atlanta on I-85, then heading back west on 20. This would have worked fine had I not been trying to drive and read a map at the same time. I ended up missing a turn, and driving 20 miles west instead of 20 miles north, which probably cost me at least 1.5 hours. Oh well. Someone should give me a GPS device for Christmas.
I don’t know if I’ll have a chance to send you guys anything before I get back to the states or not. Michael and I have been roaming about Britain for the past couple days. In spite of the fact that I now seem to be sick, we’ve had a wonderful time. We rented a car for the weekend, and have been driving around the lake district, which is about 5 hours from Somerset. It’s is absolutely spectacular up here. Michael and I have had a blast trying not to kill ourselves driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car, shifting gears with the wrong hand… All on roads that are barely wide enough for one lane of traffic going one way, but someone they manage to put two way traffic on these roads. And it gets worse because these incredibly narrow roads have stone walls on either side. Not to mention the roundabouts which are a hazard in and of themselves which Michael and I have done surprisingly well on considering we don’t have a clue what we’re doing. “Yield to the right, yield to the right, come out on the left hand side of the road, yield to the right, left hand side of the road…” Chanting in this fashion helped some. Michael made almost no mistakes, and I only drove on the wrong side of the road for about 3 seconds, at which point the prospect of a head-on collision quickly fixed that problem. And I hit a curb. Otherwise, no problems, and not even a scratch on the car so far, we’re not sure how we’ve managed. It’s a fairly new little Peugot with a 1.4L engine that doesn’t seem to make quite enough power regardless of which gear you’re in. Oh, and cheap European cars don’t have ignition lockouts on the clutch, which means that it WILL start with the car in first gear and clutch engaged. Whoops.
We’re on our way back to Somerset now, where we shall spend the night. We’ll head back to London in the morning, and Michael will take a train to Paris where he will spend the night. We both fly back on July 4th, I from London to Atlanta, and Michael from Paris to Memphis. Hope to see some of you soon.
I’m at Jim’s flat in London, and will be headed back to Somerset with Michael tomorrow morning provided all goes well. The following is a detailed, though not necessarily exciting account of the Glastonbury Pop Festival.
—-
Lloyd, a friend of Dad and the O’Briens, has a friend named Vince who sells food for a living. Lloyd told me that Vince needed some more people to work for him at this Glastonbury Festival, about which I knew nothing at the time, and that I would be doing something relating to the sale of hamburgers. I would be paid 4 pounds/hr, get in free (90 pound/$135 ticket), and eat free, staying at Glastonbury Thursday to Sunday. I said, “Sure, why not…”
Well, as time went on, and I told people I would be working at this festival I got some interesting looks, and people kept dropping hints about the size and insanity of the festival. I began to wonder…
No need, before long, all my questions were answered. Tuesday night I got a message that Vince’s daughter would come by the O’Brien’s and pick me up tomorrow, Wednesday the 22 at 8am. Too bloody early in the morning, but I got ready to go. Lucy showed up at about 8.45 to pick me up. I told the O’Brien’s goodbye, Peter waved at me from his window, I tossed my backpack into the boot, and hopped in. We got to Vince’s house, but no one was there. Lucy says that this guy Simon was supposed to take me to the festival with him, as she had lessons to attend that day. She called various people, and told me that she would take me to Simon’s house in Wells and that Simon would take me to the festival. She handed me piece of paper that said “THE TICKET” on it, and a date and signature and stuff. Didn’t say what THE TICKET was for, I suppose it didn’t have to.
Lucy drove us to the house that was presumably Simon’s, whoever Simon was, and I followed her around the back of the house where she knocked on an unanswered door for some time. Eventually from around the other side of the house, a man yelled “What do you want?” Around the corner stepped a somewhat overweight older man without much of his grey hair left on his head. He smiled at Lucy and we walked around the house and in the front door.
I stood in the kitchen for awhile, and the older man shouted up the stairs. Eventually a short fat guy who looked about 20 stumbled down the stairs, having obviously just woken up. His neck was covered with bruises, to which Lucy pointed at and laughed, saying something about “love bites”. Lucy left and Simon pointed to the couch and told me to watch TV. I took a nap instead.
I woke up when a girl walked in, introduced herself as Simon’s girlfriend, and turned on the TV and proceeded to watch some pointless talk show about men and women and sex with a yelling audience. I don’t remember much more about it, as I didn’t really pay attention but tried unsuccessfully to sleep.
Simon came and he and Kate (I think that was her name…) proceeded to do things that made smacking noises on the other couch. I fell asleep, woke up, and looked at my watch. It was noon. I was somewhat annoyed at having been dragged out of bed so early for nothing. I asked Simon when we were going to go. “When me mate gets here to pick us up.” Simon speaks with a thick cockney accent and I can barely understand him at all. His mate, Butch, showed up around 1pm in an ancient, beat-up VW-Golf, into which the four of us and our luggage barely fit.
Butch dropped Simon and I off, after much prolonged goodbyes between Simon and Kate during which Butch threatened to just leave. Eventually Simon and I trudged toward “Pedestrian Gate 1.”
I should point out at this time that Simon was told several times in my presence that I could only get in at gate 2, because that was the only place I could get a wrist band that signified I was staff. I reminded him of this and he shrugged and said something I didn’t understand. Great, I figured, I’m going to be lost in this festival with a pack on my back and no idea where to go because Simon’s already got a band, and he’ll probably just march right in. I decided not to let it bother me, I’d figure something out.
Simon marched right in through the gate that said “RE-ENTRIES ONLY” and told me to follow him. I did, and handed the person at the gate my ticket. She pointed at a man a few feet away, and told me to give him my ticket. I did, and he handed it to the guy next to him who proceeded to very carefully tear it in half down the middle. The first guy asked for my wrist and he placed a blue band that said “Glastonbury 2000” on it on my wrist. I felt like a cow, and was glad I was merely tagged and not branded. The second bloke handed me the bottom half of my ticket and said I’d need it again. I wondered what for. I never found out, as no one ever asked for it.
Simon and I walked for a good half an hour through a good bit of mud, stopping to let Simon rest. He said that I should be glad the mud wasn’t knee-deep like it was two years ago. I didn’t believe him until I saw pictures from two years ago. And the year before that. Several feet of mud covered many of the festival fields.
Simon and I walked through endless fields of tents and vans and so on. Eventually we got to a trailer that said “British Meat Carvery and Grill”. I met Vince, who gave me an orange band to put on my wrist that would allow me to get into “the compound” where I was to pitch my tent. I walked around with Simon, and found a spot to put my tent in between a truck and another tent.
Vince gave me an apron and showed me how to make roast pork rolls, roast beef rolls, roast spuds and gravy, bacon rolls, bacon and egg rolls. I worked for 6 hours that day, and ate a good many roast spuds and gravy. “Roast Spuds and Gravy” is something of a misnomer since they’re actually fried, and we made the “gravy” from powder. I think they were actually roasted partly, then frozen before Vince bought them. In any case, we fry them for about 2 minutes at which point they’re done and mighty tasty.
I never want to work in the food service industry again. Actually, working as a bartender or something in a nice place might not be as bad. At the festival I served endless streams of drunks, crack-heads, and generally messed up people. I worked the midnight-6am shift twice, during which time no sober person (who isn’t high) shows up wanting food.
I was amazed by the sheer number of people at the festival. The official estimates that I saw last were 126,000 people. The city council only allowed them to sell 100,000 tickets, so desperate others hopped the fences, bought fake tickets, had someone with a car pass smuggle them in, or some other various means of illegal entry.
I’ve never seen so many people in one place at one time that I can think of. There were 18 official stages, most of which with music, and many other unofficial stages. A few of the artists whose names I either recognized, or saw, or both: Counting Crows, Live, Pet Shop Boys, Nine Inch Nails, Willie Nelson, Macy Gray, Travis, David Bowie, Ocean Colour Scene, Bluetones, and many more. There wasn’t any music I was REALLY excited about, because most of the music I like isn’t popular, so why should I expect it to be at a pop fest?
I think I saw more marijuana there than I did in Amsterdam. The police were everywhere, but in spite of their best efforts there were something like 1000 tent thefts among other crime. I didn’t hear of any violent crime, except for the woman who came up to me at 4am and asked me to find a security guard because there was a man who had been stabbed and was bleeding to death outside her tent. I don’t know if she was being truthful or not, I somehow doubt it.
While Ocean Colour Scene was performing I was in the middle of the field in front of the main stage, reasonably close to the front. While the bands were shifting I worked my way to the front, not at all sure that I wanted to see the next band, but figured I might as well, since I was already at the main stage, and didn’t feel like finding one of the others if I wasn’t going to like the music that came on. Besides, the band after next was going to be Travis, and I knew I wanted to listen to them. The next band was Pet Shop Boys, who were amusing even though they didn’t play any music I liked. Well, the didn’t really play any music. One guy sort of stood in front of a synthesizer wearing silver coveralls, spiked hair, sunglasses and silver headphones. The other guy stood on the front of the stage and sort of danced or strummed an ac acoustic guitar from which I never heard a note. The speakers made synthesized noise that people who like noise that came out of the 80’s call music. His backup singers included a large black woman in a short dress, and two fat black guys in overalls, boots, and baseball caps. They all sort of stomped about and sang falsetto. They weren’t really dancing, it was sort of choreographed silliness to the beat of the music. It was at least a nice variation on the average backup singer group.
By this point I’d gotten pretty close to the front of the stage and it was getting pretty crowded, but I figured that the crowd would thin out a bit after the Pet Shop Boys left, and I could move back a little and breathe. It didn’t, I just got shoved forward, and before I knew it I was a good 15 feet from the front railing that was as far as any spectator could get forward, and about 50 feet from the stage. It was about 60 degrees outside, but I was extremely hot because of the incredible amount of body heat coming from the crowd packed around me. It soon became a challenge to stand up because of the crowd pushing and shoving, as they tried to support the weight of the various people crowd surfing. The security guards at the front were helping people off the tops of the crowds and out. In fact, we just started lifting people who were panicking and tossed them to the security guards who let them down the other side of the railing to calm down. We had a half hour to wait before Travis came on, and I was wondering what I was doing packed with a bunch of people who hadn’t showered in a few days and probably smelled bad anyway. A bunch of guys started passing around a Vodka bottle into which they urinated then tried to get some poor suckers to drink it. A guy next to me asked why I had bands around my wrist, and I told him that it was because I sell food and that’s how I get to where my tent is. He seemed to think I was lying and that I really had a backstage pass and they tried to rip it off my wrist. I stopped them and explained it wouldn’t work unless they actually had them strapped properly around their wrists, as they checked. “If I had a backstage pass, why would I be here, anyway?” I asked them. That didn’t seem to phase them, and they proceeded to steal my hat and long sleeve shirt, I guess because I’m so famous. Luckily I had another shirt on under it…
—
All in all I’m glad I went, and besides, I got to say “cheers” to several hundred people as I gave them their food…